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Survivalism: Part 2
Posted By: The Militant Poet<bkollmann@att.net>
Date: 13 October 2007, 10:24 pm
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Part 2 - The wake up call
The men dispersed and scattered to various positions around the camp. The entire outpost was bustling from anxiety for the upcoming mission, more so than the usual pre-mission jitters. Some sat around fine tuning their weapons. Others grabbed some extra MRE's from down in the tunnels. And a couple went to the armory to start loading up what was left of their C-12 supplies.
"Waldo!" Barked the officer, "get up in the nest and see if you can get a good heading on that landing zone - a rough map would be nice too."
"Yes sir!" replied a slender, medium height soldier sitting on a hollowed out stump. He dropped the screw driver he was holding and smirked as he hefted his modified S2 AM. Various parts and were completely retooled and tweaked. The barrel was almost fifteen centimeters longer; the butt of the rifle now had spring loaded shocks and a gel pad on the end to support his shoulder; the optical scope was modified and another lens was added to increase the maximum magnification to 15X. Most importantly, however, high powered ring shaped magnets were slid in place along the barrel intervals of ten centimeters. They were all joined by thin parallel bars that ran down the length of the barrel, and joined the stock of the rifle just over the magazine slot. The magnets acted as accelerators for the bullets that literally grabbed the round in mid-flight down the barrel and sling-shotted through the different polarities and propelled it out of the gun with a force that nearly doubled that of a normal, conventional shot. On occasion the men played games of who can pierce the most trees with one bullet – The record is fifteen.
Private Mark "Waldo" Hodges struggled to carry the enormous firearm. It was nearly as long as he was. After finding a comfortable position on his back for the rifle, he climbed the long and arduous ladder up to the perch of the tower, and let his gun rest against the railing. The view was absolutely stunning – birds danced in the air over tree tops, faint stars could be seen in the deep blue dawn sky, and golden rays echoed from under the horizon telling of the Sun's coming arrival. This was one of the first and the last chances in a long time he would be able to enjoy this view, and he knew it. He slowly pulled off his helmet and stared longingly into the views beyond wishing that one day he would again be able to see something as beautiful as Reach. Reluctantly, he pulled his stare away from the scenery to check the time – 6:41.
Suddenly a flare of light caught the corner of his eye. The strong beam of illumination peeked over the mountains in the distance and brought its full glow down on the valley – sunrise at last. Dew drops sparkled and created a dazzling display as the shifting rays of light danced passed them – chasing the darkness from the jungle. All at once the symphony of the jungle erupted and greeted the approaching sun after a long night's sleep. Animals could be heard from miles around waking up with the land below them – birds – bugs – predators – prey; all of them played their role in the morning opus.
"Guess I won't be needing those," the young private muttered to himself glancing at a pair of night vision goggles hanging on the railing next to him.
Hodges scanned the jungle around him for a long while, staring due north where the pick up zone was supposed to be. He strained his eyes even harder, trying to inspect a little spec in the sky just above the horizon. He held the gaze longer and grew increasingly nervous as the spec grew larger. From his view, the distant craft had a wide middle with two out-stretched, flat appendages – probably wings. His head cocked as his ears plucked a faint rumble out of the air. It grew louder and louder as the unknown spec grew larger. There was mistaking that roar, no matter how far away it was, it was a Pelican. The now somewhat visible air craft stopped, turned, and gently lowered itself into a cleared patch in the middle of the all-to-welcoming canopy.
That must be the landing zone, thought Hodges. He leaned over the railing and hollered through the tangle of tree limbs and foliage, "Lieutenant Travers!"
A long pause resonated through the wall of flora between the private and the outpost below. Finally a response, "Yeah Waldo, what is it?"
"I think the bird came a little early; it just touched down about two clicks north of here."
A flock of birds stormed out of the trees and briefly caught Hodges's attention. He glanced over and saw a trail of dust racing its way through the jungle, seemingly on a direct line to the camp - Some one, or some thing, was coming.
"And I've picked up one bogey, maybe two, heading towards the Haven coming from the North East; Hostility not yet known. I think they're on the trail."
"Can you give me an E.T.A.?" replied the voice from under the canopy.
Hodges took a long look at the dust pillar rising from the tops of the trees; it was moving fast and hard – faster than any covenant could run. He promptly turned back to the ground below, "Ninety seconds!"
The outpost was alive with movement. Every man on the grounds was loading and preparing weapons for whatever was coming their way. Near the outpost headquarters, a tall, and heavily built soldier shouldered two M41 Rocket Launchers – one for each arm. The man was built like a tank; his entire set of armor bulged with the suit of solid muscle underneath. His torso was thick and toned, and his thighs alone seemed like they could crush any normal man. His helmet was removed and sat on the ground next to him. He had charcoal skin and a rough, battle weary face. His brow was furrowed in concentration, and a large scar ran vertically from just under his shaved hairline and over his eye, stopping at the bottom of his cheekbone.
"Darian, set up shop just across the trail entrance to give a welcome gift to whatever comes through those trees," Barked the officer with the red band on his shoulder – Lieutenant Travers.
"Yes sir," responded the tall, muscular soldier hefting the pair of M41's jogging across the grassy jungle floor of the camp.
Darian crouched and aimed the two launchers right down the throat of the trail, waiting in anticipation. The rest of the men formed up on the flanks with whatever weapons they could find and took various positions around the camp, all ready to face the new threat. Lieutenant Travers shouldered his assault rifle and crouched right next to another marine holding two sub machine guns.
"Thirty Seconds," Shouted a voice from above the trees.
Travers looked around, "All right boys, nobody fires until I say so. We don't know who or what is coming, so I don't want any trigger happy bullshit. Got it?"
"Yes sir!" responded all eight men steadily leveling their weapons at the trail. They all held their positions silently and clicked the safeties off.
"Twenty Seconds!"
They maintained the silence and gripped their weapons tighter in anticipation.
"Ten Seconds!"
A low rumble vibrated through the tree line and the wall of undergrowth crawling across the jungle floor. A soldier that was crouched right next to the mouth of the trail got up, and staring down the path, he took off his helmet and turned towards the rest of the men, "No threat."
As his words rolled off his tongue, two warthogs screamed around the corner and broke through the tree line surrounding the trail in a tremendous rush. They skidded to a halt and rested in the middle of outpost completely still. They didn't look like normal hogs; instead of the normal bed in the back, accompanied by a chain gun, they had a long compartment with a roll cage. The rails of the rear compartment were padded, like seats, and there were large openings in the roll cage to allow for soldiers inside to fire out of them, or even make a quick escape if things got bad. The improvised troop transports were like Christmas presents to the marines that gathered around the unexpected site; so full of excitement, so full of possibility.
Travers let out a low whistle of amazement, "Nice ride."
A short, thin marine in a standard issue uniform stepped out of the lead vehicle and looked around the camp, smirking, "Damn, you guys are sure hard to find. It took us close to an hour to find that freakin' trail, and our radio isn't even working."
His attempts at conversation were met with cold stares from the rest of the circling marines, "Who are you? What is your purpose here?" said a marine making his way from the back of the crowd of soldiers. He had a BR-55 hanging off his back, and his helmet under his left arm. He had a small layer of stubble growing from his slightly protruded jaw and chin, and short, messy, dirty-blonde hair. His deep blue eyes stood out in his slightly tanned skin. Sweat beaded on his forehead, and his stare intensified on the unexpected arrival.
The young driver faced the ODST, "HQ at firebase Alpha just got word from FLEETCOM – The covenant came early." The Marines exchanged worried glances back and forth, "I was sent hear to pick you guys up and shuttle you to the pick up zone immediately for extraction. The Pelican is already waiting," He glanced at his watch, "And we have to go now. I was supposed to be here at Oh-six-thirty."
Private Hodges came trotting over from the base of the tower, "Sarge, the MAC's just started firing, we better move."
The blonde marine turned towards Hodges and nodded, and exchanged stressed glances with Travers. He looked back at the Warthog driver, "Give us a minute to pack up and we'll be on our way."
Travers looked around at his men, and back at the two warthogs, "You heard the man, time to mount up marines! Load all weapons, ammo, and supplies you can find into the hogs. Tires roll in two minutes – move!"
0709 hours – August 30th, 2552
Landing Zone X-ray – Two kilometers north of the Haven
The warthogs bounced and jumped through the jungle. The young driver pushed the hog to its limits, nearly rolling the vehicle on every rogue root and rock they encountered. Ever since they broke off the trail and into the jungle itself, every turn and jump was a horror story in itself. Tree limbs scarred and battered the side panels of the Hog, and tires through by standing rocks into the troop compartment, pelting them with projectiles at every turn. Any ODST would by happy to die with his comrades, but not when he couldn't do anything about it – not when it was at the hands of something beyond his control. A fatal car crash into a tree definitely fell into that category. The marines rolling and tumbling in the rear compartment barely held on for their lives; they ducked down and held together there for nearly fifteen minutes until by, what seemed like the grace of God himself, pure rays of light filled the air, and blue sky prevailed over tree canopies. The ground below them became smooth and less turbulent, and they could feel the vehicle slow down and stop. They lifted their heads woozily out of the warthogs and saw a wide open clearing, with a Pelican waiting in the middle. A clear cut tree line sat in the distance on the other side of the clearing, and various naval personnel gathered around the Pelican tweaking and inspecting the hull.
"There's your ride gentleman," said the marine in the driver's seat.
"I hope it's a little less bumpy than this one was," muttered the blonde sergeant as he stumbled dizzily out of the back of the warthog.
All of the black armor clad marines gathered up the almost two dozen duffel bags full of weapons and supplies that were piled on top of each other in the backs of the warthogs, and hauled them over to the rear of the cargo bay of the Pelican. The small contingent of marines joined the rest of the naval personell in staring in astonishment at the sky overhead. Massive ships in low orbit were exchanging fire in the epic space battle. The sight in itself was disturbing, yet so very beautiful. Every explosion that dotted the hulls of the ships overhead pained the small planet-side audience. The deaths of so many comrades inspired them with anger and hate. Darian kneeled to the ground and began to pray. The ramp behind them cracked open and lowered with a long hiss, and they calmly marched two by two into the drop ship. They stowed their gear, strapped in, and patiently waited for take off – eager for the coming fight. Sergeant Hall and Lieutenant Travers were the last ones on the ship. Hall walked to the front of the cargo hold, slid his helmet over his blonde hair, and fastened it in to place. He took his seat right next to Darian and gave a smooth nod.
Travers took a long look at his men; all nine of them stared back with respectful looks. After a long pause, he cocked his head and took a deep breath, "I do not expect anything different out of any of you. I do not expect anything other than perfection. I do not expect anything other than the fact that you will make it out of here alive. And as God as my witness, I will make sure that happens. If there is anything that I taught you that I want you to remember, it's that you should be fighting for one more day with the man next to you, not one less day with the man opposite to you. Remember those words men – remember them, and live by them."
There was a deathly silence among them. No words needed to be said to show their respect to the Lieutenant - looks said it all. Travers eyes wandered slowly to the grating on the floor of the troop bay, and he began to slowly walk into the depths of the Pelican. He slid on his helmet, and the loading door into the ship slowly lifted and closed off the morning light outside. The mission had started.
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