Halo: Feet First

by MikeDice

Halo: Feet First covers the story of a team of UNSC Orbital Drop Shock Troopers of the 7th Battalion, 105th Shock Troops Division. The main character, Duncan Iris, faces the full horror of the covenant war effort against humanity as well as the brave retaliation of outnumbered and outgunned UNSC forces. However, he also witnesses the turning of the tides as the war progresses.

145. Battle of Reach - Chapter 18 (Fuga)

Chapter 18 – Fuga

August 18th, 2552 - (09:10 Hours - Military Calendar)

Epsilon Eridani System, Reach

Viery Territory, Eposz

New Alexandria, Lugosi Plaza

:********:

Colonel Garrison held up a set of binoculars to his visor, using the interlink between the two to magnify his view of the fight. Hosting the battlefield below was a tiled plaza of white marble that blended almost thematically with the surrounding buildings. It was divided into two parts, a lower area that squared off the outside and a curving upper section in the middle. Both were joined together by sets of stairs, bespeckled by small lots of grass with well-manicured trees, hedges and the occasional bench. It might have been a nature lover's refuge from the urban depths of the city. That time, however, was long gone.

The benches were thrown over. Many of the trees were burning or outright destroyed, the grass a smoldering crater around them as bullets whipped through the last of their leaves. Those hedges that didn't suffer the same fate were added onto. Lines of Covenant defense barriers and portable shields were set between them, allowing a force of Grunts, Jackals and Elites to position themselves behind them.

Three sides of the area known as Lugosi Plaza were bordered by streets whose congested lanes offered good cover for his ODSTs. Like three circuits, the 1st, 3rd and 7th Platoons of his Alpha Company had converged on the location. Acting in accordance with this part of the operation, their divergent paths brought them together to hit the target from three different directions.

The objective lay on the fourth and final side of the plaza: the Fellegvár Building. It was large with a fortress-like aesthetic. High walls were held up by support struts that arched into the plaza like centipede legs. An ascending center rose higher than the rest of the building. What allowed it to blend into the city was the ubiquitous white paint and the modular windows that lined floor after floor. Some of them were shattered to allow the Covenant inside to fire down on the streets. Then of course there was the detail that made the building a priority for three platoons rather than one: the six-winged symbol of Misriah Armory emblazoned on its highest point.

It was the main reason they were here.

The multitude of landing pads beyond its walls made it ideal for the evacuation. However, its status as a planetary branch of the arm's company turned it into an asset as well as a liability. As part of the backbone of every UNSC ground-pounder's gear, the Misriah branch, like much of the city, had been caught with their pants down. According to what he'd been told, the site managers had failed to erase sensitive information contained within the building that pertained to vital UNSC weapons systems. Now the higher-ups were making it his problem. They tasked him both to clean house for the evacuation and to clear out the still active databases somewhere in the basement.

Hostile forces had had enough time to not only seize the building but to create defensive measures throughout the plaza. Seeming to have figured out its importance, they were putting up a serious fight. Plasma turrets were interspersed across their lines, turning the spray of plasma rifles into a deluge that showered the streets. His platoons were still meeting them head on, peeking from car windows, atop flatbeds or below undercarriages to return fire. Their mutual bloodlust turned the parts of the plaza between them into a bullet and plasma strewn no-man's-land. The Covenant troops at play were easily the size of one of his companies. But he knew what his troopers were capable of. Despite the temporary delay, the enemy's numbers were dwindling one shattered alien skull at a time.

Garrison saw everything from above. The skyscraper directly opposite Lugosi and Fellegvár gave him a commanding view of the situation. His position on the tenth floor allowed him to see his platoons as well as the forces arrayed against them. The former were making headway and starting to push to the last lanes between them and the plaza. The Covenant meanwhile were on the verge of collapse. Their outermost defenses were crumbling. Their troops kept keeling over as predatory marksmen used the distance to their advantage. Several of Alpha's snipers aimed from behind bus stops and streetlights to bite off the heads of unwary Jackals or to gift third eyes to the more brazen Elites. Beside them, Grunts on the outer plasma cannons began to succumb to the firestorms of well-placed rockets.

The colonel, satisfied at their progress, turned to the other side of the room he was in. Judging by the name plaque on the desk behind him, what was once the personal office of a 'Managing Partner Harold Drakes' was now his communications hub. A squad's worth of Alpha Company's radiomen had set up shop within its glass walls. They sat or stood around their radio equipment as well as other comm gear. A few dexterously used both to provide and receive situation reports from the rest of the battalion as well as to keep him abreast of wider goings on in the city. For all intents and purposes, they were his news crew. Beyond them, past the transparent walls, was a floor full of empty work cubicles and other personal offices. All of them belonged to their unwitting and long-gone hosts: the Fekete and Drakes Law Firm.

The ceiling lights were off. They'd left everything in the dark just as they'd found it, not wanting to draw any unwanted attention to the building.

Garrison singled out Specialist Mayes, Viper-5 by callsign, who he'd assigned to give him updates on their backup. She looked to be working on her radio when he popped his question.

"Viper-5, how far out?"

"Sorry, sir. I'm still getting a lot of interference on my end." She turned a pair of attenuation nobs furiously as she searched for a sweet spot. "I swear, the whole city's shouting on the same frequency."

"Did anything come through at all?"

"Not for a while. Rattler-1's last update said they're only five minutes out."

"Yes, that was 10 minutes ago. I want to know what's with the delay."

"Sorry, sir, still working on it."

Garrison let out a sigh. "Alright, see what you can do. Alpha doesn't have the time to just rifle our way through this. As soon as you hear something you let me know."

He raised his binoculars back to his visor and looked past the office walls to the battlefield. The Covenant's first line had broken. The survivors were retreating across the plaza to the next layer of hedges and defense barriers, leaving the three platoons to emerge from the streets. They followed in their wake and stormed across Lugosi. Those holdouts that were left were swept away by the bark of rifle fire. In under a minute his ODSTs seized both the outer defenses and the outer plaza.

He looked ahead of them to the next set of obstacles. Much to his displeasure, there were twice as many emplacements awaiting his troopers. Added to the firepower of the heavy plasma cannons were a handful of Shade turrets. Their barrels quickly jerked towards their new targets and unleashed hell, pinning them behind the lost barriers and lighting up Lugosi like never before.

That would be yet another delay.

He panned across the emplacements in search of a weakness that he could call out to his captains, a way to speed things up.

"Neptune-Actual?"

He spared a glance at another radioman off to his left. Corporal Martinez, callsign Sparrow-7, was crouched at his radio as he held up a questioning finger. "I have a heavily encrypted hail for you from Command. Says its urgent."

Garrison lowered his binoculars worriedly. "Send it through."

A moment later one of Command's comm operators spoke through his helmet. "This is Olympic to Neptune-Actual, respond, over?"

"Neptune here. What's going on?"

"Neptune, be advised, hostile Triple-A have been reported moving into firing positions near buildings either under the control of or in the process of being secured by UNSC personnel. They're being sighted all across the city. We believe they've caught on to the evacuation plan. Inform your battalion. Alert them to the threat and have them neutralize any Covenant Triple-A they find in their vicinity. Target them with extreme prejudice."

Garrison glared back outside, sifting through the scenery for signs of the threat. There were none. Not yet.

"Copy. I'll tell my guys to be on the lookout for-"

A reflection in the glass caught his attention. He saw the door to the office crack open slightly, moving so slowly that he would've mistaken it for the wind. Except there was no wind.

"Say again Neptune-Actual? Neptune, do you copy?"

Garrison slipped a hand down to his sidearm. "I hear you, Command, loud and clear."

"Also, be advised Neptune, multiple units have reported encounters with Covenant Special Operations in the city. They've been targeting personnel in the upper leadership echelon. It's believed they're somehow infiltrating our communications network to locate persons of interest, hence the amount of encryption we put on this communique. We already have a few dead officers on our hands here, Neptune. Watch your back out there, over?"

Garrison stared at the reflection of the door which creaked a little more on its own. His hand finished snaking around the grip of his sidearm just as the door suddenly flew open. Heavy footsteps rushed into the room.

The colonel wheeled about before anyone else, drawing his pistol on empty air that shimmered and moved. Three quick pulls of the trigger and the speeding mirage broke, its head whipping back as its energy shields flared. The rest of the squad were just beginning to turn when an energy sword switched on, its ghost of an owner leaping over the desk to meet him. But Garrison sidestepped the swing, letting the figure roll past him so that his M6 lined up with the back of its head.

He fired twice.

The first blew out both camouflage and shielding. The second blew fresh brains across the office.

Fully exposed, his attacker's momentum sent it crashing through the walls.

Garrison stepped over to the edge for a look.

His assailant was spiraling about, its body twirling lifelessly through a mist of shards. The cadaver endured a few seconds of freefall before it came crashing down on top of a car, caving in the roof altogether. From over 30 meters above, Garrison recognized the dark red armor, long-nosed helm and glowing eye visors of a Spec Ops Elite. His conversation came back to mind.

"Command to Neptune-Actual, do you copy our last, over?"

He watched the body for a moment to make sure it wouldn't get back up then calmly replied. "Solid copy, Command."

"Alright Neptune, good luck. Command out."

Garrison rounded on the troopers. They were statues, frozen stiff with hands reaching for radios or weapons. They stared wide-eyed at him.

"Vector-1, 2, secure the floor. Sparrow-7, comm Tango-1. I want to know how that thing got past his team."

His orders seemed to thaw them out of their shock. Two of them rushed out to check the rest of the floor, rifles raised. Sparrow-7 crouched down to his radio in order to find out what Squad Tango was up to just a floor below.

He turned next to Viper-5 who was fumbling nervously with her gear. "Viper, get me a line to my company commanders. I need to tell them what's coming our way."

She gawked at him. "But sir, that call from Olympic almost did us in. If we do the same thing, won't that cause trouble for-"

"No, it wasn't Olympic. That one was encrypted more than usual. They couldn't have decoded it and found me here in the couple of seconds I had to talk."

"So, you're saying it came from somewhere else?"

Garrison took another eyeful of the corpse of his would-be assassin. "It was probably when Rattler-1 comm'd his last update. That would've been insecure enough, given them plenty of time to put the pieces together." He turned back to the radioman. "Contact the commanders, encrypt the line as much as you can. I've already lost one to the landing. I don't want to lose anymore to a three-way call."

"Ye-...yes, yessir."

Viper-5 made the connections while he resumed his inspection of the fight in the plaza, one that was fast becoming a stalemate.

Soon he was able to get in touch with his company commanders. One after another, he passed on both of Command's warnings. One after another, he got their own situation reports in return.

To the south, Delta Company had secured its first objectives across the board.

North of them, Charlie Company had done the same and was already fighting its way to the second. They were advantageously ahead of schedule.

North of Alpha's middlemost push as well as that of another company, Echo was of the same report. It was rampaging its way along the extreme right flank of the battalion's advance like a knife through butter.

Even Alpha itself was doing well against those buildings at the very beginning of their hit list. That much he knew. What he didn't know, at least until now, was how his own company was faring.

Bravo was having the roughest time of it out of the whole battalion. According to their new commander, they'd run into a tight spot, several in fact. If what he heard was to be believed, they'd charged headlong into the stiffest resistance, comparable to the stubbed toe the Covenant was dealing the 22nd's Alpha and Charlie Companies even further north.

He cross-referenced the report against his TACMAP. That part of Alexandria, by the measure of the satellite reconnaissance available, showed substantial concentrations of Covenant. The visuals were said to be speculative at best until the battalion could confirm the mishmash of information coming from the ground. A few of the companies had essentially been sent feeling around in the dark out of operational necessity. The result was that only one of Bravo's platoons had even gotten close to their first objective, yet alone taken it. Much to his surprise it wasn't 1st Platoon but their famed rivals in the 2nd. They'd reached as far as the front doors of the Luna Alta Colonial Bank before being turned back by fierce fire from the teller counters.

"Speed things up where you can." Garrison instructed. "Call on whatever airpower you need. Hell, call on the frigates if you have to. I need Bravo back on time ASAP, copy?"

"Understood." Bravo's new commander replied. "Don't worry, sir, it's us. We'll get the job done."

"Alright, I want a progress report in the next half hour. Get to it, trooper. Neptune out."

He signed off just as cracks of thunder urged him to look outside. Half a dozen Scorpion tanks rolled out from adjoining streets to punch holes through the vehicular blockades. Cars were pushed aside, split in half or crushed under their powerful treads. A small legion of various Warthogs drove in behind them.

The Scorpions came in from three sides, their cannons firing intermittently like the line infantry of old Earth. Their combined power roared over the heads of the ODSTs to strike the enemy beyond.

A comm channel opened to the colonel. "This is Rattler-1 to Neptune-Actual, come in, over?"

"I copy, Rattler."

"The cavalry's arrived, sir. Sorry for the late showing, took a few wrong turns on our way from the station, ended up in a little ambush. Don't worry though, we'll make it up to you after we tear these guys a new one."

"Go right on ahead, Rattler. Once you're done, form a defensive perimeter around the building. Let's make this quick."

"Copy, Rattler-1 out."

Garrison watched his favorite movie play out below. The newest reinforcements rolled onto the outer plaza. Their cannons barked. Tungsten shells roared into the enemy's line, shattering portable shields, defense barriers and hedges with equal ease. Burning leaves and debris, both metallic and organic, flew out from the broken defenses. A few tried firing back from the smoke with what plasma rifles could be scrounged and what turrets remained. It merely served to bring fiery destruction upon them, reducing shades to blackened ruins and persistent Elites to bloody craters.

The platoons surged forward into the haze and the Scorpions followed close behind. They reemerged in front of the last line: a small assemblage of defense barriers and Covenant ammo crates placed at the entrance to the building. A few handfuls of Elites and Jackals prepared for a last stand. Alpha strode towards them with their newfound support. Together the two gave them little chance for resistance.

The united wrath of assault rifles, tank turrets and high velocity cannons made swift work of the survivors. They barely gave them a chance to return fire in the end. The defense line evaporated in a display of dying squawks, defeated bellows and flames.

The last Elite, a major, limped out from the carnage wielding a plasma rifle and a missing arm. It fired at them in a vain attempt at glory.

The ODSTs and turret gunners gave it more glory than it could have ever asked for, lighting it up like a Christmas tree. Its mangled remains crumpled to the ground, nearly coming apart on impact.

The platoons closed their net around the entrance and slipped through the eviscerated remains of the last defenders. Moving up the steps, they began stacking up on the doors. The tanks turned around behind them and rolled towards their new positions.

Garrison watched satisfied as everything came together, as the tanks and the plenteous Warthogs that accompanied them moved to secure a perimeter around the building. Yet he was forced to put the feeling aside, to think ahead to the next objective as the first squads slipped into the ground floor of the Fellegvár Building.

:********:

Lakatos Boulevard was a broad avenue that was rowed from end to end with trees. They ran along the sidewalks and down the heart of the street so that it was split in two. Cutting through the very middle of the boulevard as well were pairs of support struts, each 30 meters high, that trailed down it like an iron caterpillar. They held up the spiny braces and guide rings of the city's magnetic railway which slithered on and on. It passed over burning vehicles and smoldering corpses until it left the boulevard entirely. It continued forward to the point that it was well out of sight. However, its positioning on Duncan's TACMAP made it a good landmark. He used it to figure out how close they were to their objective. If the imaging was anything to go on, they had 320-meters left before their target building, just over three football fields of distance. The platoon could have legged it in no time were it not for the random pockets of resistance that sprung up every other minute.

It was like trying to walk on a road with a bunch of pebbles. Every now and again, one would slip into their boots and refuse to come out, or in a more literal sense, shoot at them and refuse to let up. Squads of Grunts were the usual culprits. The consensus was that they were forward reconnaissance and sabotage teams. Several at a time might open fire from an alleyway. Meanwhile two or three might come out from hiding behind a dumpster to lob plasma grenades. They were easy pickings. Never much for stealth, the gas-sucking lackeys of the Covenant loved to telegraph their presence right before they sprung a trap. They shouted in their guttural language as they primed a grenade or overloaded a plasma pistol. Whatever they said, some form of alien cursing, was usually cut short. A swift bullet to the brain or a turret setting off a gas tank killed most attempts before they got very far.

But not this time.

The column had crossed over an intersection to Lakatos Boulevard, the last major road between them and their goal. It was there that the craftiest sabotage team they had yet to encounter revealed their hand.

They were well into the boulevard when two Grunts came rushing out from behind a bus. Shouting at the top of their lungs, they dashed towards 1st Platoon each carrying live grenades. The whole column came to a jarring stop. The ODSTs managed to quickly cut them down, the bullet spray knocking them over and causing a quartet of explosions to tear into the street. The rest of the enemy seized the opening. Several Grunts arose on the rooftop of a nearby apartment building. A handful of overloaded bolts crashed around the column. A lucky shot struck the rear Hog, paralyzing it in place. With the way back sealed off, the turret gunners took to sweeping the roof with suppressing fire while the ambushers adamantly returned the favor. The platoon had its own attention taken by another squad of Grunts that began firing at them from further ahead.

Duncan found cover behind one of the railway support struts. He sighted down the long path between the other supports. Two Grunts had gotten the same idea as him and were hunkering down behind a set of struts 10 meters away. They were too distracted with shooting at the column to notice him taking aim. A succinct burst caught one in the stomach and made it stumble out into the open. He finished it off with a few more, knocking it onto its back with one less eyeball. Its friend caught wind of him then but not before he slipped back out of view. Sneaking to the other side, he wheeled out and smacked the surprised alien with half a magazine. It used its last breath to scream as he ripped into its chest, collapsing once it couldn't take anymore.

"Two down on my side." Duncan said.

"Roger that, four more to go." Nova replied, stopping to fire her DMR. "Make that three. They're using the red sedan."

Duncan peeped at the vehicle. Its positioning at the rear of a bus made it an impossible target for Backhander-2. Not so for Renni. Through the window of a neighboring car, she hosed down the most trigger happy of the crew. Its gas tank detonated. The rupturing methane took its corpse on a spiraling trip that ended in a head-on collision with the sedan. Another detonation lit the vehicle on fire. The last two Grunts leapt away from it and left themselves exposed. Some of the fire had spread to the arms of one of them. It didn't get to shriek as Mito came out to pop it in the mask.

The last realized the spot it was in and pulled out a pair of plasma grenades. Hector denied it the end-all death it sought, stepping out from the other end of the bus to rake it with his SMG. The Grunt crumpled without a sound save that of whining grenades. Hector stepped back behind cover, letting the twin-blasts funnel harmlessly past him.

"That's all on our end." Hector declared.

Duncan turned back to the column. The turrets had fallen silent and so had the Grunts on the rooftop. He took the opportunity to step out of the shadow of the magrail and scoped out the neighborhood. The roof was clear of resistance though not of bodies. The Grunts lay bloodied beyond recognition except for a precariously placed member of their ranks that proceeded to slip over the edge. It fell a good distance to the boulevard before the impact blew both gas tank and owner to pieces.

"Apartment on our right is clear." Backhander-2 said. "Ep-1, you ready to roll?"

"Yeah. One more push and we should be there. Let's move."

The platoon collected back on the side of the boulevard and moved forward using the sidewalk. They kept a special eye on the passing rooftops while Backhander-2 punched a path through the traffic. Their job of remaining on their toes was made challenging by the passage of time. The city's low cloud cover was well on its way out. More sunlight was coming through, turning scores of windows into walls of orange illumination. With Epsilon Eridani at their backs, they had to up the ante on their visors just to see past the reflections.

Things became better in one way and worse in another once they approached the end of the boulevard.

Lakatos' mouth opened up to the shorter side of a rectangular park. The buildings here split off from the boulevard to adhere to its shape, straddling the edges of streets that hemmed in the whole of the park. Duncan knew the place reasonably well. He'd taken Noah here over the years for their father son time, at least whenever he was around. But the little pieces of fond memories he had left were ruined by what it had become.

The flat, grassy expanse of Árkád Park, with its few small hills and blankets of trees, was the site of a battle.

The teardrop frame of a Seraph fighter lay at the end of a long scar that had been carved through the edge of the park. The wreck burned bright. Around it, the surviving trees glowed even brighter with tracer fire. There was an order to the madness though it wasn't obvious at first. The Seraph had crashed in a clearing between a lighter layer of trees on the outskirts and the miniature forest that guarded the heart of the park. The tense shapes of Army troopers were scattered around the former. They hid behind and crouched beside tall oaks, pale birches and maples to whom autumn's yellowing touch had visited early. Wherever they found space, they shot at the enemy on the other side of the clearing. Their assailants echoed their example and exchanged lead for plasma from the opposing tree line.

Duncan realized something that frightened him. He counted close to three platoons' worth of soldiers in the area, easily dwarfing 1st Platoon. And yet they were being pinned, suppressed by overwhelming firepower. Added to their plight were energy mortars that came thundering around the very edges of their position. He didn't see the Wraiths but from the rate of fire he counted at least four. That much explained what had happened to the few Warthogs and tanks that were left burning around the park.

1st Platoon came in at a jog. Before they could get too close, the Staff launched an open channel with the Army personnel.

"This is Staff Sergeant Atell of the 7th Shock Troops Battalion, callsign Ep-1; don't shoot, my troopers are coming in behind you. Respond, over?"

The response wasn't immediate. After a long pause, a deep yet clear voice replied. "Staff Sergeant, this is Sergeant Major Duvall, callsign Fox-Actual. Please repeat, where are you coming in from and how many do you have?"

"Coming from your six, Lakatos Boulevard about 50 meters to your east. I've got my platoon, three Hogs and a Scorpion. Mind telling us your unit and what you've got on your hands before we get there, sir?"

"My pleasure-" Duvall paused as the distinct snap of a needle rifle came close. "We're with the 145th Infantry Division, 5th Battalion, Lima Company. My guys were on patrol when the city got hit, tried setting up a rendezvous and evac point here but it just singled us out for a beating. Their dropships have been piling Covies on our heads since this morning. We're stuck with no connection to Command, trooper, we could really use a good Samaritan right about now."

"Alright sir, we're coming in."

"Save some of that action for us, Ep-1." A third voice said.

The older members of the platoon were immediately struck by its familiarity.

"Is that you, 4-Actual?" The Staff asked on the verge of laughing.

The voice replied with a hint of jest. "The one and only. Heads up Fox-Actual, you've got another shock platoon coming in from Szabó Street, nine o'clock, 100 meters to your south. We're taking three Scorpions and a few Hogs off your wish list, over?"

"I hear you loud and clear, 4-Actual." Duvall said, sounding pleased by all of the sudden backup. "My guys will cover both of your approaches. Just make it fast, we're at the end of our ropes here."

"Platoon, double-time." The Staff ordered.

The platoon broke into a sprint down the last of the sidewalk. Backhander-2 pushed his treads to the max, bulldozing the now diminishing number of cars that dared stand in his way. The Warthogs revved up as well, their gunners swiveling their turrets in the direction of the new fight.

The platoon came dashing out of Lakatos. They crossed a perpendicular street before making it to the park's outer walkway. The exhausted eyes of the soldiers, those who were huddled behind what tree trunks they could use, took on a hopeful glint upon seeing them.

"Welcome to the party!" One cheered.

"It's about time somebody showed up!" Another shouted.

A soldier with bloodied head wrappings grinned up at Renni. "Hey babe, how about you come fix me up!? I'm dying over here!"

He stopped smiling when he saw Yuri who glared daggers at him as he passed.

"Then better hurry up and die or I'll come fix you myself." He growled, earning a look of disbelief from the trooper and a slow shake of the head from Renni.

They came to a halt within the safety of an enclosed bus stop. Sergeant Major Duvall was waiting for them there. They found him crouched beside a radioman with both trying to work out a few kinks in the equipment. He looked at them from beneath the brim of his officer's cap: a darker man with eyes toughened by combat yet nonetheless relieved to see them. He nodded to the Staff who approached with the news he needed to hear.

"Our jeeps are outside and so is our Scorpion. Look sir, we're on a tight schedule at the moment. Our objective is a building on the other side of this park. We need to reach and secure it within the next 20 minutes then move on to our second objective. Can you assist?"

Duvall's brow twitched in thought. "You're trying to prepare for the evac wave coming in a little while? I heard bits and pieces about it from here."

"That's right, sir. Think that's something you guys can manage?"

Duvall scratched his chin. "What we could manage right now is an extraction. That being said, about half of my people are in good enough shape to go out there with you."

While they talked, Duncan drifted off to the side of the bus stop and looked around. He made sure to mind his head as he peered past the firefight. He squinted at the structure that rose above the trees.

The Galactic Cup Committee Building was a skyscraper. The windows of a solid 30 to 40 floors stared back at him with the radiance of Epsilon Eridani. Those were simply the ones he could see. The rest were hidden above a remnant of the low cloud cover that clung around it like a halo. The whole thing had a mildly twisting helical pattern, reminding him vaguely of a strand of DNA. Seeing its true size only made it clear to him how insane their job was turning out to be.

How were they supposed to not only reach it but secure it in the next 20 minutes?

The deadline was simply impossible. The place couldn't be cleared unless they used more time here and held off on going to their next objective for a while. That of course was problematic in itself. For all the trouble it took for them to get this far, the way to their next objective was at least twice that distance or more.

A burst of plasma passed alarmingly close and made him duck back into the bus stop.

"How far out, Ep-8?" The Staff asked without looking at him.

"About 150-meters, sir. I'd say a good rush could cover it in ten minutes."

"A good rush?" Duvall tasted the phrase and considered its implications. "Okay, maybe-...maybe with the tanks we could-"

"Don't forget about us." A confident voice said.

Everyone turned to find the ODSTs of 4th Platoon jogging in behind them. At the fore was their platoon leader and Bravo Company's new commander.

Captain Eddies strode up to join the conversation, instantly becoming the most senior ranking officer in the room. Through his visor Duncan saw that he was undaunted at the situation, just as he was when he led the raid on the bridge of the corvette with only a handful of miss-drops. He silently hoped the man could manage another miracle on the fly, at least in terms of time.

"We can help you with any push you're going to make." Eddies added, stopping to clasp arms with the Staff. "Good to see you, Ep-1."

"Good to see you too, sir. Mind if I ask what swings you our way?"

"Our objective is just down the road here, a little ways past yours. We were a bit pressed for time so we needed a shortcut, heard you guys were in the neighborhood and figured we could lend a hand."

"I scratch your back, you scratch mine." Duvall thought aloud. "I guess we're all helping each other out today. Where's your heavy armor, sir?"

Almost on cue, three more Scorpions drove towards them from the south, using the same path Backhander-2 had bulldozed before settling down beside it. Three times as many Warthogs as 1st Platoon's came with them. They drove over the walkway, past the increasingly relieved soldiers at the rear and merged into the trees. Their turrets, Gauss cannons and rocket systems began responding to the suppression fire from the other side of the clearing.

"Sounds like our boys from the 77th are getting started without us." Eddies remarked. "We can't let them show us up, right troopers?"

"Yessir!" Both platoons replied.

It was enough to convince the sergeant major out of the last of his hesitations. He used his rifle to pull himself up and held it at the ready. "I'll get my people on their feet. Whoever can will follow your lead. They're tired of getting kicked around out here and so am I."

Eddies smiled understandingly. "Copy that, Fox-Actual, now let's go do some of our own kicking, shall we?"

:********:

The thunderclap of high velocity cannons created an ensemble of destruction that played continuously in the background of the fight. The Scorpions had broken into pairs. Backhander-2, along with Ricochet-1, travelled along the street running the northern edge of the park. Meanwhile, Ricochet-2 and 3 rolled along the southern edge, thereby acting as the armored wings of the advance.

The Warthogs of the 77th formed the tip of the trident-like push. 1st Platoon, their comrades of the 4th and the soldiers of Lima Company formed the force behind it. They used the cover of the Hogs to begin crossing the clearing. The forest ahead of them was squeezed like a wet sponge. A renewed onslaught of plasma and needlers shot out from the enemy, cracking against the hoods and wheels of the Hogs. Their armor held against the beating. However, a constant salvo of exploding shells sailed through the trees to boom through the undergrowth. Rockets zipped beneath their shadows to shatter bark and bone. Chain gun fire sliced through the canopy in steady streams amidst the chaotic tempest of 7.62-millimeter rounds. There were screams in the forest. They were all alien, shrieks and bellows of pain that were drowned out by the sudden offensive.

The advancing forces fired from the safety of the Hogs until they reached the Seraph. The tanks stopped to cover them while they drove around the downed fighter and over the impact scar that lay behind it.

1st Platoon were trailing in the wake of one of the Hogs that crossed the scar. The descent was sharp but easy on the front wheels. The same didn't apply to getting back out. The platoon had come in at the deepest part of the scar. The inferno of the seraph's dead hide was still close enough and strong enough for them to feel it. The Hog in front of them fought to gain traction against the incline. Farther down the scar, the others were already revving over the shallower areas to lead squads of soldiers forward.

The enemy didn't let up. Plasma continued to streak overhead. The gunner hosed down the source of the fire even while the driver eyed the ODSTs in his rear view.

"Hey guys, can I get a push!?"

Duncan didn't hesitate. Neither did the Staff or Epsilon's strongman. The three of them slammed their shoulders into the back of the Hog. The driver hit the accelerator in tandem. The Hog groaned from the strain though it began to crawl inch by inch. Another push was needed. Hector provided it, reeling back to slam his palms into a new push just as a pink explosion came from above. Blood splattered their visors, something heavy landed behind them. The trio winced at the pair of bodiless, BDU-clad legs that tumbled into the scar. The Hog became lighter. They continued pushing it until its back wheels moved freely over the grass. The platoon clambered up after it while the Staff hopped onto the turret, prying off the still grasping hands of the gunner to take hold of the triggers. He started up a controlled stream of fire to pay the invaders back in full.

The platoon caught back up with the rest of the forward advance. The tanks trailed on the wings. Together they cut through anything that was stubborn enough to keep fighting. The push reached within several meters of the tree line which by then had more burning stumps than trees. A couple of diehard Elites rushed out to meet them. The turrets whittled them down the second they roared their challenge and raised their weapons.

A few stray bolts of plasma came from deeper in, but the Covenant positions had taken a bloody nose. Human soil had been soaked in alien blood. Miscellaneous limbs and mutilated bodies lay where they had been killed or obliterated. Duncan counted close to 100 corpses of the usual Grunt, Jackal and Elite varieties. They were strewn throughout the shattered tree line in a macabre yet satisfying display.

The advance broke up into its component elements. The tanks forged on up the street towards positions where they could better assist. The Warthogs reformed themselves into three small convoys. These in turn piloted onto the three dirt roads that would navigate them through the forest. Sergeant Major Duvall took a host of his men on the leftmost path. A few of them tagged along with Captain Eddies and his troopers down the rightward path. A last squad of soldiers went with Epsilon to push straight up the middle.

Duncan already knew how divergent the roads were. Experience taught him that the one on the left went over the top of a small hill. The right went through an aisle of public greenhouses, statues and memorials. The last one in the middle led to a playground. He paused to remember how he used to take Noah there, how he used to take him on the swing or slide or to hold him up on the monkey bars. Past the playground was the spot where all the paths converged, an open area with a lake that marked the center of the park. There they could expect to run into even more trouble.

The convoy moved at a pace that the troopers could match. 1st Platoon and their accompaniment of soldiers strode along on the flanks. They scanned the trees and undergrowth to either side for signs of movement. Behind the gun of the lead Hog, the Staff put it upon himself to monitor the way forward, routinely swiveling the turret from one sketchy shadow to the next.

Duncan maintained a careful watch on his mission clock. They were four minutes in to the 10-minute allotment. They couldn't afford to use up more than that on the push.

He heard shooting echoing from the north and figured 4-Actual had run into a few stragglers. Less than 30 seconds later and a gunfight arose from the south. Sergeant Major Duvall's crew must have also gotten themselves into a scrap. He was sure the details of the run-ins were being shared over the radio. Nevertheless, he didn't dare tune into the general frequency. If the others were under attack then the platoon wouldn't have to wait long before it was their turn. He wanted to be focused when it happened.

He swept his targeting reticle over every tree and bush. The crosshairs remained a neutral blue. Then red.

A patch of underbrush shifted against the wind as something rushed by it. Duncan magnified his optics but saw nothing. The red was gone just as quickly as it came.

"I think I saw something to our nine o'clock, don't know what."

"Best guess?" Hector asked.

"Maybe a Grunt...no, it moved too fast for that. But Elites aren't that small."

Mito slipped through a gap in the Hogs to walk beside him. He checked out the passing undergrowth. "Jackals maybe?"

"It looked a little bigger than that too."

"Ep-1?"

"Was it red on your optics?" The Staff asked, his steely gaze locked on the road.

"Yessir." Duncan replied.

"That's all that matters. If you see it again, shoot it. Better yet, call it out so we can all shoot it."

"Copy."

Duncan strengthened his guard. He refused to miss a single shadow if it meant finding a threat to everyone else.

The convoy continued through the last of the road. A new clearing began where the path ended. The open space served as a playground. There was a pair of slides on one side, a swing set on the other and a set of monkey bars in between. Everything was laid over a shallow mound of sand. It was the perfect place for kids but a major inconvenience for heavy duty vehicles. The long bar of the swing and the broad tunnels of the slides turned them into obstacles. The lengthy monkey bars were an equal hindrance to any attempt at traversing the middle.

The convoy paused at the edge of the grounds for the Staff to gauge their options.

Out the corner of his eye Duncan saw a blur of movement. In the canopy on the other side of the clearing a branch wiggled unnaturally, as if recovering from a heavy weight. He aimed at it. His optics showed nothing. He was sure it was nothing too...until another branch shifted in a different part of the canopy.

A loud, shrill squawk broke the silence.

Then all hell broke loose.

The distinct cackle of needle rifles heralded the moment the air filled with their deadly discharge. Purple tracers suddenly crisscrossed the playground, each with the narrow-eyed focus of a marksman. The helmet flew off the head of one of the drivers as a shot passed through both. A gunner doubled over at the crystal that lodged in his waist. The squad leader of the Army troopers was near the front and took multiple to the chest for his trouble, vaporizing him where he stood. In a matter of seconds several men were rendered immobile or dead.

1st Platoon were among the first to react. Everyone except the Staff shielded themselves with the Hogs. They fired back at the source, barely discernible since it seemed to come from everywhere. At a central position, the Staff made good use of his M41's side shields, wheeling it about to deflect the incoming fire. He traced it to different parts of the foliage and shot away at the shadows in the trees. Duncan did as well. The silhouettes moved with so much precision however that his reticle flashed red then back to blue, red then blue again. The enemy refused to settle in one place for longer than a few seconds before displacing to a new vantage point. They weren't just moving either. They were jumping. Some leapt from branch to branch. Others ran along them while firing with unerring precision.

He spotted one vaulting high into the air towards another tree. The sunlight caught its figure and peeled back the shadows.

Beady yellow eyes shone from a skeleton-like beak. Black feathers protruded from openings in gray armor, rippling through the air like arrow tails. The figure disappeared into the leaves with needle rifle in hand.

Duncan slid back down behind the tire of his refuge and shook his head. "Skirmishers."

Beside him, Nova groaned at the new wave of needlers that came cracking against the Hog as she reloaded. "Yeah, they're a real handful! How are we supposed to get past them like this!?"

Next to her, Rico was shooting at the canopy from beneath the undercarriage. "That's the problem! They picked a good spot! This is the perfect place for those things to pull a turkey shoot, pun intended!" He flinched at a shot that glanced off his shoulder pad then fired doubly at the perpetrator, screaming bloody murder in his native tongue.

Further down the line the Staff was finally driven off the turret. He jumped down to cover while a constant stream of crystals shattered off the M41 like a fountain.

Beside him, Hector helped a medic drag his wounded comrade behind the vehicle. "Sir, we need to move!"

"Negative! We move forward, we'll get wiped out! Same thing if we go back!"

"Isn't there a way out of this!?"

The Staff looked for one. He didn't have to look far or for long as someone opened a comm-channel to the platoon.

"This is 4-Actual to 1st Platoon; we've got trouble on our side!" Captain Eddies said through bursts of gunfire. "We ran into Skirmishers! Is it the same on your end, over!?"

"Roger that, 4-Actual! We're pinned! Think you can swing over here to back us up!?"

"Not a chance, they've got us good here too!" There was a long pause. "Heads up, Ep-1, we've got an AMX unit in the area! They're coming over to help! Keep on the lookout, I'll point them your way too!"

"Copy that!"

The platoon, already apprised of the situation, renewed their efforts to hold back the assault. Rico and Reznik launched grenades deep into the forest ahead before letting them detonate. Everyone else, the ODSTs and those soldiers that remained, concentrated on the Skirmishers that tried to outmaneuver them. A few thought themselves more subtle than they really were in trying to get at their flanks. Overwhelming fire tore away that illusion as well as the leaves they used to hide. Several fell dead to the undergrowth. Angered squawks rose from the bulk of the enemy. The needler fire turned from a rainfall to a fierce torrent.

A crystal struck the medic's patient in the throat, snuffing out his last chance at saving his friend. Another lucky shot found its mark. Duncan grunted at what felt like a punch to the gut and a kick to the leg. He dropped back down to sit himself against the wheel.

Nova saw him and quickly grabbed his shoulders to turn him towards her. She sifted desperately through his gear to find the wound. Duncan looked too. He only felt winded, not hurt per say. That worried him more than anything.

Nova found the first crystal buried halfway in an ammo-pouch. She popped it open and both were relieved to see that it had only punctured the magazine. The magazine itself was no longer any good, but he was happy to know it had spared him. He wasn't in the clear yet though. Nova tossed it away with the crystal and, checking his left leg, spotted the next. It had missed his thigh bracer and was poking out of his pants pocket. There was nothing to stop it from piercing him there. He thought so at least until Nova yanked out the darkening projectile and rummaged inside. Her hand reemerged holding something he recognized: the black and hardened shape of his dad's birthday rock.

He carried it around so much that he had almost forgotten he'd brought it along.

From another Hog, Renni called out. "Hey, is he okay!?"

"Yeah, he's good!" Nova depolarized her visor to give him a shaky smile. "Duncan Iris, you have to be the luckiest guy I know."

"Look out!" Someone shouted.

The reason why landed heavily atop the Hog, casting them in its shadow. They looked up into the enraged eyes of a Skirmisher. As it brought up its rifle, Nova beat it to the draw by slinging the rock into its face, striking it square in the forehead. It squawked in pain as it reeled from the blow. Duncan drew his sidearm and fired up into its jaw, Renni and Rico seizing the moment as well to tear open its chest with rifle fire. Nova delivered the coup de grace with a round from her DMR, deepening the hole she'd made in its forehead. It toppled over the hood and crashed down beside them.

"I take that back." Nova groaned, tossing his rock to him. She crouched back to her position while Duncan got on his feet, repocketing his lucky treasure with one hand and picking up his rifle to fire with the other.

The hum of turbojets and the whir of rotor blades sounded overhead. Two larger shadows passed over the convoy. The canopy rustled as a pair of Falcons swooped in from the north. They took positions above either end of the clearing and began to circle in a holding pattern. From their noses their M638 autocannons belched five round bursts into the foliage. From their sides machine gunners watered the canopy with bullets.

Right away the needlers coming at the convoy drastically diminished. Pained screeches and death shrieks came from the other side of the playground. A few needlers began to zip past the Falcons. They missed, shattered or ricocheted uselessly off their fuselages. Where the enemy failed, the air cavalry succeeded. Their machine guns sliced through the branches and cut paths through the undergrowth in sprays of green and purple. The autocannons shredded whole trees and armor with matching uniformity, pulping what Skirmishers still stood into bloody scraps of flesh.

The Falcons' fire abated after a minute and the playground fell quiet. Duncan watched contentedly as the last Skirmisher fell out of the trees. Its body thumped into the playground minus most of its head.

"Well, I think that'll do it." Dalton remarked.

The Falcons drifted over the clearing. The voice of one of the pilots came through their comms. "This is AMX-9, Kilo-9-2 to ground forces, we've got your back. We'll be the angels on your shoulders for as long as we can."

"This is Ep-1 to 9-2, copy that. We'll need an eagle eye for this next one, think you can manage?"

"I wouldn't doubt it, sir. If you want, take a look at the buzzards that thought different."

"Glad to hear it. And thanks for the help. We're moving up."

Everyone arose from their cover. Bodies were pulled out of driver's seats or from behind turrets to be replaced with living ones. Some of the soldiers gave teary-eyed goodbyes to the lost comrades they were being forced to leave behind. The Staff made sure to have their tags collected and their bodies secured in the tree line before they proceeded. The convoy reforged itself from the chaos and moved on, five people less than it was when it arrived. The enemy's casualties looked to be several times as many. The corpses and bloodied puddles at the edge of the playground and beyond the trees paid testament to their fate.

The Staff let a Rocket Hog take the lead. On his order, it blasted the monkey bars apart. The obstacles landed off to the side along with what remained of Duncan's old memories. With a way forward, the convoy drove and strode through the playground. They arrived at the next part of the road and used it to continue into the forest.

:********:

Their time was running out. The sideshow at the playground cost them another three minutes. With two left to reach the building, their hands were being forced. Those on foot shifted from a brisk walk to a sprint. Those behind the wheel edged a bit more speed out of their accelerators. Behind them, those on the guns brought their weapons to bear in preparation for the breakthrough.

The powerful reverberations of a cannonade caused the trees to tremble around them. The ground shook from the force of high-powered ordnance.

Soon they reached the end of the road and left the dark of the forest for the light of day.

A wide lake lay ahead of them. It glistened peacefully in the sunlight even as a firefight raged around it. The grassy grounds at the center of the park passed flatly about the body of water before rolling up into a small hill, descending again into another forested area. In front of and atop the hill, Covenant forces hurled plasma at their foes on the other side of the lake.

To the platoon's far north, Captain Eddies' group had already setup a position. Backhander-2 and Ricochet-1 were on the nearby street. They supported them with far-reaching cannon fire in response to the shades on the hill. To the platoon's extreme south, Sergeant Major Duvall and his men were establishing their own position. Beside them, Ricochet-2 and 3 also contributed to the general chewing up of the enemy.

1st Platoon charged to a picnic area on the banks of the lake. The Hogs split up and exposed their sides in order to form a perimeter. Everyone else grabbed the picnic tables and tossed them over, pushing them forward to fill the gaps. They shot over them and into the Covenant squads on the opposing banks. Barrages from the Rocket Hog tossed Grunts skyward on trails of their own methane. The Gauss cannon became a fine-toothed tool, combing out the squad leaders among them. They were usually Elite majors whose shields stood no chance against accelerated slugs. The Staff meanwhile swept the banks with the turret to pick off what stragglers remained.

The tanks continued to pound the literal life out of the hill. Portable shields and their users were pummeled into dust. Something similar played out on the sides of the lake. Eddies' and Duvall's groups hammered at those on the flanks. They were joined by shadows of death that passed over the holdouts and scythed them down, harvesting whatever passed for alien souls.

Four Falcons flew over the area like birds of prey, their autocannons reaping a heavy toll around the lake. For the three with chain guns, their gunners added to the mix by stitching holes through the backs of anything that tried to flee. They were mostly Grunts and Jackals who somehow escaped the meat grinder that now befell their friends. The fourth Falcon of the group was armed with a pair of grenade launchers in the place of turrets. These it used to maximum effect by strafing the handful of hillside shades that were trying to shoot it down. It was a one-sided affair. Though the shades landed a few hits, they did little against the craft which paid them back in kind. Its autocannon blew one to pieces. Its gunners pummeled two others into flaming smithereens. Their explosive accuracy would have dished out the same treatment to the last two shades were it not for a new threat that came wailing over the hill.

The pilot barely pulled away in time. The energy mortar sailed mere meters past them before landing near the lake, devouring some of the corpses of 1st Platoon's leftovers. The Falcon turned with the rest of its squadron as a Wraith tank crested the other side of the hill. A second came after it. Two more emerged, one around the left of the hill and another on the right. Their primary weapons were already aimed. With perfect synchronicity four mortars were launched.

The first two fell short and crashed around the water. The last pair were more accurate. The third slammed into one of Duvall's Hogs, consuming a gunner that had chosen too late to run and launching several others airborne. The fourth went for the tank pair. Ricochet-2 and 3 broke formation and tried to split up, but at the last second the former's treads snagged against a sanitation truck. It was given no chance to change course and was rewarded for its mistake with destruction. The mortar slammed down as pieces of the tank flew up, breaking through windows, shattering trees and knocking down a few unlucky soldiers.

Across the board the remaining Scorpions and Falcons ignored the retreating Covenant to focus on the Wraiths. The same applied vice versa.

A salvo of shells and rockets was answered by more mortars in a back-and-forth conversation of explosive retaliation.

The farthest Falcon circled back to give its launchers another attack run. Another Falcon accompanied it, offering its autocannon and chain guns to soften up their quarry. The Wraiths on the hill sat eerily quiet. They took the aerial punishment without batting an eye, backing away only to track the craft with their mortars. Their plasma cannons weren't as patient. The Elite gunners lashed out at their cockpits using long, spiteful bursts. The pilots held their course whilst their launchers got to work. Their grenades peppered the tanks, delivering several explosive punches that caused flames to break out on one of the Wraiths. Yet the latter remained silent until the two aircraft closed the distance.

A new variable appeared in a hurricane of plasma fire that came up from the forest beyond the hill. It threw out a wall of deadly greens and blues that forced the two aircraft to abandon their course, splitting left and right. So did the Wraiths as they tracked them. Both fired.

Two mortars wailed into the air. The launcher Falcon swerved away at a sharp angle, freeing the blue comet to glide inches overhead. The other mortar found less maneuverable prey with the second Falcon. Both collided head-on, melding together into a new comet of fire and exhaust. The craft's final momentum steered it back towards the lake where its half-bitten fuselage plunged into the water, hissing steam and smoke.

But the Wraiths weren't done. As the other Falcon came back around, the enemy gunners gravitated towards the luckier of the two. They readily met its next attack run. Their plasma intermingled to splash against the craft with enough force to punch through the cockpit. Renewed ground fire from the forest made matters worse. Everything worked together to silence the Falcon's own gunners though not before one of them got in a last word with the wounded Wraith. The last launcher burped a rapid barrage that bombarded the burning tank into submission. Its will to live finally gave out in an eruption of blue and pink flames.

Then the Falcon banked away. Its pilot used the last of his strength to turn back towards friendly lines. It didn't get very far. The ground came up fast until its underbelly gouged a new scar into the park. It slid to a stop on the edge of the lake just across the way from 1st Platoon.

It was still somewhat intact. The last Wraith on the the hill sought to change that. It turned to finish the job only to have its own mortar finished off by a series of rockets.

From the platoon's position, the Staff gave the soldier on the Rocket Hog a thumbs up. "Keep it up! Gauss, same with you! Focus him down!"

The Wraith faced a new trial of rockets and turret fire that peppered its carriage, periodically added to by the thunder of the Gauss cannon. It was to be its last trial. Exhaust preceded smoke. Smoke preceded flames. Flames preceded a mutilating blaze that tore the tank apart from the inside out. Its two friends shared its fate seconds later. Despite the earlier scramble, the other Scorpions and Hogs were swift to hand out judgement. The two Wraiths didn't stand a chance. With a flash, they metamorphosed into the kindling of their own bonfires.

The last gunshots dissipated into the wider city as the park fell silent. The only disturbance came from the rotors of the surviving Falcons that hovered over the lake, inspecting their fallen.

"4-Actual to Ep-1 and Fox-Actual, I don't know about you but from what I saw, I don't think going over that hill is the best idea."

"Neither do I." Duvall agreed. "I doubt either of you have that kind of time. At least we've got them cornered. How about some extra airpower to call it a day?"

"Sounds good. Ep-1, have your radioman get on it. I hear he's the best in Bravo when it comes to this kind of stuff."

"Yessir." The Staff looked over to Zack. "Ep-7, tap into the Air Force freqs. See if you can't scrounge up some help."

"Already talking to'em, sir." Zack affirmed. "Got a Longsword Squadron on the line. Give me a sec."

Zack stared out at the hill as he patched everyone into the right comm frequency. "Ep-7 to Raptor-4-1, you still with me?"

"Roger, Ep-7, ready and waiting." A man replied. "Make this fast, trooper, we've got another delivery to make downtown. Now what would you like to order today?"

"Anything and everything you got that burns a lot. Hold the Shiva."

"Copy, a small helping of hell with everything on it, hold the nuke. Address?"

Zack sized up what he could see of the area. "Grid mission, danger close. Grid WN 50322 50216. Swamp'em."

"Devil's playtime with a side of danger close. Does that complete your order, Ep-7?"

"Don't screw with me, Raptor. Just lay down the law and do it quick. We both got somewhere to be."

"Roger. Strike confirmed, delivery's 20 seconds out."

Nothing happened for about 10 seconds. Then at 15 Duncan and everyone within earshot heard the growling approach of fusion drives. It grew higher in pitch right as its source zipped into view.

A squadron of five Longswords roared in from the skies to the north. Their arrowhead formation dove towards the park. It nearly seemed like they were coming for everyone by the lake. The urge to run would have taken Duncan over had he not reminded himself that it was danger close.

The fighters pierced through the air until they were over the park itself. The lead Longsword fired first then peeled skyward, leaving its care package to streak towards the target area. Several ASGM-10 and ASGM-15 missiles, shield busters, flew down on columns of smoke. Two dozen more joined them as the other Longswords released their deliveries then lifted back towards the clouds.

Their payload went off like a drum solo. Successive explosions shook the park to its core. Alien screams lasted only for a moment as they were drowned out by powerful blasts of light that ripped through the forest beyond the hill. Even from that distance Duncan could feel the heat through his armor. Then the lights dimmed into a smoky aftermath.

"Ep-7 to Raptor-4-1, direct hit on target. That's one for the books."

"Copy that. How'd you rate your experience?"

"Ten out of ten would recommend. Good luck out there."

"Same to you, Helljumper. Raptor out."

The squadron regrouped and turned about, heading in another direction of the city.

"Thanks for not killing us, Ep-7." Yuri chided. "Had me worried back there for a sec."

Zack grinned at him. "Yuri my man, you really gotta have more faith in me."

"Think that did the trick?" Duvall asked.

"I'd say so." Eddies assured. "Let's secure the area. Find any survivors, you know what to do."

The advance began hesitantly at first then all at once. The three convoys moved across the grass with their tank and Falcon escorts close at hand. On the way, Duncan looked past the rising smoke to the platoon's objective. The target building almost had them in its shadow.

With less than 60 meters to go and five minutes past their allotted time, the Staff was adamant. "We need to go, 4-Actual. As things are now, we're running late."

"So are we." Eddies admitted. "Do what you have to do, Ep-1. We're rolling out too. Fox-Actual, can you handle things here?"

"We can take it from here, sir. Wouldn't want to hold you guys up. Thanks for having our backs."

Duncan was expecting an order to load up on the Hogs. However, a new voice contradicted that.

"Kilo-9-2 to ODSTs, we're receiving intel from Olympic of a confirmed Triple-A presence in the area. They've taken firing positions around your target building. Kilo-9-1 is down and 3 looks out of action but we can still assist."

That was news. Unlooked-for news.

Attention fell on the Staff who paused at hearing it. Duncan saw the very second that his squad leader looked to Kilo-9-3 with a spark of an idea. Unlike its friend that had sunken halfway into the lake, 9-3 looked in reasonably serviceable condition.

The rest of the platoon caught on without a word being said and jogged behind him. They surrounded the craft, finding it banged up but in good shape. The crew were the opposite. One of the gunners sat slumped over his launcher with a few needlers in his chest. His partner was hardly better off. He was alive at least but unconscious. The horrifying angles at which his legs were bent made it obvious he'd reached his limit. As for the pilot, his face was bordering on unrecognizable. Maimed by plasma, his jaw was still locked in a silent scream.

The Staff ordered 9-2 and 9-4 to land and secured the wounded gunner in a seat. His partner was extracted more carefully on behalf of the needlers that still glowed in his torso. They laid him out beside the pilot then got down to business.

"Ep-5, you're on the stick." The Staff said. "Ep-2, Ep-8, you're on the guns. Everyone else, pick a bird and strap in. We're going to take out that Triple-A with Kilo-9. Once that's done, we're going to land on the roof of the Committee Building and take control from there. Let's get to work."

Knowing how short they were on time, everyone moved accordingly. Duncan took his seat behind the starboard gun. He brushed off the blood to take it in hand. A rectangular optic snapped onto his HUD with a circle in the middle. He pivoted the launcher a bit to get a feel for it. Nova did the same on the other side.

Yuri walked past, eyeing them worriedly. "Make sure you shoot straight. Last thing anyone needs is good pilot with bad gunners."

"Prosto zatknis' i leti, Ep-5." Nova hissed. "My poluchili eto."

Yuri shrugged and walked on to the cockpit. "If you say so."

The rotor blades quickly resurrected and Duncan had to shout over the whir of their spin. "What'd you tell him!?"

Nova smirked. "That he's got the best pair of shooters he could've ask for!"

"Roger that!"

The Staff piled in and took one of the front seats. Rico took the one at the rear.

"Oi, Dama Roja, got any snacks on this flight!?" Rico asked, draping his own launcher over his lap.

Nova shook her head. "Sorry, we're fresh out!"

"Shame! That's going in the review!"

The Staff knocked on the wall between him and the cockpit. "Let's roll!"

"Copy!" Yuri replied.

The rotors began to whine at a faster speed. The turbojets thrummed with vigor. The Falcon commenced a gentle lift off. Off to the side, Kilo-9-2 and 4 lifted as well. Together, the three ascended into the skyline and headed straight for the target building.

:********:

"Mines is better." Rico argued over comms. "More versatile."

"But mines is bigger." Duncan shot back. "More firepower."

"Yeah, that's called compensating."

"Will you two stop arguing about your launchers already?" Nova murmured. "It's annoying and it makes no difference."

"Size makes a difference, Ep-2." Duncan laughed.

"And so does versatility." Rico jived.

"Good thing we've got both then." The Staff said, unceremoniously bringing an end to their chat.

The morning air rushed freely through the cabin on the way to the target building. The three Falcons followed the magrail which, after leaving the boulevard, shifted to the right of the park and travelled on until it passed just to the right of the committee building.

"Ep-1 to Kilo-9-2, send the coordinates."

"On it."

Three Nav points switched on in Duncan's HUD. A quick glimpse at his TACMAP revealed three hostile contacts near the target building, one in the north, another in the south and the farthest to the west.

"Split up." The Staff said. "We'll take the one on the left. Kilo-9-2, take the one on the right, 9-4, you've got the one on the far side. Let's get this done."

Yuri and the other pilots gave an affirmative "Yessir" and steered off from one another.

As their Falcon turned left around the building, Duncan got an eyeful of the structure. It was so immaculate that it reflected a ton of light into his face. He tuned down his visor to see better. It really did look like someone had pinched it on both ends like a ribbon and given it a slight twist. There were a number of landing pads which extended from floors that offered an open vista. He couldn't see the rest that went past the clouds, however, which only served to heighten his nerves. They were already behind schedule as it was. Someone would need to wrack their brains on how to handle what came afterwards. After all, he realized, it wasn't like the AMX units could stay with them. There weren't enough of them to go with each platoon, yet alone to transport them very far.

Upon circumventing to the left of the building, the proliferating questions fell out of his thoughts as Yuri made a steep turn. A Pelican screamed past. The dropship was ablaze. Orange and green flames wreathed its frame, the latter growing in intensity from the stream of fuel rods that slammed into its underbelly. It soared out of sight, leaving behind a trail of smoke that left Duncan blind.

"Ep-5!?" He called.

"Hold on, we've got incoming!"

Duncan felt the bottom drop out from under him after another sharp dip. Yuri banked further to the left. Blinded once by smoke, Duncan was overwhelmed again by a burst of emerald illumination. Multiple fuel rods zipped past mere meters from his visor. And they were getting closer. Some of them made minute turns or curved around to follow the Falcon. They each detonated short of their aim though the way they moved made his skin bristle.

"Hey, these are heat-seeking!"

"I noticed!" Yuri replied. "Eyes up front, I'm bringing us over target!"

"I see him!" Nova started firing off the other launcher. "Parking garage coming up on our ten o'clock, top floor! Ep-8, watch your feet! He's going to pass right under you!"

Duncan did so. As Yuri banked left, the streets and buildings swung by until they flew over a parking garage. What looked like a giant red beetle passed beneath his boots. It was on the top floor like Nova had said and her first attempt on its life had left the ground pockmarked around it. With hardly a scratch, the Wraith turned about, the antennal fuel rod cannons on its back tracking their course. It fired. So did Duncan.

His were faster. He slung six shots at the tank, three of which made good on his aim and battered its carriage. Save a few steaming cracks in its armor, the Wraith was unphased. It finished letting off the last of its discharge, adding onto the dozen fuel rods already on their way. Yuri was smart to keep them moving. The Falcon's momentum carried it behind a neighboring skyscraper. Using their heat-seeking against them, their fiery pursuers curved headlong into the building. Their urban shield took the brunt of the blast as fuel rods blew through windows and set several floors ablaze

Yuri brought them out safely on the other side and immediately gunned it for the Wraith. Their descending course granted both Duncan and Nova a line of sight on it. They used it to their advantage, unleashing a hailstorm before it could cycle its next salvo. Grenades pounded the garage until they cut across the top floor to crisscross the Wraith. Yuri chipped in with the autocannon, scything five-round bursts up the middle. The cracks in its armor broke out into small fires from sparking conduits: decent damage but manageable all the same.

The tank's gunner had its say as well, an Elite minor with enough patience to wait until they were in range to pop its head behind the gun. A burst of heavy plasma fire slashed across the cockpit as they whipped over the garage. A stray bolt nearly decapitated Rico who saw it just in time to duck.

They were too low. Yuri barely pulled them up above a fast-approaching streetlight. The autocannon still struck it, bashing the whole thing off the roof and leaving them unbalanced. He struggled to recover and lifted them up towards the next building.

"A little rusty on the dismount there, pal!" Rico laughed nervously.

"Shut up, I know what I'm doing!" Yuri growled.

Nova peeked behind them. "You better 'cause it's looking our way again!"

The Wraith had them back in its sights. A new barrage of over a dozen fuel rods stalked them across the skyline.

Yuri made a speedy ascent towards the nearest skyscraper, but the fuel rods began to gain ground. A few almost got close enough to touch the tail only to slam into the building as they climbed around its face. Nearly out of range, a single rod managed to race up into the tail. The explosion bucked them forward. A vicious cutting noise filled the cabin. Yuri pulled hard to the right in order to stop the portside rotor from slicing against the wall.

They finally came around to the rear of the structure. With the last rods crashing uselessly into the infrastructure, Yuri slowed them down to a stable hover.

Duncan wasn't so sure how long that would last. Looking back, he could see part of the tail was aflame. One of the rear stabilizers was burning from the hit it took. The updraft from the rotors was keeping it from spreading. However, the second they were switched off would be the second everyone had to bail out.

"How's it look, Ep-2?" Yuri asked.

Nova scrutinized it. "It's not pretty but she'll live. That said, I'd say we have five minutes tops before we'll need to put her down somewhere, just to be safe. She's already in bad shape as it is."

Duncan knew he'd heard something like that before. The image of Backhander-1 burning alive briefly flashed through his mind.

"Then let's wrap this up." The Staff said. "Ep-5, can you fly in low?"

"Shaving rooftops kind of low or clipping sidewalks kind of low?"

"Last one. That Wraith thinks it knows where we are right now. Let's keep it that way."

A pause preceded a maniacal chortle as Yuri caught on. "Want to flank it from the rear, sir?"

The Staff nodded. "That front armor's tough. Can't say the same for the exhaust port."

"...Roger that."

"Ep-2, 8, don't miss. Ep-6, stun that thing if they do. Then we'll finish it off."

The three sounded off their readiness as the Falcon began to lose altitude. Yuri took them on a smooth descent down the height of the building. Soon they were in front of the first floor and hovering less than a few meters above the street. Yuri hurried down its length, heading deeper into the south. They skimmed just over the tops of numerous cars, rising every now and again to avoid the taller shuttles and street signs. They eventually swooped through an intersection where Yuri righted them onto a westbound highway. He sped up its length with equal dexterity.

Duncan wasn't sure if he needed to pull in his legs or not. At one point the soles of his boots brushed over the roof of a long bus though he otherwise didn't come close to losing them. Yuri seemed to know what he was doing. At another point, there was a break in the buildings passing in front of him. Down the street he glimpsed the distant parking garage and the red dot of the Wraith. It was still looking towards the last place it had seen them.

"Hey Ep-1, just saw our target. Its still looking the wrong way."

"Good, then it hasn't lost interest yet. We have a window, troopers, get ready."

Yuri sped them a little further down the highway before turning off on a northbound street. Soon after he made a final right turn. They came onto a long avenue which offered a straight shot to the parking garage. What they could see of the Wraith boiled down to its fuel rod cannons which were still fixated on their old hiding spot. The enemy waited for them to come out, completely oblivious to the threat approaching from behind.

Yuri picked up speed as Duncan and Nova brought their guns to bear. He zoomed over the frozen traffic, rising into a rapid ascent near the end. In a blink the Falcon rocketed above the top of the garage and straight at its prey. The Wraith was starting to turn, only just realizing its mistake. But it was too late.

Duncan and Nova punished its gullibility with a trigger-happy flurry of grenades. None missed. A series of swift strikes on its exhaust port was all it took. The result ruptured out through the front as a fountain of flame that utterly disemboweled the carriage. Debris rained across the garage even while a secondary explosion ripped out the mortar, incinerating what little remained of both driver and gunner.

The Falcon passed meters over the carnage and slowed to hover above the kill.

"Gori detka Gori!" Yuri cheered. "Stupid fool probably didn't even know what hit him!"

Nova nodded approvingly at the damage. "That's one down. What about the rest?"

"Ep-1 to Kilo-9-2 and 4, just knocked out the Triple-A on the southside. How's your situation, over?"

"Our Wraith's down too, sir." Kilo-9-2 replied. "However, 4's having a hard time of it. I'm heading over there now to help."

"Understood. Ep-5, hop to it."

Yuri groaned over comms. "I'm not even flyboy anymore and I still work faster than these guys?"

"Well, you did pick the one with the launchers." Rico argued.

"Yes." Yuri admitted as he turned and flew off towards the west. "Because previous flyboy got fried and the other one sank. I swear, Air Force has really gone downhill these days."

"Your English has really gone downhill these days."

Despite their back-and-forth Duncan overheard a commotion coming from the west. He recognized it for the low hum of impulse drives. Then he saw them.

Passing beyond the committee building, they came across a swarm of Banshees. Several of the small flyers were already engaging the other Falcons. They traded fire as they glided and swerved about in a bid to outmaneuver the other. Duncan spotted the Wraith sitting far below in the middle of a groundside parking lot. It held its fire as its cannons searched for an opening.

"That doesn't look good." Yuri sighed.

"You're an ace, aren't you?" Rico kidded. "So, get us in there."

"Never said I was." Yuri propelled them forward. "But then again, I never need to."

They skimmed around the edge of the fight then went straight for the Wraith. Nova struck first, launching a grenade at the carriage. She waited until it was right above the turret and let it explode, sending the Elite gunner flying out of the gun before it could cause trouble. In retribution the Wraith turned to meet them. Duncan slung out his own grenade, purposefully aiming at a nearby car so that it bounced off the trunk and back at the Wraith. His timing created an explosive kick that blew out one of the frontal fins, slowing its turn. The tank still tried its hand at fighting the handicap.

A burst of plasma bolts lashed through the cabin. Duncan glanced over his shoulder at a Banshee that thrust towards them from the other side. Nova faced it down, splitting the air between them with concussive blasts. But the Banshee dodged them all. It rolled away and dove before rising to torment them with its plasma cannons.

Yuri pulled away from it to bring his autocannon to bear. As if it could predict it, the Banshee performed an aileron roll that let the cannon's fire run wide. It looped back down at them at the high speeds of a strafing run. Yuri rose to meet it halfway, limiting its opening in order to get back in range. Again, it barreled aside before he could target it. A similar attempt by Duncan saw it bank away. Still, it circled around them like a shark after bleeding prey, searching for a weakness.

And they were bleeding. Duncan kept an eye on their burning tail. Another shot there would spell disaster.

The Wraith seemed to figure that out too. It lobbed a fresh fusillade in their direction. Yuri dropped some altitude to buy time. Like before, the fuel rods descended after them and, with a bit of maneuvering, splashed against the face of a high-rise. The building was sufficiently wide to spare them a few seconds of cover. Not that the Banshee was willing to let them have even that. It chased after them at an unsettlingly leisure pace. It cruised within their blind spot so that neither launcher could target it.

"Hate to admit it but this guy's good." Yuri huffed. "Good thing I'm ace though, right Ep-6?"

"Can you outfly him?" The Staff asked.

"Not in this state, no. But I can outsmart him. Ep-6, I'll need you to shoot this guy when I tell you too."

"No problem." Rico said. "Just tell us what you're-"

"No time." Yuri cut him off at the instant that they slipped out from behind the high-rise. He immediately picked up speed, making a beeline for the Wraith. The tank fought against its damaged fin to face them. Simultaneously the Banshee boosted forward in pursuit. The latter pelted them with plasma. A good burst caused flames to flicker over the last rear stabilizer.

"Ep-5!?" Nova called worriedly.

"Not yet!"

He pushed them to within 50 meters of the Wraith. As it finished rotating towards them, he suddenly twisted hard to the left, swinging Duncan's launcher into the face of the Wraith's cannons and Nova's at the Banshee. The flyer launched a fuel rod at the exact moment that the starboard rotor kicked out. The Falcon tilted enough for the green comet to sail overhead.

"NOW!"

Duncan, Nova and Rico all fired.

The Banshee lost its mobility in a spray of electromagnetic paralysis as Nova uppercut its frame with rapid fire blows. Duncan did the same on his end, putting everything he had into peppering the Wraith. Flames flew up across the Banshee as well as the Wraith until a final blast turned the former into burning confetti. Weakened, the latter primed its cannons only for the flyer's own fuel rod to land right on its carriage. In a flash, the Wraith was consumed in an inferno of its own making. Blazing debris flew up from it in a geyser of ruin.

The starboard rotor quickly reactivated and the Falcon righted itself, flying out from between the two wrecks. An air of silence pervaded the cabin for several seconds before Yuri shattered it with the word on everyone's mind:

"OORAH!"

Duncan settled back in his seat. He shut his eyes in an attempt to slow his shivering breaths.

"Yuri..." Nova said shakily. "You're insane."

"And we love you for it." Rico laughed. "Never change, amigo. That was a good kill, right Ep-1?"

The Staff slowly turned to him and offered a single nod. "Yeah, that-...that was something."

"How about everyone else?" Nova asked.

An explosion up above turned their attention skyward. Further up, they witnessed the last Banshee go up in smoke. The machine gun fire died down as the other Falcons left the dogfight in one piece.

"Kilo-9-2 to Ep-1, that was one hell of a maneuver. That's the last of the Banshees. Sector 22's clear."

The Staff shook his head. "Not yet. We've still got a building to secure." He placed a Nav point on the rooftop.

"Copy, moving to rendezvous."

Yuri commenced their ascent. The three Falcons approached from the western end of the target. They were passing through the last of the low cloud cover when they received another contact.

"Fox-Actual to Ep-1, come in, over?"

"Go ahead Fox-Actual."

"We've secured the park, nothing but bits and pieces over there. I know you're low on time, so I decided to lend a hand. My guys are clearing the committee building from the bottom up. We're already on the tenth floor. Hopefully it'll help you guys out."

Duncan liked the sound of that. So did the Staff who replied earnestly. "I don't think I can pay you back for this one, Fox-Actual."

"You already have, Staff Sergeant. Fox out."

The atmosphere in the cabin lightened with the news. It improved further once they passed the clouds and found only 10 more floors to add to those they'd seen from below.

The Falcons closed in on the rooftop's central landing pad. Kilo-9-2 and 4 settled down first.

Yuri came in last for the landing. A metallic groan followed him. Duncan tried to listen for where it was coming from. He found out a heartbeat later when what was left of the rear stabilizers blew up. The force of the explosion almost threw him out of his seat. It would have had he not grabbed the launcher.

Emergency alarms blared as the Falcon began to spin hard to port.

Duncan held on. Behind him, the Staff and Rico gripped their seats for dear life while Nova hugged her own launcher.

Yuri fumed with rage as fumes spilled out of the rear of the craft, his sheer grit fighting against the controls. "You couldn't just hold it in for one more second!?

The Falcon spun towards and over the edge of the roof. Duncan felt a shock of panic as a long drop twirled beneath his feet.

"Come on!" Yuri hissed. "COME ON!"

Through some act of Yuri's, of divine intervention or both, he managed to assuage the Falcon's spin. Briefly. It started again, this time towards its starboard side. That meant safety. Duncan watched the long drop disappear and the rooftop reappear. Yuri let out a final, growling strain that lessened the spin enough for them to stagger towards the landing pad.

Duncan yanked in his legs a moment before impact. The Falcon came crashing over the edge, its nose slamming down. It scraped its way across half the pad before sliding to a stop, falling over until its starboard wing hit the pad. The whole thing was left at an uneasy tilt. Behind the sound of rumbling fire Duncan heard a relieved cackle coming from the cockpit.

"Everybody out!" The Staff ordered.

Duncan slipped out on his side with the Staff. They had to crouch beneath what remained of the dead rotor. Nova and Rico meanwhile jumped out the other side.

The others were already running over to them. The rest of the platoon and a few of the air crew helped them away from the burning craft.

"Wait!" Nova cried. "Where' Ep-5!?"

Everyone looked to the cockpit. It was still closed. The fire on the fuselage was starting to creep towards it.

For the second time that day Duncan remembered Backhander-1. He felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.

The sound of gunshots in the cockpit disrupted his fear. Parts of the glass were shot away. A heavy boot kicked through the rest. Yuri reemerged. He pulled himself halfway out then let gravity do the rest. By his lazy movements it was clear he was in a daze. After getting back on his feet, he turned angrily to the craft.

"Glupaya...smertel'naya...LOVUSHKA!" He kicked it in the nose as hard as he could. So hard in fact that it made Duncan wince. If it hurt, Yuri gave no sign of it. He looked over at everyone else and walked nonchalantly towards them. As if nothing had just happened.

Then the Falcon let out a groan. A moment later it exploded, casting small pieces of itself around the pad.

Though everyone else flinched, Yuri turned around to pay it his final respects. He took off his helmet and spat at the wreck.

Fuga – Flight