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Soldiers at Play by StevieTopSiders
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Soldiers at Play (Chapter One)
Date: 23 March 2009, 12:06 am
1700 Hours, February 10, 2535 (Military Calendar) /
Lambda Serpentis System, Jericho VII / Western Shore of the Main Continent
4th Squad Leader Joseph Grant sat at his computer station, monitoring the air traffic entering and leaving Jericho VII's Main Continent. He was filling out his hourly report while looking out the window lazily. The Covenant had not yet landed here, which was quite a lucky thing for the civilians being evacuated. The murky waters swirled beneath the bluff upon which the radar station was positioned. Small fishing boats stood abandoned on the horizon.
Joseph had been stationed outside the planet's capital, City of Palms, since the UNSC had been warned of the impending Covenant attack. It had been about a month now, and the action had just started. His platoon of Marines had been stationed aboard the UNSC Justinian, a brand new cruiser. They belonged to the 10th Marine Recon Battalion, Echo Company, 2nd Platoon.
Joseph had snuck away from his comfortable home in New Constantinople just a couple months ago. He was only seventeen years old and imagined an exciting career defending his race against the alien aggressors. So far, it had been rather dull.
A siren shattered the thick silence of the afternoon; an electronic bell began to ring loudly, and strobe lights started flashing. Two red blips were approaching the mainland, and another, faster blue symbol was racing towards the outpost. The objects had no IFF. They were Covenant!
Joseph looked at the display in disbelief. I thought the Covenant were only supposed to be landing out on the Western Continent where our UNSC base is!
"Mortar!" Joseph yelled into the base's intercom. He searched the room frantically for an exit, his eyes darting back and forth. There wasn't one close enough to him. Adrenaline pumping, Joseph picked up his M6G pistol and squeezed four shots into a box, wide enough for a casket, in the window. He shot another round into the middle of the cracked square and dove through, headfirst. His helmet kept most of the glass from cutting him, but some jagged shards sliced into his cheek. He screamed in pain as he descended in a free-fall, headed for the water below.
BOOM! The outpost exploded in a fiery blue cloud behind him. The structure was razed almost instantly. Searing plasma melted the concrete and the men inside like metal beneath a blowtorch. All that was left was a field of scorched earth with occasional parts of the foundation jutting into the crisp air. Not one of the two squads inside survived. The only remaining structures were the garage and the latrines, which were located further away from the outpost. Two M12-LRV Warthogs, a couple of M274 Mongooses, and toilets were all that was left of the City of Palms radar post.
Joseph clumsily prepared his body for impact with the churning ocean below. The splash his body made was barely discernable within the maelstrom of waves crashing on the large, sharp boulders of the bluff. His body knifed many yards into the water; he was dazed and confused from the lack of oxygen. The waters were pressing against him, yearning to enter his lungs. Then Joseph saw sunlight, reoriented himself, and kicked for the surface. His lungs raked in the air as he surfaced in the icy British Channel. He surveyed his surroundings and swam carefully to shore, making sure to steer clear of sharp rocks that he knew would shatter his body had he been thrown into one of them.
Grant finally arrived, panting heavily, on the beach and ran low to the ground in a beeline toward the latrine complex in the woods near the outpost. There he met up with First and Third Squads, who were rapidly erecting sandbag barriers. Two Marines were assembling a tripod for a M247 GP Machine Gun turret. Three others were parking the Warthogs and Mongooses on the road to Carentan in preparation for a quick retreat.
Joseph reported to First Sergeant Daniel Kelsey, the leader of their platoon. "Sir, Joseph Grant reporting, UNSC I.D. Number 014-287-012! Requesting a weapon, an update, and a med kit for my face," Joseph reported, flustered.
"Your face may hurt, soldier, but it's killing me," the First Sergeant looked up smiling, but the look quickly turned somber. "I have no clue why you survived. The rest of your squad, as well as Second Squad, weren't so lucky."
"I'm sorry to hear that sir."
"Well, just make sure you remember them when we kick some Covenant ass in a minute. Here's the update. The Covenant are trying to make a beachhead for an attack on a population center. They're going to need a base, so here sounded like a good place, though I'm not sure that those little Grunty bastards enjoy moonlit walks on the beach. Our job is to make sure they don't succeed. We have two Phantoms inbound, and it looks like they're carrying Brutes, not Elites. But we gotta kick their asses right back to where they came from anyway!" Kelsey barked. "I'll have two Third-Squaders help you out. For the med-kit, go see Corporal Lange over there. Dilinkov will outfit you with a weapon."
Joseph walked over to a small copse of trees and sat down on a supply crate. He was patched up by a young Marine with an S2-AM Sniper Rifle slung over his back. They made small talk as the biofoam sealed the wound, and a bandage was applied to the cut. The medical marvel seared as it saved the cheek from infection. The Corporal, named Jacob, waved goodbye as Joseph ambled over to the makeshift armory.
A Russian Marine, also carrying a sniper rifle, swore as a rack of M90 Shotguns fell over with a crash. He muttered darkly under his breath as he set out to rectify the damage.
"Excuse me, sir, I'm here to pick up a weapon. A Battle Rifle or MA5C would be nice," said Joseph.
The Marine stood up and was suddenly all smiles. "Of course, sorry about that. Making an armory on sandy beaches is somewhat of a lost skill these days." The man laughed. "My name is Will Dilinkov, Lance Corporal." He held out his hand, and Joseph took it and shook firmly.
"Thank you, soldier."
"No problem! Now, you said you wanted a BR55? Well, lucky for you, I have the newest model, a BR55 Battle Rifle, Series Two!" Will exclaimed triumphantly, hoping to impress Joseph with his tag reading skills.
"What makes it better than the Series One?" Joseph asked.
"Absolutely nothing! It's just from the second batch out of Misriah," responded Will.
Joseph laughed too and thanked him; he took the weapon, three clips of ammo, and some shooting glasses. He walked away to get familiar with the new armament. His platoon had not been called out for active duty yet, and his measly amount of time in the Corps, therefore, weapons, wouldn't shoot him any tangos. The normally heavy rifle felt light in his hands. His training, though, had prepared him for this. Joseph blindly loaded and reloaded the gun twice. Then he raised the medium-range rifle and took aim at what use to be his bunk, the wall was still standing. He fired three bursts and watched proudly as they drilled one after another into a circle approximately ten centimeters in diameter.
That's about the size of an alien head. He though, satisfied. I'm ready.
Argor sniffed the air expectantly as the Phantom dropship neared its destination. The sunlight reflected dazzlingly off of his crimson armor, and his leather buckles glistened brightly in the light, recently polished. He wielded the hammer in his hand with authority. It had the power to throw a human vehicle twenty-five units. He had taken it from his father after defeating him in single combat, the primary method of Jiralhanae inheritance.
His pack was similarly adorned, though in less magnificent teals and blues. They were eager for bloodshed, as they had missed all previous engagements with the humans. Many checked their Type-25 Carbine Spikers, searching for another reason to clean the weapon. The guns' deadly shards would easily eat through human armor and flesh.
Argor grunted at the Unggoy pilot. The puny creature nodded in acknowledgement and activated the forward turret. His pack prepared for landfall, their killing scent rotting the air in the Phantom.
"For the Prophets!" roared Argor as the Phantom's gravity lift activated and the pack leaped into the void.
The energy pulses from the first Phantom's forward turret began to char the forest that was blocking the showers from view of the ocean and its beachgoers. The Marines huddled behind sandbags and waited anxiously for the barrage to end.
"Blow out the candle, Marines!" screamed Kelsey as two marines with M19 SSM Rocket Launchers stood up and launched a salvo at the first Phantom. Both SPNKr rockets hit, and the plasma gun fell out of its clamp below the alien troop carrier. The Marines repeated the process on the second Phantom.
"Clear!"
The Marines let out a cheer, thinking that the battle may already have been won. They were wrong. A group of large, ape-like aliens and some Grunts exited the enemy troop carriers.
"Is this Animal Planet, or when did the Covenant get rhinos?" shouted a Marine, using humor to hide his fear.
"Crap! ONI didn't want people to know that we have another alien species to fight against, but, for the record, they're called Brutes," answered Kelsey. "Either way, they still die from bullets like everyone else, so start firing!"
The .30 caliber rounds from the turret, as well as the LAAG's on the Warthogs, activated and began to eat away at the Brutes' shields. The Brute pack, consisting of ten fearsome specimens, was momentarily stunned, but they soon began to move up the beach, ducking behind dunes as they went.
A group of Grunts had been dropped from the second Phantom and were in a panic on the beachhead. Corporal Dilinkov stuck his rifle into the crook of his shoulder and tracked one of the little aliens in the center of the group. He fired once with and explosive-tipped round. The Grunt's methane pack burst into flame immediately. He ran around, screaming, in a circle. The fire zipped down the stubby suit and reacted with the alien's plasma grenades. A bright blue explosion lit up the beach as four of the twelve Grunts were taken out in a flash of gore and fire. Their spirits broken, the rest of the dinky aliens scurried forward to get behind their shielded counterparts.
"All mine!" shouted Dilinkov triumphantly. He pulled out his Combat Knife and proceeded to make four notches on the butt of his rifle.
Meanwhile the Brutes were about ready to charge over the top of the hill. All of the Marines' weapons were trained at the drop-off.
"We won't be able to take them all out by the time they charge us. I want you three," he pointed to a group of soldiers manning one of the Warthogs, "To drive behind those bastards and soften 'em up with the gun, so we can take 'em out once they climb the hill. Go on three. One… Two… THREE!"
The driver hit the accelerator, and the tires of the LRV screamed as they dug into the wet sand of the beach. Dirt and grime sprayed everywhere as the Warthog tore down the shore and rounded the dune, all three barrels blazing like a 4th of July celebration.
The gun was rotating at full speed, trained on the lead Brute. He bellowed, and charged at the Warthog with his hammer as the rest of the pack began to clamber up and over the hill. The crimson-covered creature swung the mallet and sent the M12 careening into a dune, splattering two more Grunts on the way.
Poor little guys. Thought Joseph sarcastically. Out of the frying pan and into the… Warthog?
The gunner was thrown from the turret, but she sped back to the UNSC lines unscathed. The driver was killed on impact; his helmet punched a hole in the LRV's windshield. The Marine passenger, however, survived. He got groggily to his feet and looked up. The ape-like creature stood above him, snarling. He cursed and brought up his sidearm, but too late; the mighty beast tore the Marine in two with its bare hands.
Meanwhile, the first two Brutes, wearing teal armor, cleared the dune and rushed forward. One received two 14.5 x 114 mm slugs to the face and promptly fell down. The other lobbed what looked like an ancient German potato-masher grenade at the defenders but was quickly cut down by fire from the M247 and the M12's LAAG. The grenade landed and stuck to one of the M274 Mongooses. The directional grenade detonated. The quad exploded and sent shards of metal flying through the air. A Marine was bisected by the exhaust pipe, but no one else was hurt. The remaining Brutes were dissuaded from going "over the top."
Grant raised his Battle Rifle and began to land shots on the pack leader's head, because he had relinquished his cover in favor of ripping apart one of Joseph's comrades. The bullets ricocheted off his shields, but Joseph could see them crackling, a sure sign of their weakening. The great hulk of fur and muscle turned to him and roared defiantly, but the macho act lasted only so long. He quickly motioned to his troops and retreated down the beach. They loaded into the Phantoms and quickly disappeared over the horizon.
The Marines cheered, but Kelsey was already on the radio. "FLEETCOM, this is First Sergeant Daniel Kelsey!" he said with surprising calm. "We've been attacked by Covenant and are requesting interceptors to end their retreat. Two Phantoms are leaving City of Palms with almost a whole Brute pack and s squad of Grunts." The radio babble rose and fell. "Okay. Yes, sir. Thank you."
He put down the receiver.
"Sir?" asked an orderly.
They're being escorted out by a squadron of Seraphs that just popped down in atmosphere. Command won't risk the attack," Kelsey replied.
"Who cares?" shouted a Marine. "Our Navy brothers will kick their asses in orbit, anyway."
"Ooh-rah!" replied the Marines, just recovering from their battle-induced adrenaline.
Kelsey looked at his comm and addressed the men. "Great job guys, that was some A-rate combat right there. We'll get our shiny medals and stuff soon, but, for now, Command wants us to go aid the evacuation of civilians. Pelicans are inbound. Grant, you're in charge of Fourth Squad, because Henley died on the beach. May he rest in peace."
"Amen," sounded the Marines solemnly.
"Eyes up! Evac is here."
The Marines gathered their equipment and trooped into the waiting Pelicans. Joseph set his rifle into the netting above his chair and strapped in. The Pelican's engines whined and pushed itself off the ground. The group flew in formation until it reached the city, where a crowd was milling about.
I can shoot aliens just fine, but now I have to convince people that they really shouldn't take their viewscreens with them. Joseph mused. I wonder which will be harder…
Halo: Soldiers at Play (Chapter Two)
Date: 14 April 2009, 11:43 pm
2300 Hours, February 10, 2535 (Military Calendar) /
Lambda Serpentis System, Jericho VII / City of Palms
"But, but, sir! I donate very generously to the UNSC Veterans' Association. I've made many large contributions, and I even built the local Veterans' Memorial."
And I made a donation to the World Stupidity Fund by trying to convince you to leave your affluent neighborhood and your stupid car. "Sir, I'm sorry. There are too many civilians, and we just won't be to bring along your 1968 Ford Mustang. I apologize and thank you for your generosity to the UNSC, but I say again, 'No!'" The man began to formulate a reply, but Joseph cut him off decisively. "Does that thing still use carbon-based fuels, anyway? I can't believe that you even got it out here to this backwater colony."
"I can assure you that it was quite easy, before you militaristic pigs started infringing upon the little local autonomy we had," the man replied, and then he spat. "I hope some alien bastard kills you long and slow. And don't you dare call this colony backwater! My grandfather…"
"Was probably smart enough to can it when talking with a UNSC Marine," Joseph finished his sentence for him. "Now, get gone!"
He turned to leave, undoubtedly to badger another soldier about his vintage car. It was sitting in the man's garage, which was set apart from the main body of his house. Well, more like mansion. The car itself was very exotic and completely spotless, a sure sign that the man never intended to drive it, even if it did make it far enough to avoid being glassed. It is a nice car, though.
"Also," Joseph shouted after him, "us militaristic pigs are the only thing between you and a nice hide singing yourself."
The man turned one last time and let fly with a string of obscenities. I bet he even would've tipped me if I let him have his car. This war is turning some nice civilians into very pissed off Innie supporters. Let's make sure he gets to the spaceport without getting killed.
Joseph pulled a grenade from his belt, gauged the distance from him to the man's garage, pulled the pin, and let it fly. His aim was true, and the M9 grenade bounced under the car. The man squawked and began to rush toward the garage.
BOOM! The Fragmentation Grenade exploded, gutting the car and ripping one of the roof supports. The structure tottered, and then collapsed in a puff of dust and smoke. The car's owner was thrown back but quickly recovered. He put his tail between his legs and ran to the spaceport as quickly as possible, probably intending to file a complaint.
Joseph had been coaxing civilians into evacuating the planet for four hours, once the two-hour drive from the radar post had been finished. And boy, am I tired! His platoon had started out on the outskirts of the city, where new, cheap developments were rampant, and people were more than happy to leave their shoddy condominiums to a new house, which they would, of course, buy with the UNSC Relocation Bonus they would get. The going got tougher the further into the city they penetrated and the more established the neighborhood was.
Joseph's HUD flashed a message. Since his battalion was a recon force, and therefore on the fringes of special warfare classification, they had had their standard issue ground-pounder helmets upgraded. The new helmet still shone with the drab army olive, but the polarized orange visor completely covered his eyes, as opposed to the small green drop-down screen normal Marines were supplied with, and molded around the bridge of his nose. The piece was modular, and it could be fitted with almost any tactical supplement.
Joseph tapped his data pad, with which he had been checking off civilians as he confirmed that they had left their homes, and the TEAMCOM activated in his earbud, it was First Sergeant Kelsey: "All units, acknowledge," Joseph stowed the pad and responded. "Okay, we've got Covenant artillery moving in on the west of the city. The spaceport is out east, so we should have some time to stop 'em. I want all fireteams to move into the downtown area, we'll be able to hold them there."
The COM cut, and Joseph's HUD sprang up with a map of all nearby personnel. He glanced at the tags, and saw that he was near Corporal Lange and Lance Corporal Dilinkov. Pallas, the "smart" A.I. of the Justinian routed them into a COM network. Joseph asked, "Does anybody have transport?"
Will Dilinkov responded, "Yeah, I got a Gauss Warthog fueled and ready, I had to pay for it myself though! That bloody gas station owner didn't wanna donate some hydrogen to the people saving his life! Not like he's gonna lose it all anyway when our Navy brothers get raped in space."
"Docking tubes?" laughed Jacob Lange. "What the heck, come pick us up."
"Already on it."
Joseph turned in a slow circle, scanning for the Warthog, which, according to his HUD, should have been appearing right about…
A horn blared, and Joseph was suddenly blinded by the powerful headlights of the Light Anti-Armor Vehicle. "Shit, man," said Joseph, blinking, "you could've just picked me up like a normal driver."
Will laughed, "You're not my prom date, and the sarge wants us their ASAP. Now get on the turret." Joseph ran to the back of the 'Hog, stowed his ammo bag, and started to pull himself up. "Hold on!" The LRV shot forward, almost causing the gunner to lose his grip.
They picked up Jacob, who pulled a Rocket Launcher from below the seat and loaded it. The Warthog made its way to the city center, with the sounds of combat just starting to float towards them on the breeze.
A blue explosion lit up the street. "Ah! My eyes!" shouted a UNSC Army private, straightening up and flailing his arms in a doomed attempt to shield his eyes. He was soon cut down by small arms fire. Joseph's helmet had automatically polarized, but his head still hurt. He swung the Gauss Cannon towards the Wraith that had fired the plasma mortar. Joseph pulled the trigger and fired, ducking small plasma bolts, but a bump in the road sent his shot awry, hitting a Brute next to the Wraith. He grimly hoped that he had not seen a body in the road where they had just driven.
Dilinkov spun the vehicle in a quick 180. "Get them on this pass!" he shouted over the roar of combat and gunned the engine.
Joseph gripped the handles of the turret tighter; his palms were sweaty. As the Warthog dashed back through the intersection, Joseph found his target and fired two shots. The first round punched through the tank's forward armor, exposing the ape-like driver beneath. The second rent him in half and sliced into the engine. A whine filled the air, and the Wraith exploded, knocking over the infantry who were protecting it.
Dilinkov stopped the M12, and Jacob quickly motioned to the Army soldiers, "Move up now!" Will turned the 'Hog up the street, hoping to push their advantage. Another Brute stepped out from behind the Wraith, pulling up his Spiker. Too late. He screamed as he saw three tonnes of metal bearing down on him. The car thudded with the impact, and the windshield was spattered with blood. "Great, now I can't even see." Jacob stood up like an acrobat in the moving vehicle and wiped it down with a rag from his pack.
"Don't fall!" jibed Will.
"I ran away to join the circus when I was like, three. This is cake," he responded, laughing fearfully.
Up ahead, they saw the smoking remains of the UNSC's first barricade impeding Covenant progress towards the spaceport.
Pallas joined their COM; "You guys might wanna wait for some backup. Army heavy armor has just been dropped a couple streets back." His male voice, young and accented like that of the ancient Roman hero, piped up excitedly.
"Whatever, we'll take 'em ourselves," grimaced Will.
The driver gunned it, and the vehicle flew threw the gate, already swinging uselessly from its hinges. Another Wraith tank materialized a couple hundred yards in front of them. The infantry contingent assigned to guard it looked up, surprised. They obviously hadn't expected to see the humans for another couple minutes. The tank pilot, however, wasn't taken aback for long. He fired.
"Oh, crap," Joseph couldn't tell which of them had said it, or all three.
The first shot landed well in front of them, but the searing blue heat still melted the Warthog's tires. Joseph frantically began to shoot. The first shot hit the Wraith's shields, but before he could fire again, the tank let loose another volley. Jacob leaned out the side of the speeding 'Hog and let slip a rocket. Combined, the two shots depleted the Wraith's shields and knocked down a few Grunts, but they couldn't stop the tank from firing.
The mortar landed a couple yards in front of the fast-moving Warthog, and all of its momentum was instantly reversed. The LRV was thrown back, the front end lifting off the ground and turning to the left; the car started to spin, a "barrel roll." Joseph could have sworn that time had stopped. Everything happened in excruciating slowness. Dilinkov mouthed a curse word before being turned entirely upside down, and Jacob hung on to the dashboard with a sickly face. They're moving so slowly, shouldn't they be falling?
Just as soon as it stopped, time resumed its normal pace, which was, for them, pretty fast. The 'Hog landed on its side and rolled. It was a miracle that nobody was crushed. Then, it halted suddenly, running into a low concrete barrier, and throwing the three clear of the car onto hot asphalt. Joseph screamed in agony and slipped into unconsciousness.
"Wake up, dammit!"
Joseph looked up bleary eyed, everything was fuzzy, and his vision was riddled with black spots. Everything was spinning. "How am I still alive?" The words were slurred, and he could taste blood in his mouth. The clatter of gunfire rebounded in his head.
"Your vitals have marked you unconscious for only a couple minutes," his vision focused, Sergeant Kelsey. His face was slightly burned, and he had a bandage around his left wrist. "Now, hurry up, you definitely won't be alive if you keep sitting like this."
Joseph steadied himself and got up. Will was walking unsteadily, and Jacob was also being coerced shakily to his feet. Joseph hurled and felt better. He stood up, adrenaline already kicking in, along with his combat reflexes. The Wraith was on fire, and he soon discovered why. Army M808B Scorpions were taking the field.
"When did they get there?" asked Jacob incredulously. "Those 90mm. cannons would have come in real handy a little bit ago."
Kelsey laughed and answered, "They interpreted that suicidal dash you guys made as bravery. They were swarming through the road block seconds after you guys."
Joseph whistled in amazement.
"Okay, tell me this," this time, Will spoke up, "where were you all this time that we were being brave?"
The First Sergeant referenced his face and hand; "I was taking out some AA Wraiths over yonder," he waved south, "so that we could send the Covenant a little present."
A TACMAP sprung into Joseph's HUD. Friendly units were approaching quickly from the southeast. He minimized the map and looked up. A flight of Shortsword bombers flew into view. They began to carpet bomb the suburbs around City of Palms where the Covenant had taken up residence.
"And I suppose you did that all by yourself?" Joseph asked, and the three non-coms laughed.
Kelsey's look darkened; "We lost a lotta good men over there, even if they were Army. We got up in the skyscrapers and started raining down SPNKrs on two Anti-Air Wraiths, killed a bugger, but before we could destroy the second one, he looked up and started pumping fuel rod blasts into us. The Marine next to me, who shot the killing rocket, died right after he pulled the trigger. My floor collapsed and fell down, that's how I got this, scraping on some metal."
They all stood in sober quiet. Jacob broke the silence, "Well, now we feel like..." He trailed off.
"It's okay, soldier, that's what those grunts signed up for. To give their lives for their race."
Joseph looked up suddenly. "Pelican inbound!" he shouted.
Kelsey growled, "About time."
They filed into the troop bay, where their platoon, or at least what was left of it, was waiting. Kelsey entered the cockpit of the DC77H-TCI Pelican, and it began to lift off. Will, Jacob, and Joseph stood in the rear of the bay; there were at least enough Marines to fill the seats. Joseph took the rear-facing turret, as the dropship rose away from the burning city.
The loudspeaker in the back of the Pelican activated; "Okay, Marines. We did an outstanding job today, but we'll leave the front line up to the Army for a little bit while we get some rest." The soldiers mocked a groan. "We're pulling back to defend the spaceport and make sorties to protect the civilians still flowing in. But, we will get a couple hours of sleep for now." They cheered, though it was so lackluster that Joseph thought some had already fallen asleep. Five hours? Then I'll be fighting for my life again.
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