2552
Earth
Kenya
Mombasa
12:00pm, local clock
5 minutes before Scarab vehicle arrival
Braam !
...
...Braaam !
Two shots...and from them, two kills. Two Jackals fell, their heads blown clean off their knobby, spotted shoulders with a spray of blood, chunks of flesh, and bone. The high-velocity, 14.5x114mm rounds, with their anti-armor tips, sheared through the aliens' helmets and flesh as easily as if they were made of cloth, ending their lives as quick as a blink-if not quicker.
A wobbling, quivering contrail of pale-white smoke hung through the air afterwards, following each one, as the sniper behind the weapon shifted his aim to a fresh target barely had the last one found its mark. He was quick about it, but methodical- he did not jerk the weapon, or swing it. Rather, he steadily, yet also quickly, moved the muzzle left or right...until the crosshairs settled themselves on a fresh alien head that needed a " battlefield amputation ", so to speak.
One that he was all too willing to provide.
...Braaam !
Through his scope, he watched his prey. The night-vision setting on it was going beautifully, giving everything- every last chunk and scrap of debris, every last spent bit of brass- a sharply contrasted golden outline, leaving it impossible for anything or anyone to hide from him, as long as he held this lofty perch. There wasn't any place they could hide from him while he was here, and nowhere they could run, even if they wanted to.
Braam...!
Or...if they even knew what was happening to them; that they were getting hunted down, one by one, by an ODST sniper from above. There was, after all...
...hundreds of them. Literally hundreds, and they were all...out there. Grunts, Jackals, and a couple dozen Brutes. It was an absolute sea of cobalt blue, banana yellow, cyan blue ( much of which was actually the blood of Grunts getting their heads blasted clean off, or torsos shredded open like Amazon packages ) colored bodies...or maybe it'd be more accurate to say it was a bunch of Skittle ( that was the name , wasn't it ? Of that ancient brand of candy ) piles, moving around as they also all moved forward.
Moving forward, while firing, more specifically. The sniper's own shots were white-red, and looked like sparks coming out of the muzzle , but the enemy were spitting searing bolts of white-hot ( literally ) plasma. Blue-white, they lit the night , with every single shot- and most of the alien guns were going on full-auto. It was giving the battlefield a...a mesmerizing ( there was no other word for it ) appearance of one, giant, wide neon sign: flickering brightly, on and off, every other second- or every few other seconds, as various aliens and/or squads of aliens fired forward...followed or preceded by more flashes from ahead of them as the UNSC/ NMPD forces shot back.
Had the sniper been just an observer, or a terrified civilian ( or, any civilian, really ), he'd have been spellbound. Shocked. Frightened. Or any combo of of them. That's how civilians always were, whenever they were anywhere close enough to Covenant guns where they could hear them discharging. Or...actually watch.
But, he wasn't.
Not by a country mile.
He was-
" Romeo ! Hey, Trooper ! Give me a sitrep ! "
Braam...!
The sound of Gunnery Sergeant Buck's voice- parade deck loud, and shrouded by a lot of jackhammering gunfire from the background- poured from Romeo's helmet's Comms speakers. He'd already squeezed off a shot, though, and attending to the follow through was mandatory...
...which, was to watch as it hit a Brute- one that had just reached the main steps leading to the front of the NMPD HQ building- right through the eye. The left eye, specifically. Soon, though, it wasn't the left or right eye at all, as the high-speed bullet blasted the eye out the rear of the giant alien's head...along with chunks of meat, bone, and plenty of blood. There wasn't even a death roar...or even a gurgle. The big beast just fell over, crashed to the ground, and lay still, surrounded by his own gore. The immidaite pack of Grunts he'd been leading panicked, danced, and screamed, as Grunts always did...
Braam..!
...Which didn't help them at all, when another bullet gutted one of them like a fish.
" Romeo ! ", Buck bellowed.
" ..Here, Gunny !", the sniper responded coolly.
He'd had to pitch his own vocal cords harder than speaking normally, but not quite a shout. That was not his nature. Not of any real, true blue sniper, really. They couldn't afford to- it was the first rule of their training, and the arguably more critical aspect of it. They had to remain cool, calm, and composed as they did what they did...because if they didn't, then that one shot they needed to land might miss, and have dire consequences for their brothers and sisters under arms.
Or...when it came to his current situation, it would let just one more of these alien butchers get by, and risk killing one of said brothers or sisters. That was just as unacceptable...
...Which, naturally, brought him to the other coveted factor of a good sniper:
Multitasking.
" Still online. Send traffic...! "
Romeo automatically- like an Auto gearshift of a car- cleared a section of his mind to receive whatever kind of bad- or even good- that Gunny Buck was about to share. More likely than not, though...it would be bad. If the veritable horde or aliens that were carpeting the city square laid out before him was anything to judge by ( and it was, frankly ), their collective hardpoint of the NMPD HQ had long ago become the Alamo.
And, though he wasn't a historian by any stretch whatsoever, Romeo still remembered that particular story didn't end well for the defenders...
"..Ok, Lance...listen closely ! ", boomed the NCO down the Comms line. Something exploded rather violently on his end ( sounding suspiciously like a plasma grenade ) , but he kept going.
" They're throwing everything but the kitchen sink at us down here ! We've burned through 75 percent of our ammo , and a quarter of my detachment is out of action ! Is there any gaps out there you can spot ! We need to launch a punch-though through their lines if we can, and yesterday ! "
...Don't I know it !
Love a target-rich environment as much as the next sniper, but...this is kinda getting ridiculous..
" Wish I had..."
Braaam !
Another Grunt died..
"...good news for ya, Gunny, but they're comin' at this joint thick, fast, and angry ! And speaking of ammo...I only have 3 mags left. That's it...! "
" What ?! That's all ?! "
" That's all, boss. Like I said...wish I had better news.."
Braaamm...!
Down went a Jackal...God only knew how many of those guys had gotten taken out today..
" So...what's the play ?! "
There was a momentary lapse on the other end- not hesitation, though. Hesitating always came with an " Uhhh ", or an " Umm..."...and there was neither one now. Nor would there be...if Buck's past track record of leading this unit was anything to go by. He was no waffle , or snowflake- he was a rock, and even if he was feeling the pressure, as everyone tended to, he didn't let it get to him.
He couldn't afford to. Otherwise, his team might die. His team. That, as went without saying, was beyond unforgivable. A undeniable truth...like how the sun is bright or how Covenant plasma really freaking hurts. Like " Give me death right now because I can't bear it a second longer " kind of hurt..
With that kind of mentality, it wouldn't take long for a plan to come out-
Boss always has one. Always...
And, sure enough..
" ...Son of a gun ! Alright, look: If we can't take 'em over the streets, then we're gonna have to go through the tunnels ! "
"...They're gonna be packed with Drones, Gunny ! ", warned the sniper.
Braamm..!
A Brute collapsed dead, his bulky Brute-Shot grenade launcher crashing down like an anvil.
A good shot, and one that definitely saved many Marines from getting dismembered, but...it'd cost Romeo the last of his magazine. His ammo counters- the one glimmering as twin 0s on his scope, as well as the other one...which was the mental one he always kept running- did not lie .
Reload..
Reload..!
By sheer reflex and experience, he began the process without thinking for a second: Hitting the magazine release, hearing it fall with a comforting mechanically deep clack, then reaching over with the right hand for where the spare magazines were left stacked..
Grabbing it, bringing it back over...then feeding it home firmly with another loud, razor-sharp clack. Yank the charging handle to cycle the bolt, which rammed itself home with such an authoritative chruh-chnk that it could've been a Marine Corps Sergeant on its own.
..Now...it was ready to fight again.
And, all the while, Buck wasn't finished ( needless to say ), but that was ok. Multitasking was a cornerstone of the job, after all.
" Preach to another choir, Lance ! But unless their horde gets thinned out, we're gonna get wasted going out that way..! "
" Thinnin' 'em out as quick as I can, Gunny, but ammo's getting short over here ! ".
...Braaam !
Got another Brute...
Goodbye, ape..
" Down here isn't much better ! That's why we gotta go ! ", Buck yelled.
" ...We can't stay here. I'll get Korsan on the horn...and we'll co-ordinate a fallback- "
BWooom !
Another ( How many was that now ? Who could count today ? ) jackhammering blast drowned out all conversation...which, weirdly, also sounded suspiciously like a Jackhammer Launcher shot ! Someone down there had access to heavy artillery..
...And not just the aliens, thank God.
Still, adrenaline flowed hard and fast from the sound alone, though Romeo managed to maintain the discipline , as he drilled a Grunt through the head, thoroughly pulping it like an overripe melon.
"-underground ! ", Buck finished. He sounded bizarrely calm, despite yelling. Romeo had been listening to that for years, and it still weirded him out, yet fascinated him equally. It was kinda beyond him, but he wasn't complaining.
" How copy, Lance ? "
"...One second...", Romeo shifted the crosshairs onto another Grunt's head, as the stumpy alien was about to throw a grenade.
Braam ! Bits and pieces went everywhere. A nearby Grunt screamed, dropped his gun, and was immediately cuffed across the head by a nearby Brute.
One who Romeo killed as well ( Braam ! ) , then acknowledged Buck's orders , as calmly and coolly as only a sniper can.
" ..Just say when, Gunny. That's all I need ! "
" You damn well better be ! ", shot back the Sergeant on the line. " And you're staying there till I call you back, or till your ammo runs dry- if that happens, get the heck down to the lobby ! Copy ?! "
" Loud and clear, Gunny ! "
Braam !
...Was it even worth keeping track of this anymore ? The Grunt that fell over dead just now, landing face-first amid a puddle of his own blood and flesh, was literally the dozenth that'd been slotted today. It was beginning to all just blur together...and kind of not matter that much anymore when it came to keeping track of each one. It was, more than anything else, a bothersome habit that Romeo hadn't been able to shake...and if it hadn't been something that didn't hamper his sniping that much, he'd have buckled down on it more.
At least he knew about it, though. It came and it went...and now was one of those " nows ".
Still there, until it became " went " ( which it always did, thankfully )...but, it was a fight for another day.
Thank God I can think like lightning...
Otherwise, this would be a kick to the ass.
" Good ! Stay on it ! Out ! "
Without much more ado, the NCO from Draco III severed the line on his end. It was ok, though; he'd gotten the message across.
Besides...with how much of a target rich environment this was, and how low his bullet stockpile was already...Romeo knew he wouldn't be here much longer anyway.
But, that was ok as well.
He could still nail a few more of the aliens first.
Or, maybe more than a few. He still had some ammo, and he could still aim straight. That's all it really required to whack one- or half a dozen more. Not much against the grand ( or rather, grotesque ) scheme of them all, but 12 dead was still better than 12 alive...gunning for the others.
" ...Dig till we hit daylight ?! That's about it ?! ", exclaimed a nearby voice.
Breathless, electrically charged from the adrenaline and chaos all around them, and wrapped with a richer-than-the-deepest-gold-vault Irish accent, the other Marine here with Romeo offered his own brand of commentary.
And questioning, but that was just par for the course. The lower ranks...they always did that. Romeo knew he wasn't exempt. Just wasn't his turn right now...
" ..Least he'd not plannin' on leaving us here to die ! "
McKinnon.
Robert McKinnon, was the name of the Marine Designated Marksman Rifle ( DMR ) man on Romeo's right flank. His impromptu spotter, temporary teammate, and resident Irishman ( as every squad was pretty much required to have...just to keep things fun and crazy ). He'd been hand-chosen by Korsan for this assignment ( with the added approval of Gunny Buck as well, needless to say ), and after the first 15 minutes of sitting on this crow's nest they'd carved out for themselves here, on the 10th floor of the building, surrounded by bullet-sand bags , spent brass casings, lots of scattered duracrete dust from stray plasma rounds that'd torn holes out of the building's walls, and the strong presence of cordite from all the firing they'd done...
...Romeo was more or less sure it'd been a good call.
He might not have majored with psychology ( or, gotten any kind of major from anywhere, for that matter ), but this McKinnon character was a good egg. Paid attention, didn't freak out, and at least twice, he'd called out some Jackals that's been angling to sneak close to the HQ with those nasty Fuel Rod Cannons on their shoulders...leading to them getting heir heads forcibly restructured by Romeo. Most of all, though...listening to someone yelling cusswords at the enemy with an Irish accent was just the thing to maintain morale.
Whether you needed it or not. Romeo didn't really think he did, but he wasn't complaining.
" He won't. ", the Sniper stated, allowing himself the pleasure of a confident tone. " Been serving under the guy for years now. Always comes through for his boys ! "
" Glad that means me too. Reassuring, eh ?! ", remarked the Irishman, as he feathered his DMR's trigger. Out the edge of the SSR's scope, viewfield, Romeo watched as several Grunts literally lost their heads ( or at least, chunks of them ) as the DMR's 7.62mm rounds chopped and carved them to bits.
" You could say that. Meanwhile, just keep runnin' that gun, you hear !? Till its dry, or we get new orders. Either way, then, we're gone ! "
" Right with ya ! "
And...so it went.
They had a plan. They had targets. They had ( rapidly dwindling ) ammo..
They had the fires of the burning cityscape that was New Mombasa lighting the night like it was high noon. Way off back behind the immediate buildings ahead of them, loomed the flickering glow of major fires. From all the way over there, they resembled what a fireplace looked like, with the red-orange glow of the flames flickering on and off, back and forth...illuminating and silhouetting the towering structures around them. Smoke- coal-black, oily, and churning as only smoke clouds could- also danced with the firelight, blending like some kind of hyper-destructive mosaic .
And, down below...a rapidly expanding graveyard of Covenant. The square....packed with them. Most were dead, but many were not. They were pushing ahead, streaming to the square from the myriad of side streets that fed it from multiple angles all around it. From above, and again, from all angles...clusters of purple ( eggplant purple, as was always the case with the Covenant ) lights moved about...heralding the arrival and movements of their Air Force as they carried out the tasks of shuttling more warriors to deal with.
Or...provide air support.
Good God...that would be the last thing the defenders would need.
But...the Covenant had to know that as well..
They had to...
As Romeo slew a Jackal ( puncturing the chest, leaving an exit wound wide enough to fit your fist through )...that one thought ( perhaps the last of the stubborn ones that kept surfacing on its own ) pushed its way to the front of his mind. Or rather, it just jostled itself around again so much he had to pay attention. Then again...considering what a wing of Banshees could do...maybe that wasn't so bad.
Anyway, though...
...Why the hell haven't they strafed the Living Daylights out of us yet...?!
They've got the Flyboys for it. What're they waiting for...?!
...Just, plasma this joint and be done with it. You've lost a freaking battalion hitting this place ! What're you even doing...?!
Why, for sure. It didn't made sense. The Covies were fanatical, and obsessively driven kill humans for no reason ( Well...they probably did have some reasons, but after seeing that footage of what they'd done to Harvest, Romeo literally didn't care what those reasons might be. They were meaningless compared to literally burning a whole planet ), but...there's always been some level of tactical sense with what they did. Flanking, suppressive fire, softening with Wraith fire...
...but, this ?
Just...throwing bodies at them ? Keeping them pinned here ?
That's...that's all they were doing. Just keeping the mishmash of Marines, soldiers, and NMPD officers pinned here like a stamp stuck to a corkboard...with a sheer mass of numbers. The towering HQ building was a giant, 25th century version of the Alamo now: spitting sheets of bullets from all angles, burning and riddled with holes and gaps that'd been blown and blasted through from all the plasma and energy shots slung their way.
All that, when they could just send some Seraphs and plasma-barrage this whole block to slag and ruins.
Just that quick. He'd seen it with Gunny Buck, on the streets of Draco III years ago...during the massacre. That's what they called it, because that's what it had been: Hardly a battle, but just a case of the Covenant playing a even sicker-than-usual version of their " Let's use humans for target practice " game. They had literally ignored military targets, just so their pilots of the Banshees could strafe crowds of civilians , who died as they ran and screamed under the pitiless rain of scalding plasma rounds. Or, under the equally searing heat of the plasma bombs, lobbed at them by Seraphs dancing like winged devils overhead..
It wasn't the Covenant army that had killed the most of the human race...
..It was the ones they had that were airborne that had. Their Banshees, and their Seraphs, and going on from there...their naval warships. Chock full of plasma- that awful, blazing, melt-metal-like-its-toffee plasma-weapons...that had truly slaughtered the most. They had, all on their own. Or, even if they didn't, they'd at least carried hordes of those genocidal thugs to battlefield after battlefield, allowing them to arrive much quicker and with much greater numbers than they could otherwise..
...Nothing unnerved him more than that. Even as the last of his ammo- this last magazine, that he'd just rammed home- began to get discharged down the barrel of the rifle, his peripheral view tracked the clusters of purple lights...
...Tracked them, and made a note of their size, and shapes. His snipers' gaze was pulling double duty tonight, and had all along during this blistering assault...which was now more of a grinding slog. He watched them as they moved- like purple fireflies out there on the horizon against the night sky...
..." Lance ! Nearly tapped over here ! We're gonna have to move after a New York minute...! "
McKinnon's yell, pitching itself above the din and roar of the fight, synced ( somehow ) with Romeo expending the last of his ammo...
...The absolute last of his ammo.
..Braam !
By so many measures, it was no different than any of the other shots he'd unleashed tonight. Not at all. The scope he stared down, the crosshairs he steadied ...and the trigger he smoothly and evenly pulled ( not ever jerking ) enough back to send that one, last, final round downrange...and right through the skull of a Brute.
Spent brass went bouncing and skittering away...but it didn't get away. With one gloved hand, Romeo swept the spent casing back, and bunched them together to form a nice(ish ) pile of heated brass cylinders. After so much firing, though...that pile was well on its way to becoming a mountain.
Still...it was a age-drilled, deep-set sniper ritual-like all of the others. From the technique of pulling that trigger, to following through on every shot...to scanning the field for anything that could be called a threat...all of them counted. Gunny Buck may have been constantly getting on his case about how much of a " smartass " he was, but...Romeo knew- and Gunny Buck knew- that he nailed his targets.
Its why he'd lasted as long as he had with this unit...or at least that's what Romeo liked telling himself.
But...he still needed ammo. And...
...now there was none.
There was nothing more he could do from here...
Nothing...except fall back and join the others on that thin red line downstairs.
Biting his lower lip, he nodded, then slowly pulled away from the scope he'd practically been living on for over an hour straight. His mouth was screaming out for water, with that certain cottony, papery way a mouth always was when you'd been driving hard at something without a drink ( Especially if you'd drunk the last of your canteen before you even got here... ). His whole body ached from the repetitive shockwaves from the massive recoil of those 14.72mm rounds...over and over, and over again...
He was 8 hours out of sleep, on top of all that. Basically, if things hadn't been what they were, he'd have just laid down and caught some Zzzzzs right here and right now.
But...he didn't have that luxury. Just a purpose.
Ah, well...
..Rest is for the dead.
Or the Navy. And I ain't either one.
Shaking it off, he stood to a crouch, and quickly set about packing away the rifle and gear.
" ...Let's bounce, Rob ! Get on the horn, and let the Gunny know we're Oscar Mike to his position ! "
" Sure thing, Lance..! ", responded the Irishman. He had also moved away from his spot on the sandbag wall, and now had his BR brandished with one hand, while activating his Comms with the other.
" Hey, Gunnery Sergeant Buck ! Hey, Gunny...! "
There was a crackle, some pops, and as Romeo released the rifle's magazine, grabbed it, then slung the whole assembly over his back with nearly one fluid motion, the NCO from Draco III shouted right back at them a cheery, " McKinnon ?! You'd better have good news for me...! "
" No joy on that, Gunny ! We're all dry here ! Every last round ! We're falling back to the lower levels-! "
" Hey, Rob ! "
The sniper, by then, had everything he'd brought with him stowed and ready to leg it. Without anymore ammo, he had no reason to stay here any longer- him, or his spotter. They had to leave, and they had to do it yesterday...
So, he swiveled around and shouted at him the only thing that mattered then: " Rob ! Let's move ! "
Beckoning, Romeo gestured toward the depths of the building behind them- blackened, with the lights switched off, and with there just enough illumination to show off the chunks and scraps of smashed glass that covered its floor- courtesy of the steady stream of stray shots that'd smashed through it from below. Crushed potted plants, wrecked office chairs and more completed the scene of what had been a typically routine office space...now roughly re-decorated by the Covenant.
Quite gentle, actually, by their vicious standards...
" Gotta hustle, man ! ". He beckoned again.
"...What the hell's going on over there ?! ", demanded Buck over the comms, as McKinnon nodded briskly, and scrambled away from the edge of the battered CN. " You on your way down yet ?! "
" Way ahead of ya, Gunny...! We're- "
Rmmmbraaaakll...!
...Wait...
...What the- ?!
Out of nowhere....
...Out of nothing...like lightning from a cloudless sky, with 0 warning...
...A roaring, crackling, thunderous noise began emanating from the sky. It wasn't close by, but only now, could Romeo hear it.
"...You're what ?! Send again, Lance..! "
...What the hell is...?!
The noise...it was getting louder. And louder, and louder. McKinnon had reached him by then, but Romeo just craned his head back, staring toward the sky as the roar coming from it kept raging on.
" Lance ! ? "
"...Gunny ?! I...I think we got a situation here ! ", the Irishman exclaimed. He was clearly caught between a rock and a hard spot- mulitasking. It was a devilish thing, but he was doing the best he could...
" Something...We can hear somethin' coming for us, Gunny ! " ! Some kind of...aerial vector...! "
" Unless its literally coating you with plasma, Private, then its nothing ! Get down here ! "
Oh...he was angry now. Probably even more qualified by having gotten shot at by the Covenant for the past hour...which was understandable. The shouting was unwanted as usual, but...
...Romeo had bigger issues right now.
He'd been watching the sky, as soon as the roaring had commenced. Already keeping track as best he could of all the purple glowing spots dancing around the night sky ( signalling the presence of the alien air force ), he now was doing it again, but at a much more frenetic pace. That noise, after all...had come from above, so...
Sending a strike at last, are they...?
But...their flyboys don't ride craft that roar. Covie fliers hum, or whirr...
Our craft roar. So...what's...?
Barely a second or so had gone by, as the sniper's mind went a mile a minute. As he scanned the skies, watching...
As his pulse ramped, and his fingers clenched tight around the strap keeping his SS2 secured-
..." Oh..oh son of a- ! "
" Rob ! Rob, we got to move now ! Now ! "
...He had finally seen it.
Finally, it'd become clear. Clear as a crystal, and clear as a cloudless sky.
He'd finally seen it...and now that he had..
...He could not help but react the only way he could. Couldn't at all.
Reaching out, he grabbed McKinnon's shoulder. Grabbed it, and bodily began to drag the other Marine away, all while launching to a sprint headed toward the building's scarred front. He crushed his grip around his own rifle, and he just began to run...
Running...
" Woah ! Hey, what gives...?! ", protested McKinnon, staggering along as he then pulled away. " What the- ?! "
" What're you yelling about, man- ?! "
" Its a freaking SCARAB ! A SCARAB ! THEY'RE DROPPING A SCARAB ON US ! ", Romeo bellowed. He stabbed a knife hand toward the night above them...toward the roar...
...Practically deafening them now.
The giant metal death spider was close...and getting closer.
Like..." Its gonna get here any second " kind of close..
" We. Are Leaving ! ". The sniper jerked his head toward the depths behind them. " Haul ass, paddy ! "
It was the most Romeo had ever shouted , ever, and if it'd been for anything other than a Scarab ( or...anything of the Covenant arsenal that didn't move on the ground )...well, it wouldn't have happened at all. That kind of urgency...was reserved only for the Scarabs...
It'll drop this whole building ! We've got to scram !
Unfortunately, though...
...maybe, that urgency did its job too well. Maybe McKinnon was so caught by surprise by it, that it took him a fatal few more extra milliseconds to process it. A Scarab ! An honest to God Scarab ! Here ! Who would've expected it ?!
It wasn't an excuse, but...it was the only reason anywhere for why McKinnon seemed to stand still for just one extra second longer...
...and then the Scarab...
...Finally completed its planetfall.
Uuuuwaaaaaaaaahhhh !
Uuuuuwwaaaaaaahhhh !
Barooooommm...!
..
...Solid duracrete vibrated.
Solid. Duracrete. All through the ground- the shockwaves from the impact flowed through it. The world around them just seemed to grey out as the sheer force of the vibrations rattled them from head to foot. Romeo was nearly thrown off balance, and clear to the ground from it...as his hearing was drowned out from the cacophony of what was pretty much a thunderclap at ground level.
He couldn't even think clearly...or think at all.
Just rode it out...as best he could. It blotted everything out...everything..
...
Eventually, after a moment...
...Things cleared. He'd managed to stay vertical...somehow, and noticed that McKinnon had done the same. He hadn't even dropped his BR..
Not that it would've mattered that much, though. BR85HBs were built tough. Built to last...not brittle.
"...Aghh...! Geez, you weren't kidding...! "
...And, it seemed, neither were Irishmen.
"Oh...Bloody heck...man, you were right ! Yeah, lets' make tracks...! "
" That's what I said ! ". Romeo smacked his side of his helmet, forcing away the last of the piercing ringing, and the cobwebs. God only knew how the boys and girls downstairs were handling this...
Go find out, then !
" This way ! Hurry ! "
Again, he set off at a full run...though, now , there was no pulling the other guy- no need to at all. McKinnon was keeping pace this go-around, and not lagging whatsoever.
And, it soon proved to be a true lifesaver, because, just as they began building steam, and just as they were crossing the archway of the balcony doors...
...BrwWWWroOOOOMMMMM !
...
Much like a doorbell going off when you about to go to sleep, the growling howl of the Scarab's main cannon discharging was just as sudden...and loud.
The Marines were already under a roof by then, but the sound of the gun firing reached them sent an extremely clear message:
"...Hit the deck, Rob ! Hit the deck..! "
...That. Exactly that...
Romeo threw himself down then, landing hard. His armor clacked against the tiled granite floor ( and the glass over it ) with a metallic crnchh-clk.
Another set of the same sounds heralded McKinnon doing the exact same thing...
...And, without a second to spare.
Because...
BRWAAAAAAASSHH !
BWOOOOOMMMM...!
Crakkkklll...!
...that was when the universe exploded behind them.
Exploded.
Another shockwave pummeled them, but even stronger than the last. The granite floor trembled, and bit of glass, rebar, duracrete...and God knows what else pelted them from above. It rained on their armor, and the overwhelming volume of it all hammered at their eardrums like it was hydraulically powered..
Big fragments of more duracrete went flying past, crashing and bouncing like boulders of a rockslide. Clouds and plumes of dust, ashes, and vaporized steel ballooned around them, filling the air...
Hands clamped vise-like over the back of his helmet, Romeo pressed himself to the patch of granite he'd laid down on as hard as he could. He fought as hard as he could to keep his point of focus on...anything at all ahead of him...just to remind himself he wasn't dead. An office chair- sent airborne from the blast, and lobbed like a child's toy against one of the many pillars that occupied this room- soon fit the bill.
He stared at it...and was soon struck by how the pillars had just saved their lives. Soaking the brunt of the plasma beam, taking it so they wouldn't...
...So it seemed, at least.
But, he couldn't dwell on it.
Couldn't...even if he wanted to.
That would've been death. The Scarab was still out there...
...and it would fire on them again. Soon. No more than a few seconds away from another barrage, actually. That was how...they always were.
So, he stood. Stood without a word. He didn't need words...didn't even need to shout. There was no more shouting that needed done...not anymore. Not here, and not from him. What could he even say that the beam already had ?!
"..Go...go, go go, go ! ". McKinnon was hollering now, like a Sergeant would. " Go ! "
The Scarab had that effect on you...it just engaged your autopilot for real once you survived its first shot. You just...acted without thinking. Like a robot..
So...with that kind of raw, programmed reflex, both Marines sprang to their feet, and began to run again. They ran, and ran...and ran. Ran till they reached the stairwell that'd brought them there to begin with...and then kept running. They ran, as the Scarab opened fire on their position again...
...their former position, technically...and erased it.
Bwrooooommmmmm !
Crakkllll...!
More shuddering of the floor , right as they were going down the stairs. Dust puffed off of where it'd been jammed and hiding along the walls, ceiling, and the floor as well, and the lights flickered. A deep, quaking wave rolled through the building itself...
" Its coming down...its coming down on us, I think...!", grunted the Irishman, as the two Marines careened down the stairs. Some of which, they took two at once...or even jumped down the last 3.
" Yeah...seems like it ! ", Romeo agreed, as he hooked around the next corner ahead of them. The lights flickered again, and actually stayed off for a moment or so, before coming back...
" Raise the Gunny again ! Let him know we're Oscar mike ! Comms got cut after the first salvo...! "
" Right-! "
" Lace Corporal Agru ! Private McKinnon ! "
The Comms line, just like that, burst to life. But, it wasn't Gunny Buck on the other end now...
..Korsan ?!
She's...she's alive ?!
But...what about...what ?!
"... Lance ! Private ! Respond ! "
...She was.
She was !
...By the Grace of the Lord, as Dutch would say..
...Huh. Maybe I believe it more than I think I do..
"...Captain ?! ". McKinnon skidded around the next corner, and the ODST quickly mirrored the move. " Captain ! We're here, ma'am...! "
" Both of you ?! "
" ..Yes, ma'am ! "
" ..He's... still with you ?! "
" Roger that, ma'am ! "
Rushed, and hurried sounding...Romeo noted, as he listened.
Lotta chaos and yelling going on behind her...
They're running from the Scarab...
Like we are.
"...Right ! Then this is what you're gonna do next- "
"... Hey-hey,Wesson ! That's your ammo can on the ground back there ! Grab it ! "
...Unbridled chaos or not, it seemed the officer wasn't letting disciple slack.
Good on us all, reflected the sniper, as there was a muffled " Yes, Captain ! " by way of response to her order.
"...Still with me, Private ?! "
"...Roger that ma'am...! "
Bwrooooommm...!
Crakkklll...!
An earthquake- as usual now- rattled literally everything, as the Scarab outside continued its steady dismantling of the NMPD HQ building. The lights did their thing, and Romeo actually saw a crack, then a split, appear on the opposite wall from where he stood.
Something fell from the ceiling, and bounced off his helmet...and then a few more..
...Oh, snap...
...Yeah, this house of cards is getting knocked over quicker than I thought...!
...They had to keep moving. They had to...or run the risk of getting literally buried..
...not that the other Marine seemed to need encouraging, though.
"....Watch your steps here...! "
" Yeah...got it...! "
They'd gone down...how many floors by now ? Who even knew ? Neither Marine was counting, but...it hardly mattered. They knew what to watch for: that big white Number " 1 " that marked the ground floor, where'd they'd come from. That's all they need to know, really, because as soon as they saw that, then it was pretty clear what they would need to to, and where they would need to go..
That, and the stream of fresh orders from the skipper...as always.
" Lance ! Private ! RV with the unit on Sublevel C ! That's Sublevel C ! ", the officer shouted over the line. " Confirm ! "
"...Roger that, ma'am ! Sublevel C !! "
...The basement, I presume ?
Makes sense...with that Scarab outside, we've gotta get ourselves scarce from it. Now . Otherwise, we're smoked.
Romeo, for the life of him, couldn't imagine anything else that the Covenant had at their disposal that left any UNSC pilot/sailor/Marine, etc so automatically programmed to just run like there was no tomorrow...like the Scarab. There was just nothing else that really compared...nothing that so drove you to just flee, run, and then run some more the second they showed themselves. It was a pure animal reflex, and unless you were blessed enough to have a wing of air support standing by, or a squad of Grizzily Tanks...
...Then all you could do was run. Run, hide...and pray you'd done both well enough.
And, that's all the two Marines could do. Romeo knew where to run, even. He had heard, and was all too eager to obey.
Wherever the heck Sublevel C was...
...It had to be safer than wherever they'd left.
"...now ! Get them sealed now ! Are you dead but walking !? GET. THEM. SEALED ! "
...
Well...
...It was louder, than where they'd left. Not the same kind of loud, but still loud.
" Let's go, let's go, let's go...! "
...Noise.
So. Much. Noise. It'd slammed the two Marines like an ocean wave the moment they'd emerged from the stairwell that led all the way down to Sublevel C- which was, exactly as Romeo had suspected, the basement of the HQ building. Actually, even before they'd reached the cobalt-blue metal door that'd been blocking their way, they could hear the overlapping, deafening hubbub of dozens of voices going well above conversation volume...all at once. It was as clear a sign as any that they were headed for a total madhouse of a situation...
...though...they were between a rock and a hard place. There was no going back, needless to say. Nothing else to do...but go forward.
So, they had. And had then found themselves surrounded by chaos.
Surrounded by it. By the looks of things...they- the mixed bag of civvies , and the police/Army/Marines UNSC armed forces personnel had just arrived here, and quite hastily as well. Most the civvies were mostly milling around, with confused, scared, and angst-y expressions, as the men and women with the uniforms, weapons, authoritative yelling and urging steadily herded them to form a column of sorts...all while the constant rumblings and echoing booms from the alien offensive above went on...and on.
It was a scene any Marine was familiar with...and it was playing out once more.
Yet. Again..
...Except now...it was Earth.
"...Lance Corporal Agru ! "
Like a cracking bullwhip, the sound of none other than Gunnery Sergeant Edward Buck reached the impromptu duo barely a second out of the door. From off to one side, sure, but it hardly mattered.
Things were moving at a lightning pace down here- either they'd have found him seconds later, or the reverse.
What did matter, though, was they'd made the RV.
" Lance Corporal ! PFC McKinnon ! ". The NCO's barking tone heralded his approach, even though the two Marines had already turned at once toward the way he'd yelled to them from- and then spotted the man himself. Not as if he was hard to spot, though: green multicam camo pattern paint job on his armor was on its own a giveaway to Romeo.
Then again...serve at the command of the guy for enough years, and you knew pretty quick if he was someone else. Which he wasn't.
" Good- you're here ! ", the NCO greeted them, with his typical brisk style.
" Came as quick as we- ", McKinnon began.
Unsurprisingly ( again...to Romeo ) Buck didn't let him finish. " Stick. With. Me. Understand ?! Captain Korsan's taking the lot us deeper down the tunnel network...and out of New Mombasa. We're the only escort the Civilians have till then, so keep your eyes open, your magazines checked, and your heads on swivels. Got it !? "
...It...it was a tad amount of whiplash, from that.
Just...just a bit. But...Romeo had something to help them there: Survival of multiple years as an ODST, where every single, each and every day had some kind of strain, pain, or danger. Plus, orders from a myriad of brusque/demanding Sergeants. All combined and put together, it was an umpteenth layer of mental programming that, when activated ( like now ), carved through confusion, surprise, and all the nagging questions that were rapidly backing themselves at the back of your mind like a Covenant plasma beam through Titanium.
Left you only able to say...one thing..."
"...Y-Roger that, Gunny ! ".
..Dang it...
Now I sound like a greenhorn..!
Ugh...
Minutely shaking his head at his frustration of that moment, Romeo nodded, to fully sell the acknowledgement. Even the relatively new Marine, Mckinnon, got the gist of things by now..
Aside from a half-spoken " What the...hang on " he'd gotten off earlier, but it didn't get past that much. Perhaps he wasn't as green as he looked..
But...for now.."
" Let's move then ! ", Buck turned sharply on a heel. " Don't let me catch you lagging, Marines ! We've got a lot of ground to cover, and barely any space on the clock to do it ! "
With that, and without further ado, the NCO strode off...and the two lower ranking Marines had no real other choice , but to follow as quickly as they could. Clench their weapons, brace their legs against the rock-solid floor...and hurry to keep the pace.
They followed him, right through the middle of the borderline mob that'd formed down here. Under the glare of the overhead light bars, blazing their pale glow all over the cavernous, blue-to-the-point-of-black walls, ceiling and floors...they ran with him.
Ran through a dank, musty, and rather neglected-looking space that clearly hadn't gotten any real attention for the past few months...if not years. It was nothing but bare, unpainted surfaces down here, with tarpaulin-draped pallets of...barrels and crates, along with other unrecognizable ( to them, at least ) assortments of machinery. A Forklift- painted pale blue, with the name " TRAXUS " stenciled with white letters along one side- sat parked against one wall opposite him...beside a bank of heavy-duty, bank-safe-grade lockers. Probably weapons lockers...though, this was a good place to stash them..
After all...who the heck would come down here ?
...They would.
That's who...
By " they ", that could only refer to the legion's worth of frightened ( if they were not terrified ) civilians that the ODSTs, rank and file Marines, plus the Army soldiers, and the NMPD officers all had the responsibility of escorting. Though he'd nearly at once run to the front of the loose, constantly unraveling formation, Romeo had still gotten a pretty good look at the lot of them...
...and it wasn't that much to be pleased with. Even accounting for the days ( and many nights ) that he'd spent covering the evacuation of more terrified Civs that he could ever hope to count...there was something about...there was something about this group that just stood out.
Why ? Who knew...and Romeo had to admit the reason still eluded him.
Onward they ran, nearing the end of the passageway. The light quality remained subpar but it was enough to go by...
...Enough to reveal they'd reached a set of towering, rock solid and gunmetal-colored...blast doors.
Aha...!
Now...now it all made sense.
Sublevel C, it seemed..
...Was linked to the city's underground access tunnels ! That was pretty much the only aspect of UNSC- run planetary city design that every Marine was familiar with- if it was a big city, or even a big town, then it was a given that it had a network of subterranean tunnels that let to points outside of the municipal limits. It'd become more and more routine over the past 10 years- building these tunnels to give their citizens a chance to find a way past the waiting muzzles of the enemy's plasma cannons and swords. Not to mention the scourge of their ships, and their heavy artillery...all of which were tailor made to slaughter as many of those citizens as it was possible to do at once.
Needless to say, though, the tunnels were also a form of great danger themselves: Covenant armies had successfully breached them over the years, though, rarely from above. Rather, they'd either chased the fleeing civs through the main doors as they opened...or just sat on the approaches to said tunnels and gunned them down as they ran for them. It'd definitely been responsible for more than a few of them getting taken out over past few years...
...but what choice did they have ?
Stay on the surface, with the Scarab ?!
A Scarab ?! Uh-uh. No. Nope...no. That was literal and actual stupidity...and as if the civs wouldn't have bolted toward somewhere the moment that thing showed its ugly mug...which they had. Thankfully, with the cops, Marines, and soldiers around, it'd not become an unhinged mass riot- just a slightly less unhinged mass stampede.
Hardly much better. It really wasn't, but the alternative was so much worse , that as long as they'd successfully gotten the lot of them here.
...But, all of them ?
...Was it all of them ?
...You know...I actually don't want to.
Though he was not a overly religious man by nature, Romeo found himself experiencing a strange sense of what he could only label as...gratitude, at how many of the Civs were even here. He hadn't done a headcount, or been complicit with one...but...
...Again...maybe he was better off not knowing. Yes...maybe that was just better. A side of Romeo's mind rejected that, obviously, reminding him that he'd have to deal with it sooner or later, and...the rest of him didn't disagree, not completely, but...he just wanted to hold off on that for now.
Just for now. Just for a while...
...Covies. They mess with you with more ways then you think of..., the Sniper solemnly reflected, as he watched Gunny Buck raise a tightly-clenched fist, stopping them short.
"...Ok...ok ,hold here ! ", the NonCom called out. " Hold. Right. Here ! "
" Captain ?!
...Oh...
Oh...right. She's the one with rank here. Must've missed that signal..
Then again...she's on the other side of this gaggle of civs, and Gunny's ahead of me, so...
Geez. Another reason I won't get bumped when it comes to rank. That...and I haven't got my 8 hours after 4 times as long...
" Captain ?! "
" Punching the code through, Gunny ! One second ! Keep 'em organized ! ", came the reply. It was yelled back, from somewhere on the other side of the end of the long, straggled column of civs stretching back the way they'd come.
" ..Roger that ! "
The child side of Romeo, quite frankly, actually was tempted to go over there, and watch. It really was. But, then...perhaps it wasn't just a case of " a child side "...and as much of one of " Hey, these Civs are really terrified, and they've got a giant metal death spider crawling around this neighborhood...", which had scared them so much, that you just had to do what you could- anything at all- to give them more of a chance to escape.
Maybe that's why he'd suddenly pushed forward a step or so, nearly bumping against Gunny himself...using more haste than the sniper actually thought he'd had. Quite confusing...
...but, at least he had an angle he wanted. Captain Korsan was right there, standing before the assess code panel that would open the access doors, with one of her own unit's NCOs standing at her side with his back to Romeo, an MA5C slung over his back. They were working quickly , tapping the console as quickly as the Sergeant could read off the exact code numbers and letters from where he'd gotten them.
Wherever that was...but, it hardly mattered. Certainly not now.
"..Few more seconds, Gunny ! ", the officer called back, with a calm, yet also strangely quite rushed manner of speaking. Perhaps, though, given all that was going on..
...Yeah, actually. It wasn't actually that shocking at all, was it..
"...Geez...I gotta be honest with ya..."..
McKinnon, rather abruptly, ended the silence between them. Romeo didn't turn his head- he was still watching the code entry- but he nodded subtly regardless, just to show it'd been received.
He was nice like that.
The rank and file Marine next to him, whether he'd got the gist of that or not, kept right on going. "...It...it feels like now's the right freaking chance for something to go wrong. I mean...ya get that feeling, right ? Weird, but I do. "
..." You talkin' out loud, or are you for real right now ? ", Romeo shot back. A green glow suddenly burst from the access panel...
...but the doors did not budge. Not yet..
...Don't go asking for things, buddy.
Because you might actually get them..
Again, though, it wasn't clear if the other Marine had gotten the point, because what came next was a slightly confused sounding, " ...Eh...yeah and no, I guess. Just a feeling. That's all..or at least I pray it is. "
" Well, we're gonna find out soon, won't we ?! ". Romeo cocked his head toward the doors-just as the spinning emergency lights on either side of them blazed to life , and began to rapidly rotate.
Along with a high pitched, electronic-rock sounding " Erramm, erramm, errammm " ! As alarms went, it wasn't even the loudest Romeo'd ever listened to, but it still got the point across.
Errrammm !
Errrammm !
Errammmm !
"...Alright...good ! ".
Korsan stepped back a bit. Her Sergeant did the same, glancing behind him as the loose mob of civvies behind them began to stir and...stir some more.
Quite loudly, as well. Facing backwards himself, Romeo could only see a sea of frightened, tense, and wildly shoving against one another now that they could actually see the doors having opened. They could actually see the way forward...
...and, they knew what was behind them. That was proving itself as more of a volatile mix than Romeo remembered...which said something plenty on its own.
So much to keep track of with the Covenant...
Can't remember all of it always...and maybe that's for the better.
Good reason why I pull triggers, and not issue orders..
" We're good ! ", the officer shouted. " Gunnery Sergeant Buck...! "
" Ma'am ?! ", the ODST noncom standing just head of Romeo replied, stepping forward replied.
" Get 'em going ! ", the Captain authoritatively ordered him, gesturing decisively ahead of her, down the length of the yawing gap of the doors . " You, and those two you got ! Get them hustling on your end ! We've gotta get going here ! "
On that final note-emphasis on final- things really began to get moving. As if they hadn't already...which they had.
But...the flurry of movements that burst forth from this moment onward just jackhammered it home...like nothing else could.
Everything seemed to happen all at once-
" Roger that, ma'am ! ", Buck acknowledged, using his strongest parade-ground yell.
Crunching gravel heralded his swiveling around to bark more commands at the Marines he had at his heels, but...Romeo had beaten him to it- the sudden spike of chatter, and panicky shouting form the Civs had gotten his attention.
The Civs...they were getting vocal. And pushy. Despite the well articulated orders from Korsan having gotten rapidly pushed down the line, from soldier to soldier, from Marine to Marine, and from officer to officer...scared-stiff Civs were still scared-stiff Civs, which was to say: They were constantly operating on the verge of going out of control completely...and with the Covenant literally right on top of them, nobody could afford to let that happen.
No matter what...it would have to be stopped.
" All kicking off now...! ", Romeo remarked, to nobody exactly- right as a short man with a tousled mop of hair abruptly came staggering out of the rest of the group. Whether he'd been shoved out on purpose ( cold, even for a nearly-out-of-control-mob ), or just accidentally jostled out of the pack...the sniper couldn't tell.
Didn't matter, though. He had to keep them together. Orders or not.
" Speakin' of which...".
" Romeo ! On your 12..! ", Buck roared.
"...On it ! ". The sniper lunged, bearing down on the wayward Civ with purpose." Rob...over here, man ! "
" ...Gotcha, Lance ! "
As the Irish Marine moved forward on Romeo's right flank, the Sniper had already reached the out-of-line civvy. The loose mob was barrelling on without him, mostly...but a few were stopping to help. Or, at least so it seemed...
But, ultimately, it didn't matter. Romeo got to him, just as a few others were grabbing him and pulling him back. Nonetheless, the sniper grabbed him by one shoulder, and shoved him along, back to the center of the mob.
"Hey, buddy...! "
Romeo gestured aggressively toward the yawing doors. " Keep. Moving ! Go, go..! "
They did, and by God, they did. Like a bunch of magnets on a string getting pulled along by a badly distracted child, the crowd moved along...heading still toward those doors. Officers shouted encouragement and direction...and manhandled them when need be. Soldiers and Marines, as well as more officers, stood with weapons pointed the way they'd all come- ready for even the slightest chance of the aliens showing their mean faces ( and white hot energy guns ) down here. Because, God forbid if they did...they'd gun for the Civvies first.
As was the norm for them...because wanton slaughter was all they lived for.
But...there was now some respite form them. For those they truly hunted. And until they tracked their prey down...or even if...
...They'd have to get past those who'd die first before letting that happen. No promises on that front, but...they could slow the aliens down, at least. Long enough for it to matter.
" ...Hey-hey, hey, ma'am ! Hey ! Calm down..! Its ok...! "
...But, the delays, though..
They just kept on coming !
Now, it was more shouting, erupting from somewhere near the rear of the column. Someone with...
...a Crocadile-Dundee-levels-of-powerful Australian accent ?
..Dubbo !
Hot damn, the Aussie made it !
...And, sounds like he could use a hand as well...
Adrenaline burst through Romeo's blood- and he didn't wait for orders now. From this point onward, pure reflexes activated, and he just knew what he wanted- and what needed- to get done. And for who, as well..
Barely knew Dubbo, sure, and he wasn't an ODST, but he was still a Marine. Plus, an Aussie...who needed some assistance. All of which were excellent reasons to hustle on over there, and help out.
" ...Chips ?! "
" Hey, Chips ! Hang on, man- I'll be right there ! ", the sniper yelled, as he set of at a sprint down the column. Another burst of sheer reflex had him beckoning McKinnon to follow- and the steady crunching of gravel under boots told him the Irishman had gotten the hint.
Switching to his helmet Comms, he cranked the volume just a tad, and then issued to Gunny Buck a rapidly spoken, " Gunny ?! Got some trouble at the tail end of the herd ! Going to check it out with McKinnon ! "
There was a quarter-second pause, and then:
" ...Roger that, Lance ! But you keep them moving no matter what it takes, got it ?! We've got to get 'em outta here...yesterday ! "
" You get me ?! "
Well...there was only 1 response to that Romeo had to offer. Or, that Buck would accept..
" I read you, Gunny...loud and clear...! "
The transmission terminated, and the Sniper pushed on. He wove around a short blonde officer- he vaguely remembered her as having shown him the way to where he'd set that crows' nest- with an M7 SMG on her hip, and then past a Marine with an M90 shotgun over his back...past three soldiers helping a pair of schoolgirls get back to their feet after having gotten knocked over...
...And, at last, reached the last few stragglers, right at the back...exhaustively composing the 6:00 of the " formation ", so to speak.
Some of them were actually still bathed under the lights- the bright, glaring ones - of the stairwell nexus that'd the tunnel had led out from. Nothing especially different about them, appearance wise, from the front...but behavior-wise ? They were skittish. Flighty, and tense. They knew that they were closest to any Covenant that might come pouring out the doors behind them- and no doubt many, if not most of them, were visualizing that happening right now. Well...probably, at most, but it was a safe guess.
Wide eyed expressions, overlapping chatter, a lot of shoving...
Yeah. A safe guess.
But...there was 0 guessing for what was going on at the extreme end of the line...
" Ahhhh...ahh !
" Ahh...oh, God..."
" Ma'am ! Miss...we've GOT. TO. MOVE. "
" No...! "
...None, at all.
As Romeo and McKinnon came racing to a skidding halt there, they were greeted by the scene of a deeply pregnant woman, hunched over, mouth open with pain, hands clutching her large belly...
...and, right front and center around her, was a tight handful of Marines. One of whom was speaking to her quickly, with a powerful Aussie accent, and with a muzzle-burned MA5C over his back.
Kneeling opposite the oncoming sniper was an Officer, holding one of the woman's hand, his free arm around her back, and also busy talking to her- words of encouragement, most likely. But, of the soothing and caring variety, for sure...
Aha...!
Dubbo ! And...her hubby. Forgot his name...but that's definitely him.
What's going on, though ?!
Is...is she ?
Geez...she might be !
" What the- Lance ! You seein' this ?! ", the Irishman following the sniper hollered.
" Think I didn't ?! ". Romeo halted right at the edge of the bunch, then stepped carefully forward. The woman ( Jeena...yes, that was her name, the sniper finally remembered right then ) had begun wailing again , just as loudly as before...right as Dubbo moved to get a hold of her.
"Ma'am ! Miss Numare...we'll carry you outta here, but we got to get movin'..! ", he urged, while struggling to a good grip around her back. " Can't stay here ! "
Hissing with pain, face contorted with strain, Jeena shook her sandy-blonde head. " No...not yet ! Not yet...I think another one's coming...! "
" Oww...owww.."
" Hey ! What's goin' on here !? ". Romeo demanded.
Whatever it was, it was something he wasn't going to sit out-or could. That was why he was even here, anyway: To do what he could, however slight...
" Is she having her kid right here and now, or something...?! "
" Could be ! "
A ferociously strong South African accent provided the answer to that- or at least as much as the owner of it knew.
Said owner, judging from where it came from, was the Marine right across from the sniper. Carrying a muzzle-burned MA5C on her back, she was also busily plugging away at keeping the future mother steady and standing...and also preferably moving. Mostly moving, actually.
The husband was doing his own bit, as well. Mostly having the easiest go of it, as well, given that he was the one Jeena would definitely trust the most. But, it was still no cakewalk...even with both arms around her, and a steady stream of soothing chatter directed right down the nearest ear. From what scant memories Romeo had seen of Civvy evacuations from across the colonies...that tended to do a pretty decent job.
Still...this was different. And not the good kind of different.
" Right here, Jee ! That's where I am, ok !? That's where I am ! We're going to get out of this, together ! We can do this ! ", as they all began to finally move her along again. Not quickly...but it was quicker than standing still.
" Lekker ( Awesome ) ! ", the South African enthused. " Let's move, everyone..! "
Yes...yes, they finally were. But...they'd been at the back to begin with though...!
Glancing back the way he'd come, Romeo could only watch as the rest of the Civvy column rapidly put a wider, and wider gap between them, and this bunch here. They weren't off on the distance...but they were getting closer and closer to it by the second.
They really couldn't afford to lag...
Especially now...
"...Hey ! "
Right on cue, Gunny Buck appeared, racing right toward them...just as Romeo glanced back to find the future mother getting bodily lifted via a human chair-style carry- courtesy of her husband, and the ever-eager-to-assist with anything Dubbo. The South African hovered nearby, ready to lend more muscle if need be..
As did McKinnon, who'd closed on the group, and was now jogging alongside, just as Gunny Buck finally arrived...amid another burst of....energetic sounding Afrikaans.
" ...Everyone: Hustle ! ", the NonCom ordered, stabbing a knife hand toward the ( not quite distant, but distressingly close ) blast door. " Most of them are already through ! But, the Covenant have got to be close by ! We've got to clear those doors before they breach the main shaft that leads here ! "
Technically...that was preaching to the proverbial choir, but, that's what NonComs did. They over-communicated, which actually helped ( bizarrely enough, Romeo had always found it ). They got among the centers of issues, and got their hands dirty. That was more than could be said for many officers, and it was why the Corps ran on them.
Especially go-getters like Gunny Buck..
" Go, go, go..! ".
Narrowing the range between himself and them, he unslung his own MA5C ( also sporting a burned muzzle...the result of dozens of magazines having been run through it over the course of just one day ), and pointed it back toward the aforementioned main shaft. Then, switching to a lateral movement style, he began to escort them on their way toward the waiting blast doors...
...and, survival. For all of them. God willing, that was the prize these Civs would get.
If their protectors ( such as Romeo ) had anything to say about it.
And they did. Quite loudly, via muzzle flash.
"...Guys ! Guys...I...I...!", cried out Jeena.
She sounded...well...like a woman who was on the knife edge of bringing a kid to the world, honestly. Granted, Romeo hadn't ever been...Octagon side for one of those things, ever, but he had a good idea of what it'd probably be like- and things were pretty much unfolding along those lines right now. Which was to say...a lot of pained wailing, some crying, and maybe some swearing as well. Most of that had happened by now...and there was good reason to suspect the rest would follow soon.
Extremely soon, probably...
"...He's coming...I think ! I ..I think he's coming for real now...! ", she gasped.
He's coming-?!
Ohh...hey, that's pretty swell. Beats getting surprised; I don't like surprises.
Seems she doesn't either..
Perhaps, but even more so, she didn't have much longer to go for when that " It isn't a surprise ! " was going to arrive: " They're coming faster...they're coming faster now ! I think he's coming...! "
" That close ?! ...Are they that close ?! ", asked Dubbo.
The response to that didn't take long whatsoever. "...Aghh..! Yes..yes, they are ! "
Uh oh...
...Yeah...it..it does kinda sound like that: Urgent.
...Urgent enough to mean- really ?
Is it ?!
...Now, that was a dynamic that Romeo knew for sure he'd not encountered before. This...this was unprecedented. This was new...and kinda unsettling. On some, weird, primal level...he actually missed the Scarab.
Just not so close, though. Or without a Jackhammer and a mountain of amm-
" Oh god...oh, god ! Oww...! He's definitely coming and...Oh, god ! They're...they're still chasing us ! "
" Yeah, they are...but they're gonna have to get past us to get to you ! ", the South African resolutely promised. " We got your back, ma'am. Just watch us ! "
"...Please...please don't let them catch us ". Jeena's pleading now took on a slightly choked, desperate tone. " Please...I can't...I can't let this happen to him ! We don't even have a name for him...!"
...Out of the flurry of thoughts zipping through Romeo's head right then, that one actually stopped just long enough for him to understand it. More or less, at least...
...No ?!
...Thought the opposite was standard. From what I understand, anyway...
" Once we survive this...we'll do it together. You will get to hold him, by the grace of God... ".
Her husband's conviction and resolve was impressive- and he wasn't alone.
" Hey ! Listen to him, ja ( yah ) ?! We can do this !! "
" God sent us to watch your back...and we will ! "
Like no other accent around ( aside, obviously , the Slavic, Scottish, Irish, and US Southern ) , the South African accent just exuded strength and confidence. Even if Romeo had been operating on shaky morale ( which wasn't the case; he was an ODST, and no matter how harrowing coming face to face with a Scarab was...it wouldn't stick for long, because ODSTs had been reprogrammed that way ) , just hearing words of determination spoken with a rich, South African accent would be enough to give him a much-needed boost..
Here he was: deep underground, with a burning, collapsing, towering building above...and an army of ultra-violent aliens breathing down his neck, a mob of quivering civilians to escort to some semblance of safety...
...And, oh...he was currently playing personal guard to a woman who was experiencing the opening salvos of childbirth itself !
None of all of that had been on the job description when he'd signed on to join the Helljumpers- especially that last one. But...
...this was the life men like him led. He'd known that. He'd known that for all these years. Lived it, more than anything else , for all those long, plasma-filled, mostly sleepless and caffeine-dependent years.
Seems it'd led him here...
" Gettin' close...we're getting close ! Keep it going, everyone ! "
...Right here.
To a place where, perhaps more than anywhere else he'd ever been...
...He could do the most good.