Chapter 3

"Evelyn, I need you to pull the truck around to the evaluation shuttles," Alan hopped out of the truck, his rifle hanging from his chest on a sling. "I'll make sure that you three get on board."

The oldest of his three children nodded and slid over into the driver's side of the vehicle while he waved them towards the spaceport in the distance.

"Where are you going?" Jasmine asked.

"I'm going to speak to the guy who owns the spaceport. We served together, so I should be able to get things sorted out. Just pull around to the parking lot and make sure that the gear is safe."

The truck pulled away and Alan limped into the spaceport, the streams of people making way for the heavily armed and armored man.

"Alan, good to see you," a spaceport security officer stepped in front of the veteran and clasped arms with him.

"Tim, is Ron still in charge?"

"Yessir," the shorter man nodded. "He said we'd probably see you around once we detected the ships."

"I'm making sure my family gets out," Alan and Tim began walking to the nearby office. "How're the wife and kids?"

"Spaceport staff families are some of the first people we're loading up," Tim confirmed. "We want to save as many people as we can, but our own families are important to."

They stopped at the door and Tim knocked, the office door sliding open and revealing an old man sitting at a desk.

"Captain," Alan nodded as he and tim stepped into the room.

"Alan, I figured I'd see you," the bald man smiled wryly. "I already know why you're here, and no, this doesn't make us even. I still owe you one."

"I already told you, sir," Alan grinned back. "You don't owe me a damned thing."

"Regardless, we're gonna need your help," Ron stood up, the UNSC officer's handgun on his hip showing how serious he was taking this.

"Crowd control or defense?" Alan gestured to the rifle slung over his chest. "I brought some extra firepower if the UNSC doesn't have anyone extra to spare."

"We've got our own armory," Ron replied. "It's not the most modern gear, but it'll do the job."

"Well, I can start getting defensive positions set up," Alan offered. "But I want to make sure that my kids are on one of the ships."

"The first three are already packed to the gills," Ron sighed. "They'll have to be on one of the next batches of ships."

"That's fine, just let me know where you want me, and I'll get started."

"Colonel Wilkins," Ron nodded at the UNSC Army officer as he entered the spaceport. "My people are at your disposal."

"I can see that you've already gotten defensive positions set up," the colonel sighed. "The Navy put up a good fight, but we're going to have to set up shop here."

"I hope you brought some triple A," Ron glanced at the weary Army soldiers. "We don't have any anti-aircraft capability here."

"We have some, but our goal is simply to make sure that the evac centers are clear while we try to pull out," Wilkins looked around to make sure that there weren't any civilians listening in before leaning in. "We're pretty much damned here. The Navy did a helluva lot, but we're going to be lucky if we manage to get the rest of the evac ships out."

"Sir, we've got enemy dropships moving into the city outskirts!" an NCO ran in.

"Let's get moving people! Get those anti-aircraft guns up and move the Scorpions into position!" Wilkins ordered, standing up and pulling a cigarette out of his pouch, lighting it as he walked out of the spaceport. "And get me a line to FLEETCOM. I want to know how many ships we have left in orbit. We've gotta coordinate this evacuation."

Xevo Lucamee looked at his squad as they moved through the empty streets of this human city.

"Such a shame we've gotta class all this shit," Taz Kec kicked the side of a building. "Yknow how much one of these buildings would sell for on the open market back home?"

"Aye," Xevo flared his mandibles. "I do not like such destruction, but mayhaps we will only glass a portion of this world."

"Gamma(1) squadron," the platoon leader barked over the Battlenet. "We have found the last of the major holdouts, report to navigation point Epsilon."

"That is across the city, Major, we will require transport," Xevo replied.

"I have dispatched a Ruwaa pattern to come and retrieve your squad. We shall all converge on the enemy position and eliminate them."

"I don't like this," Kec sighed. "I have a feeling that this is going to go poorly for us."

"Their warships have been destroyed," Xevo shook his head. "We will carry the day."

So the squad waited, the buildings standing tall and silent, dedicated to those who had built them but were no longer present.

Soon though, the hum of the antigravity pods was heard as a Ruwaa pattern Shadow pulled up, the vehicle lowering the troop bays and allowing Xevo's squad to board and strap themselves in.

"Xevo, it is good to see you again!" the Sangheili pilot spread his mandibles in a grin. "I did not know that you had been deployed to this world!"

"I serve as I am requested," Xevo replied. "My term of service expires soon, but until that is completed, I am present."

The Shadow then sped up and joined in formation with the rest of the ground troops, the few vehicles that stood in their way being shoved out of the way through the impact of the heavier vehicle.

"We move for the spaceport! They shall not evade our holy blades!" the platoon leader declared. "Today, we prove our dedication to our Blessed Covenant!"

–

–

Alan ducked underneath a bright green bolt and held down the trigger on his MA2B. The rounds smashing against and then through one of the larger Alien's odd shimmering shield before a round from a nearby Marksman took his head off.

"Good shots!" the designated Marksman gave the old veteran a thumbs up before a giant pink needle lodged itself into his brainpan and detonated.

"Sniper! Get down!" Alan yelled, ducking beneath sandbags as he ejected a magazine, ramming a new one into the magwell and slamming his bolt forward.

Standing back up, he fired short controlled bursts at some of the stockier aliens, the tubes that fed them the gasses they desperately needed shattering and leaving them to roll on the ground in a panic.

"Pull back!" Alan roared, grabbing a wounded man in UNSC Army green and dragging him back to the secondary lines. "Back to rally point Bravo!"

"Alan, the last ship is about to leave," Ron, Alan's old CO locked eyes with the old veteran. "If you're going to get offworld, you need to start heading that way now."

"Right," Alan exhaled long and slow. "I should say goodbye to the kids, just in case."

Rubbing at the stump and prosthetic, Alan continued moving back through the lines before arriving at the line to board the last ship.

"Dad!" Jasmine yelled and hugged her father. "We're boarding the last ship, now."

"I know," Alan pulled her in and kissed her forehead. "I'm here to make sure that all three of you make it onboard."

As the line moved forward, Alan could hear the desperate cries for help and of the men and women dying to preserve their lives, and as they reached the doors, the comms went silent aside from the few anti-ship and anti-aircraft batteries that remained.

"I love you," Alan whispered to all three of his children, pushing them forward into the ship and locking the door behind them.

His heart pounded in his chest as he locked eyes with his kids through the transparent metal that made up the viewport.

"I love you," he placed his hand on the glass as a tear trickled down his cheek. His girls weeping while Adam stood with clenched fists and fought off his own tears,

Turning, Alan clenched his jaw and wiped the tear from his eye before shouldering his rifle.

Raising a fist, he hammered on the ship door behind him, signaling that they needed to begin taking off.

The sound of thrusters filled the spaceport and Alan took up a fighting position. His family was alive, and that was what was most important here.

"Two mags left in the rifle," he muttered as he checked his ammo counter and his chest rig. "And whatever I've got left in the old girl."

The bulkhead doors then blew inwards and Alan began to open fire, every round had to count, so he made sure that he placed them exactly where they needed to go.

The first group of aliens to break through didn't live very long. But halfway through the second, Alan ran out of ammunition and the bolt locked back on his rifle. Drawing the M1911, he advanced, the smaller rounds seeming to do nothing to the small aliens, but they seemed to at least spark against the shields of the large one.

One plasma bolt struck, and his armor began to melt into slag but he fought through the pain, reloaded the pistol and fired again, and again, the shimmer sparked before finally dying away.

And on the last round, the slide locked back, and both fell, human and alien alike.