2552
Earth
Kenya
New Mombasa
1 hour before Scarab arrival at NMPD's Downtown HQ
If it hadn't been for the staying power of coffee, Major Zeke Sands was positive he'd have collapsed to the ground by now like a jacket flippantly dropped/tossed on a floor.
That, as stupidly dramatic as it sounded, was only half an exaggeration. whole of him was just...vibrating from the lack of a full night's sleep...and the bulk of the following morning.
Like an electric current under the skin, and it was so strong, it actually seemed to be shaking the world around him. Both eyelids felt like they were filled with damp sand, and there was this extremely nagging soreness that'd gotten itself buried all the way down to his bones themselves that was screaming at him to just lie down, so it might get a chance to go away. As if all that wasn't enough ( though, it was ), his head was giving him a truckload of grief as well- because it felt like it'd been cut open, forcibly filled with concrete just under the scalp, and then re-sealed...leaving him with a heavy, steady throbbing that occasionally made him sway on both feet.
It was a thoroughly nasty combo, and a stubborn one at that. One that, as experience had taught all too well, could only be defeated with a solid chunk of lie-down shut-eye.
And, by God, he wouldn't have minded doing that for a split second...except, he was currently standing a few feet under some supernova-bright overhead light bars, drenching the EB-green, armored metal walls, ceiling, and floor of the Field Command Unit ( FCU ) that he was calling home at the moment, and that the caffeine was hitting his blood pretty hard by now. Oh, and there was nowhere to lie down around here that someone wasn't gonna walk right over every few minutes...
All together, it sent a very loud, and crystal clear message: He wasn't getting any shuteye, anytime soon.
Or, at least he wouldn't get enough to matter.
God knew he needed it, though...let alone Zeke himself.
...Just...
...Just, one action to the next , he mentally chanted, unable to stop the subconscious wing of his mind from its screeching. He breathed deep, and bit his lower lip...willing the brief moment of pain to give him even the slightest jolt that might keep him going for even one minute more...
At this point...every last one of those was worth its weight with gold. Or, more pragmatically given the moment...a Grizzly Tank battalion.
He took another drag from the field cup. The coffee it contained wasn't even warm- it'd actually gone tepid a while ago, which meant it was technically bad- but, caffeine was caffeine, and for the moment...it was doing its job.
As best it could, anyway, against the evil monster that was sleep deprivation.
Just one action...
...to the next.
A well aged mantra...commonly believed to have dated all the way back to the Rainforest Wars themselves. Or maybe it was older than...which was likely. Open, conflict-level violence had once been fought with spears and rocks, after all.
Sanders shook his head- shaved low, his field cap tucked under a shoulder strap, and with that longtime set of shrapnel scars still occasionally itching from their spot at the side of temple tracing around toward his neck's nape-, and willed himself to focus, on what his TACPAD was telling him. The bigger fight waited for no man, and he had over 15 years experience to know he wasn't an exception.
Exhaling, and setting down the mug, he blinked once, studying the pale-blue-illuminated screen.
After a moment or so, he found that, during the minute or so that he'd been pacing around the floor of the FCU, coffee to hand as part of a wider ploy to stave off the oncoming " Fall and sleep ", that roughly half of his tank commanders had finished loading their Grizzlies with fresh 150mm main cannon rounds. The icons next to their respective names that flickered from ripe-tomato red, to Mountain Dew green, showing that their assigned tasks were complete, and they were now attentively awaiting further orders.
A good measure of progress...but, his adjutant would still have to come back from walking the rounds among the tanks to let him know personally. No matter how advanced Communications and wireless pads became, none of them could fully replace double-checking tasks manually.
Well...that, and no doubt ( or at least no reasonable doubt) taking caffeine shots and supplements themselves. Actually...wait...that was for sure; Sanders had spent enough late nights around and among them during the seemingly-endless Harvest Campaign ( especially those freezing nights near the planet's northern poles, practically chugging warm bullet coffee to fight off the bone-deep chill while surrounded by the looming hulks of the Grizzly tanks ) to know that they were as addicted to the stuff as he was. It was just how you survived when you were getting pitted against an enemy fighting force that had such things like hovering tanks, plasma torpedoes for their ships, and personal cloaking tech for their footsoldiers- who also had freaking energy swords...that could carve right through a tree like it was made of half-melted butter..!
But...
...That cruelly lopsided advantage that the aliens had over them aside...
...Things were looking...optimal. Which, against the Covenant, was pretty much not much more than , " They haven't reduced every last one of us to glassed craters...yet ".
...Ok...
...Ok, good. Full ammo load for all weapons systems...for all rollers-
His train ( a low-on-steam-but-still-moving-train ) of thought was momentarily halted then, by the abrupt urge to yawn. A strong one, at that: both eyes began to close, and his mouth began to yaw itself open...
...Tempting, for sure..
...But,
Hhhhha-!
Ghh !
With a blink, a gasp, and a rough shake of his head, Zeke shut it down cold. More or less, give or take, but it definitely didn't get a chance to go all the way. It probably wouldn't have been much of a problem anyway, even if he'd let it go the distance, but...if that'd happened, then another would easily have followed. Given how much of a pain it was to stay awake right now, anything that helped that monster wasn't something he wanted.
His unit needed him. Sleep could come later-
Klop..
klop...
klop...
-a lot later, though.
Much later, and the rhythm of combat boots on the floor plates signaled why.
More specifically, said reason had a name, and Zeke was 99 percent confident that he knew who it was before he even turned around ( or, his head ) to get eyes on them.
Still...he did have to look anyway, so he did.
" Sir ! Making good progress on the workup. We're 50 percent complete...! ", came a female voice with a US Southern accent so thick, it could've been used as gravy on biscuits.
Lt. Betty Carolina...
I figured so. Always hustling...as hard as I do.
Tied for the gold medal on that.
Straightening, and glancing over to his right, where the voice had come from, Zeke was greeted by the sight of a combat-armored woman headed his way, helmet clamped under one arm, and the muzzle of a BR55HB visible from over her right shoulder. She was built like a teakettle: average height, stocky ( but, definitely not fat ) build, and a round face dusted with freckles. Altogether, she really did look ( and sound ) like a farm girl who'd been reared on a diet of grains and milk...and maybe had a rodeo or two under the belt as well.
Hillbilly vibes notwithstanding, though...she was definitely a squared away officer. Zeke couldn't remember her ever giving him problems, or committing a serious blunder under fire that'd gotten Marines killed, and they'd been serving alongside each other for the past 8 years, and twice as many planets. That was more than enough mileage for something to go horribly wrong 'cause of her, but...thankfully, that hadn't been the case.
No reason to think otherwise, either. Not yet, anyway.
" Lt. ", he greeted her. A shadow of tiredness followed his words, but, at least they were led by a determined edge.
Or, at least what he hoped was a determined edge. Even if it wasn't , though, the other Officer
" Thought I'd check on the MOC ( Mobile Operations Center ) before headin' out again ", she finished, as she stopped by the edge of the room's central holotable, setting her helmet- still with its customized phrase " AIM HERE " spray painted around its front- on top of it.
" And...maybe get some extra java. Espresso. "
A low chuckle was Zeke's immediate response to that- it was just so...understandable. Also, a weird form of a " You mentioned the thing that I was just thinking about a moment ago " kind of moment as well. Neither of which was a problem, obviously.
He had enough of those from the outside- as did she. They both did.
But...that was what they were here for: Problem solvers. It wasn't an issue of questioning the bigger picture at all- Zeke hadn't ever doubted the worth of their cause. It was, however, an issue of constantly running out of caffeine to assist with all these midnight-oil-burners.
Not complaining...
...because, I'll take what I can get.
...Still...
...The fight waits for nobody, he acknowledged. Zeke knew the other officer thought the same way, because it was written all over her face, her poise, and contained by what she'd said. She was operating with " Business " mode, as they both were.
Not robotic, no ( hence the quip ), but...business regardless. That was fine, though.
There was a moment and place for everything.
"...Well...that's one thing we won't run short on soon ", the senior officer predicted, hinting at the half-filled ( half empty ? ) cup with a twitch of his chin. " Aside from ammo.."
" Speaking of which...I was just checking our reserves on that. Seems we're doing good on our numbers of 150mm..."
Lifting his 'PAD, Zeke angled it toward his subordinate, who quickly got with the program , and leaned over to get a better look. " Better double-check the numbers, though. Same as always. Got the same readouts ? "
Scanning the images and digits on screen for about 20 seconds or so, Carolina nodded slightly, making a " Mmm " sound of affirmation. " Roger that. I took a full assessment...here."
Reaching down, she fished out her own 'Pad, and then brought it around for Zeke to peruse.
Having a gander at the device ( despite having to fight off another stubbornly powerful yawn while doing so ), the Major stared it down, methodically reading the lines of text row by row, and taking stock of the diagrams and imagery representing how many Rollers the unit had, and each one's combat status and supply loadouts.
With the imminent launching of the offensive definitely going to have them leading the charge
Ah...Busywork.
Didn't think I'd be grateful to actually have so much of it to deal with...
Then again...its surprisingly good at keeping the Zzzzs away..
It was a pillar of running any unit, anyway. None of them could survive without it...especially not with a full-scale Thunder Run-style armored wave gathering steam...the kind that would be way easier to pull off if they had as many Rollers as possible fully saddled and watered for combat-fuel, ammo, weapons systems running optimally, etc. Sure, it was routine enough...but, it also tended to only happen when they were about to launch themselves at a Covenant blockade.
...Like the kind they'd thrown around New Mombasa.
Granted, exact details on the unit composition and layout of said blockade weren't ones that Zeke was aware of, but then again...Force Recon wasn't back yet, and he wasn't quite done with these Quartermaster reports. The latter would be done soon, though, but...
...The same couldn't be said for the former. Still...given the track record of both..
Couldn't be long, regardless. Experience had taught them both that.
"...Seeing 100 percent across the board, for all Rollers. ", Zeke nodded. " Half to go...it checks out. "
" Even better: Its all proceeding according to Haversem's schedule...somehow", added Carolina. " You know what they say about best-laid plans, after all..."
Having survived the debacle at Tribute, Zeke was all too aware of how even the best of plans had a back track record of falling to pieces on encountering the enemy- or, if the enemy encountered you. The longer things went while going smoothly, the stronger the nagging feeling that they were about to...at any moment. It was one of the fundamental laws of combat, and it didn't care who it applied to.
Which was everyone, frankly.
But, for as long as it lasted...you'd be a fool to not take it for all it was worth.
" I do. But, the Covies have set our calendar for us by now, whether we like it or not. They've chosen the where of this fight...all we can control is the when ".
Unable to stop himself, Zeke charitably shared the helpful reminder, as he turned away from the other pad- and was subsequently hit by a fresh wave of drowsiness that mildly made him sway a bit.
God...
..SD is a one mean mother.
Thankfully, though, he seemed to have enough steam left with the boiler to push through it, and stay liquid. Maybe...all those late nights during the Cascade Campaign were to blame for sparking this long, long running train of having to power through long-haul nights that just...became morning without really realizing that it was even morning at all.
Well...at least there was always a prettily busy holotable to stare at on each of those blissfully early mornings. Complete with the usual slew of a lopsided ratio of UNC blueforce tracker markers getting themselves formidably outnumbered by the hostile markers of whichever Covenant army was coming after them.
Its lights- cobalt blue, avocado green, and liquid mercury silver- blazed like a bank of neon lights, under the already heavy brightness of the overhead lamps. It was almost as if they were taunting him with how they had plenty of energy, but he didn't.
Or, so they thought...
He'd show them.
" Woah, there, sir...! ".
There was a slight rattling noise of ceramic on metal that caught his attention, and Zeke pivoted to find Carolina offering him the mostly-drained coffee mug. " Here. Better you have the rest than me. "
A kind gesture, and a logical one, both. The double-shot-brewed stuff the mug held was basically molten gold right now...
Tempting, and necessary...
...but...
...He would need to ration himself on that stuff. Of all the coherent thoughts running though his head unrelated strictly to all things military...making all drops of coffee at his disposal last as long as they could was definitely one of more at-the-front ones.
So, reluctantly keeping to it-
" Thanks...but, no ". The officer waved it away, and stepped back over to the holotable . Gripping its edge, he leaned forward, letting the thing take his weight.
He watched...as some of the Blue Force Tracker markers of fellow units of the 67th Tribute Heavy Cavalry Regiment glimmered from their spot on the map. They had not moved yet...but, given how put together the 67th tended to be with a zipped-together ( but kind of hardassed ) officer like Clarence Haversem running it , it wouldn't be long before the orders would come down that it was green to jump off. ' Course, that depended on the units getting all fully geared for action, but again- the 67th had a good track record when it came to that as well. It'd been a pretty big reason why they'd emerged from the fall of Tribute without the whole regiment getting transformed to a " DEFUNCT " status on some desk jockey's status logs.
Always a chance of that on every deployment when it came to tangling with the Covenant, but the " Just one more day " approach was enough to get by. Aside from prayers, air support, and coffee, needless to say...
They had two of those right now. Air support wasn't one of them.
Good enough, though.
" As the old saw goes: I'll sleep when I've been killed ", Zeke affirmed, doing his best to ignore that he was technically asking for the bad kind of trouble.
" When this is over- unless they've finally managed to smoke me-then I'll have some more. Till then...we keep on buckling down. "
He was running on vapor right now, but that didn't matter. His Marines needed him, and the ( likely few by now ) survivors of New Mombasa needed them all. Aside from the usual things keeping anyone going during days like today ( Any kind of faith, caffeine, and just a general sense of rage )...there was always that.
The need- the urge, really- to stop the aliens from using any more Civvies as safari game targets. They'd done enough of that already...at Harvest alone.
" I hear you, sir ". Caroline finally acknowledged, as she nodded slowly. Her own eyes- dark green, the same shade as Seaweed- looked like they could use a nap themselves, but...just like Zeke, and like every other man and woman of the 67th, they both didn't have anything else to give.
Except everything they had. It would have to be enough.
" So..! "
Rubbing his face with both palms, Zeke embrace the aforementioned mentality, as he returned to the holotable...
...Right as one of the red markers- a Covenant armored unit that their recon drones had manged to get a shot of earlier, prior to getting vaporized- shifted from where it'd been sitting for the past few hours.
It didn't scoot or zip, but it'd definitely begun to move..!
"...What the- ? "
Like a button getting pushed, the sight of that alone activated the floodgates of adrenaline for the Major, and quickly began overwhelming the fog of fatigue that'd been hanging over him. Sure, the coffee had been beating that back as well, but-
...This ? This was one heck of a boost.
Also a grade-a shocker, though...kind of a form of whiplash. The room seemed to flicker, like an electric current had traveled through the air. That same feeling soon burst under Zeke's skin, as he stopped where he was, and stared the holo down.
" ..Sir ?! "
Quick and focused were Carolina's footsteps, as she hustled over. She made it to Zeke's right elbow-
...As another one of the icons hinting that the enemy armor formations were on the move, began to move !
" What's going-Oh. Oh..."
She'd seen it as well now...and the tone of those handful of words said a lot more than just them on their own.
I hear you on that...
When a Covenant armored company gets antsy anywhere closer than 20 miles from you, you pay attention...!
...Because donuts to icing-drenched donuts, you're gonna get some heavy action real quick. And not the kind where you're sitting pretty behind prepared positions...
" I know ", Zeke murmured, vocalizing those thoughts with just 2 words.
He leaned forward, studying with rapt attention the movement of the icons. They were still moving, but still slowly, thankfully. But, they were also going steadily, which was its own kind of worrying...
Whoever was running the show for the Planet-glassers had a plan , and evidently, now was when they were kicking it to life. For the 67th, that could only mean one thing...
Zeke straightened. He drew air through his teeth, then blew it out slowly before biting his lower lip. It was a quirk- a reflex that he'd been doing on repeat via pure reflex whenever he got news or word of something big that he'd have to deal with personally that'd stuck with him from his teenage days till the present day. There was nothing he could think of that'd do anything about it...but he'd stopped caring about 15 years ago.
Give or take...
Glancing away from the Holo, he looked out the plasma-resistant ( A bizarre phrase if ever there was one ) windows of the MOC, to where the double rows of Grizzlies lay parked facing each other. The huge, slab-sides beasts' headlights were on, as were their engines, which filled the whole warehouse with both singing white light, and a guttural, garbage-disposal deep mechanical rumbling noise. Nearly lost among all of it was the shouting and back-and-forth calling of the Grizzly crews as they scrambled around, racing from one tank to another to ferry loads of fresh shells and machine gun bullets, or running bulging fuel hoses. It was a beehive of activity, and one that'd been buzzing full steam for over an hour now...
His Marines. His responsibilities. Doing their jobs, and doing them well. Carrying out the commands that'd been sent along the chain from above.
The Colonel himself had issued down the mobilization orders, although the Covies had been staying put back then. Either he knew something the rest of them didn't...or he was just his usual " Out to out thinking the enemy " self. Given how things had changed course just now quick as a blink...either or both could be right.
Again, though, the result was the same..
" Haversem's gotta be seeing what we're seeing..."
Zeke didn't need to check his six to respond to the Southern Woman's remark, so he didn't. He did answer, though.
" No doubt on that..."
As he turned away from the window, and began a power walk toward the nearest MOC door, Carolina spoke again, abruptly leaving where she'd been standing, and doing what she always did whenever Zeke set off like he was on a ruck march: Follow him. Which was fine, actually. She was his second- close by was where she should be.
Even better , she knew better than to speak just for the sake of filler ( such as asking questions that didn't need to get asked at the moment ) , as Zeke swept through the opened archway of the MOC, barely even bothered using the short flight of stairs leading down, and then kept right on storming forward.
Okombo...
Okombo, where'd you go...?!
Automatically, he was soon thinking of the name of his senior enlisted , as he pushed his way headfirst through the wall of sound that was the 67th gearing for heavy action. The hubbub of controlled chaos hadn't ceased, but as he moved deeper, cries of " Sir ! ", " Major Sands ! ", and " Officer on deck ! " began to rise from everywhere. Marines snapped to attention as he went by, pulling off crisp salutes...and that was true even for the ones who had their own sleep-deprivation dragging them down.
Zeke returned them all, as an Officer must, and even allowed himself a hint of satisfaction that his Jarheads were still " switched on ", despite it all . All the while, though, his gaze was sweeping around, looking for Okombo as he crossed the " courtyard ",- the nickname for the gap of empty space between the MOC and the depths of the commandeered long-haul trucker's building they'd been using as their bivouac. He knew the Congolese man was near the front of the columns of tanks, though...if he wasn't, there was always the option of having Carolina ping his comms.
Turns out, though, he didn't need to.
" Sergeant Major ! "
" Sergeant Okombo...! "
There he was. Right there, helping one of the Marines who crewed Grizzly Tank 4 of his squad ( one that bore the nickname " Texas Darling ", with the image of strikingly beautiful, dual-wielding-M6 Magnums Cowgirl on its hull plates ) feed extra ammo belts to the mounted M247T 7.62mm machine gun. The clinking of metal links, and the the rattle of the cartridges against one another were like an orchestra, as Zeke and company drew near.
" Sir ?! "
" Major ?! Something goin' down ?! "
That was him, all right. Always on the trigger, and always ready for word of a fight. Perhaps to a fault sometimes , but it wasn't a real point of a problem. It wasn't even that shocking, either, given that he was a huge and powerfully built man who looked like he'd been a heavyweight MMA champion from a past life- or maybe he had actually been. A slash of pale flesh across his jawline from a near miss from a plasma grenade only landed even more to that warrior image...which wasn't just an image at all, as Zeke was all too aware.
And as their extensive combat tour on Sigma Octanus IV had so aptly demonstrated. Yet again, Zeke subconsciously offered thanks that he had such switched-on subordinates under his command...
By God, was he going to need them.
"...Seems like it ! ", the Major shouted back, summoning asserting energy to say it, as he stopped by the bow tracks of the hulking combat vehicle. He beckoned, and the Sergeant quickly dismounted, leaping from his spot, sliding down the ultra-hardened armor to land on the grimy, smudge-smothered concrete floor.
Placing one hand on a hip, Zeke stabbed a thumb toward the vague direction of where New Mombasa was. " Feed from the last few Recon drones is showing Covie armor on the roll ! They're setting a course for the downtown neighborhoods of NM ! "
"...Toward NM ?! Those are their current vectors ?! ".
Something flashed behind Okombo's eyes, and Zeke knew what it was at once: A long-honed fight response, that was already dictating every thought and action from here on out.
A lifesaver, that was.
" Check for yourself. Here...! "
Having synced his 'Tacpad with the holotable's display on the way out, Zeke had only to swing the pad around to give the NCO good look, so he did.
Leaning a tad closer, Okombo took it all. His gaze flickered across the screen, quickly absorbing everything it had. He bit his lower lip, and nodded.
" ...Looks like we're gonna have adjust our schedule ", he assessed, standing tall again. " I can can get 'em buttoned down with engines burning right now, but we'd be running at 75 percent capacity..if it comes to that. "
" Smart man ", commented Carolina, with her Southern drawl. " Can't afford to jump the gun. "
" Roger that .". Zeke turned the pad back to himself, then tucked it beneath one arm.
Granted...some impulsiveness could be useful. Like back on Cascade, when they'd been ( around half the whole unit, exactly ) had been sitting pretty on a ridgeline that would've allowed them to assault and breach the entire rear echelon of a Covenant battalion that'd been blocking the valley that another UNSC Armored unit ( the 412th ) had been going to use to retreat. It was a perfect ambush position...except they had orders to wait unless the 412th actually did have to move- they were the only nearby unit covering the other's back.
All well and good...but when the Covenant began getting antsy, and creeping forward headed for the 412th...the 47th still hadn't gotten orders to do anything. Then again...their own recon had showed the Covenant would hit the other unit from behind-unless the 47th jumped them first.
Which...they could easily do.
Lacked the necessary orders, but...
A career officer who'd walked the line between cowboy and rule book-follower, Zeke had dwelled on it, unwilling to screw over a larger plan he didn't know about. But, when recon warned him the window was closing on their ambush shot...he'd been hit with the truth that he might pay for staying put even more. He'd thus found himself throwing his unti at the alien one right then and there...and by the grace of God- they'd pulled it off !
Raw shock and awe had won the day, with the Grizzlies twin barrels blowing massive holes through the enemy tanks and ranks, and leaving too many craters to count. Beween the sheer walloping it'd been for the aliens, and that's saved the 412th, Zeke actually'd gotten away with it offically !
A good example, for sure. Still...better to play things by the book for now.
Until orders came down. Or the aliens forced his move...
Whichever happened first.
" He's got a point, though. Sergeant, stand by for emergency jump off-orders. Continue all loading and resupplying of the M850's for now, but if the word comes down to move, we move. Got it ? "
" Affirmative, sir ! "
" Good. ". The Major rubbed his chin, compulsively brushing his own scar that was left over from some 10+ year old flying shrapnel. It bothered him sometimes, but plastic surgery could wait.
" Good. Keep on that. I'll be headed back to the MOC, but Lt. Carolina- "
" Major ! "
"...Major Sands ! Sir ! "
...
...For God's sake...
What now ?!
" What the- ?! ", exclaimed the clearly surprised NCO- which didn't happen often whatsoever.
He reflexively turned toward where the out-of-the-blue voice had come from...as did the Major, and the Lieutenant, and more than a few more heads all along that yell's vector. Given how noisy it was around here , you'd really need a set of pipes to get heard over all of it.
Evidently, though, someone had them.
" Who the heck is hollering like that ?! ".
Carolina's confusion was clear as day- and perfectly understandable-as she glanced around, searching for who'd sounded off so loudly. Zeke didn't blame her for a second- he had plenty to deal with right now as it was, what with the Covenant tanks less than 10 miles distant kicking dust toward them.
Either this was something that was actually important, and he'd have to add it to the pile...or it was something trivial that he'd have to put on the back burner. Probably not the latter- his Marines generally knew better than that, but-
Still...
...All kinds of weird-ass, unexpected stuff was possible when you were beyond the wire, and that only more so the longer you spent out there. Or , the more chess pieces on the board there were...which there were a lot of right now.
There was plenty right now for this to be a weird mix, but at least he wouldn't have long to wait to find out, Zeke reminded himself, as his reflexes activated. He began to run toward where the yelling had come from, beckoning the Sergeant and the Lieutenant to follow him- and then reinforcing it with a " That's what we're gonna find out ! On me ! "
And with that, all 3 of of them did. They raced past and through the other Marines, who were still at their posts, but still cranking their heads around to keep tabs on the impromptu- street caller. Zeke cleared the way by his presence alone, mostly, though he did have to do some weaving to get by. That was ok, though.
Helped remind him he was a greenhorn himself once.
Speaking of greenhorns, he soon found himself face to face with one that had to be the one he was looking for: A short, skinny girl with strands of strawberry blonde hair sticking out downwards from the edge of her helmet, had emerged from the depths of the stacked supply crates and scattered support Marines near the warehouse door closest to the MOC. She was one of the perimeter sentries, Zeke recognized, because she was armed with a M892 DMR ( Designated Marksman Rifle ), and had the name tab " Lakaela " on her chest, beside some well-worn Corporal's chevrons.
Arianne Lakaela..
I remember you. Usually pretty alert..
What's got you all jittery...?
All valid questions, and ones Zeke was determined to have answered. If something had just gone down at the perimeter, and Lakeala had scarified her R and R before going on post to run here, then...
Well, that categorized whatever it was as unorthodox. Just needed the exact details, though.
And, as for those...
" Corporal ! "
" Corporal...front and center ! ", Zeke commanded, parade-ground style. He jogged onwards for a bit as he spoke, then stopped short of the junior NCO, letting her come to him.
His entourage stopped beside him , with a clatter of boot soles on concrete, as the Corporal came to a skidding halt before the Major. She had both hands wrapped around her weapon, chest heaving from running-triggered rapid breathing, and visibly shocked expression on her round face.
" ...Sir ", she gasped. "I-Reporting as ordered, sir ! "
" As you were , Marine ". Zeke firmly told her. " Now, what do you got for me ?! "
" Better be good ", grunted a less-than-amused Okombo. It was a sentiment that Zeke technically agreed with, but...better someone else to say it than himself.
One more reason to keep your subs close, anyway.
" Sir...". Lakeala shook her head, seemingly still astonished freshly by what she'd seen on the wall. A prickly sensation began running along Zeke's spine..
Out with it...
" Sir...a mob of civvies just emerged from the forest. Gotta be at least 20 of 'em, sir ! Just-just like that, there they are...! "
...What ?!
By God's green earth we're standing on...what ?!
...Civvies ?
Until this exact second...there'd been quite a few things that the Major's conscious mind had been at least moderately prepared to expect to emerge on their perimeter. The two highest, without doubt, had either been a pack of Brutes, or maybe a wayward squad of Marines/Soldiers lost from their unit and searching for another to join till they could RV with their own. But...Civvies ? As much as he knew, there weren't any left anywhere around here
Zeke breathed deep, squared both shoulders , and addressed the Corporal again.
" Wait, wait. Slow down, Corporal. You said about 20 ? "
She nodded briskly. " That's right, Sir. Kovak and I did a rough headcount- oh ! "
Her eye suddenly became lit with a flash of excitement. " Oh...and...and sir ? There's an ODST with 'em ! "
" Holy cow ! ", cried a unapologetically-exhuberent-as-usual Carolina. " Corporal- did you say an ODST ?! "
Lakeala nodded again. " Yes, ma'am ! Just one, sure, but he's a Trooper all right. At the head of the pack ! Led them all the way here...! "
She stopped for a moment or so, gathering more air to breathe ( and, for sure, scrambling to think of how to get across what she had to say ), before hurriedly going on. " ..But, he's got some wounded with him. One Marine, and she's out cold from a nasty body strike. Don't know anything else' bout it, but she's definitely looking like a Level Red Triage. "
" Oh, God...I should've led with that...!", she finished, with the final few words coming out coated with a layer of vivid frustration.
The more of this new revelation that became clear to him, the more Zeke found his mind beginning to race- and the more the bad memories of Tribute began to fade away. He embraced it , and welcoming the new data. It wasn't just a helpful distraction- it was also...exactly what he needed.
A whole crowd of Civilians, who had seemingly escaped the Covenant ? For real ? And, they had an honest-to-God Orbital Drop Shock Trooper with them, one of whom was as dangerous as a whole squad of rank-and-file Marines with them ?
...It...it was a lot to handle, all at once, no less. But, handle it Zeke knew he would have to, because anything less was hesitation, and hesitation ( a vile , filth cussword that even a Marine sergeant wouldn't use ) was just unnecessary death, for all related to it. It'd gotten good Marines killed, and Civvies too.
Not here. Not under Zeke's watch.
"...Corporal ? First off, don't you dare apologize, understand ?! ", the Major sternly commanded. " Apologies are for turning out at the supermarket and bumping someone with an armload of cereal boxes. Or...issuing orders that get your Marines killed for nothing. Disrespecting an officer- that kind of stuff. Get me ? "
"..I- sir ! I get you, sir... ". The partially green Marine glanced at her boots for a moment while saying it, but that didn't last. She quickly straightened, as if...
...Remember what she was.
" Good..".
The message seemed to taken hold-at least for the moment- so Zeke nodded, and let it lie for then.
" Show me these civilians then. Now. "
Turning to Carolina and Okombo, he added , " Lt ? Get me a medical team to meet us at the doors, and warn the triage center. If this is as bad as it sounds, we have just minutes to spare ! "
" Understood ?! "
Unsurprisingly, they both answered affirmatively. " Sir, yes sir ! "
Having thus taken care of that , Zeke gestured back toward the assembled Grizzlies to drive the point home, before glancing over at the dutifully waiting Corporal.
" Right. Let's move ! "
" Sir ! "
The storm had arrived...
A light rain had begun to fall over the past 30 seconds or so, as the chill the air was carrying had practically given away for over and hour now, and as Zeke and company continued on their way, said rain began to collect and form puddles whenever and wherever it could...along with rivulets, trickles, and droplets. The hisshhhhh of the falling water from the sky rapidly began filling the air , as well as the pattering it made bouncing off any solid metal.
As rain was wont to do. The sound of nature itself, that was.
It was a nice soundtrack to listen to, while it lasted, as Zeke finally reached his destination- the towering, wrought-iron gates that formed the portal that led to the outside world. Said gates were badly worn by decades of standing against weather like this, but they had been built strong and durable by the Traxus Construction Corporation , so despite all the days that'd gone by ( thousands of them, from the day they'd been built to this ), they were hardly worse for wear. Not that it'd have stopped a Covenant Wraith mortar shot, needless to say, but some protection was better than nothing at all.
Speaking of protection, the gates weren't all they had on that front. On either side of the scratched and abused metal slabs, equally battered-but-strong guard towers stood. They weren't built as fortifications ( again, needless to say ) , but with sandbags piled high around the edge of the observation platforms...they could function as that for now.
Just past them, having just come through them, was the loose mob that Lakaela had described.
...
Geez...
...Didn't think she'd stretched anything, but...seeing is still believing.
A whole Pelican's worth of Civvies !
All alive...!
...All...here !
Though he couldn't show it, Zeke was now experiencing a powerful sense of euphoria . It was buoying, as he watched the civilians taking stock of their surroundings, dripping with rain..
Should've been longer, though.
God...
...that's the truth.
Determination. Resolve, as he saw this crowd of locals, all of whom were soaked , shivering, and milling around loosely as they glanced every which way.
Both of those twin emotions were hot and searing, and it made him want to get things done...despite the chill of the rain, and the bitterness of getting slapped with the freaking endless train of reminders of Tribute.
Yet it was the truth, as Tribute ( for all its savagery ) had taught him, so he owned it, and faced it. A lesson that'd taken years to fully learn, though...
..Enough...!
He accompanied that order to himself, as he finally reached the crowd, slowing to halt.
" Sergeant ! Find these people some shelter ! And notify the Quartermaster-we're gonna need some rations distributed ! Thermal blankets as well, if we got 'em ! "
" Understood, sir ! "
As he did so-issuing such necessary orders- his attention was immediately drawn to something else- or rather, someone else. Several, actually.
Standing right there, at the head of the pack...was an ODST.
A real, honest to God ODST. Bulky, sharply angular full-body-vacuum-sealed armored ODST, and one who had clearly been through the wringer, so to speak. His armor plates had plasma burn marks and dents pockmarked all over it, and the copious amount of rainwater cascading off to land at his boots didn't do a thing to remove any of the fear factor the whole ensemble was giving off. All of that was hugely boosted as well, by the outright skull motif that was painted across the trooper's faceplate.
He wasn't a Spartan- and yet still somehow managed to give off serious " I will destroy anyone I meet " vibes. Every centimeter a train fighter, and an elite one at that.
But, despite all that project ferocity...
He was standing there with a wounded Marine draped over his shoulder- the most delicate, caring thing any Jarhead could do. Said Marine was clearly female, judging by the counter's of her bare torso ( stripped of its torso armor and shirt, leaving just the bra ), and one who'd clearly taken a heavy dosage of Covenant fire- the dressing wrapped around her was clearly soaked through with blood. It was a burgundy sash now, and the hint of a long, snaking wound channel just barely poked out from beneath the bandage...all angry and red.
...God...
Doesn't look good from here, I gotta say.
...But...that doesn't mean she's gone. Doesn't mean that at all...
I know...
Coldness crawled through Zeke's spine, as the giant armored man set off at a power walk toward him. Without a doubt, he'd already seen the team of Corpsmen following him, and didn't want to waste another second on getting the wounded Marine he had over his shoulder like a rolled carpet the treatment she needed to save her life.
The Corpsmen, needless to say, were on the same wavelength.
" Gangway ! Gangway ! ", they yelled. Zeke pivoted, checking that he wasn't blocking their way-and quickly found he wasn't, as the team raced past him, carrying their backboard with them. The ODST, meanwhile, bore down on them like a rhino- yet, without jouncing or bouncing the wounded Jarhead he had with him.
" Right here...! "
" Easy, Trooper...we've got her...! "
" You'd better ", came a baritone voice that sounded like garbage disposal at low gear from the depths of the helmet, as he deftly lowered the woman onto the backboard, with several of the Corpsmen lending a hand.
Their movements were powerful, trained, and precise, as they adjusted her head, and strapped her down securely. Rainwater trickled down her cheeks, and ran down the gap between her good-sized breasts, as the corpsmen checked her tags for what blood they needed ( " O ! We need O blood ! "), before attaching the necessary transfusion tubes.
With one of the Navy men then holding the vital bag high, they then lifted her, and left the scene as quickly as they had arrived.
They weren't the only ones conducting a hast exit,though...
" Alright- attention ! "
Booming like a foghorn, Okombo was doing as he'd been told.
" Everyone ! I am First Sergeant Okombo ! Follow me, ok ?! We've got space where you can dry off and rest, and then we'll get some food for you ! Understand ?! "
Such an electrifying bunch of commands could stir anyone, and it did even here- though, the best they could manage was an array of slightly fearful, confused, and stunned looks, then rapid nervous nodding.
It was better than just standing there frozen, though, so...
" Stick ! Together ! Follow me, everyone ! Let's go..! "
Well, what else could they do, but obey ? They were tired, soaked, sore all over, probably famished, and still ( at least partially ) scared stiff...so anyone who offered even a hint of getting any of that taken care of didn't have much of a case they needed to pitch. Hammering the point home was still necessary, though...
Well done...
Flawless, even..
With a suitably decisive hand gesture toward where he planned to lead them, Okombo set off...and the civilians- with some uttering nervous whispers that this all seemed to good to be real, or stunned murmured that they might actually be safe- went along with him.
As they left, Zeke briefly noticed one of them glancing quickly over her shoulder at the ODST- a young woman with long curly auburn hair, probably a collage student judging by the sweater with the Letterman design on the front. The moment wasn't long enough to get a read on what she might be thinking, but...there was something there, for sure.
Probably a story there...but then she was gone, along with the rest of the Civs.
Leaving just Zeke , Lt. Carolina, the other Marine, and the Trooper to stand there, beneath the driving rain.
They all still had much they all had to do, though. On any other day than one going on while there was a global Covenant assault on Earth going on, they might've been able to spare a few seconds, or even a minute, under this rain. Enjoying it, because it wasn't too hot or cold. It was...Goldilocks, according to that ancient children's story.
That was neither here or there, though . Buckling down was.
"...Sir. "
The ODST spoke. That gravelly voice was like a magnet, even for an officer and Zeke promptly turned to face him.
" Lance Corporal Taylor Miles, sir ! ODST Detachment Alpha-9. At your disposal. "
At that, the Marine standing next to him, who clearly was letting the higher ranked Jarhead take the lead, saw that as his cue to speak next. " Private First Class Jake Kivec, sir. 47th Acadian Rifles. "
Right on the numbers, gentlemen...
Good to know discipline hasn't cracked between either of you.
" As you were, Marines. "
The Major jabbed a thumb at his 2nd. " This is Lt. Vivian Caroline. My right hand. Welcome to the 67th Armored, Marines. "
Pointing at the ODST's chest plate, Zeke added, " Someday, you'll tell me what that means, but for now...I'll stick with " Dutch ", Trooper. How does that sound ? "
" ...Thank you, sir ", Dutch continued. " She was 'bout an hour out from dying. Pretty sure you just saved her life. "
" You did, Trooper ", Zeke corrected. " You got her here alive. That's what I expect from an ODST. "
"...Aim to please, sir ".
" Good to know- because you're about to get plenty more chances soon enough. ", promised the Major. A thunderclap exploded overhead right then, sending bursts of adrenaline through everyone's blood, but...every last one of them had been downrange of a Wraith bombardment at least once, so...this was nothing.
Close enough, anyway..
Close enough...for government stuff.
"
"...Sir ? ". It was Kivec speaking again. " Sir...I ...is there a plan going on here ? 'Cause, we've been fumbling around without a clue till now. Be good to know the brass has got something ironed out we're cleared to get briefed on..."
...And, that right there is why the UNSC is still around...aside from God's providence.
Men and women who won't stop fighting. As long as they have even a skeleton of a plan, a couple of bullets , and a weapon.
God bless 'em all.
An ever-so-slight tug of a wolfish grin pulled at corner of Zeke's mouth. Some might be shocked and befuddled at even that, but...
...well, even he was, honestly. Or rather, had been.
One could thank the whole Corps-wide culture of ODSTs for that. They could change minds with one engagement. With one firefight...
That's all it'd take to prove to you they were worth a whole heavy cruiser on their own. Always down for any plan, however dangerous.
All you needed...was to explain the lowdown to them. Even just one ODST fit that category nicely.
So...
Why wait ? There was one, right here !
" As a matter of face, Private...there is. "
ODSTs...
They were certainly a unique species.
That, was for sure. There wasn't really another way to describe how a guy could come fresh off of something as stress-causing as playing escort for a whole gaggle of civilians, right through an alien-contaminated patch of jungle with the chances of a plasma bolt whipping out of the foliage and charring someone sitting somewhere between 8 and 10, with 0 warning...and still be ( relatively ) calm, composed, and all put together, with the readiness to give a full debrief.
Well...on the surface put together, at least. Yet another aspect of ODSTs: They couldn't be read so easily...with or without helmets. Quite...clannish, those Troopers.
Thankfully, this one was slightly easier. Slightly.
For one, he'd finally depolarized his visor ( though, his helmet remained on, which was wise ), and now stood facing Zeke beneath the cover of an outdoor, tin-roofed tractor parking bay, with the Marine he'd arrived with hovering just an elbow's length away. The rank-and-file Leatherneck also had his helmet on, but he kept shifting weight from one foot to the other, consonantly adjusting his posture as if he was permanently stuck with " Got to stay on the move, or else " mode...
" Relax, Private ", grunted the Trooper. " This ain't a review..."
" A- I mean...Got it, it. Its just...I...".
''...Everything...geez... Covies have been chasing us all night, and we couldn't get a shot at 'em...I just wanna get some payback."
The Canadian fumbled on for another moment, but then quickly realized abandoning what he was going to say was the better option. With an audible exhale , he fell silent, and glanced away.
" Just...freaking give me a target..."
Zeke raised a brow, curious, but knew now wasn't when to press the subject, as much as he wanted to.
They had to focus...but then again, that's what this kid was doing right now. He just...he just wanted get a hold around the enemy's throat, and squeeze the life out of them. He just wanted some level of revenge, for hunting him down through a rainy forest at the dead of night for the past couple of hours, sniping at him with Jackals, and basically treating him like a bug under a magnifying glass...which is usually what the target of a planetary glassing felt like, except they didn't, because having a couple hundred thousand gallons worth of white-hot plasma that could boil solid steel poured down onto you from orbit tended to cut off any complaints you might have pretty quick.
...Yeah. By now, " wanting payback " was pretty much all any Marine had to get him or her from out of their bedroll each morning. Zeke could get behind that sentiment- it was one of the things that helped him fight off any thought of the Tribute Massacre.
Even for him, that wasn't always easy. Still...
" S'Alright, Private. We're all overclocked right now ", Zeke assured him. " I'll let your Corporal here take the lead. "
" Thank you, sir ", The ODST " accepted ", pivoting slightly to give the Major his direct attention. The officer said nothing, but just faced the trooper down with an expectant stare.
Taking the unspoken cue, he deftly ran with it- as ODSTs did with everything else.
" ...Long story, sir, but I'll keep it nice and condense for ya. More or less, 'cause there's a heckofa lot that went down back there..."
" Condensed is good ", Zeke agreed. " Let's hear it, Corporal. "
" Right..."
Without leaving the pause going for too long, the ODST did exactly the opposite. " My unit and I weren't dropped her on Civvy evac duty, sir. It was somethin' else...something to do with ONI..."
ONI...!
The mere mention of that acronym sent an explosion of chill reverberating though Zeke's blood, but...he managed to conceal it fully. It was beyond his control- the reaction at all, that is - but...
Well...more on that was probably coming. Probably.
He'd have to wait for it, though..
" Didn't get told what, though. You know how it is with those spooks...always keeping their precious sweet secrets We dropped anyway, headed for the downtown of the New city, but then that Covenant carrier jumped ! Shockwave tossed our pods all over the place. I hit the dirt back at the Nature Preserve, which the Covies had already breached, but managed to fight my way outta there with some Jarheads. Their Co was even kind enough to let me borrow 'em for helping me find the rest of Alpha-9...wherever the heck they are. "
He paused again then, and glanced briefly toward the way that the New city was. "...That's why I still gotta get over there. If they're still alive, I need to RV with them, and then get ourselves clear. Whatever the ONI op we were pulled for even was, its all null now. 'Sides, I don't trust those creeps. Probably would've gotten us killed for nothing. "
" You seem pretty relaxed with your own death ". Zeke knew that might be pushing a limit, but he had to say it.
Better that then leaving it bottled, as he had learned.
The ODST's response, meanwhile, was about as expected. He was silent for the most split of a second, then shrugged. " It ain't dying itself so much, sir, as how and why for me. Tracking down my team and getting them out of this nightmare town sounds like a pretty good one. "
Yep.
Definitely on brand for a Trooper. He was one, all the way.
Thank the lord for small favors, reflected the Major-as an abrupt and suitably powerful thunderclap cracked the sky overhead.
Babooooombrll...!
The depths of Zeke's eardrum's vibrated...as did the rest of him. It was that loud.
Nature's artillery had stuck again...but, better that than plasma artillery, the Major reflexively reminded himself.
Outwardly, though, he uncrossed his arms, letting both hands rest on his utility belt. " That's about par for the course for the kind of stuff I expect a Trooper to be doing, Corporal. I'd fold you under my command for just- God knows we could use an ODST for what's coming next- but...I suspect you're tired of getting tossed around from CO to CO. "
Again...the ODST didn't have much of an expressive reaction, beyond another shrug. Actually, though...that still was saying a lot. ODST could get across a seriously murderous drive with barely a twitch of a hand.
...A lot like a Spartan, honestly. As if any ODST would agree to that, though...
Which they wouldn't. Absolutely not. Even on pain of death.
"...I go where I get sent, sir ", Taylor stated empirically, and with great conviction. " They'd do the same thing if it was them here. "
" But, you'll take any chance to track 'em down. ", Zeke pointed out.
Even before he'd said it, he knew he'd hit the nail on the head...although, at least it wasn't the bad kind. It took more than that to really rile an ODST anyway..
Besides, it got a point across. The Trooper standing across from him seemed to...well, the opposite of tensing, at the sound of that. More like a predatory animal poising , and subtly shifting posture to get more ready to set off for a hunt. Even with layer of ODST hardsuit armor plating on, it was clear enough.
The only kind of Trooper I've ever met...
Good to see he's the same as they are.
" Yes, sir. I sure would. "
Zeke grinned- the first open one for him all night. " Then I have good news for you..."
"...Lt ! "
" Yes, sir ?! ". Carolina snapped to it, as always.
"..Get me Lt. Rahman- "
" Hold on a second...! "
Abruptly, the ODST had something to say, which caught everyone by surprise- except, Zeke couldn't help but note, the Canadian private next to him.
Stepping forward , the Trooper raised a hand. " Did you say Lt. Rahman ?! "
Blinking, Zeke looked back over at him. "...Yes. Why ? "
" You know her ?! "
The ODST didn't waste a moment with a response. " We crossed paths back at the Preserve. She helped restock me with Jackhammer rockets...but then the officer I was taking orders from back there had us move on. Didn't rightly know what'd happened to her after that..."
...Oh !
..God ! NOW it all comes together...!
Had he been 15, Zeke might've facepalmed. He should've connected the dots sooner, frankly...but, he could always blame it on the lack of a coffee abundance.
Still, regardless of that, it still kind of bugged him. Rahman had mentioned getting an assist from an ODST before the UNSC Sector command folded her unit under the 67th for the prep for the New Mombasa counterattack, but...now Zeke realized it'd slipped his mind whether she'd let him know the name or otherwise. Either she had and he'd forgotten...or...
Well, actually, that's all it was. This was on him, albeit outside his control.
That aside, though...
" Trooper ? Lt. Rahman and her own unit- the 45th Alluvion Lancers- are right here with us ! Taken a beating, sure, but they're still combat effective, and they're currently one of our vanguard units ! "
"...You're serious ?! ", exclaimed the Trooper, with adrenaline-fueled anticipation now clearly showing through as he spoke- which his baritone voice only enhanced. " That Lt. ? "
" The same one, yeah ", Lt. Carolina helpfully supplied. " Still running that unit you met back at the Preserve...the 45th. "
" ...Good God almighty. Where the heck is she, then ?! It sounds like you're fixing for a major push real soon, and if you're headed downtown, then I got a shot to find my team- and I'd rather do it with a solid unit like the 45th !
" Sir ?! Send me. Ready to do what you need...but I gotta ask: Send me down there. "
...Every syllable of that- every one- was practically dripping with determination. He was dead serious about it, fully committed, and absolutely ready to rock at a moment's notice. Yet again, Zeke realized he was already mentally uttering thanks that he had an ODST at his disposal at all.
Worth their weight of gold, they were. For certain.
" I second that ", came a softly spoken, but strong sounding Canadian-accented voice.
" 100 percent. Just...give me some water, and a ration bar, and I'll be good to go. Could use some sleep, but I don't think we can spare that. Probably. "
It nearly caught Zeke off guard; The Canadian Private had been a borderline statue all this while. Just standing there, without a word, as the ODST had ( predictably ) taken the lead. Why that was, though, was a great big guess- either he was still running a tad tired from the long forced march, or he was running on empty food and water wise. But, either way...
Still got something left to give ?
Seems like it..
...He sounded ready, as well. A tad less aggressive, but it wasn't weakness on display there.
The ODST turned his head , and stared at him for a moment. " You sure about that , Kivec ? You're a Marine to the bone, but you're no machine. "
How very apt...
...given that most of the Jarheads on the ground for the past 20 years have called the Spartan 2's exactly that: Machines.
...Malarkey.
"..Said it yourself, Corporal. ", The Marine resolutely noted. " ...We're Marines here. And we got Covies to deal with headed our way..."
Zeke had seen enough over the past two decades of campaigning to have a decent grasp on weather someone was on the verge of falling asleep on their feet...and, though the private was clearly tested, he was also made of sterner stuff. It didn't take a Corpsman to figure that out.
He knew enough, as well. There was a storm- a full on storm- raging over his head, a base crammed with hard-driven, chomping-at-the-bit Marines all around him, a Covenant armored unit changing positions just outside his perimeter, and an unknown number of UNSC friendlies and Civvies trapped by more of the aliens downtown. There were a lot of moving pieces between them all on its own...and now , he had a bunch of civilians added to the whole mix that he needed to evac ! An evac that would take assets that were already earmarked for the imminent offensive...
And as if they had a lot of those to fiddle with...which they didn't. The whole New Mombasa metro-area offensive operation had been thrown together hastily by the ranking brass all the way back at Bravo 6...which said something about how chaotic the global situation was, and how stretched-as-thin-as-string-cheese the UNSC's Earth forces were. Or rather...how they'd been for the past few years after more and more were getting siphoned off to even slightly slow the Covenant's grind across space toward Earth...
..Except they were still here, and now the UNSC was pulling the cooks from behind the lines. Which, poetically, led all back to this point..
" You're squared away then, Private ? "
" Good enough, Trooper. "
..A base full of tanks. Covenant tanks less than 10 miles away. Outnumbered, and with civilians that needed a flight out of here.
Then again...he had an ODST locked, loaded, and ready to kick some serious tail for the 45th, who were going to be going first. One man, sure...but history had proved one could be worth several. Or even more.
Zeke hadn't realized till he'd met the guy just how much he was banking on that.
...And yet...
I sure am. I actually was...to some extend. Good lord..
Mentally, he sighed, and wondered how he'd gotten here.
But, out loud-
"Marines ! "
Taking an edge of his own, he managed to grab their attention.
"Alright, Marines, listen closely...!"
He uncrossed his arms...and unsheathed one knife-hand. The famed ( and much-feared ) knife hand, which was virtually guaranteed to ensure that your audience would listen to you. It always worked whenever Zeke had employed it, and especially against ODSTs...as weird as that kind of sounded.
Or...maybe it wasn't that odd at all, actually. ODSTs had to be either wrangled like cattle, or enticed like waving raw meat at a lion. It was always one or the other, and occasionally...both . It got things done regardless though, as both brands of Jarhead standing before him quickly focued their attention where the " blade " was pointing.
At them, specifically...
" Private ? Corporal ? God willing, before the night's out, you're either going to be bona-fide heroes, or you're gonna be rubbing elbows with your squad again. Now, report to the 47th's bivouac area, and prepare to deploy. Understood ?! "
With the weight of the order, there wasn't much the Private could do...and that was without the ODST looming at him. Which he was, obviously.
" ...Yes, sir ! ". The Private stood straight again. Something defiant flashed behind his eyes, but he said nothing further. It was ok- that defiance was, plain as a cloudless-sky-day, aimed at the Covenant, and only them.
They weren't here, yes...but that didn't matter.
" You got it, Major. ". The ODST nodded crisply. " Leave it to us. "
"...Come on, Private. We got a busy night ahead of us..."
How right you are, 'Jumper...
How right you are..
Now thoroughly impressed with the still-impressive-quality of the grade of Marines he was encountering around this theater, Zeke got the ball rolling even more, and adressed his second:
" Lt. ! Show 'em the way.."
"...Sir ! ".
Out the corner of his view, Zeke saw Caroline's freckled head bob with an affirmative nod, as she beckoned to the ODST and the Private. She set off briskly, at a march, but the much larger man easily maintained pace with her. It was actually a bit jarring, how much taller the ODST was compared to the stout teakettle from Georgia ( the one with Atlanta ...
Scrap of a thing, she is...
Good, though. Worth every pound.
Soon enough...they were also disappearing through the landscape of crates and equipment , and under the endless shower of the chilled rain.
Another thunderclap-yet another, though how many only God knew by now- exploded right then, drowning out all other sounds. It hammered Zeke's ears, as hard as any of the others, and it shook him as deeply as any of the others as well. Ultimately, though...it didn't matter all that much when it came to the all-important here and now.
It was a nice soundtrack, but...
Zeke blinked again, shook his head, sending droplets flying...
He was still fatigued, and pretty badly. Still sore, from head to foot. His mouth might've finally lost that cotton-dry feeling, but it'd been replaced on the discomfort scale with dizziness, cramps, and just a nagging urge to lie down somewhere soft- or even hard. Anywhere, really.
But, he didn't have that luxury, and he knew it. None of them did. Luxuries were for the civvies who were hiding behind them, and praying they'd get out of this thing alive.
He'd seen it more often than he could count over these last 20 years. Even if he could have any chance at keeping count, he'd have lost it by now, because there'd been just too many evacs, across the span of the past two decades that...it'd been pointless after the first...24 ?
More or less, anyway...it wasn't like the exact number mattered much past the point where you couldn't even remember how many there'd been for the life of you.
What did matter, was that he had another to contend with.
Another...and, just like all of the others, he had only one real option-
...Actually, a desire. Despite everything, he still had the drive to go on. It was like a hot coal at his core, and he
Buckle down, and get on with it.
" -down to 55 percent, ma'am ", reported the Sergeant. The tracing scar that snaked its way across his jawline bounced as he spoke, resembling a jumping coral snake
" ...55 ? ", asked the female officer he was speaking to, momentarily pausing during her process of field stripping her MA5C assault rifle. With its full list of components all neatly spread out , albeit with organization, she had to keep her attention of them, so as to reassemble it as quickly as could shooting iron had seen some seriously heavy use over the past few days- barrel had nearly gotten charred. Heavy carbon, all through its mechanisms and down its barrel. Some heavy cleaning had proven necessary, and the Lt. was still plugging away at getting it done when the NCO came over to deliver the ominous news.
" Double checked it myself, Lt. That's all we've got. "
Lt. Rahman didn't bother hiding her surprise at that...but, truth be told...she wasn't that shocked to hear it.
Speaking of truth, she'd actually kind of been expecting it to have gone down to 30 percent, so hearing 55 was actually a positive ! Barely, yes, but...these days, which were filled with Covenant going full blast with enough plasma weaponry to melt a city, finding out that you had your unit's ammo stores were down to just 55 percent of what they'd been this morning, and that restocking hadn't been an option yet was a blessing by comparison..
Especially if you'd lived through the decimation on Draco 3...or even heard a firsthand account on it from others who had. Rahman had the honor of both.
More memories to envelop her, basically. More thoughts that wouldn't leave her That was just par for the course these days, though. There was nothing anyone could do but live to push through it, because otherwise, those under her command would die.
Such as Sergeant Cragen here, for one..
One of her most dependable NCOS. As tall as she was, Scottish, and one of the very few who'd been there for...for...the " encounter " that'd gone down at that supermarket on Draco III. For all those reasons alone, he was always close by, and he was always the first one who came to her with fresh data on what was happening around the unit.
It was further proof, that no unit could survive without capable NCO's, even if it had good officers.
Her men said she was...which, only they could say.
She couldn't. That'd be arrogance, and that was nearly as good a way to get your men killed as hesitating.
" Understood ". The one-word response was spoken at barely above a whisper, but it was loud enough.
Nodding along with it, the officer mentally sighed, just briefly feeling like she was back on Draco III...for about 3 seconds. Then again, though...those 3 seconds were worth the whole sordid experience...
Thankfully, though, it didn't last, as she stood from where she'd been sitting atop the partially empty storage crate. Her legs- hip to ankle - had been saturated with that aggravating sensation of stiffness and pain that left them feeling like they were made out of electric currents...
" ...At least we're on par with water, and Jackhammer munitions ", she noted, as she subtly straightened out all 4 limbs, getting fully mobile once again. " Heard rumblings about Covenant armor on the perimeter. One way or the other, there's a good chance we'll be engaging them soon. "
" 'Specially the water. Thank God for the rain, though..."
" ...Won't matter...we're gonna be on the move after a few more clicks ", Rahman observed out loud, as she methodically moved her head around to loosen her neck.
Rain...
...On its face ? Great. Automatically soothing, and relaxing. Good for concealment as well, needless to say. It'd been because of the gift of a heavy rainfall that the 47th had successfully been able to extract itself from a seemingly doomed Covenant encirclement near that burned-out steel mill on Cascade, without even losing half their number. That frenzied encounter alone had been living proof that rain really was good for everyone...aside from the Covenant back then, but they had literally burned Harvest, so what was bad for them was good for everyone else.
..But there was also more to it, as well. For her, anyway. Because, whenever it rained, the shower just seemed to automatically trigger one of two highly prized memories of hers...and occasionally, both at once.
The first of which, was her first ever- ever-sexual session- and wedding. With her husband, obviously...less than a day after their marriage, and outside as well ! He'd been deployed for months back just before it, though, with Rahman unable to go with him due to a reassignment. Waiting for him to get back, and while aware that his unit- the 457th Marine Division- was getting used to reinforce a shoestring defense of the colony world of Cascade hadn't made the wait any easier..
So, it was perfectly understandable that her pre-existing love for him ( and with it, her sex drive ) had spiked while he was away. Less than two weeks after he'd gotten back- grazed by shrapnel, several pounds lighter, but otherwise unharmed- they'd gone right ahead, and tied the knot..
"...God...I was thinking about you every single day, Danny. Even while I was asleep...I...had dream of us"
"...Right back at you. Right. Back. At you. But..."
"...Here I am. "
" Yes you are...and are you still down for marrying me ? "
" 100 percent. Ready when you are..."
How fortunate...because she'd been ready.
Despite how the Covenant were still grinding their way closer and closer to the planet, that still couldn't stop the ceremony from going ahead- well-funded, just the right size, and even untouched by bad weather...aside from a moderate shower that'd just bounced off the waterproof awnings that they'd built for just such a thing to cover them. There was only the steady pattering of the drops overhead, as Layla was enveloped by Danny's embrace the second that the declaration " You may kiss the bride " was finished...
...and then kissed by him so hard she couldn't think straight. Or, maybe that was because she was kissing him back just as hard. It was probably both, really...and ultimately, it hardly mattered. They were sharing that moment, and that's what counted. The culmination of months of courtship , and anxious waiting..
It'd all come to that.
...And...what came next.
Because...that very evening...
On the veranda of their private resort suite, beneath a Puerto Rican night sky...
She'd lost her virginity to him.
Her husband. Her Danny. The only man on the planet who had the right to hers...and it was every bit as electrifying as she'd wanted it to have been. It hadn't been over-dramatically fast and hard, or tepidly and timidly slow...just...passionate. Steady, and rubbing out any real sense of how long it'd gone on for.
The only thing they could be sure of was, when it was finally over...she was sore around a certain area, they were both breathing heavy, and drowning under a tide of adrenaline. Why ? Because, as spectacular as the sex had been...it'd been built on something. It had an emotional connection behind and under it...and that's why it was worthwhile. A real relationship couldn't be built on sex alone, needless to say, but once you had something real...
Then it became mandatory. And...wonderful things with it.
Such as...
The other mighty memory that'd become linked with rainfall itself.
...The day she'd carried her newborn son home.
Was that a shocker ? Well...after that first " dance " she'd had with her hubby, it'd led to another as sure as the sun is expected to rise each day, and next thing she knew ? She was huddled beneath an umbrella loyally held by Danny, with a slumbering baby boy cradled between her arms.
Her son.
Their son.
The raindrops on her face hadn't gotten a chacne to dry after entering their on-base housing, before she'd begun to weep. She clutched the baby to her chest, and as Danny hugged her close and tight, she buried her face through his shoulder, and shed tear after tear.
But...they weren't tears of sadness. Or even pain, such as during childbirth...
They were tears of unfiltered, pure joy.
Joy. Because... although the Covenant were out there, on their mindless crusade of wanton slaughter and genocide, wreaking destruction on a scale that could barely be quantified...
Here...right here, she had..
She'd been blessed. Blessed, and brought new life to the galaxy. Someone helpless and precious beyond all words- the absolute antithesis of what the aliens were doing out there among the stars.
"If you're going to apologize...don't", murmured the man Rahman had married, and who's child she'd had.
Was she selfish ? So concerned for two lives, when she had dozens and dozens of Marines she was charged to protect for her unit ? Her deeply-entrenched training wouldn't let her forget-
But...
...
"..But if you do...I forgive you. "
...And, there it was.
They weren't machines. They weren't fighting for some...pathetic politically based cause that didn't mean anything. They were fighting for...
...For life itself to go on.
That's what she held so closely, and so tenderly right now. Why she was overcome with emotion...
It hadn't hit her as hard as until this moment...
The truth, of what they were fighting for. Why she was honored to do so:
Life...itself.
...Memories...
...Good lord. They were...
...Powerful. Controlling...and...
Triggered by rain ? What even was that ?!
Moreover, how long had she been down that lane ?
Suddenly feeling appallingly self-conscious, Rahman glanced around her...though, under the guise of just a casual once-over of the rest of the unit. Ignoring her racing pulse, she noticed that...the usual bustle hadn't faded, or even really changed- Marines were still checking and cleaning, stripping their weapons ( like she'd been ), getting ordered around by their squad leaders, and so on. All the typical things that would be getting done around now that any unit always did while prepping for action.
They're still on the clock..., the Lt. solemnly reminded herself.
As if she could deny the reality around her...
Just like that, she was back at the present. On the one hand, she was...it wasn't a bad thing- she was proud, and honored to serve as a UNSC Marine, especially during these dangerous days.
On the other ? She missed her husband, and her baby boy. Duty, and these wretched aliens had pulled them away from one other. She'd always hated them for the glassing they'd done alone, but...
I miss you, Danny.
I miss you, Hamid..
But, I have to leave you because these monsters want to kill us all..
Half of that.. is my fault...I know !
Slowly, the officer glanced back to her dissembled rifle, noting fleetingly that Cragen was peripherally observing her, but staying ( thankfully ) silent. He knew she was squared away, but adrift with thoughts...yet able to come back on her own.
He trusted her that much. Some days...she didn't think she deserved that kind of loyalty.
But, her unit deserved it from her, though. Moreover...she didn't have the luxury of chilling with her own thoughts- as much as she wanted to.
As much as she missed them. As much as she'd be all too eager to just...live with those memories, for now. Maybe a tad longer than just now, actually..
She bit her lower lip, simultaneously feeling caught between pining hard for them, and grateful that she had a purpose to fight for, as two Marines jogged past, lugging one of the aforementioned Jackhammer Launchers and a case of spare missiles for it between them. Both of the Jarheads stopped momentarily ( and hardly even that sloppily, given that they were moving at a good clip ) , before turning her heads to face the two officers, and snapping off a quick pair of:
" Sir ! "
" Ma'am ! "
Automatic reflexes activated before Rahman could even think about it. A brisk, parade ground " As you were, Marines ! " came out, along with a nod, and with them, the two Marines nodded back, and then raced on.
"..Speak of the devil ", murmured the officer, watching them go for a moment.
She couldn't help it. They were a heavy weapons company, after all .
It cost 12,000 dollars to fire one M247 for 10 seconds, and they had over a dozen of them- to say nothing of the Jackhammers, ARC Railguns, and grenade launchers added on top. It was, some might say, way more firepower than a unit barely a hundred strong should need to carry with them...
...Until any of its members ( let alone the ranking officer ) spoke about the kind of heavy fighting that they'd survived on worlds like Harvest, Draco III, and right here on Earth. Over a hundred battles overall, and with the vast majority of them ending with the field of battle before them covered- literally covered- with more craters deep enough to swallow an SUV and emitting smoke columns that could be counted...along with most trees torn loose from the ground, and the barrels of their launchers still hot and glowing red.
They were a heavy weapons unit. That kind of heavy ordinance was their whole life. More importantly, it'd saved their lives, over and over again, when the squads of Choppers, Wraiths, Ghosts and Locusts that the Covenant had thrown at them would've left them as just slagged and well-done lumps of burned meat on the ground.
That massive slugfest they'd crawled through to even get through to her wasn't an exception either, Rahman automatically found herself reflecting, as she grabbed her TACPAD. Between chewing through most of their main ammo ( and energy ) reserves , that last fight had chipped away pretty hard at their overall combat effectiveness. They weren't out, by any stretch, but they could sure be doing better.
These days, though...virtually nobody could afford a full night's ( or day, if that was the case ) rest . After the Covenant had made planetfall on Earth, unit after unit was getting pushed harder then ever, with only minimal rest...
Irrelevant.
Rahman tapped away at the pad, sending a message to the Colonel and Captain Sands regarding her unit's state of readiness. Her own tiredness and, pain, regardless of how heavy it was, still was exactly that: Irrelevant at the moment.
The task at hand wouldn't wait. Couldn't wait, more like. Besides...Lt. Carolina would have to be stopping by soon enough, doing the rounds to double check-
crnnch..crrnchh...
...And, as if on cue...
...Right then, the sound of combat boots on gravel echoed from outside the tent's flaps.
That was fully expected...
...But...there was something else that become just as obvious right alongside it.
More than one, though. There were...two sets of boots out there !
Wait...What ?
...Captain coming down here himself ? The CO, maybe ?
Her Sergeant wasn't any less surprised- but he wasn't any more caught off guard than she was. They'd been at this too long to let that kind of state stick to them. It tended to be fatal..
" We've got company, ma'am ! ", the NCO exclaimed.
Still holding the pad, his superior officer just managed to respond with a automatically-generated , " Sounds like it...", before the flap was pushed open...
And...Lt. Carolina swept through- sheets of rainwater flowing off her armor like she'd stepped right out of a mold.
Accompanied closely( all but shoulder to shoulder ) by-
" Hey, Lt ! ", Carolina greeted, all business as usual. " Over here ! Got someone you'll wanna meet ! "
Her borderline yell got attention, needless to say, and several nearby heads turned toward-
As did Rahman, to find..
" Who's that...?! "
Then...midsentence, she stopped dead.
Shocked. The good kind of shocked, granted, but even so...! Adrenaline flooded her veins, and prickled her spine like pins and needles, as she spotted and recognized ( more than anything else ) who had come though the flap alongside Carolina.
Because...
..Good God..
Its...
"...Corporal Taylor ?! "
" Is that you, Trooper ?! "