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Struggle to survive by Sh4rk
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Struggle to survive: Prologue
Date: 26 April 2005, 4:44 PM
Prologue
Location: Classified
Date: Classified
Time 11:49
Tom was hiding. In fact he was cowering inside a dark cupboard. Tom didn't like the dark, but he'd rather be scared than dead. Outside his hiding place he could hear the covenant moving around searching for survivors. Tom prayed to any and every god he could think of. Zeus, Jupiter, Christ they all were entreated to save him. He lay there listening. Every now and then there would be a burst of plasma fire then a scream and he knew another comrade was dead. He was ashamed, he was a marine for fucks sake, and he should be out there fighting the enemy. But he couldn't, he wouldn't. He loved life too much to risk death. He was a coward. He lay there for what seemed like hours, until there was no noise that he could hear. The covenant must have left he thought, but he was still not prepared to leave his hiding place. He must of dozed off because the next thing he knew, the door was open and light was streaming in. he blinked once saw a hulking figure in front of him, made a grab for his pistol and died.
Arona 'Ulleame smiled as he wiped the human's blood off his blue armor. His hundredth kill. He chuckled as he removed his helmet. Some of the human's brain had become lodged in its eye slit. Arona didn't mind though. One hundred kills. At last he was a veteran. As soon as he got off this rock he would go and see his commander. He would be stripped of his blue armor. Then after a night spent in prayer he would don his new scarlet armor. He smiled as he replaced his helmet making sure that the armor over his mandibles was locked in place. He smiled again thinking of his new armor waiting on board the flag ship. He stepped out of the main complex and strode over towards the command area. He was still smiling when the sniper round hit. Before his body had even hit the floor the elites in the command centre had hit the ground and crawled behind cover, searching desperately to try and find the human who had such a good shot at their HQ. They stayed behind cover for the next twenty minutes while teams of jackals scoured the nearby area in a desperate attempt to find the enemy. Eventually the jackal commander radioed in to say that they hadn't found the sniper, but that they had found an empty casing on top of a nearby building, suggesting that the sniper had moved on. The elites got cautiously up and when none of their number were killed, relaxed and went back to work
In a nearby tree Sergeant Davis readied his sniper rifle. He'd killed his fair share today, but there were just too many of the bastards, command needed to do something drastic soon if they were to stop the covenant. He stared down his sniper scope at the enemy HQ searching for the gold elite that he knew had to be in charge. He couldn't see him and was just looking again for a high ranked officer when he saw and elite looking straight at him. Through his scope he could see every detail, the places where the red coloring had been scraped off its armor, the grenades on its belt, and the pistol in its holster. He could also see the look of surprise on its face and he knew that it had seen him. The elite dived for cover and roared to his comrades. Davis swore. He fired a shot and was rewarded with a roar of pain as the elite he'd wounded pulled his blue armored leg back behind the box it was sheltering behind. He spied a red armored shoulder sticking out from behind a crate and fired again, this time however the aliens shield deflected the round. The problem with elites was they had shields. The blue bastards where the lowest rank and so their shields were pretty weak, a sniper round could plow straight through them. The red armored elites were harder. Their shields could handle a sniper round before they went down. Then there were the gold SOB's those guys were tough, it took two or three shots to take their shields down. Finally there were the silver or black spec ops elites. Those mothers were hard. He'd seen them take a clip and a half of sniper rounds before they finally went down. He shivered and looked around hoping that he wouldn't be facing them today. He jumped down from his tree looked around and once he was sure the area was clear took a claymore anti personal mine from his back pack. He set it up about ten feet from the tree facing it. Then he linked it up to a pressure sensor which he placed at the foot of the tree. Finally he covered both with leaves and twigs before running as fast as he could towards a copse of trees about three hundred yards away. He settled down in the long grass at the trees feet to watch the show. Sure enough about five minutes later a team of jackals approached his former hiding place. He watched them shuffle around it base looking for him, until eventually one of them made the fatal mistake of stepping on the concealed pressure sensor. He smiled and lifted his rifle, sighted and fired all in one swift movement. The blue elite he'd wounded earlier flew back in a spray of blue black blood and lay twitching on the ground his head now sporting a hole in between his eyes. He smiled again. Then he saw it, a flash of gold amongst the red at the command centre. He didn't fire knowing that with only three rounds left in the clip his chances of neutralizing the enemy leader were slim. Quickly he reloaded and sighted, he took a deep breath, let it half out, and then when his sight was steady he fire off four shots in quick succession, the first hit the gold elites shields, the second missed but the third and fourth were head shots. The first dropping the aliens shield and the second dropping him. Davis got up slung his rifle and with out even bothering to reload ran. He knew he'd kicked up a hornets nest and had no intention of being stung.
High in the atmosphere Admiral Harper sat in his flagship, the Victory. He studied the sensor pattern in front of him, trying to think of anything more he could do, he had a means of victory, but at a cost, so he desperately tried to come up with another solution. Beckoning an aide he asked him, "what about the ODST's?"
"Too few of them" he replied.
Admiral Harper was silent for a few minutes. He sighed then turned to his aide and nodded. It was done. There was nothing more he could do. Many decks below a technician programmed some co-ordinates into a computer. When he hit the execute button, a single Jackhammer SOb (Sub Orbital or Son of a Bitch as the techies liked to call it) missile fired from its launch tube. It lived up to its nick name, forty four feet long and a dark silver in color it swelled outwards just before the tip so that it could carry its deadly payload. Its eight control fins gave it superb maneuverability and it carried a number of machines designed to hide it from radar by ionizing the air around it. It was, put bluntly lethal. It sped down through the atmosphere until it was only two hundred feet off the ground then sped at mach 12 round the planet to the opposite side before blasting back into the upper atmosphere and detonating. The tactical nova warhead on it, a smaller version of the usual nova weapon, exploded and totally destroyed the covenant flag ship in orbit above the planet. It also sterilized the planets surface with in fifty mile radius condemning all the covenant and humans within that area to an immediate death.
Admiral Harper sat back in his command chair and closed his eyes. It was done. The covenant invasion was halted. The marines under his command could deal with the stragglers left on the planet surface with out much difficulty.
That was when the main Covenant fleet dropped out of slipspace plasma weapons glowing and spoiling for a fight.
Struggle to Survive: Warriors have Families Too!
Date: 2 May 2005, 5:26 PM
Chapter 1: Warriors have Families too!
The captain blew out a plume of smoke and turned to his audience. Alan Davis sat in the kitchen at his family's home in San Francisco. A man from the admiralty had turned up to see his mother. He didn't need to hear what he said to know what had happened. His father was dead. He sat there at the kitchen table looking at the floor and wondering whether he should be crying. At length he looked up. "How did he die?" he asked.
"Well," replied the man "Your father was based at a weapons research facility. I'm sorry but I can't tell you where. Anyway a covenant flag ship arrived and landed troops right on top of the facility. Your father along with the rest of the garrison didn't stand a chance. If he had survived the assault then he would have died when the entire facility was destroyed by a Nova detonation. The flag ship itself was also destroyed, but soon afterwards the actual covenant fleet jumped in and the lone UNSC ship had no choice but to retreat."
Alan swallowed then asked the man if he could have a word with his mother in private. The man said he understood and left. Alan took a deep breath and turned to face his mother, who seeing the look on his face and guessing his intent, didn't even allow him to speak before screaming "No! No! No!" Alan patiently waited for her to calm down before saying "Yes mother, I'm going to join up. I was going to anyway, all my stuff is packed. The news we have just received has only convinced me more. However I will stay a little longer while our family recovers." At this, his mother broke down completely and Alan felt guilty for telling her at what he now realized was probably the worst time. But it was done now, and there was nothing he could do about it. He called the man back in, "Sir, he said recognizing the captains bars on the man's uniform could you possibly explain to me how I might join the Military?"
"Well," said the man, "if you come back with me you can join up straight away." Alan chewed his lip, torn between the opportunity and his promise to stay for a while. He was still thinking when his mother got up and went up stairs. A few moments later she was back, with Alan's bags. "Go," she whispered "please, don't die."
"I won't" replied Alan.
Outside he turned to the man. "Sorry sir," he said, "but I never found out your name."
"James Harper" he replied.
"Admiral James Harper" exclaimed Alan.
"Yes" said the man uncomfortably, "but don't tell anyone. I'm visiting all the families of men who died at, sorry classified and I would rather do it low key. I let the families know who I am but I don't want the media attention!"
"I see" said Alan. "Why though? Most other admirals would send a letter"
"I hold myself responsible for my men's lives" replied Admiral Harper "Now come on, get in the car."
"Oh, Ok so what happens now?" asked Alan.
"Well I've got three more stops then we can head over to the marine recruitment centre if that's who you want to join?"
"Yes sir"
"Well get in then, you can be my aide for the moment."
They made two more stops in the area near Alan's house. Not anywhere or anyone that Alan knew, so he sat in the car and talked politely to the policemen who tried to fine them. For their third stop they had to drive for slightly longer, heading into a smarter area of town. The turned into a street and Alan suddenly knew where they were. Then they had turned into a cul-de-sac and he still knew where they were then they stopped outside a large house and he groaned. Admiral Harper looked at him. "Sorry sir," said Alan, "but I know the occupants of that house!" In that house lived Jenny Chandler. An old school friend, actually for a while they had been more than friends, but that was all in the past. Alan had first met her when she had found him lying in a bloody heap having been beaten up by the school bully. She had cleaned him up and taken him to the sick room and through that simple act of kindness a bond had been formed. Alan smiled as he remembered how that summer he had grown and when he came back for his third year he had thrown that bully, Alistair Travis that was his name, down the stairs and broken his nose. He got out of the car and walked up to the door bell and rang it. Jenny's mother opened the door. "Hello Alan," she said after a short pause as she tried desperately to remember his name. "What can I do for you?"
"Captain Harper here wishes to speak to you," replied Alan. He then turned and went back and sat in the car as Admiral Harper went inside. After twenty minutes the door opened and he turned to see Jenny with a hold all walking towards the car she saw him and smiled, he smiled back, sort of. She walked round to the back of the car and chucked her bag in the boot before getting in behind the drivers seat.
"Hello Jenny," said Alan nervously.
"Hi Grumpy" she replied
"What?"
"You could have at least smiled"
"I did"
"Oh so that was what that grimace was." She laughed.
Alan saw a movement at the door it was Admiral Harper and Jenny's mum.
"Shit!" swore Jenny and ducked down in her seat.
"What's wrong?" he asked
"Sssh, my mum doesn't know I'm joining up!" she replied.
"Oh"
"Exactly now ignore me, she can't find me or I won't be able to go."
"Ah"
"Yes, now shut up."
Admiral Harper got into the car. If he noticed Jenny he gave no sign. It wasn't until they were on the highway heading to the marine training facility that he spoke. "Hello Jenny".
"Hello Uncle Jamie"
Alan couldn't believe it. They drove on for another ten minutes Jenny and Admiral Harper chattering away. Alan couldn't believe the change that had come over him. No longer was he the aloof Admiral but now he was a funny friendly man.
They pulled up outside the marine base and James and Jenny got out. They were just about to leave when Admiral Harper wound down his window. "Alan," he said, "Take care of her for me. I hear you've taken care of her before! Ha!" and with that parting shot he drove off.
Alan turned on Jenny. "How"
"I don't know" she replied holding her hands out in a gesture of peace.
"Liar" he replied. They laughed as they walked into the base.
A few hours later, having filled in all the forms, they stood with two hundred other recruits in a line waiting for something to happen.
All of a sudden a door banged open and a sergeant strode in. "So you want to kick ass do you. Well you've come to the right place. Bunk down ladies and gentlemen tomorrow you're off to reach
Struggle to Survive Chapter3:Why does Everything Happen on My Watch
Date: 6 May 2005, 7:51 PM
Chapter 2: Why does everything happen on my Watch?
A bottle was thrown, narrowly missing someone's head and smashing a window before shattering on the road outside. The bar was so noisy that you could hear it from two three hundred yards away. If the covenant had invaded Alan seriously doubted that anyone would have heard a thing, not that the covenant were going to invade. He was inside the bar, sitting next to him were Sam and another trooper called Max, Jenny, having connections had been posted on the Malta super MAC station with regular leave to Earth. The bar was noisy and full of cigarette smoke and there was a music system blaring out twenty first century flip music at a level that was not conducive to conversation. Actually Alan didn't really mind. He was halfway through the process of getting himself horribly drunk.
He'd been stuck on this world, Tara IV, for six months now. Nothing happened, no covenant, no training and worst of all no women, or at least no vaguely good looking women.
He'd passed his basic training with ease and had looked forward to some action. Now he was stuck on a world where the temperature didn't drop below thirty five and the chances of anything happening were so small as to be incalculable. Alan shook his head, he was thinking too clearly, obviously not drunk enough yet.
"Oih waiter, another beer please." The waiter behind the bar waved in acknowledgement. He was called Manuel. He stank of cigarette smoke permanently, and had the most outrageous mustachios known to man, but Alan liked him.
Manuel came over "One beer, four United Nations dollars please." Alan fumbled in his pockets, and swore, he was clean out. Turning to Sam he punched him lightly on the arm and scrounged for a few dollars.
Zealot Ena Turonmee stared in disgust at the message floating before him. 'Capture a Human!' he couldn't believe it. A human here on his ship, his precious ship, once it had been transferred he would order a thorough plasma cleaning of anywhere it had been. "General Briggs." He rolled the unfamiliar words round his mouth. It had a name! He couldn't believe that something as distainable as a human could actually have a name. Yet the exulted Prophet of Truth had ordered its capture and so he would obey. He switched on the ship intercom. "Honorable warriors of the Holy covenant," he began, "We have been again tasked to carry out the Gods holy work. One of the infidels, who by trickery and dishonorable conduct has risen high in their ranks, is traveling through this sector and it is our honor to be tasked to capture him. If we are successful the story of our triumph will be woven into your family's battle song" He switched off intercom and turned to his bridge crew. "Prepare for a slipspace jump to coordinates four sixteen nine."
"At once Your Excellency" replied one of them a red armored Nurka Sangheili.
Ena sighed, the trap was set. "I will be in my private chambers, do not disturb me unless absolutely necessary."
Deep down in the bowls of the covenant assault carrier, a young Sangheili known only as Alna, not having earned the right to a full name, carefully cleaned his armor. As he worked he recited the prayer that all recruits did. "I fight for the truth and for honor, for the chance for a better existence and for the glory of my ancestors. Let me not waver in battle nor bring shame upon my family. If I must die then let me die with honor and dignity. My courage will not fail. This I swear upon the sacred truth of the Gods." He straightened, his right knee clicking and looked at his armor standing on its stand. It glistened in the light of the single dim blue plasma lamp on the ceiling of the small room. Throwing shadows onto the floor and walls, it looked glorious. Armor fit for a warrior. Alna hoped he could live up to that designation.
General Briggs paced the deck of corvette Beta six, he hated being in space. He had joined the army for a reason, and that reason was that, on the ground the humans actually had a chance to fight the covenant. In space, the covenants technology was so superior that the humans never really stood a chance.
Something wasn't right. In his long years in combat he had learnt to trust his instincts. He started to sweat, his uniform soaking under his arms and over his lower back. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest. "Calm down," he told himself, nothing his happening. Even as he consciously told himself that everything was fine his subconscious self was already gearing itself up for a fight or flight response. The adrenaline started to pump through him and he felt his heart rate rise. None of this was helped by the fact that the pilots sextet of Longswords guarding him seemed to be feeling the same way as he did. He wished his escort was larger but there simply weren't the ships available He could see the helmeted head of the pilot in the closest fighter looking this way and that for the enemy, and they all had their weapons hot, cannon barrels exposed and the covers of the internal missile bays retracted. He looked over they heads of the pilots at the sensor display. "Damn" he swore quietly to himself, another thirty minutes before they were out of the gravitational shadow of the unnamed Red giant nearby, only then could they make an accurate slipspace jump. He stared out of the view port watching as two of the Longswords shot past, going to recon the area ahead. His uniform finally became unbearable and he decided to go and have a shower. He turned stiffly and nodding to the ships captain left the bridge and headed for his private quarters. His wife was there waiting for him. He wished that she was not with him; he loved her and didn't want her exposed to any danger. He kissed her as he headed for the bathroom. He stripped off his and stepped into the shower "Ah that's better," he said as the stream of water washed the sweat from his body. Half an hour later he turned of the stream of water and stepped out of the shower. He pulled his dressing gown off its hook and putting it on he stepped into his room.
As he entered his room, the lights snapped off. He felt his wife's hands run along his back leaving a tingling sensation on the skin they had touched. She pulled him gently towards the bed. He should have resisted, he was meant to be on duty but it was a welcome release for all his nerves. His wife collapsed back onto the bed pulling him down on top of him. He lowered his head to kiss her and was just beginning to run his and up her thigh when, the door flew open and the lights switched on. "Oh fuck" he swore.
"Your Excellency," came the timid voice from beyond the door. "Father!" Ena Turonmee sighed, he would have to see him, what did he want now? He picked his helmet up from the table. Placing it on his head he looked in the mirror to make sure he was presentable. Satisfied with his appearance he strode over to the door. Pulling it open he started, his son was not wearing armor. Recovering his composure quickly he beckoned him inside. He closed the door and sat down on of the chairs that sat round the small table at one side of the room. "Well my son, what is it that you desire and why do you not come wearing your armor as befits a warrior?"
"I am not a warrior yet" replied Alna stiffly, "and that is why I requested an audience with you. I wish to have the honor of going in with the Capture Squad."
Ena looked at him. "Your request is noted and denied. The capture Squad is composed of those of Molta rank or higher, my condolences." Alna stood and bowing low said. "Then fortune preserve then" and walked out head held high, determined not to show his father how much he had been hurt. He realized that Ena was right. The Molta Sangheili were definitely the ones for the job. They filled him with awe; their black armor seemed to cast an invisible shadow over any room they were in. Conversation died as they entered and people stared. One day he hoped to join their ranks but now he was a lowly blue armored Gudili. He snarled as a red armored Unngoy got in his way and kicked out viciously at the creature sending it yelping into the shadows at the side of the corridor. He went back to the barracks to await his orders for the upcoming battle.
Ena was on the bridge again. "Your Excellency," said one of the Sanheili, patrol Alpha Three reporting several human craft in sector four.
"Very well," he replied, "jump out to the coordinates given earlier.
The covenant ship entered slipspace seamlessly and within ten minutes had traveled the two million miles to the coordinates. They exited slipspace well outside the infidel's sensor range. "Deploy the stealth boarding craft!" ordered Ena. A small pod exited the carriers docking bay and burned towards the human corvette. Inside were four Molta Sangheili armed with plasma swords and carbines, though they didn't expect to use them. The small craft slowed and powered down as it slipped through the Longsword perimeter surrounding the corvette. The Sangheili inside held their breath hoping that the stealth technology would live up to its reputation. They need not have worried; the Longswords had no idea they were there. The pod docked with an unused airlock. The onboard computer quickly disabled the security on the hatch so they could enter with out setting off the alarm. The lead Sangheili stood, "Let the gods be with us," he said and activated his active camouflage. The rest of the Sanheili followed suit. They opened the hatch and closing it behind them slipped into the corvette. Like shadows they flittered through pools of light and shadow, gliding like an invisible mist through the ship, heading for the Luxury quarters. Each had memorized the interior of the ship prior to their mission. After three minutes they stood grouped outside General Briggs quarters. There was a lone guard, who was now lying on the floor, his neck broken. The lead Sangheili clicked his mandibles; that sound alerting the others who got ready to enter. He kicked on the door, the first buckling it the second snapping it open, and stepped inside, the second Sangheili hit the light switch flooding the room with light. There were two humans, lying together on the bed. One of them said something.
The Sangheili leader recognized one as the target. The other started to scream so he shot it. The carbine shot blew a fist sized hole through its head covering the target in grey brain matter and red blood. The heat of the shot fried its hair in a second filling the room with characteristic stench of burnt keratin. The target was in shock. Lying there propped up on its elbows gore dripping from its chin and the end of its nose onto the exposed chest of its companion. The Sangheili leader chuckled and opened a communications channel with Ena Turonmee, now that they had secured the target it didn't matter that the humans knew they were there. "Your Excellence, the target is secure, you may commence the assault."
"Sir!" cried a crewman, "There is a communication on the covenant frequency. It originated from inside the ship. The bastards are here, onboard, Oh my god we going to..."
"Sir, I'm detecting multiple covenant ships on approach, mainly seraphs and boarding..."
"Sir the marine guard outside the Generals quarters has not responded"
"Sir, what do you want to...?"
"Quiet!" roared the captain. "Alert the Longswords, boarding craft are primary targets. Sensors they must have come from somewhere, find out where. Communications, broadcast a distress signal, all channels. Finally send the marines to the general's quarters.
Private First Class James Burridge ran down of the corridor after lieutenant Reeney. He could hear the covenant behind him; hopefully the locked hatch would by them some time. He definitely hadn't signed up for this. He had hoped that the covenant would have not been able to board but there were too many seraphs and the Longswords had not been able to shoot down any of the boarding craft. He turned a corner and ran down a corridor with view ports on the left. There was a fierce glow outside and he glanced left in time to see a seraph explode under the sustained fire of a longsword. Any elation he felt was swiftly banished as the Longsword took direct hits from at least three other seraphs and blew up into an expanding ball of gas and shrapnel, secondary explosions marked the explosion of its armament. He grimaced reminding himself that the ball of gas marked the grave of another comrade. Hearing a crash behind him he sped up. He heard a wine and a string of blue plasma bolts sizzled past and hit the lieutenant in the back, he went down without a sound, dead. He ran towards the access hatch and slapped frantically at the door controls. Nothing! Turning, for the first time he smelt the awful stench permeating the corridor. He gagged and then vomited all over his shiny boots. When he straightened up there was a blue armored elite standing in front of him. He slowly became aware of another smell, coming through the burnt flesh and vomit, he also realized that his crotch was soaking wet. The Elite raised his plasma rifle and James started to scream, the plasma bolt took him in the mouth it burnt through is lower jaw and upper shoulder. James collapsed to the deck his vision blurring unable to cry out or do anything. He remained conscious long enough to see the Elite raise his left foot and bring down on his head. Then Nothing!
Alan was seriously regretting getting so drunk the night before. He was on duty in the communications bunker and his head was killing him. He was just about to be relived when a message came through on the radio. "Mayday, Mayday, this is corvette beta six, with general Briggs onboard, we've been flushed, I repeat, we've been flushed, send help please coordinates four sixteen seven..... Oh god they're coming through the door," there was a pause, "tell my wife I love her, Lieutenant Trosky signing off."
Struggle to Survive Chapter 4: well what do we do now?
Date: 16 May 2005, 9:24 PM
Chapter 4: Well what do we do now?
Alan stood in the sentry tower at the corner of the base. His Br55 slung over his shoulder. The sling dug into his shoulder but his attention was fixed on the battalion of ODST's stood to attention in the centre of the bases drill square. They were being addressed by the base commander. He couldn't hear anything though, the rumble of the frigate hovering two miles above him, drowned out what ever was being said. He looked up at the frigate and swore, then remembering that there were officers aboard, saluted. It was a one fingered salute. When he looked back down, the commander was saluting. The ODST's erupted into cheers, drowning out even the frigate, and broke into a run towards the waiting pelicans. Alan wished he was going with them. A chance for the piece of the action, but hey at least the meal queue would be shorter.
General Briggs lay in the corner of his cell. The room stank of excrement and sweat, he moaned, He lay there trembling and sweating, too weak to move. Terrible memories flooded his mind; his wife's head being blown apart, the viscous brain matter dripping from his face, the state of the ship, what of it he'd seen when he'd been dragged to the boarding craft. All of a sudden another image sprang unbidden into his mind, his last memory of captain..., he couldn't remember his name, lying there in his bridge, slumped against one of walls, surrounded by dead and dying crew members. Pistol in hand, with a smoking hole in his stomach. The corpse had stared at him, piercing him to the soul; staring accusingly at it him. I'm sorry he thought. His world span around him and he fell into unconsciousness again.
Alan and the whole base waited and waited for news from the ODST's. They were the best, surpassed only by the Spartan's. They should have had returned within forty eight hours. But three days passed by and still there was no news. Eventually a week later a lone Wasp escape craft limped back into the system. Inside were three Shock Troopers and an Engineer. The men were immediately rushed to hospital, unfortunately the Engineer died shortly afterwards, the Helljumpers however were made of sterner stuff and survived. They told a harrowing story.
They had jumped to the last known coordinates of the Generals flotilla. The Covenant were still there, millions of them. They never stood a chance. The bastards had an assault carrier. The frigate had barely exited slipspace when it was hit by a plasma torpedo. They only escaped because they were right by the escape pod when the ship was hit. The ship was burnt clean in two. They had only just escaped. The seraphs were closing fast and they just had time to calculate the slipspace jump. They had managed to make the jump to slipspace, but before they had, a lucky shot from a seraph had hit them, damaging the jump engine. They had traveled only a few million miles before it shorted out. The engineer had spent three days mending it whilst they lived on starvation rations. They hadn't thought that they would see anyone every again. The mood inside the pod had turned ugly and one of the Helljumpers had quarreled with the Engineer, a death had only been prevented by his other two comrades who had restrained and calmed him. They had been on their last legs when they had arrived, they weren't sure how long they could have kept on going!
He heard footsteps outside his cell door. Moaning he tried to stand, determined not to let those bastards see how nearly they had broken him. The door hissed open and light flooded the room. Two Jackals entered and roughly hauled him to his feet, their talons puncturing the already ruined skin on his upper arms. They dragged him through the oppressive corridors of the ship to the room which had come to know as hell he was dragged inside and strapped to a chair. The silver armored Elite standing in front of him looked intently at him.
"Well, human, will you talk or will we continue as before?" General Briggs manage to drag up the strength to spit on the Elite.
"Very, well then, Kig-yar continue.!" The Jackals hissed and moved forward. One of them ignited at plasma flare and held it near to his left thigh burning the skin. The General screamed and then thankfully fainted.
General Briggs came round. He was slumped forward in the chair. Blood flowed from his mouth; he'd bitten through his tongue. The Elite stared at him. Turning it said something in its language and the two Jackals disappeared. General Briggs sat in silence. He stared at the Elite imagining pulling the plasma pistol from its holster shoving it in between its mandibles and blowing it to hell.
The Elite guessing his thoughts chuckled and backhanded him across the face. General Briggs hunched over spitting out broken teeth. Blood flowed in a torrent from his nose and pooled on the seat in between his legs. The broken teeth fragments clinked on the floor and then lay still. With a great effort he sat back up straight again. Looking at the Elite he spoke, every word was agony and he winced,
"One day you and all you stinking kind will rot in hell!"
The Elite inclined its head as it worked out what he had said. After a moment it laughed and replied. "No Human. I will transcend the physical while you are left behind in eternal suffering."
General Briggs was thinking about saying something when the door behind him hissed open and the Jackals entered. They were dragging a piece of machinery. They left it right next to General Briggs. One of them pulled a tube from its side the other pulled a long needle from a slot and attached it to the tube, they moved towards him with the needle and one grabbed his arm.
"Oh no you don't you dirty fuckers" he yelled and pulled at his bonds. The Jackals ignored him and plunged the needle deep into his vein. One of them got a drop of blood on its talons. It licked it off and hissed happily. The Elite walked over and switched on the machine. It hummed and General Briggs felt it pump chemicals into his bloodstream. His arm started to itch terribly where the needle entered the skin. But slowly that disappeared. He could feel parts of his body going numb as the drugs moved through his system. Then the drugs hit his brain. He felt lightheaded and drowsy, it reminded him of the time when as a teenager he had tried smoking cannabis. He couldn't think straight and he felt strangely vulnerable.
The Elite turned to him, "Now Human we shall talk!" and talk he did. Somewhere deep down he screamed at himself and tried to stop but his body was too weak to resist the drugs that swamped his system.
The base had been on alert for the past week now. Command had decided that if the covenant had known about the General's flight then they must know about the base on Tara IV. Pelicans of Marines were scouring the planet to see if the covenant had landed a recon force. But so far nothing had been found.
Alan sat behind the wheel of a warthog. He hummed in time to the music playing through the earphone of his helmet. He was part of the rapid reaction force. Their job was to stay a constant alert, ready to respond to anything. It was the most boring job possible. Something hit the back of his helmet smacking his face forward into the wheel. Swearing he turned. Sam was sat on top of the M41 chain gun. He swung his leg again. This time however Alan was ready, he grabbed Sam's foot and pushed. With a cry Sam fell backwards off the gun mount bouncing of the rear fender and ending up in a heap on the ground. Sam got up, half laughing half swearing he climbed into the passenger seat. He was just reaching down into the foot well having spotted a packet of mints when the radio came on. Alan killed the music he was listening to.
"This is pelican Kilo 312 with fire team Zulu onboard we've found....... Taking......... engines have been shot to pieces, we're going down! Our position is.........."
"Shit!" yelled Alan. Switching frequencies he spoke into the radio. "Command did you get that?"
"This is command, hang on, we are triangulating the position of Kilo 312... got it. Private leave your warthog, it would take to long there's a pelican waiting on pad D14 your sergeant will meet you there.
Sam and Alan jumped out and ran towards the pelican pads, calling to the other drivers and gunners as they went. They assembled behind the pelican and sergeant Williams strode over. "Right men mount up lets go and see what's going on. Keep you're eyes peeled, we could be flying into a whole world of hurt so stay alert!"
"Ooh Rah"
They jumped into the back of the pelican and the sergeant took the gunner position. The engines started to scream and they started to lift up into the air. The radio crackled and the pilot swore. The pitch of the engines dropped again and the pelican sank back down onto its undercarriage. The sergeant got onto the intercom to the pilots and was just turning to talk to them when a warthog roared up and screeched to a halt. The driver jumped out and scrambled into the pelican seating himself in the jump seat the closet to the back. He carried a highly modified S2 AM snipe rifle. Its barrel was about six inches longer than the normal S2. It also had an oversized magazine which hung down about six inches below the magazine housing. The scope was much longer but less bulky and the bipod had been removed.
The stranger seated himself sideways in the seat and strapped himself in. He then attached a sling to his rifle which he then tied to the netting above their heads. When he finished he ended up with him sitting facing out the back of the pelican with the rifle hung before him so he could use it without having to support the full weight.
The Pelican again lifted into the air and this time it moved off towards the horizon.
They had been flying for nearly three hours now and they were drawing close the spot where Kilo 312 had gone down. Everyone was nervous. Alan rechecked that his magazine was correctly seated for the seventh time in ten minutes. He checked that his fragmentation grenades were easy to reach and that his pistol and SMG were secured in their holsters. Satisfied he leant back in his chair trying to calm himself as the pelican neared the crash zone. You'll be fine. You've trained for this. Remember your training. Trust your teammates. Change magazines when you can. Don't run out of ammo! "Move move move. Come on Marines lets do this!" They sprinted from the pelican to form a perimeter. Nothing moved. No shout of Alarm greeted them.
They stayed in a defensive perimeter for the next twenty minutes. Alan was lying in long grass. It tickled his nose but he didn't dare moved for fear of attracting attention. Sweat pooled in the centre of his back as he lay there still as a rock scanning the area in front of him for any signs of hostiles.
At length the sergeant came through on the radio and they moved out towards the crash site which was about five hundred yards away. As they drew close an awful smell reached Alan's nose, flies flew in swarms above the wreckage and parts of the pelican were still smoldering. The knelt down about one two hundred yards away and Sergeant Williams motioned for Alan to move up. Being a recon specialist it was his job to check out the area. He whispered to Sam to follow him and together they moved towards the downed pelican. They moved up towards the cockpit but the there was too much smoke inside to see clearly. Backs press securely against the warm metal of the Pelicans flank they edged towards troop bay entrance. They reached the end of the pelican's fuselage. Alan took a deep breath and drew his SMG. Laying his battle rifle on the ground he swung round the corner and aimed his SMG down the length of the troop bay. His eyes took a few seconds to adjust to the dim light, but when they did he wished that they hadn't. He doubled over and vomited all over the ground. Sam came up to see what was wrong. "Oh my god," he breathed. The inside of the Pelican was like a scene from a horror film. There were body parts everywhere. Flies hovered over piles of intestines that littered the floor like swollen spaghetti. Blood was splattered all over the walls and ceiling. Sam doubled up and added to Alan's pool of vomit. Meanwhile the rest of the patrol had moved up. The marines looking into the pelican gasped and turned away clapped hands over their hands over their mouths. Sergeant Williams came up and looked in. "Well there's not much we can do for them. Let's try and work out what brought this bird down then just a phosphorus grenade in there and we'll head home.
It didn't take long for the marines to find out why the pelican had crashed. There was plasma scoring all over the rear engines and one of the central jets was missing. They called the pelican in for extraction and Sergeant Williams incinerated the remains of Fire Team Zulu.
Alan sat dejectedly in his seat. He couldn't believe what he had seen. Suddenly the war seemed all top real. He banished the thoughts to the back of his mind and tried to catch up on some sleep.
He was awoken by yells and a loud bang. He was totally disorientated and it took him a few seconds to work out where he was. In that time there was another loud crash and the pelican shook. He turned and looked out the rear of the pelican just in time to see another green missile lift of from the ground and slam into the rear of the pelican. He could here the metal sizzling as it melted and he realized that they were taken fire from a plasma weapon of some sort. It took a few moments for the importance of that single conclusion to hit him.A Plasma weapon, that mean covenant, Jesus!
Suddenly someone elbowed him out of the way. It was the sniper. Quickly he set up his weapon and sighted in. He fired and at the same time another green missile slammed into the pelican's rear.
The panicked voice of the pilot came through on the intercom. "I've lost her. We're going down. Prepare for a hard landing." Alan grabbed onto a bar and strapped himself into his jump seat as the pelican began a steep nose dive. There was a judder as the pelican hit the ground then Alan hit his head on something and lost consciousness.
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