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"...ghta do it"
/RECORD DATE UNKNOWN. CALENDER DATA UNAVAILABLE OR DAMAGED. PVT. ORWITZ/HORACE RECORD LOG. WARNING: CORRUPTED DATA DETECTED.
The image of a tired looking marine begins to stitch itself together from a field of static snow. His face is gaunt and pale and there are deep circles under his eyes. Behind him is a scenic view of a wreckage filled savannah and far in the distance, the blurry form of what looks like a metallic whale.
"This is private first class Horace Orwitz, formerly of the 708th infantry division. I am making this log because...Because it's all I have left to do."
The marine looks away for a moment, his faced both alert and crestfallen at the same time.
"About two weeks ago, I think, the Covenant arrived and invaded earth. Things were...well I would call them ok, considering the circumstances. We we're en-route to New Mombassa to help hold off the enemy ground forces when all of a sudden everything went white. The warthog went airborne and flipped a few times...I took a pretty nasty hit to the head, guess that must have been what damaged the recorder in my helmet...Anyways, I blacked out after about the third hit, I didn't wake up till about 0400 the next morning and find out the city was basically a crater."
The marine reaches off-screen for something and pulls back a canteen, which he takes a drink of.
"The sarge survived the crash, but Vin must have snapped his neck when we got ejected from the car. Sarge hauled me into a cave and called for evac, but I guess things were a mess both upstairs and downstairs, cause we were still waiting when I woke up. Took us two days before we got a ride back to HQ, lazy bastards."
He gives a half-hearted chuckle, and then leans back agaist a small boulder.
"Got redeployed soon as we got there, we hooked up with some other ragtag units and got tossed around. Sarge bit it in the first battle, one of those ape things got a lucky shot off with a grenade launcher. We won afterwards but couldn't hold our position, too many grunts started charging the perimeter. Had to hoof it ten miles befo..."
The marine fades in and out of static several times before he notices.
"Ah hell. Looks like I still have work to do. End log"
The picture goes black.
/RECORD DATE UNKNOWN. CALENDER DATA UNAVAILABLE OR DAMAGED. PVT. ORWITZ/HORACE RECORD LOG. WARNING: CORRUPTED DATA DETECTED.
The marine fades into view again. This time the panorama of the savannah is cluttered with the whale-like things. The sun is setting behind a gathering of clouds near the left edge of the viewfinder.
"...Don't know why they're all grouping together like that, looks like they're ina flight pattern or something. I -think- Voi is in the direction somewhere. I've had to change position about three times because the air patrols are expanding outward, right now I've set up shop near one of the space elevator couplings. Had to leave the radio behind, too risky to use it and it was almost out of juice anyways. Who am I going to call, right?"
He sighs and rubs his eyes. The dark rings are larger than they were before, he appears to be on the verge of exhaustion.
"I think I'm going to sleep for a few hours. I've set my watch to wake me at...2200 hours. Hopefully those bastards won't be so thick."
He reaches past the camera lense and the picture goes dark.
/RECORD DATE UNKNOWN. CALENDER DATA UNAVAILABLE OR DAMAGED. PVT. ORWITZ/HORACE RECORD LOG. WARNING: CORRUPTED DATA DETECTED.
"...Think it's pretty much official that we are in trouble. I went back for the radio earlier, hiked a few miles out of my way to turn it on. Nothing real solid but under the white noise I noticed the morse code. I have no idea if it's an official UNSC broadcast or not, but it's saying all UNSC armed forces should standby for further orders. Being put on stand-by mode means about three things, a FUBAR, peace, or the more likely scenario is that there IS no more UNSC."
The marine shudders and runs a hand through his short brown hair.
"I've decided to keep the radio. After all if it really is that bad they won't care if I've been AWOL for the past week. Guess we'll just have to wait and see."
He stands and walks off camera for a few minutes, finally returning with a small cylinder. He pulls out a small metal spork and begins to eat from the ration can slowly.
"Still have plenty of supplies, though. I -might- be able to make it another two weeks if I stretch things. Water is the main concern out here, gets pretty damn hot during the day even in the shade. I've been doing my best to get the lay of the land during the cooler hours, but no luck finding any water sources nearby. If it's not the alien invasion it's the weather. Go figure."
The marine reaches over and the turns the camera off. The picture goes black.
/RECORD DATE UNKNOWN. CALENDER DATA UNAVAILABLE OR DAMAGED. PVT. ORWITZ/HORACE RECORD LOG. WARNING: CORRUPTED DATA DETECTED.
"Still nothing on the radio, just the same morse code message looping over and over. It's only been a day, but still I sorta expected something, anything. Air patrols have eased considerably, most of the bigger bastards have either gone orbital or moved on, which is a huge relief on my part. I can actually get out and cover some ground without having to constantly watch the skies..."
The marine lifts the camera up and pans it around towards the savannah. Most of the whale-ships have indeed moved off, though one of them suddenly launches a teardrop of electric-blue light towards the ground. The picture shakes a bit, the marine startled by the sudden action.
"What the hell? ...Oh no, please let it not be that. Anything but that..."
The camera suddenly drops to the ground. A loud scrambling noise is heard, followed by a burst of static and the faint beeping of morse code.
"This is private first class Horace Orwitz to any UNSC personnel, is anyone on this channel? Repeat, this is private first class Horace Orwitz to any UNSC personnel. Damn it... If anyone can hear me I have confirmed visual of plasma bombardment to the north of my position, estimated to be on or near Voi."
The marine repeats this message off camera while more ships begin dropping electric-blue teardrops. The camera eventually shuts itself off due to non-use.
/RECORD DATE UNKNOWN. CALENDER DATA UNAVAILABLE OR DAMAGED. PVT. ORWITZ/HORACE RECORD LOG. WARNING: CORRUPTED DATA DETECTED.
The sound of labored breathing and boots crunching against the earth are heard before the picture fades into view. The landscape is rushing past, it is obvious that the marine is now wearing the helmet. There is a crackle of static and several new voices come over the radio.
"We're inbound as fast as we can go, private, just keep...Aw hell, hey Jones! We got an air patrol inbound!"
"Damnit. X, fall back, we'll try to draw them away for you."
"No, stick close, I'll fire a volley to get them to scatter. Maybe we can scare them off."
"Don't be stupid! That bird is too big a target!"
"We can do it..."
"No you can't, just..."
"Too late! Engage! Engage!"
A tidal wave of sound roars through the camera's speaker. It is mostly too garbled to make out anything specific but the sounds of heavy gunfire and a eerie moaning sound can be heard. The helmet's wearer shouts something into the radio, but there is no response for some time. After several minutes of garbled combat noise, a final explosive gasp bursts from the radio, followed by a crunching sound. The eerie moaning is no longer heard.
"X, you still flying?"
"Barely...Port wing in damaged, I'm shot full of holes. I'm gonna have to turn back or I'll be shaking hands with the ground."
"Cripes...Alright, Jones, you give him an escort back to base, I'll go pick up Orwitz."
"By yourself?"
"We'll be fine, I don't see anything else on the radar."
A cry is heard and the rushed landscape suddenly nosedives and rolls. And rolls. And rolls. Then goes black.
/RECORD DATE UNKNOWN. CALENDER DATA UNAVAILABLE OR DAMAGED. PVT. ORWITZ/HORACE RECORD LOG. WARNING: CORRUPTED DATA DETECTED. HUD CAMERA DAMAGED. UNABLE TO PROVIDE IMAGERY.
"Hey kid, you alive?"
"Yeah...Yeah, just barely."
"Falling off cliffs isn't all that fun, is it? C'mon, we need to move. Can you stand?"
"Not really. I think...I can't feel anything from my right knee down."
"Crap. Alright, I'll carry you back then strap you to the side. Help me as much as you can, ok?"
/RECORD DATE UNKNOWN. CALENDER DATA UNAVAILABLE OR DAMAGED. PVT. ORWITZ/HORACE RECORD LOG. WARNING: CORRUPTED DATA DETECTED. HUD CAMERA DAMAGED. UNABLE TO PROVIDE IMAGERY.
The video cuts in and out, showing fragments of a landscape moving past far too quickly to be running. Air rushes across the camera's audio recorder. It is impossible to hear anything other than the wind and whine of an engine. Patches of jungle rush past in a flash, the green of the canopy a stark contrast to the baked yellow of the savannah. Darkness again. then suddenly a murky river snakes into view below before vanishing once more into darkness. A flash of a landing pad. then men and women rushing towards the camera, a stretcher. Sounds of a decelerating engine, rushed, garbled voices and the thump of something large and heavy setting down. A flash of the world spinning, then nothing. The clatter of tiny wheels as they roll across a concrete floor. A glimpse of a Hornet VTOL dwindling and disappearing around a corner.
Then finally, silence and darkness.
/END DATE UNKNOWN. POSSIBLE KIA? PVT. ORWITZ/HORACE RECORD LOG END.
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