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The Chronicles of Corporal Wilkens: Part 9: Brother
Posted By: Major Silva<majorsilva@aol.com>
Date: 23 February 2006, 11:57 pm
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Deployment + 8 hours: 43 minutes: 18 seconds (Lieutenant Wilkens Mission Clock )/
Coastal Grid thirty-two by twenty-four, UNSC command structure A-9
Lieutenant Tyler A. Wilkens had served in the Marine Corps for only around 7 years. Unlike his brother, Richard Wilkens, he had excellent combat experience, offworld. Corporal Wilkens had only served on Earth, and the short-lived ground operation on Kappa IV in 2531, where the Covenant had set up a small facility. Kappa IV had been known for it's literally tons of various fossils and ancient artifacts. Scientists had often wondered if humans had first evolved there, or if the mysterious "Forerunner" race of aliens the Covenant seemed so fond of.
Corporal Wilkens had been sent there, along with the rest of his battalion-strength company, under a Colonel McGreer. The landing, through Pelican dropships, didn't go so well. The Covenant had been expecting them, somehow, and had opened up with "Shade" emplacements, along with a few Seraphs and Banshees. Colonel McGreer had never made it to the ground, his Pelican was struck with a few Shade blasts, and two direct fuel-rod cannon hits from the Banshees. It burst into flames, and plummeted toward the ground. Corporal Wilkens' dropship met a similar fate. The forward cabin, housing the pilots was hit, and all surviving Marines, of the twelve on board, were forced to jump. They grabbed parachutes from the overhead compartments, and dived toward the ground.
Only through luck, and good leadership did Wilkens and his team survive, escape Covenant clutches, and use a backpack-radio to signal to the UNSC ship in orbit that had deployed them, the Meriwether Lewis, for help. Turned out, only around 37 Marines of the battalion had survived, most of the Pelicans had been shot down. The few that had survived radioed for help, like Wilkens. None were able to complete the operation, the UNSC pounded the Covenant position from orbit, just like the Covenant had been doing for so long. Every man of Wilkens' squad had survived. Wilkens had received the Medal of Honor for his bravery in the field.
Lieutenant Wilkens still remembered the joy, and awkwardness displayed on his brother that day. But, last he had heard of Richard, his brother had been taken onboard the In Amber Clad for "proper medical treatment", whatever that meant. Lieutenant Wilkens still couldn't believe his brother hadn't gotten a promotion to a higher rank. Sure, his service experience in fighting the Covenant was limited, but that's mainly because he was never deployed offworld. To the Lieutenant though, his brother deserved something for his heroics.
The Lieutenant was in charge of a small platoon of around twenty five men, on the coast of New Mombasa. It was to be a fallback point if anything happened to the city, and anyone was cut off from the nearest base - Camp Rathbourne - or if the base itself was hit.
His men had dug in well in the short time the Covenant had been here. They picked a spot between boulders, and the clifface, all the while being in view of Old Mombasa sitting quietly across the bridge. Their position couldn't be easily seen from above, and the boulders obstructed the view of it from across the bay. The platoon only had about three medics, and maybe two Navy techs, but the rest were all seasoned soldiers like the Lieutenant.
Their postion, which Sergeant Richards had jokingly dubbed, 'Camp Crevasse', didn't offer much on the lines of comfort. They had a canopy stretched over head, colored so it blended in with the cliff and rocks, but other than that, and a radio station and a few cots, they had nothing but the survival gear they had been deployed with. This troubled Wilkens. What if the Covenant weren't beaten? What if more ships came? He glanced up at the single Covenant capital ship hanging above the city arrayed in front of him. A purple grav beam stretched like an arm to the ground, every once and a while deploying companies of Covenant troops.
He wondered what was happening over there. He longed for leaving his position, skipping across the water, and joining the fight. But he had his orders.
"Hey, Lieutenant!", shouted Sergeant Richards.
Wilkens walked over to him. He was listening to their UNSC COM.
"Listen in", Richards said and took off the headphones, handing them to Wilkens.
"..........saying again, we have reason to believe the Covenant ship is powering their slipspace drive. They're-"
A crowed had gathered round, and Sergeant Richards flipped the switch off the headphones setting. Wilkens took them off, his mouth gaping slightly, and realizing the sound was now coming through the speakers.
"....Sir, I'm recommending pulling out ALL UNSC forces within the blast area."
"What 'blast area'?, Private Conahue asked aloud.
"Agreed Colonel", a gravely voice chimed in, "Is grid station thirty-two by twenty-four secure on the coasts?"
Wilkens just had to answer, "Yes, sir. We're ready to take any friendlies."
"Who the hell is that? Son, do you realize this is a private channel?"
"This is Lieutenant Tyler Wilkens sir, in charge of grid station thirty-two by twenty-four. And no, sir, it seems your broadcasting on the regular E-band", Wilkens replied, checking the designator on the machine in front of him.
"Damn it! Colonel, you and the Lieutenant switch the channel P-9-3-0, on the double!"
Wilkens knew why he was mad, that means every listening UNSC soldier, base, or ship in the area has been blasted with their conversation.
"Sir, will grid station thirty-two by twenty-four be safe from this "blast" that's going to happen?" Wilkens asked, remembering the words the Colonel had said.
"Yes, Lieutenant", the first voice of the Colonel answered, "Your position should not be struck by the resulting blast. Now, General, as I was saying, we should evacuate this instant. Readings suggest the ships reactors are coming online, and their Slipspace generators are fully charged. Hurry!"
Wilkens didn't think there was much more to say on his part. He flipped the switch back to "headphones", and walked off. He put his hands on his head and got up. The Sergeant took the seat again and put on the headgear.
"Sir", Corporal Gordio approached him, "should I start preperarations for the evacuees?"
"Yes, get the-", Wilkens started, but his gaze was turned away toward Old Mombasa.
The Covenant capital ship's grav beam turned off. It's engines flared, and it started to turn.
"Sergeant, any word from the General?"
"No, sir, nothing", Richards replied.
Wilkens spotted the In Amber Clad move to intercept, and a couple Pelicans get aboard. The Sergeant got up from his seat at the radio, and all of Lieutenant Wilkens' company gazed at the site. Twirling bands of light appeared near the Tower structure in Old Mombasa.
"Oh my god", Wilkens whispered.
"Sir?" Richards asked.
"I understand now. The ship isn't going to jump in orbit - and risk the orbiting MACs, it's going to jump inside the city .The gravitational forces of the Earth will warp the Slipspace rupture. The ships may get through to Slipstream, but it won't close like normal - the energy will be drawn together and down, toward the earth from gravity. All that energy will be compressed so much, that it won't be able to hold, and it will discharge. That's what the General meant by 'blast zone'."
"Are we gonna make i-" Corporal Gordio started, but the sight cut him off.
A brillant light appeared - a Slipstream field - and both the Covenant ship, and the In Amber Clad, looking like a speck, went through the rupture. Just as Wilkens had predicted, a large blast swept through the city.
"Get down now! Behind the rocks, go, go, go!" Wilkens barked.
Some of the company listened, but a few dared to gaze at the light. It was brilliant. A large, purple -tinted "bubble" of sorts erupted and sped through the city, like a flood. Buildings were disintegrated at it's epicenter, but as it went outward, it tore things out of the ground - like buildings, offices, lamp posts, stop signs, everything - and sent them flying.
Wilkens risked a look, the bubble stopped, and all the cityscape it had collected were tossed at extreme speeds toward New Mombasa, on Wilkens' side of the bay. The bubble itself curved upward, and morphed into a cascading brilliance light made of particles of superheated gas, which was swept away in the wind, like nothing happened, and soon completely melted away from sight.
The various cars, large boulders of duracrete, and glass that was expended toward New Mombasa, however, did not meet a similar fate. A large piece of cable, probably from the bridge, flapped like a whip toward the Marines' position. Soldiers scattered as the cable came crashing down to earth, taking two of their fellow Marines with it. The cable took one off at the chest, and another's legs off.
The first Marine was dead instantly, but the other screamed excruciatingly.
"Medic! Tend to him!" Wilkens cried, pointing at the man.
One looked up, and seeing who Wilkens was pointing at, got up before the others, and raced to the legless man, but a pole from the city slammed into his chest, impaling the man, and pinning him to the nearby clifface. He was either dead, or unconscious. Wilkens guessed dead.
Lieutenant Wilkens risked his own life, dodging fist sized concrete blocks going to the Marine, then dragging the screaming man to the medics behind the nearest boulder. Dust rolled in from the city, and a rain of small duracrete pebbles followed.
"Sir, looks like the worst of it is over", Corporal Gordio said.
"Agreed, you and Nelson help the medics. The rest of you are on cleanup. We may still be expecting Marine survivors." Wilkens answered. "Sergeant Richards, you get on the radio, try to find any active signals."
"Yes, sir!" he responded, and dashed to his seat at the radio.
"And everybody cover their mouths, no telling what this dust is made of", Wilkens added, knowing that some of it was probably from disentegrated humans and Covenant. The medics started passing out gauze pads, wadding them together, in preperation for the dust storm.
"Sir, no currently active signals in the area. Only active ones are from space, even then - it's only a few, maybe 60 total." Sergeant Richards told him.
'So, Wilkens thought, 'the battle in space isn't going so well either. "Acknoweldged Sergeant. Go on to calling each individual channel in the area, maybe someone's just a little shell shocked at the moment."
"Yes, sir", Richards responded.
Wilkens stared out through the dust, spotting a group of Marines hauling a twisted steel girder out of the way. He decided to help out too, assisting Private Conahue and a couple PFC's push a desk sized block of duracrete out of the way, and onto the beach, adding to the growing wall of cover from all the debris. Private Conahue slapped him on the back, and said, "Thanks, sir," out of breath.
Wilkens wiped sweat from his forehead. He wasn't sweating because of the work, but because it was just so damn hot here in Africa. "No problem, Private".
The Lieutenant went on to assist a group of Marines relieve the dead medic from the clifface. They had to use an arc welder that one of the technicians had brought. The medic fell to the ground. The legless Marine expired later on that day, from loss of blood. Altogether, three losses, not counting the hundreds of soldiers that had undoubtedly died in the city.
By late evening, the dead Marines were buried, and a small, private service held. Wilkens clutched their dog tags in his left hand, thinking of what to say to their families. All the while, Sergeant Richards was trying each channel on the radio again and again. Until finally, only about an hour after the funeral, he got a break.
"Again, this is grid station thirty-two by twenty-four to-", he checked the channel clipboard, "To grid station Alpha zero-four. Please respond."
"Grid station thirty-two by twenty-four, this is Alpha, repeat this is Alpha. Damn good to hear somebody's voice."
He turned to Wilkens, his eyes wide,"Sir, I got somebody!", Then responded to the man, "hold on, I'll let you talk to my superior." he said to the man.
Wilkens looked at the radio light, "Alpha zero-four? This is Lieutenant Wilkens. How many in your company?"
"Lieutenant, we got three here, one wounded. This is Corporal Eliss. Permission to advance to your fallback coordinates?"
"Granted, we could sure use the help. Over and out." Wilkens answered. He checked the map tacked onto a cork board, leaning against the clifface. They were roughly a mile away, behind Wilkens' group. Strange. Why would someone on this side of the bay need assistance? He guessed that the area inland got hit harder by the debris than the coast, as things were probably shot upward, rather than straight-out.
Wilkens recalled the rank of the man - a Corporal. He wondered what his older brother was doing. And if he was alive. Lieutenant Wilkens prayed to god the reports that his brother was on the In Amber Clad were true. Although, that would mean he was advancing toward trouble, rather than away from it.
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