Rabbat Metropolitan Area
Ammon Province, Continent of Levant
Colony of Actium
24 May 2545

WO1 Aroldo Quinteros, 4-269th Attack Aviation, 2nd Brigade, 126th Aviation Group

Day 18 of Actium Campaign

"ALERT! A STATE OF EMERGENCY HAS BEEN DECLARED FOR THE ENTIRE PROVINCE OF AMMON. RESIDENTS OF AMMON PLEASE – "

"- Orbital Defense Command reporting Covenant landings north of – "

"- drop pods are all over the place, we need immediate reinforce– "

" – trying to get all of these civilians out of the danger zone but Covenant are moving too fast – "

"Can the UNSC provide any more assistance in – "

" – picking up on more Covenant forces en-route – "

" – don't have enough firepower to hold back any – "

"Need someone to cover our withdraw otherwise we're gonna get swarmed – "

"- more fire support! WHERE THE HELL IS ALL OUR AIR SUPPORT!?"

"All call signs on this net, air support is inbound, just hold your ground until they get there!"

xxx

As his Sparrowhawk sped towards the center of town, Aroldo could only listen with growing horror as the frantic calls for help became increasingly desperate as the defenders did their best to hold back the invasion. In the distance ahead of him, Aroldo could see plumes of smoke rising into the air from where the Covenant drop pods were crashing down onto the surface. Meanwhile, down below him, every road was clogged with vehicles as thousands of people attempted to flee the roving marauders.

"Jesus," Aroldo gasped as he nervously gripped his controls. "I thought all the fighting was supposed to be taking place on the other side of the planet!"

"Latest reports from the west said fighting around Byzas was starting to stalemate," Serratos distractedly replied from the pilot's seat directly behind him. "This is probably the Covenant's way of reigniting their invasion!"

"Where the hell did they get all the troops for something like this?"

"Who the hell knows, Mijo!"

Any other day, Aroldo would have snarled upon hearing the nickname his battalion had given him, but any retort he may have had immediately died on his lips as a flash on the horizon distracted him, and he looked up to see a cloud of smoke and debris rising straight into the air and forming a mushroom. A split second later, the roar of the explosion echoed over the entire metropolis area.

"Jesus, Joseph, and Mary," Aroldo whispered.

"Mijo! Switch back to the main channel!" Serratos suddenly barked. "Quinteros is giving a briefing!"

Aroldo hastily switched his radio back to their dedicated battalion channel in time to hear to his battalion commander, Lieutenant Colonel Quinteros say, "Alright Smokejumpers, here's the situation! We are in deep shit! Baby Kongs are dropping both infantry and vehicles more or less unopposed and have already made it seven klicks past their initial drop zone!"

"Holy fuck," Aroldo heard a crewmember on one of the other Sparrowhawks exclaim. "What the hell are the ground forces doing, sleeping?"

"I don't know," Quinteros replied, "But our objective is simple: slow the Covenant down with everything we've got. As of right now, the entire area within a twenty kilometer radius of the DZ is being setup as a kill box, designation Kill Box Zero Zero. Any enemy movement within said Kill Box, you are cleared to engage without needing further approval from either the ground or the air. Air space is going to be a little crowded; the entire 126th Aviation Group is getting thrown into this mess, so watch your fire. Fighters from ODC and EASTCOM are supposed to be keeping enemy bandits at bay so we should mostly have free reign to operate, but keep your heads on a swivel, check?"

"Hooah, sir," Aroldo said out loud.

"All Smokejumper elements, check your weapons, we're on final approach to the Kill Box. Smokejumper-6, out."

The channel fell silent, leaving only the whine of turbojet engines to fill Aroldo's ears, and Aroldo found himself fumbling with his controls as he checked over them for the ninth time since they had taken off.

"Stop messing around with controls," Serratos ordered and Aroldo couldn't help but feel jealous at how calm she sounded. "You keep doing that, you're gonna fuck something up and the last thing I need is a gunner that can't shoot. Just relax."

"Sorry, ma'am," Aroldo replied. "It's just… this anticipation is killing me. Need a distraction."

Without warning, his TACPAD started buzzing, indicating he was receiving a personal call as opposed to an official one. Given that was mid-flight on his way to a warzone, there was only one person it could be, and Aroldo found himself letting out a soft groan.

"Well, you were looking for a distraction: there you go. You gonna answer that?" Serratos asked him and he could just hear the smirk in her voice, and he was oh so tempted to throw something at her.

"Do I have to?" Aroldo asked before he could stop himself. "You're my CO, and this isn't an official call. Can't you just – I dunno – order me not to answer?"

"And piss off my CO?" Serratos mockingly asked, before immediately sobering up. "Seriously, I could, but I won't because I really think you should answer. We are flying into a heavily contested area; you should talk to him, you know, just in case…"

Aroldo nervously swallowed at the reminder of where they were going, their brief moment of brevity completely gone, and he reached over to tap on the 'receive' button. The caller ID identified the caller as 'Lieutenant Colonel Raül Quinteros,' but for Aroldo, it was, "Hi, dad."

"Son." The voice of Aroldo's father and – unfortunately – battalion commander, sounded over the phone. "How are you doing? Are you okay? Did you understand the briefing?"

Aroldo resisted the urge to roll his eyes, even though his father couldn't see him. "Yes, dad, I understood the briefing; wasn't hard to understand. We go it, we shoot all the bad guys, then we leave. Simple."

Aroldo could just picture his father's frown as he replied, "I wish you wouldn't be so flippant about all of this; we are going to war, after all."

"Yeah, but it's not like I'm some civilian fresh off the street; I had to train hard to get here. You should know: you and mom made me go through an entire pre-BCT workout."

"Training and reality are two different things though. No matter how good they make the simulators, it will never be a complete replacement for actual, hands-on experience," his father retorted, a bit heatedly, before letting out a sigh. "Believe it or not, I didn't call you to argue. I just wanted to check up on you make sure you were okay. Remember: if you have any questions, don't be afraid to ask me or even Olive. She's the senior most company commander for a reason."

This time it was Aroldo's turn to sigh. "Dad, you can't keep doing that."

"Doing what?"

"Treating me like your son."

"But you are my son."

"Yes, but I'm also a Warrant Officer in the UNSC Army," Aroldo noted as mildly as he could. "You're also my battalion commander: you're supposed to treat me like everyone else."

His dad chuckled. "Son, I don't care if you end up becoming the chair of the entire UNSC Security Council: you'll always just be my son." There was a brief pause and just when Aroldo thought his dad was done talking, he spoke up once more. "Listen, we're approaching the target area. Just… as our group motto goes: 'Fly high and aim true,' okay? Listen to Olive's- Captain Serratos, that is – orders, and you'll be okay. Love you."

Aroldo forcefully swallowed his instinctively snarky remark in light of the true emotion in his father's voice and said instead, "Love you too, dad."

The line immediately disconnected and without thinking, Aroldo craned his neck, trying to find his father's Sparrowhawk, but he was flying at the opposite end of the formation, so he was impossible to find. Not that Aroldo knew what to do, even if he had.

"So…"

Aroldo jumped at the sound of Serratos's voice, and then mentally winced as he had a feeling he knew what was coming next. Sure enough…

"Did ya have a good time talking with your Papi… Mijo…" Serratos asked in a mocking tone, and Aroldo tried but couldn't quite suppress his groan of annoyance, causing Serratos to laugh.

"Thanks, Captain. Really appreciate it," he muttered, feeling like the tips of his ears were burning.

"Hey, you're the New Guy and the Boss' son; if we don't give you crap for it, who will?" Serratos cheerfully and unapologetically declared. "No, but seriously: did you and your dad have a good talk?"

Aroldo considered how to respond. On one hand, it would have been nice to be able to vent a little. On the other, as frustrating as his dad could be sometimes, the last thing Aroldo wanted to do was disparage him, especially in front of his own men. So, in the end, he just shrugged and said, "It was fine."

"Ah," Serratos said with the air of someone who knew exactly what he was talking about, without him having to saying anything. "See, this is the exact reason why I made sure I was never assigned to the same unit as my twin brother. Family can be… difficult, to deal with, at times. But, at least you and him got to speak, one last time."

Aroldo winced at the thought of this possibly being the last time he saw his dad, and quickly casted around for something else to talk about. "Let's just focus on the mission, shall we, Cap?"

As if waiting for him to say those exact words, their radio suddenly blared to life.

"All Smokejumper elements, this is Home Base," the voice of the battalion executive officer announced. "Be advised, you are approaching the Kill Box, over."

"Home Base, acknowledged," Colonel Quinteros immediately replied, with no hint of Aroldo's dad. "Break. All Smokejumpers, this is 6: break up into companies and arm all weapons. Good luck, and happy hunting."

"This is 3-1: copy that," Serratos responded, suddenly all business-like. "All 3 elements, follow me in! We're going to sweep in, take a look at the lay of the land first before committing to any one action."

"Copy that, 3-1."

Aroldo gripped his grab handle as the Sparrowhawk banked hard to the right. Now that he was paying attention, he could see the smoke rising from the various firefights that were taking place all across the line as UNSC forces desperately attempted to hold back the advancing aliens and he could see why they were so desperate for air support. Plasma and tracers crisscrossed as Covenant warriors attacked hastily formed defensive barriers with all the fury Humanity had learned to expect from a bunch of fanatical aliens hoping to catch a ride to their "Great Journey." The problem was, there was just so many of those fights happening at the same time, Aroldo had no idea where to even begin, even as he heard Serratos command, "Take the stick, Mijo, and hold us in place."

Aroldo grabbed his controls and brought the Sparrowhawk into a hover as they looked over the city, trying to figure out where to strike first. This high up, Aroldo could see almost everything. In one part of the city, he noticed a barricade of Soldiers firing on a crowd of charging Covenant, cutting them down where they stood. In another part of town, he happened to turn just in time to see a Warthog fully loaded with Soldiers take a direct hit from a fuel rod and erupt into flames, killing everyone on board. Meanwhile, in yet another part of the city, an entire building was obliterated by three plasma mortars that landed on its roof in rapid succession. No one left the ruins so he didn't know why it was targeted, and could only hope if anyone was inside, they got safely.

"Jesus Christ," he whispered, and he knew he was beginning to sound like a broken record, but he couldn't help it; there was a lot of innocent people getting slaughtered below him.

"Alright, got it," Serratos suddenly announced. "We got a column of armored vehicles making a push across the I-7 overpass now. Only people standing in their way are a bunch of REMFs from the local Actium militia unit, and they don't have any AT weapons. Let's swoop in and give 'em a hand. 3-2, 3-1: take all even number helos and approach from direction one three nine. I'll take the odd number birds, and sweep in from the northeast, draw their fire. Copy?"

"Copy."

"Let's keep this clean, ladies and germs. Stick to your wing mates, and watch each other's backs. Roll it in!"

Aroldo grabbed his controls as they thundered towards the bridge. Through TADS, he could see their target: four Covenant Shadows escorted by twice as many Ghosts were moving across the bridge. Small arms fire was bouncing off their hulls, doing nothing but causing a light show. It was clear the defenders need something heavier to stop the vehicles and that something was a Sparrowhawk.

"3-3, take out the rear vehicle, we'll take out the lead," Serratos commanded. "Stop the column. Once they're grounded, we'll focus on the Ghosts while 3-2 and 3-4 take out the Shadows. Alright, charge 'em up!"

Aroldo thumbed the button to activate the 'Hawk's nose mounted Grindell laser cannon. Dropping his crosshairs over the lead Ghost, he began charging the weapon. Not realizing what was about to occur, the Covenant blasély continued along their path, so confident nothing could stop them now.

"All targets locked. And… fire!"

A brilliant red light split the air as both Aroldo and 3-3's gunner fired at the same time! The lead and rear Ghosts instantly exploded as the laser penetrated their light armor, raining debris across the bridge. To their credit, the Covenant immediately realized they were under attack and instead of stopping and wondering where the fire was coming from as green soldiers might have, the vehicles instead sped up, plowing through the flaming wrecks of the Ghosts as they tried to blitz across to the other side. The turrets on the Shadows all swiveled around before zeroing in on Aroldo and his flight's position and opening fire, however the Sparrowhawks were still three kilometers out so the rounds fell far short. But, they were distracted and that was the point.

"This is 3-2, we're engaging."

Another two laser split the air, and two of the four Shadows drove straight into the ground, disabled, but not destroyed, as the lasers pierced their anti-gravity engines. The outgoing plasma fire became even more desperate as the gunners started firing in all directions while the convoy was forced to slow down to get around their disabled brethren.

"That got their attention," Serratos mused. "Target the rest of the column. Gunner! Take out the front half of Ghosts!"

"I'm on it!" Aroldo replied as he locked onto two Ghosts with missiles and one with the laser. "On target!"

"Send it."

"On the way!" Aroldo tapped the trigger twice, and watched as two Anvil missiles flew off their racks, one after another. "Missiles off the rails!" Swapping back to the Grindell, he locked his sights onto the last Ghost. "Engaging!"

Another laser split the sky and the Ghost was sent tumbling across the ground in flames as the Covenant scattered in all directions, trying to make themselves a smaller target, but it didn't matter as Aroldo's missiles still found their victims, plunging out of the sky like a raptor diving on a sparrow. Two more explosions scored the bridge's surface.

"All Ghost down," Aroldo reported.

"Good. Let's mop this up. 3-2, be advised we're rolling in for a gun run. 3-3 follow me in!"

Their 'Hawk dove out of the sky. By now, all of the Ghosts and three of the Shadows were flaming wrecks, their crews scattered around the bridge scrambling for cover as small arms fire pelted them. Without prompting, Aroldo dropped his crosshairs over the last intact Shadow and fired a handful of unguided Argent rockets. Two of the missiles fell short and exploded harmlessly on the bridge surface, but the third…

Just before the third missile was about to hit, the Shadow's bay doors unexpectedly opened as it tried to disgorge the infantry inside. The Argent flew right through the opening and promptly exploded inside.

There was a flash of light and the Shadow bulged in the center as the explosion destroyed the vehicle and killed everyone onboard.

"Good shot, Gunner!" Serratos complimented, sounding impressed. "Now take out the infantry!"

Gritting his teeth, Aroldo pulled the trigger, feeling their 'Hawk rattle as the gun pod mounted on their right wing began spitting out 20mm semi armor-piercing, high explosive incendiary shells. The rounds exploded among the largest cluster of Covenant infantry, sending them scattering. Twisting his stick from side to side, Aroldo swept the bridge, doing his best to take out as many of the Covies as he could in one pass. Fortunately, it was enough: as they finished their run and Serratos pulled their aircraft out, Aroldo swiveled his nose turret around to see the Militiamen had climbed out their holes and were closing on the bridge, the Covenant now too scattered and weak to stop them.

"Looks like the Militiamen are advancing!" Aroldo called out to Serratos.

"Good; they can mop up," Serratos replied. "3-1 to all 3 elements: break off and let's find something else to hit."

"We're not going to help them?" Aroldo asked, surprised.

"We already did. We're not here to do the ground pounder's job for them, we're here to lend our support. And with as many targets as there are in this city, in order to have the maximum level of effect, we can't hyper-focus on one target alone."

"Copy," Aroldo mutely replied. Serratos's logic seemed sound, even if it didn't quite sit well with him. Nevertheless, there wasn't a whole lot he could do except watch as the Militiamen overrun the Covenant and recapture the bridge.

"3-2, 3-1: looks like the ground pounders have regained control of the situation at the bridge. Keep your eyes and ears open for another target of opportunity, over," Serratos was saying in the meantime.

"Wilco."

Aroldo flipped on his radio just in time to hear, " – again, this is Ford 2-1, requesting immediate fire support at the intersection of Maplewood Avenue and 12th Street! We're under heavy attack by Hunters! I got women and children with me!"

"Cap, you hear that!?" Aroldo frantically asked. "Unit pinned down by Hunters! Women and children among them!"

"Alright, calm down," Serratos ordered. "They give a location?"

"Maple and 12th!"

"Alright, we'll go and – "

"3-1, 3-2: we just a ping from a traffic surveillance camera about a probable Covenant mortar pit in section twelve. Was thinking it might be worth looking into further, over."

"Copy," Serratos replied. "Yeah, we just got a request for fire against some Hunters over at Maple and 12th; that's kind of in the same area. Why don't you take 3-4 and go investigate further while I take 3-3 and deal with the Hunters? Rendezvous over in section nine in ten?"

"Copy. We're outbound."

"3-3, on me," Serratos said as the four Sparrowhawks split into two groups. "We're going hunting for some… well, Hunters."

"Rog."

Aroldo kept his eyes peeled, frantically looking for the Hunters as they tore down Maple Avenue. Below them, the road was crowded with vehicles and people as civilians desperately fled the city, but no signs of Ford 2-1 until –

"Oh god," he whispered as he spotted the unit and realized why they had women and children among them: they were defending a school, clearly evident by the number of yellow school buses parked around the area they were using as makeshift barricades.

A block away, two Hunters were steadily advancing, holding out their shields in front of them for protection while an entire section's worth of Covenant soldiers used them as cover. Ford 2-1 was firing everything they had at the Hunters to no effect; as Aroldo watched, someone fired a rocket launcher at one of the Hunters, only for it to deflect off the alien's shield and into a nearby bus, which went up like a mini nuke. Unconcerned about the flames or flying shrapnel, the Hunters continued, unimpeded.

As the Sparrowhawks drew closer, they automatically began picking up on Ford 2-1's open transmissions.

"INCOMING FIRE! GET DOWN!"

"HEY! WE GOTTA MOVE THESE KIDS BACK MORE! COVIES ARE GETTING TOO CLOSE! THE KIDS' SHELTER IS STARTING TO TAKE SOME ROUNDS!"

"WE CAN'T MOVE 'EM, THEY'LL BE TOO EXPOSED! WE GOTTA GET THOSE HUNTERS TAKEN OUT, NOW! WE NEED FIRE SUPPORT! SOMEBODY! ANYBODY!"

Aroldo felt his resolve harden, hearing those voices and irrationally, he felt a sudden urge to make sure those Hunters pay for threatening those kids.

"I got eyes on!" he reported.

"Yeah, I see 'em too," Serratos replied, her voice calm and professional, unlike Aroldo's. "3-3, let's flank these SOBs from the east. Take the one on the left, we'll hit the one on the right. Copy?"

"Copy!" Aroldo automatically replied, arming a missile.

"Roll in!"

Slaving both his missile controls and his Grindell to his eye piece, Aroldo kept his eyes locked onto the target as he waited for his computer to indicate it had a lock. "Locked on! Missile away!"

A loud thunk filled the cockpit as the missile flew off its rail. At the same time, Aroldo quickly began charging up his Grindell; if he did this right, then…

His missile dropped out of the sky and slammed into the Hunter from above while simultaneously, his laser hit it head on. The missile alone would probably have been enough to kill the Hunter, but with both weapons, the Hunter didn't keel over so much as simply explode.

Orange goo coated the entire street, splashing the roadway, the walls of the surrounding buildings, and especially the Covenant soldiers behind it. The sight made Aroldo feel sick to his stomach, but at the same time, he couldn't help feel a sense of satisfaction especially when he heard, "WOOHOO! DID YOU SEE THAT!? DID YOU SEE THAT!? HEY, THIS IS FORD 2-1, WHOEVER JUST SMOKED THOSE HUNTERS, GOD BLESS YOU! YOU JUST SAVED OUR ASSES!"

"Ford 2-1, this is Smokejumper 3-1, UNSC Army Aviation," Serratos calmly announced. "You can show your appreciation by making sure those kids make it. In fact, recommend you withdraw entirely as your position has become untenable, I say again- shit. Ford 2-1, north side, north side! You're about to be outflanked!"

Aroldo's head snapped to the side. One block over, an entire platoon's worth of Covenant were advancing on Ford 2-1. And they must have known the 'Hawks were in the air because they were pressing hard to get inside the school where Aroldo and the others wouldn't be able to shoot them.

"Ford 2-1, we're in position to provide fire support, but you gotta pull your troops back," Serratos warned. "Covies are within fifteen meters of your position: that's way inside the danger close zone. Ford 2-1, do you copy? Fall back, now."

"Smokejumper 3-1, just start shooting!" Ford urgently demanded. "My boys and I and know what we signed up for; those civies didn't. Make sure they get out!"

Serratos audibly grimaced. "Well, that's not a good sign."

"What are we doin', Cap?" Aroldo nervously asked.

"Switch over to rockets and 20mm's to minimize the chances of friendly fire; we're gonna drop down to the deck, get in close for better accuracy; gonna put us well within range of small arms, so we're gonna side strafe them. Copy?"

"Copy!"

"Gunner, you're cleared to fire as they bear."

Aroldo needed no further prompting. As soon as the first Covenant soldier appeared above the buildings, he sprayed them down with a mixture of Argents and cannon fire. The front ranks of the Covenant dissolved under the barrage but they weren't deterred; roughly half of them began firing back while the other half rushed towards the building.

"Shoot those advancing troops," Serratos ordered as a volley of small arms fire exploded around them.

"What about the shooters!?"

"Let me deal with them," Serratos snapped, even as she banked the 'Hawk hard to the right to avoid a concussion rifle shot. "Ground pounders need our help."

Seeing a few of the advancing Covenant get cut down by small arms fire from the building, but fail to deter the others, Aroldo stopped arguing and started shooting. An Argent landed amongst a cluster of Grunts, tearing them to shreds while he managed to get a direct hit on a Jackal, the Jackal's shield doing nothing to stop the high velocity shell.

"Ford, Smokejumper: give me a sitrep," Serratos demanded.

"EVACUATION COMPLETE! WE'RE PULLING OUT NOW! ANY CHANCE YOU CAN GIVE US AIR COVER? I'M AIMING TO NOT LEAVE ANYONE BEHIND, BUT I GOT A LOT OF WOUNDED TO KEEP TRACK OF!"

"Wait one. 3-2, what's your status?"

"Smoked two Covenant light mortars and dipped before they could retaliate. Leaving section twelve and headed for section nine now."

"Negative, divert to my location. We had a complication and now we're provide escort for a convoy of WIAs and civilians, including children. Push on ahead of them and make sure their route is clear; we'll mop up here and cover the rear, over."

"Wilco. Inbound, ETA, zero one mikes."

Even as he continued to fire, Aroldo managed to glance at the back of building. A convoy mostly consisting of yellow buses and being escorted by a couple of Colonial Militia Warthogs were pulling away from the school yet, small arms fire continued to pour from the building. "Hey, did they accidentally leave someone behind? That convoy just left, but I'm still seeing small arms fire coming from the building!"

"I don't know! Ford, Smokejumper. Interrogative: did you accidentally leave someone behind, over?"

Ford's voice was grim as they replied, "That's an a-firm, Smokejumper, but it wasn't by accident: a few my expectant volunteered to remain behind, to cover our retreat and draw the Covies in. They're asking that, as soon as the convoy is clear, you drop the building. Over."

Aroldo paused, mid-shot. That… that was a serious ask.

"No offense, Ford 2-1," Serratos tersely replied. "But I got to hear that from them, not you, over."

"Understood. Patching you through."

"This is Master Sergeant Manual Diaz, 197th Regional Support Group," a new voice sounded and even through the radio, Aroldo could hear how strained the Sergeant's voice was. "Smokejumper, in my day job, I'm a career firefighter, and have been for the last twenty years; I know what a fatal wound looks like. Me and my kids here, we know what we're asking. Just do it."

The sound of alien yelled suddenly rang through the radio waves, followed by the roar of gunfire before the line terminated. Aroldo heard Serratos sigh.

"Alright. Gunner, lock three thermobaric Anvil missiles onto that building, but hold fire: I'll pull the trigger myself.

"Wait, wha-? Captain, not that I'm exactly eager to be knowingly firing on friendly forces, but shooting weapons is kind of my job," Aroldo protested.

"Trust me, Mijo, you don't want this on your conscience. It's my call; I'll take the burden of responsibility of pulling the trigger," Serratos said as their 'Hawk pulled away to line up the shot.

"With all due respect, Captain, but that's a load of horseshit; I'm in this bird alongside you, I'm already culpable for whatever happens next," Aroldo tried to argue, but Serratos clearly wasn't having it because she said,

"Aroldo, if you're lucky, you're going to have a long and prosperous career as a 'Hawk pilot. If you're really lucky, you'll never have to make a call like this again. And until that day comes, I rather you keep your hands as clean as possible. Now stop arguing with me, Soldier, and gave me the damn trigger."

Aroldo slowly released the grip on his controls and watched as Serratos brought the 'Hawk into a hover.

"Rifle," she announced in a deceptively calm voice.

Three Anvil missiles slammed into the building in rapid succession, and he watched the entire wing where the heaviest fighting was taking place collapse. Watching the building catch fire and start to burn – the smoke and flames only adding to the overall conflagration consuming the city – Aroldo found he wasn't sure how to feel. It was like he told Serratos, it wasn't like he wanted to pull the trigger, but despite not being the one to do it, he still felt guilty just by virtue of being in the aircraft when it happened.

Thus it came with some relief when the Sparrowhawk abruptly pulled away from the ruins and Serratos announced, "Building secure, we're joining the convoy. 3-2, what's your twenty?"

"3-1, 3-2. We're currently five klicks ahead of the convoy; Kim spotted something suspicious on TADS, we pushed ahead to go check it out before- SHIT!"

Aroldo snapped his head up at that.

"3-2, sitrep!?"

3-2 returned but this time, Aroldo could hear all manner of explosions and alarms going off in the background.

"3-1, 3-2: in a bit of spot of trouble. Seems me and 3-4 stumbled across a platoon of Covies trying to set up an ambush for the convoy, but they don't seem to mind shooting at us. I've taken a fuel rod straight to the nose, and now I'm getting hit from all sides by cannon fire. Could use some help if you can swing it, over!"

"Copy! We're on our way! 3-3, stay with the convoy! Gunner!"

"Searching now! Hey, I might be able to lob a missile in their direction as long as 3-2 is lazing the target!" Aroldo said.

"I don't know if they're in a position to do that!"

They rocketed towards 3-2's position and as they got closer, Aroldo could see 3-2 – at a much lower altitude than them – getting raked with plasma fire. Before he could react, there was a massive explosion from 3-2's right wing, causing smoke and fire to come shooting out from their right ducted air fan.

"3-2, what the hell was that!?" Serratos demanded to know.

"Fuckers hit my rocket pod, cause them to go off! Registering damage to my right ducted fan and rear stabilizers, and half my weapons are now offline! Hey, feel free to start shooting at any time!"

"Gunner, wake up and start lobbing missiles!" Serratos snapped, causing Aroldo to jump.

"Copy!" Aroldo yelped and simply unloaded an entire volley into the area where most of the fire was coming from.

Abandoned cars, destroyed infrastructure, and even the entire front face of the nearest building went crashing to the ground as Aroldo frantically fired the full range of ordnance available to him as he wasn't entire sure where the Covenant cannon was. As they flew right over the site though, to try and draw the Covenant's fire, he spotted a blue explosion, indicating he had hit something, though what it was he couldn't say.

"3-2, break away and get out of range," Serratos ordered, and Aroldo glanced over at the 'Hawk to see their entire right side was covered in smoke. "3-2, your entire right side is damaged. Can you still fly or do you need to ditch, over?"

"This is Kim!" came the reply. "Holzworth is down, but I've got the stick! We're still in the air, but I don't think we can continue this fight! Gonna have to set her down somewhere, over!"

"Copy that. 3-2, RTB for immediate repairs. 3-4, go with him and make sure he makes it."

"We don't need an escort!" 3-2 immediately protested. "We can make it on our own; no need to pull two Sparrowhawks from the fight, over!"

"Yeah, that's not a risk I'm willing to take," Serratos dryly retorted, "so why don't you shut up and follow orders, Chief Warrant Officer. 3-4, follow 3-2 back to base and make sure they make it, over."

"Will do, 3-1."

"Gunner, sitrep?" Serratos asked as the two Sparrowhawks peeled away and started flying back in the direction of the airfield.

"I think we managed to hit them on the first pass," Aroldo said, looking out the side of the window. "'Cause I don't see anything moving down there. Either that, or they dipped right away."

"Well, if you see anything that doesn't look human, kill it. In the meantime, we're headed back to the convoy," Serratos said. "3-1 to 06, come in."

"This is 06, go ahead," the familiar voice of Aroldo's father came over the airwaves.

"06, be advised, I just sent half my company back to the airfield for damage repairs, and now I'm stuck escorting a military evacuation convoy with only two airframes. Any chance you could assist, over?"

"Copy. I'm coming over myself to lend a hand."

"Thanks, out. Uh-oh," Serratos said in a sing-song voice as soon as the line was closed. "Papi coming over to show you what for. Better look sharp."

Aroldo didn't bother responding, he just flipped her off and continued to search the ground as she laughed.

"3-1, 06: we're approaching from your north northwest, over."

"Rog. We got eyes on."

Aroldo looked up to see his father's Sparrowhawk on approach when – "Fuck! Fuel rod!"

A fuel rod cannon shot streaked up from the ground and sped towards the approaching Sparrowhawk. Just a split second before it was about to hit, Aroldo's father jerked his 'Hawk hard to the left, barely avoiding a direct hit, but the fuel rod managed to clip his right ducted fan shroud, tearing a large chunk from it.

"Fuck! Contact! Brute Major with a fuel rod! Down that left alley!" Serratos yelled.

"I see 'em!" Aroldo could barely talk as his heart was in his throat and instead he just unloaded his gun pod into the alleyway.

The Brute was thrown against a dumpster as the alien took a round directly to the face, but Aroldo barely noticed as he was too busy looking over his father's 'Hawk, checking for damage. Fortunately, aside from a badly scratched up right ducted fan, his father's bird seemed mostly intact and Aroldo let out a sigh of relief. That was too close.

"06, 3-1: are you alright? You look like you got clipped pretty good," Serratos was asking.

"All controls are registering," Quinteros responded with just a hint of relief in his voice. "Everything seems okay."

"Right rotor is smoking pretty badly," Serratos noted.

"Yes, I see that," Quinteros's reply was dry and sarcastic, and Aroldo resisted the urge to start giggling, "but like I said, everything seems to check out."

"Yeah, okay. Recommend you still RTB, get it checked out. We can handle everything from here, over."

"Yeah, copy that. 3-1, take over, break. 06 to all Smokejumper call signs, be advised, we've taken some rotor damage and are RTB'ing for repairs. 3-1 Actual is assuming command of the battalion, over."

"Copy."

Aroldo willed his heart to calm down as he watched his father's Sparrowhawk peel away. That was too close. Way too close.

"Aroldo, you okay?" he heard Serratos ask and he turned away to glance over his shoulder.

"Yeah. Part of the job, right?" he tried to sound casual, but even he could tell his voice was shaking, which he supposed no one would hold against him. He had almost lost his father just now.

"Alright. Well, let me- oh, fuck!"

Aroldo's head snapped back to his father's bird in time to see the entire right engine suffer a catastrophic failure! The entire rotor assembly simply ripped itself apart and the Sparrowhawk immediately plummeted towards the ground.

"Mayday, mayday, mayday, this is Smokejumper-06, my right engine just blew. We are going down, I say again, we are going down."

Raül Quinteros's voice was remarkably calm, but Aroldo doing his best not to panic as he watched his father's bird go down, down…

The Sparrowhawk hit the ground, crash landing in the middle of an open park and Aroldo couldn't hold it in any longer. "Dad. Dad! Can you hear me!?"

"Warrant Officer, knock it off and stay off the fucking radio unless you have something important to say!" Serratos snapped.

"That's my dad down there!"

"Yes, and the battalion CO. And you, as you pointed out earlier, are a warrant officer in the UNSC Army. Act like it," Serratos demanded, before softening her tone. "Besides, he's okay. Your dad's a professional; he managed to land his bird straight on his landing gear. Do you remember what they said in flight school?"

"Highest chance for survival," Aroldo murmured, "as the landing gear absorbs most of the impact."

"Exactly. 06 this is 3-1: do you copy, over?"

There was nothing but static.

"06, do you copy?... Smokejumper-Actual, do you copy? Colonel Quinteros, can you hear me, over?"

"There's no response!" Aroldo worriedly noted.

"Yes, I see. Could be the radio was damaged. Let's see if we can route some ground troops here. Ford 2-1, Smokejumper 3-1: be advised, we just had a bird go down near your location. Sending you a ping. Any chance you could divert and investigate, over?"

"Uh… no can do, Smokejumper, too dangerous. I got too many civilians and wounded and not enough men. We are basically combat effective, over."

Aroldo wanted to rage at them, but he could practically feel Serratos's eyes boring a hole in the back of his head, warning him to let her deal with it.

"Ford, I don't think you understand, I'm not asking you to engage anything, I am just asking for an extraction for my men, over."

"I get that, Smokejumper, and I'm sorry but I just can't risk it. I've got too many people depending on me to allow it. Over."

"Understood," Serratos replied and before Aroldo could snap at her, she said, "3-1 to all Smokejumper elements: be advised, 06 is down and down hard. Ditch whatever you're doing and rally on me. That includes you, 3-3."

"Wait, you can't just pull my air cover- "

There was a mute click as Serratos switched off the channel and Aroldo simultaneously felt like crying in relief and hugging her.

"Thank you," he said, but she seemed to ignore him as she said,

"Smokejumpers, set up a rotating overwatch over the crash site. We're going to touch down and see if we can't extract Colonel Quinteros and CW3 Backus via a spur ride, over."

"Got it, 3-1."

"Smokejumpers, this is Home Base: belay that order."

"WHAT!?"

This time, no amount of glaring from Serratos could shut Aroldo up. "Why the hell are being aborted?"

"Dude, shut up, you're too emotional right now to deal with this," Serratos hissed before saying, "Home Base, 3-1: say again your last, over?"

"All Smokejumper elements, fall back, now. We just lost all top cover; Covenant ships have broken through ODC's perimeter and are breaking through the atmosphere. We're picking up on two SDV-classcorvettes on approach. You do not have the ability to withstand that kind of firepower. Break off, now."

"Sir, we can still touch down! Extraction will take ten, fifteen minutes, tops!" Serratos protested.

"3-1, you have less than five minutes before lead Banshees are all over you. Retreat."

"Sir, with all due respect, but this my father you're telling me to abandon," Aroldo desperately said.

"I know that son, but I also know that if push came to shove, and if it was a choice between him and you, your father would choose you every time."

Aroldo couldn't stop himself flinching like he'd been stuck, and he felt his resolve crumbling.

"Sir, if we could just- " Serratos was saying but Aroldo cut her off.

"No, he's not wrong." The words felt like they were torn from his soul but he knew he had to say them. "My mom. She made him promise. Even if she hadn't, I don't…"

Aroldo trailed off, but Serratos seemed to understand.

"Breaking away," she announced and even though he was the one to allow her, he still couldn't help but bitterly notice how quickly she was leaving. "Aroldo, your dad will be fine. There's still a lot of people down there, enough to form a resistance. They'll survive, and when we kick the Covenants' collective asses, we'll come back and rescue them all. You hear that, 06!? We're coming back for you! Mark my words, we're coming back!"

Despite Serratos's optimism, Aroldo knew in his heart, this was the last time he was going to see his dad.

The Sparrowhawk thundered off, leaving behind only smoke and bodies.

General Notes

Rifle: in this context, "Rifle" is a brevity word for a friendly air to ground missile launch, in the same vein as "Fox" (Fox-1, Fox-2 etc.) for air-to-air missiles.

Spur Ride: in the context of attack helicopters, a spur ride is an unofficial method of extracting the crew of a downed attack chopper via another attack chopper. The downed crew would either sit on the extracting chopper's landing gear or sponson (depending on model of aircraft) and fly out that way. Its… not the safest method because – due to its unofficial nature – there's no real way for the downed crew to attach themselves to the helicopter meaning they just have to hope they have a tight grip, and the extracting bird doesn't do any fancy maneuvers.