"They're fucking shooting at us!"
The short ODST gribbed the soft backrest of his chair, squeezing it and pulling it down. The metal door between the cockpit and the rest of the cabin shut and flew open rapidly as the ship twisted and weaved in the void.
"I'm aware!"
The pilot snapped back with the same shouting, the two pushing their bodies against the rapidly changing forces of the ship. A sharp crackle came from his shoulder where a small radio rested, connected with the rest of the soldiers in the cabin.
The voice stuttered and fizzed, though he wasn't sure of how much of that was due to the shitty transmission. "Sir, with all due respect, tell that pilot to stop throwing us around or else I'm going to fucking puke."
The dark skinned ODST grabbed the radio from the pilot's shoulder, placing the device right to his mouth with his free arm, the other still violently gripping the back of the pilot's seat. "I don't give a shit rookie! You best hope that the helmet has filtration systems because there's a long way to go until we reach rock bottom!" The man drew out 'long', screaming the o's into the radio.
The pilot sharply pulled the control wheel upwards, multiple streaks of purple flying past the cabin. The Phantom on their tail had mirrored their every movement, unrelenting and persisting. The ODST besides him followed the purple streaks, before zeroing on the pilot. "Pilot you best keep fucking weaving, I don't care how much sick there is in that damned cabin, steer like your life depends on it!" His gravelly voice screamed into the pilot's muffled ears.
A heavy shudder shook the bird, and the entire control system flashed red before the pilot. "You best plant your ass down sergeant, one of the thrusters is gone." He reached for the ceiling of the cockpit, rapidly switching several small switches. The ODST rushed out of the cabin, quickly strapping into one of the free chairs.
"Gillion, you best not fly us to our deaths!"
"Straight to the gates of Hell!" The pilot yelled into the cabin behind him, before the door slammed shut once again.
Another wave of trembles passed through the ship, another thruster quickly shutting down. Gillion assessed their options; they were being gunned down by an enemy ship and were slowly losing the means to move. The nearby planet seemed to be their only option, much better to be down there rather than stuck in the vacuum of space or peppered with plasma. The pilot deeply swallowed, pushing the control wheel downwards, the nose of the pelican tilting downwards towards the planet below them. He engaged the remaining thrusters, leading the Pelican as well as the crew into the planet.
The ship radio switched on, and the clustered voices of two other pilots came online. "Alpha 1-3 reporting in, our side's been pierced and our fuel tank's leaking!" He focused on the other voice, which so far was only an incoherent mess of fizzing and the occasional dash of speech. "Delta 2-7 repo- n, we've sust- eavy -sualties. Th- -ocpit got shot thro-. I took tw- -f those fu- -rs dow-" The woman's voice was cut off, replaced by static and white noise; the signal destroyed .
He opened his own comms, pushing the white button down harder than he needed to. "Charlie 4-12 reporting in, our back thrusters are down and several shots have hit us, I'm leading her towards the surface."
The Pelican quickly began accelerating, streaks of flames coating the glass cockpit. The ship began to violently tremble, so much so that the pilot's arms began to ache from gripping the wheel. Even with the headpiece muffling any noise around him, the pilot was still deafened by the loud rumbling that filled the bird. He reached for the radio on his shoulder, only to remember that the ODST had taken it.
Another burst of plasma shot at the ship, a couple bolts striking the glass in front of him. A small crack appeared in the see-through surface, though the pilot was preoccupied with steering the ship to notice. A burst of explosions rang over the constant rumbling, before the controls in front of the pilot flashed red again. The hull had been breached. There was no turning back; the pilot pressed the throttle down fully and pushed the control wheel, steering the Pelican into a nosedive. The fire around the ship intensified significantly, the edges of the metal and glass welds glowing a bright orange. Gillion heard screaming in the back cabin, though the pilot was far too busy with keeping himself and -hopefully- everyone else on this ship alive to care.
The space around them gradually began to turn a shade of blue, they were entering the planet's were flying right into an ocean, a couple of large islands dotting the blue surface. Fuck, this would be a problem if they were going to land.
The rumbling around him intensified, loud scraping ringing through the ship as jutting metal peeled away from the corpus of the ship. She was falling apart, Gillion just hoped she'd last long enough to land.
The ground in front of him was quickly approaching, the rumbling growing ever louder. Gillion pulled the control wheel upwards, pressing the rubber edge into his gut. The straps across his body combined with the rubber wheel pushing into his gut were slowly accumulating into a swelling pain, his soft armour not doing much to stop the hurt.
The ship slowly leaned upwards, the front thrusters working at full power to slow down the Pelican. The rumbling in the ship reached its peak, Gillion's vision growing blurry at the rapid shaking. He had managed to level the Pelican, causing it to quickly glide at a slight gradient, when the cabin around him sharply jerked. The front glass of the Pelican quickly ripped away, the hard soil grinding against the nose of the ship. He grabbed the straps that were now pressed into his shoulders, clutching them so hard they pierced his skin. His whole body shook in the chair, and he was sure he had severely bruised his face from how often it hit his padded shoulder. The ship slowly came to a halt, creaking and hissing from the multiple breaches.
Gillion opened his eyes, his vision hazy and dark around the edges, to see the glass of his cabin -as well as most of the metal surrounding it-torn away. An intense warmth pressed against his skin, and the pilot quickly came to the realisation that the ship was on fire. Occasional sparks came from the ceiling, and torn black wires hung in lazy arches from the burning metal around him. He hazily ripped off the buckles around his torso, pushing the control wheel out of his gut. The pilot stood up from his seat and quickly collapsed onto the floor. His legs buckled under his weight, still weak from the crash. Through the thick cloud of haziness around him the pilot heard another crash. The engines seemed more alien in nature, the Phantom had crashed near them.
He grabbed the chair, using the thing to support himself, before stumbling towards the door that separated his cockpit from the rest of the ship. Gillion weakly slammed the button on the wall, and with a slight 'click' the door opened. Using his free arm, the man gently opened the metal door. What met him was a disturbing sight. The cabin was largely intact, aside from a small hole in the chassis, though most of the soldiers were missing. They had been sucked out of the ship when the cabin depressurized. Fuck. The ODST that had taken his radio was one of three bodies left in the ship, and seemingly the only one alive. The mangled corpse of a marine lay in one of the chairs, a large hole cleanly piercing his chest, while the corpse of another helmeted ODST lay in the chaip opposing the sergeant.
The dark skinned man slowly stirred, before pushing his head up and grumbling. Gillion stumbled his way over to the soldier, unhooking his buckles. The ODST grabbed his shoulders, pulling himself up. "What's the status of the ship pilot?" His speech came out slurred and sporadic.
"Two thrusters gone on the way down, front cabin gone. We're fucked sergant." The soldier grumbles, before slowly limping over to the ODST opposite him. He kneeled against him, before reaching down the man's neck and sharply tugging on a silver dog tag.
"James, fuck. He was a good soldier, a waste to see him die like this." He stood back up, before slowly stumbling into the cockpit. Gillion was about to question why he hadn't gone through the main hatch, though quickly realised that with the state the ship was in the door would either jam or not open due to lack of power. "Damned Covies" He heard the ODST grumble under his breath, shuffling through the debris on the floor.
The two men climbed over the front of the cockpit, Gillion face planting right into the ground while the sergeant barely managed to stay on his feet. They rounded the ship, only to see the Phantom that shot them about ten metres to the side of them. Fuck. The ship seemed to be in as pitiful of a state as their own, perhaps even more so, most of the ship lit ablaze with purple flames. The two men stiffened when they heard clunking and squawking from the ship, however Gillion couldn't keep his focus for long. The pilot felt extremely lightheaded, his legs once again beginning to fail him. A hard surface pressed against his rear; he had fallen on his ass.
The ODST ahead of him still kept his focus on the ship. Most of the weapons on the pelican had been either destroyed or blocked by wreckage with the exception of the magnum on Gillion's hip. He took the gun from his waist, before weakly pointing it in the ship's direction with one arm. The other pressed against the side of his head, only to retreat covered in blood. The pilot had left his helmet in the bay of the mothership amidst the rush to get into the pelican. What an idiot.
The plate of purple alloy covering the entrance of the alien ship shifted before slowly falling onto the floor, revealing two aliens. He wasn't going to make it out of here was he. What stood in the entrance of the ship was an Elite and a Jackal, the latter wearing gold -or maybe just bright yellow- armour. The two pairs stared at each other, both seemingly dumbstruck by the situation, before the ODST and Jackal sprinted at each other. The two clashed together, immediately getting into a brawl.
The Jackal was clearly stronger, if only by a bit, dominating over the ODST. Gillion couldn't shoot the alien in risk of shooting his ally, so the second best thing was to stare down the other alien. He pointed the sights of the magnum on the Elite, which strangely simply stood there with a plasma pistol in its hands. It looked towards him, bringing its attention away from the fight, before lifting its pistol to point towards him. The pilot couldn't take the shot, his arm felt weak and his vision blurry; and even without those obstructions he had the shittiest aim in probably the whole of the UNSC.
The two continued to brawl, the Jackal grabbing the soldier's shoulder before thrusting its weird knee into his gut. The ODST stumbled backwards, clearly slightly dazed, before the Jackal leaped on him and began pummeling the soldier. The ODST wouldn't go out without a fight however, grabbing a knife from his thigh and wrapping his arms around the creature; thrusting the blade into the Jackals neck. The creature let out a gargled craw, growing limp and falling on the soldier. His face was covered in blood, mauled and bruised, bone mixing with flesh to create human gruel. The ODST heaved out laboured breaths, his chest sharply rising and falling, before he himself grew limp on the ground. He was probably dead, though right now Gillion couldn't care less.
The Elite stared at him, the two pointing their pistols at each other. He knew he wasn't going to shoot, the man physically wasn't able to -he'd probably miss the shot regardless-, though what confused him was the Elite. It hadn't shot either, simply staring him down, a single hand gripping at its side. He pressed his back against the ship, sprawling out his legs on the floor, before scanning over the alien. To his surprise the alien followed his motions, dropping down onto the floor and leaning against the burning Phantom. The two held their pistols at each other still, though Gillion could feel his strength wavering. With a sigh the human dropped his weapon, letting his arm and the magnum in it slap against his thigh. While the pilot hadn't necessarily resigned his death, right now he was too tired to care. He heard a small metallic thud from the alien and looked up to see its weapon laying on the floor beside it, the four fingered hand resting in its leg. It seemed the alien had no interest in killing him either, for now, and with the immediate danger gone the human felt himself slowly slip from the grasp of consciousness. Hopefully the Phantom blew up and killed the thing before he woke up, it would mean he wouldn't have to try and kill it himself.
His last thoughts slowly grew incoherent and fuzzy, as the world around him faded away.
…
He awoke from the sound of crashing waves and crackling flames, his mind still groggy from the period of unconsciousness he had forcefully been subjected to. The man opened his eyes and looked around, the large and still burning Phantom being the first thing that came to sight. It seemed they had crashed on a narrow shore on one of the larger islands he had seen, the way deeper into the landmass covered by a dense green forest. The crashing of waves was distant, though the edge of the island was only a couple of metres away. It could only mean that the island was raised well above sea level, probably due to an extended period of coastal erosion gnawing away at the stone.
Gillion returned his attention to his immediate surroundings, slowly scanning the edge of the dense forest. It seemed he was alone on the beach. Wait, where was the alien? He quickly whipped his head around the shore, once again scanning over the landscape. His attention focused on the ship, desperately searching for any movement. While it meant that he was safe for now, the human would be stuck in an unknown and most likely uncharted forest with something that could easily crush his ribs and neck. However he couldn't stay near the Pelican either, the vehicle was damaged to an unknown extent and could blow any minute; and the human wanted to be as far away as possible when that happened.
Wincing, the human propped himself against the side of the ship and stood up, his legs still as weak as ever. It seemed that the sleep had helped him somewhat however, as the human was able to walk fairly successfully without support. Sleep. How long was he out? The sun was high in the air, so about mid day. Though it seemed strange that their descent was exactly in the same light conditions. It meant that either the days here were slower or he had only passed out for a short time. The human was inclined to believe the latter, as the Phantom was burning as brightly as when it had initially crashed.
Gillion contemplated his options, he could either risk going into the Pelican and scavenge for anything useful, or he could go straight to the forest. He could always return to the Pelican later if it hadn't blown yet, and while he wasn't entirely certain that he and the alien were the only sentient creatures on the island, he hadn't exactly seen any other crashing ships. As long as the alien didn't return before him, everything that would be here when he left would still be here as he returned. Fine, the forest it was.
The forest was fairly dark, the green canopy above him was so dense it blocked out most of the light from the sun. The minimal amount of light that came through was enough to see the forest floor, which was covered in dense shrubs and bushes. It was quite reminiscent of a jungle, though the colder climate made it unlikely to actually be one. The greenery around him was filled with chirps and rustles, small birds flying to and fro thick branches of tall trees, and the occasional hare ran between the dense foliage beneath him. He called it a hare loosely, the small creature was vaguely shaped like one but was green in colour, with two small spikes on its head.
Maybe he could kill and eat it, though there was always the chance it was poisonous. He had a couple of MRE's in a small personal backpack, and while it was minuscule compared to the soldier backpacks; it was enough. He'd still need to find a food supply soon, preferably within the next week or so. The human had no clue as to how long he was staying here, and right now he was preparing for the worst. The sudden realisation struck his mind that he was probably the only human on this planet, probably even this solar system. The mothership had jumped away with most of the fleet seemingly without reason, and definitely without warning. He had been abandoned, and right now every one of his allies was dead. This realisation of solitude struck his gut, and he felt it drop right out of his ass. No, the self pity could wait, right now he needed to find a place to rest for the inevitable night.
Some time had passed since he entered the forest, about a couple hours or so. The terrain was largely flat and quite easy to traverse, which meant navigating this place would be easy. For all the shitty aim Gillion possessed, he seemed to have a natural knack for navigation and geology. Where many other pilots and even most scouts saw nothing but a dense forest with no exit, he could pinpoint exactly where they came from and how long it would take them to get anywhere. The man would often astonish his superiors with his intimate knowledge and observations of most terrain and the strategies that followed them even if he hadn't seen the terrain prior. His guidance and navigation skills had saved many a wandering squad.
A rustling caught his attention. It was faint and strangely rhythmic, though slowly grew louder and louder. Gillion quickly scanned around himself for any cover, spotting and quickly squatting near the base of a large tree. The bark twisted inwards, giving the human a slot to squeeze into to hide from whatever was making that rustling. It was only when the rustling seemed an arms reach away that he heard the thudding. It was incredibly quiet, and not a single thud but rather continuous soft pressing, like whatever foot was making it was rolling rather than stomping. He drew in a nervous breath, trying to steady his breathing.
The rustling seemed only a metre away, just inches away from the opposite side of the tree he was hiding in. It was deafening now, and the pilot could almost make out each individual crunch and shift of leaves and it was making him sweat bullets. The sound stopped. Suddenly another one of those hares jumped out from a nearby bush, nibbling at a nearby leaf and turning to look at him with its black glossy eyes. Upon noticing him the creature sprinted into the same bush it came from, scuttling away into the distance.
He let out a breath he didn't realise he was holding, his head lightheaded from the lack of oxygen. The man pushed against the tree to rise to his feet when something stopped him. A feeling. It felt like he wasn't alone, like there was someone watching him. The Ali-.
A four-fingered hand grabbed his throat from around the tree, before his body was pressed into the bark of the tree. Gillion immediately began clutching the claw, trying to slap it or beat it into letting go of his neck. The man's thrashing only tightened the grip, and his vision slowly began to darken. His captor came into view; it was the alien, holding a plasma pistol with its other hand. His feet hung well above the ground, about thirty centimetres or so, and the alien wasn't even holding him at eye level.
He expected plasma to burn through his gut, already envisioning the sharp burning pain as it seared his flesh, though the burning never came. Instead the hand released him, letting the man drop to the base of the tree. His vision quickly cleared as he took in desperate breaths, his chest heaving. The alien seemed to observe him, watching the recovering human, before slowly turning around and continuing on whatever path it originally had.
Gillion simply lay down on the ground, sinking into the soft, leaf covered soil. He swore he was going to die then and there, if not from the alien then from a heart attack. It had spared him twice now, and it didn't even seem as dazed as it did on the crash site. He had seen countless Elites cut through men back when he was a Marine, taking down as many with them as they could even on the verge of death. They would stop at nothing to kill as many humans as possible, and not once had he seen one let a human live. Maybe the alien wasn't interested in killing someone as harmless as him. And if that was the case, this may have been the first time in his entire deployment where his lack of aptitude for weapons saved him instead of putting him in harm's way.
He looked at the direction the alien went. Now to go anywhere but there. Gillion stood up, his back slightly aching from the rugged surface of the bark sliding against his clothes, before beginning his trek anew.
…
Even at midday the light conditions in the forest were less than ideal, so when the sun began to set it seemed like the entire forest was plunged into dusk. The brief glimpses of the sky above him still showed some faint light, though as soon as Gillion brought his eyes downwards he was met with darkness. It was near pitch black, though the pilot found it as easy as ever to make his way through the forest. He probably should have become a guide instead.
It seemed he had entered a new forest, or at least a different subsection, as the trees around him had changed in form. What once was simple, long, though rather thick, barks had changed into something that resembled mangroves. Though these trees were thicker and with more spaced out roots, almost resembling wooden cages. Gillion peered through the dark, trying to discern the largest tree, before settling on a particularly thick one nearby him.
With a little bit of leaves, branches and luck this could become a temporary shelter for the night. One he desperately needed if the climate was as cold as he thought it would be. The wind that came from the oceans would be wet and most likely chilly, and while the trees helped somewhat, this weather would not leave him warm.
While the trees were handy in some aspects, that being primarily their roots and general thickness, they were just as inconvenient in others. The branches that lined them were thin and grew high into the trees, each branch supporting only a handful of incredibly thin leaves. What they lacked in greenery they made up in numbers, the many weaving branches almost making it look like the tree was plucked upside down. Gillion scanned around himself, searching for something that was heavy and held broad leaves. A couple of nearby bushes presented themselves in the darkness. They resembled castor-oil plants, though their leaves were much thicker and had some heft to them. How the leaves supported themselves he had no clue, these things seemed almost like natural blankets.
He unsheathed a knife from his thigh, much like the one the sergeant had, and began cutting at the stems of the bush. It had a bark, though it seemed to only serve for structural support as the wooden growth simply ended with a stub. The pilot gathered a heap of the large leaves and returned to his chosen tree, careful to not trip on the many stones and roots lining the forest floor. He carefully draped the leaves around the tree roots, occasionally weaving the leaves around each other and the surrounding roots.
The surrounding forest had become pitch black when he was done, not a single hint of light peeking through the dense foliage. While he couldn't actually see much, the human imagined his little abode to look like a pile of… well, leaves. He almost envisioned it to resemble one of those Indian huts that he was taught about in his childhood, though this one was more rounded and substantially smaller.
Gillion crawled into the leaf prison, carefully placing his knees so as to not bash them into a rock of some sort, before settling down in the centre of it. Strangely, the inside was completely hollow of roots, the tree wrapping around an invisible sphere of some kind. Everything was strange when it came to aliens.
He rested on the soft forest floor, having dragged a couple of leaves into the centre to cushion himself, before removing his armour padding and boots. While they could probably protect him from the cold, the human was sure he'd get major bruising if he slept in those. He curled up onto the soft foliage, grabbing a particularly large leaf and using it as a blanket, and attempted to sleep.
His mind instantly jumped to the alien. Why had it not killed him, gutted the pilot right then and there against the tree or simply shot him when he was kneeling against the ship? It seemed just as exhausted as he was when they were on the crash site, but the brief look at its face when it held him against the tree gave away nothing but absolute alertness. The alien had chosen to spare him with a clear mind and largely without reluctance, in fact it barely even wounded him. While he himself hadn't shot the alien, that was more out of him being on the brink of passing out near the ship. He couldn't shoot the alien in the forest either, the human was too busy trying to get the incredibly-necessary air into his incredibly-necessary-oxygen deprived body.
Maybe he would have another confrontation with the thing or maybe he wouldn't see it ever again. He sincerely hoped for the latter, as the Elite would be capable of killing him rather easily. While the man wasn't scared shit-less about the prospect of death, he wasn't exactly unmoved by it either. Gillion pushed away his thoughts, for now he needed to sleep and get all the energy he could for the coming day.
With an aching back and still slightly bleeding head, the man fell asleep.
AN: Yeah I'm starting another fic. As I have said before, check out my A03 account, as I upload stuff there faster and with less grammatical errors! Reviews are highly appreciated.