Black Operations: Special Delivery (Part Two)
Posted By: Jin1<firstname.lastname@example.org>
Date: 21 June 2007, 5:02 pm
[2315 HOURS UNSC D77-TC (SPEC. OPS.) "PELICAN
ENROUTE TO VIMUR- ALPHA SQUAD]
They exited the bay rather quickly, the pilot by the name of Ensign Henry Patterson maneuvered the ship, and his co-pilot Master Chief Petty Officer George Gomez stairs down at the controls focused intently on what the craft was doing.
Unlike normal Pelicans this one complemented many weapons and equipment suited for its task of destroying the enemy and gaining INTEL.
Two missile pods on each "wing", a nose mounted chain gun, and a rear mounted chain gun to provide covering fire. Flare launchers, extra fuel pods on the rear mounted wings for an extra hour of flight time, extended bay enough for seventy people crammed in. Plus an extra two inches of Titanium-A armor helped as well.
It was a warhorse and it was better than flying one of those marine designated ones, they flew like rocks and it a banshee got on your tale you could forget about it.
Vimur was blue-green jewel in the sky, and he pushed the ship to accelerate towards it. The Philosophy would stay out of view, around the moon's orbit.
The "mothership" would provide only spy satellites to relay the medium of data to the team. Hopefully the Prowler wouldn't get hit, if it did, they would be staying on Vimur.
The jewel grew and the Pelican entered through the dark side of the planet. There were no enemy cruisers but most likely they were planet side, being large military bases, deploying troops. Hopefully they wouldn't be noticed.
The Pelican swooped over the edge of the Covenant camp, it was bright, it seemed like a million search lights pierced through the dark, but they didn't notice the massive craft swoop over head and pull a tight curve preparing to set down a kilometer from its outskirts.
The engine dampers prevented the noise and the pitch black paint absorbed any light that came in its direction. The twenty-seven million credits to build the craft were being well spent.
Patterson opened an internal COM channel to the soldiers in the bay and spoke in a calm voice, holding back the fear.
"Ladies and gents we're coming on our drop of point, there is no way I'm settling down on the ground, you are going to have to rappel down. Once your mission is completed, radio to me and I'll pull you out for EVAC. I'll provide also close air support, so if you need a quick strike I'll be there."
The soldiers in the rear bay could feel the ship decelerate and then stop, the rear bay opened again.
That's a long drop. Nylund looked over the edge; the drop was twelve meters down. The corporal watched the ropes be attached to small hooks on the ceiling and thrown out the back, they descended quickly before coiling at the ground. He looked at the rest of the team; Reilly was tying a silencer on to the muzzle of his MA5B and Quinn was moving towards him.
Quinn opened a private COM to his team, before he reached and gripped the rope at the end. "Well gentlemen and lady, keep it tight. Once we all hit the dirt I want a tight perimeter. I will not accept any surprises."
Quinn's team nodded to him.
The lieutenant gave a slight tug. Tight.
The rope was good.
Quinn looked at his team gave a brisk nod, and gave a final step of the Pelican and fell in a controlled decent towards the ground. He hit the ground hard and he rolled away from the pelican, MA5B was brought up, pressed against his shoulder.
He activated his light amplifiers and viewed the forest through an eerie black and white hue. He then switched to heat, the heads-up-display changed and he saw nothing that was out of the ordinary.
He raised a fist and pumped once.
Next came the nukes, the FENRIS were rather small nuclear weapons but they still packed a punch, and they were clustered in sixes so they were much deadlier than originally intended. The only thing that could forestall a Covenant assault for the time being. And it would create a rather large beachhead without the death of countless marines. Or radiation.
They were lowered by two ropes, and gently landed on the cold wet grass. Crichton came next along with, Nylund. Reilly pulled up the rear carrying the equipment sack.
They formed a semi-circle around the rope and the FENRIS warheads, Quinn opened a COM channel to the crew of the Pelican. "Gentlemen, thanks for the ride. Be on station."
"Aye, Lieutenant." The ropes were winded back up by a winch and the rear bay door closed, the craft disappeared into the black, barely any sound coming from it.
A whisper in the wind.
"Reilly take point, Nylund right side of the warheads and Crichton left side, carry them in between you, I'll bring up the rear," He took the weapons sack from Reilly and slung it over his shoulder. He set up a NAVPOINT in the direction of the Covenant camp, they didn't need to put the war heads in the middle of the camp -the outskirts would do.
They wouldn't activate their active camouflage, not yet. Drain the power cells wouldn't be the best idea, even if they had auxiliary which would provide them with one more hours of power. The trek was short, a kilometer on foot weighed down with gear...
[ident]Forty minutes on foot, time was being consumed too damn fast. The NAVPOINT counter descended and they stopped. They were at the drop off point for the FENRIS warheads.
"Drop 'em and arm 'em, give us a fifteen hours limit. Then lock the panel, I don't want anyone but us hacking into those things."
Alexandria along with Nylund dropped the two hundred pound warhead.
She spoke. "Finally, I thought my arms were going to fall off."
"You and me both sister." He rubbed his shoulders; they were in pain. "Crichton, Nylund stay here. Reilly you're coming with me."
The younger soldiers nodded, Reilly over the COM gave a. "Aye, sir." And moved towards the weapons sack pulling out a pair of grenades which he attached to his waist.
He tightened the silencer over the muzzle of his weapon and looked at Nylund. His words were simple. "Find a tree, grab your sniper rifle and give us some cover. If we're about to be nailed-"
The team froze, silence. Bark. Or that what it sounded like, an odd bark. The team scattered into the trees away from the warheads, they didn't activate their camouflage not yet. They aimed towards the sound where they heard something like: "wort, wort, wort."
They flicked off their safeties, all using MA5Bs, and saw the first of four creatures come in, two were the same, and the other two were of different species. One came in, moving slowly; almost hobbling forward one hand braced against the ground the other wielding a plasma pistol. A large tank was on their backs, one wore crimson armor while the other wore an orange clad armor. They led into the clearing, stopping when they saw the warheads.
Bird-like features the second one had, it stood a bit taller than the grunt and held a orange arm shield and it's bright pink eyes looked at the warhead. It then gave a horrid squawk and quickly stopped waving forward the last creature.
This one was much taller than the rest, it wore dark blue armor, its skin was scaly and its eyes had a predator feel to them. It was at least eight feet tall.
Quinn opened the COM. "Take out the elite and jackal first. Wound the elite. I want him alive. Take one grunt out, I want two of those bastards alive."
No questions, acknowledgement lights winked green. Good. "Fire on my mark. Three. Two." He raised his weapon at the jackal's head.
There were flashes of light from four corners.
The first foe to react was the Jackal, its eyes peered at the single light flash in front of him and it brought its shield to bear, the rounds bounced off, they deflected downward as a grunt maneuvered behind it firing at the other flash. The jackal fired a few shots from its plasma rifle; the lime green blobs heated the air as they went towards their target but to no avail. The shots went wide or over their target's head.
"Jiminy Christmas. That son of gun almost took my head off
" Nylund began to pick himself off the ground, rising steadily to his feet. His sniper rifle in his arms, a scowl formed on his face. "Well, let me give them their 'Welcome to Vimur' gift basket.'"
He took his sights on the closest target, and his rifle bucked once.
The grunt turned, he didn't hear the sound of a whining plasma pistol. He hard nothing but silence from the Jackal. He gave the human equivalent of a frown and turned. First he saw the body, the lanky frame but as he moved up ward he saw the purplish gore trickling down and when he finally got to the head he realized that there was nothing there.
The jackal's shield deactivated which left the grunt in crimson armor exposed. Ms. Crichton took advantage of the situation, aimed at the large methane tank and fired a burst from her weapon. The round tore the tank and the back of the creature exploded in angry outburst of flames, bathing the small clearing in temporary light. That was something they didn't want to do.
But in the end it did work to their advantage, the second grunt was knocked off its feet, the elite who had almost planted two shots on Quinn, heard its shields sputter and die. And it felt the searing pain of armored piercing rounds tear through its long legs, and it fell backward, the grunt was struggling upward reaching for its plasma pistol. So close.
Crichton stomped hard on its wrist, there was a sickening crack and the grunt squealed in pain. The elite didn't even try to reach its weapon from what they could tell blue armors were rookies. So resistance from them would be unlikely.
Instead the elite did something interesting, it primed a plasma grenade and prepared to through at the nearest target, Crichton.
The elite was fast but the Quinn -surprisingly- was faster. He dove forward, his hand grabbed the elites muscled armed and messed up the aim. The elite's throw went wide; it flew away and detonated harmlessly. Reilly came up next to him and the blow came down hard on the elite's helmet head.
It gave a "wort, wort, wort." But grew quiet, its anger in its eyes as it stared up at the four human beings who loomed above him and the worthless grunt.
Nylund had his rifle leveled at its head, while Crichton narrowed her vision at the grunt. Quinn knelt down next to the elite and unpolarized his helmet. He wanted the elite to see his grin on his face.
Quinn spoke through the external COM, the smile still plastered on his face.