Chapter 8

The ride became much smoother once they reached the lower atmosphere and leveled out. It took a while to break through the storm layer. Even with the two dropships flying below the dark gray clouds, the visibility through the rain-lashed viewport was next to nil. Thankfully, they were flying on instruments.

"Sierra-Three, maintain current heading." Walter said into his headset as he double-checked several instruments. As well as serving as aides to the officers, each of the synths were also the official pilots for the dropships. Bartz rode in the cockpit with Walter, while Lieutenant Brink rode with Knight in the second dropship.

"Copy that." Knight responded. "Sierra-One, are you reading that secondary signal?" Walter narrowed his eyes as he looked over the console. It was a completely unnecessary movement, but it was something that he'd picked up over the years. It made him a little more human, and that made the Marines more comfortable. Just then, a second rescue signal blip appeared on the radar.

"Roger, just picked up the signal on my end." Walter said. "Standby." He looked over his shoulder. "Mister Miller." This got the attention of Kurt, who had been looking at a tablet. Kurt had set himself up in one of the fold-down jump seats behind Bartz.

"Yeah?" Miller said, still recovering from the violent drop. He'd managed to keep his breakfast down, but felt as if he'd just ran a marathon.

"We're picking up a secondary distress signal." Walter regarded the readouts again. "Approximately twelve miles from the original." Kurt raised his safety bar and unbuckled his harness. He took a wobbly step forward and almost fell, but held himself up against Walter's seat. Sure enough, there was a second signal. This one was weak, blinking once every three seconds.

"Huh." Kurt said.

"Anything you're not telling us, Mister Miller?" Bartz asked from his seat. The Captain had removed his helmet and was wiping the sweat from his brow.

"No, I've told you everything that the Company told me." Miller said, eyes locked on the second signal. "The fact that there's anything down here doesn't make sense. The Covenant never stopped on the planet. Other than our ghost transmission, it's unexplored."

"Either that's not the case, or there were survivors and they've posted there." Bartz pointed towards the second signal. "Walter, how far is our landing site from the signals?"

"About four miles from the origin of the ghost transmission and nine miles from this new contact, Captain." Walter relayed. While vaguely Earth-like, the planet's terrain was much more treacherous than that of humanity's home. Large mountain ranges jutted up like knives, while valleys plummeted deep within the planet, all fed by large rivers and lakes. Even with the UD-4A's vertical takeoff and landing capabilities, the large craft still needed a spot large enough for it to set down and could bear its weight. In this case, they needed a spot big enough for two.

The advance drones had identified a clearing along a large lake that would facilitate the landing of both dropships. All three sets of eyes watched the readouts as they grew closer and closer to the second, unknown signal. As they were passing over it, they looked out the windshield. Unfortunately, the planet had other plans. They now flew through another thick batch of dark gray, almost black cumulus clouds, heavy rain making it appear as if someone were pouring buckets of water down the front of the windscreen. They were in the soup, and none of them could make out anything past a few feet in front of their craft.

"Guess we'll have to get a look at it from the ground." Kurt said. He turned around to get back in his seat, and almost jumped out of his skin. A Marine stood behind him, the man's already-pale skin looking even more pallid. "Uh, excuse me." Kurt said as he inched past the Marine and found his seat. Bartz looked over his shoulder and had to stop himself from rolling his eyes.

"What is it, Gunnery Sergeant?" He asked. Jones looked like he was about half a step away from death.

"Just um…" Jones took a moment and swallowed deeply. "Just looking to see if there's any kind of view, sir." Bartz faced front again.

"Nothing to see here, Jones. We're in the soup." Bartz gestured towards the windscreen, which once again showed nothing but streaking rain and a mass of varying grays in the ever-shifting clouds. "ETA to the landing point?" Bartz asked Walter.

"Approximately one-five mikes, sir." Walter responded.

"Check." Bartz said. "Lieutenant Fick." He said over his shoulder.

Lieutenant Fick, who had successfully made it through the drop without getting sick, raised his safety bar and unbuckled himself from the harness before starting towards the cockpit. He had to hold onto the bulkhead to keep himself steady as the ship continued to rattle and shake with turbulence.

"Sir?" The Lieutenant said once he reached the cockpit.

"Fifteen minutes until we hit the landing zone. I don't know what to expect out here in terms of wildlife, so make sure your people are set to go. Standard combat dispersion."

"Roger that." Fick replied.

"Lieutenant." Bartz said. Fick turned around to face his Commanding Officer again. "Relay that to Jones for the I&S Marines as well."

"Sir." Fick said with a nod before moving back to ensure his Marines would be set. He sat back in his seat, ensured his weapon and gear were set, then looked across the aisle to Pops. The older Marine had slept through the entirety of the drop, only waking to move his boots out of the way when Jones had thrown up. The broomhandle-mustached Gunnery Sergeant already had his gear prepped. "Fifteen minutes, Gunny." Fick relayed.

"Copy that, sir." Pops said, raising his safety bar. He hadn't worn his harness on the ride down. "Alright First Platoon, listen up." He said. Pops was one of those rare Marines that only had to raise his voice slightly to gain the effect that others had to shout for. All eyes, including those of the I&S Marines, were on him. "We're touching down in about fifteen minutes. That's one-fife for those of you who are hard of hearing." He looked around. "So make sure your gear is set and your weapons are on Red. Once the ramp lowers, I want a clean dispersal. You know the drill. If you're still feeling froggy, get with one of the medics. They'll set you straight."

With that, the squad leaders were out of their seats and checking their Marines. Jones stood and cleared his throat. He failed to garner the same reaction that Pops' gravelly voice had.

"I&S, you know the drill." Jones said, fighting to keep his voice steady against the still-present nausea. "Standard dispersal, then we'll offload the crates. Check?" He didn't get a response over the sounds of the Marines getting ready. "I&S, check?!" He said loudly, all but yelling.

"Yes, Gunnery Sergeant." Several half-hearted answers floated to him from the rear. With that, he sat down in his seat and looked at Pops. "Feels good to be back at it, huh?" Jones said to the other Gunny. Pops was looking down the row of Marines, keeping an eye out for anyone that might need additional assistance.

"Something like that." Pops said. With that, he stood from his seat and walked down the aisle to 'help' one of his troops. The only person that didn't see the action for what it truly was was Jones.