Date: September 5, 2552
Location: The Pier Island, Halo
Time: 3:45 AM
Pier Island was once a peaceful place, home to small animals, and beautiful scenery. But that was long ago. Now, it was a desolate wasteland, filled with death and pain. It was forsaken for thousands of years, and only recently became a place of interest. On the mainland, a high mountain sloped up, up, up into the sky. Clouds of grey mist hovered over the peak. It made the perfect spot for a base of operations and a lookout point. Which is why it attracted so much attention...
Martin Lloyd quivered in fear. He was lost, alone, and there was no hope for escape. He huddled next to a rock, holding a sniper rifle. There had been a large battle the previous day, and he only just escaped. Escape. If only that were a possibility. He sighed. There were too many enemies to escape, and he couldn't use the radio without being detected. What to do? Either he'd die from the Covenant, or from hypothermia. Sleet pelted the area, and Marty's body temperature dropped rapidly. He had to do something. He didn't want to die out here. He crept along the tree-line of the mountain, making as little movement as possible. Covenant above, below, and around. This situation was growing worse all the time.
He formulated a quick plan. He had to get to the top of the mountain. From there, he could call extraction in, and he'd have the fog to cover his escape. It was the perfect plan, for the moment. If only the Covenant would oblige him and leave him alone.
He crouched down, surveying his situation from the tree-line. A dozen grunts, eight jackals, and an Admiral elite patrolled the area. Great. Now he couldn't move up the mountain any more. He scanned the area for anything he could use to distract the aliens' attention. Nothing. He continued to scan the ground for anything of use. Suddenly, his eyes fixed on a large hole.
"Hello, what's this?" he whispered to himself. He got on his stomach, still holding the rifle, and crawled towards the hole. When he reached it, he looked down. It was deep, apparently tiled with cement. A passageway? He slid down into the hole. It was a passage way. There were small lights on the walls, glowing blue and illuminating the dark corridor slightly. He slithered and sneaked his way down the narrow tube. He had to find out where this thing led. After crawling through a mile of piping, he saw sunshine. This was the end of the line. He peeked his head up slowly. The situation went from bad to worse. He had stumbled upon an officer's meeting, and a make-shift hangar for wraiths and banshees. His plan changed.
"If I could steal one of those banshees," he whispered to himself, "I would run less of a risk of alerting all the Covenant on the island. A pelican makes a lot of noise, and is hard to miss. But, a banshee...
He continued to scan the area. There was a large pile of human bodies fifteen feet to the left. If only he could get there without being detected. He poked his head out, scanned the area for guards, then crawled out. No contacts. Yet. He continued to crawl until he reached the pile of bodies. He burrowed under the bodies until he had a good shot at the admiral. But it was useless. He couldn't fire until the Admiral's shield was down to avoid being detected. He continued to scan the area for guards. He found two grunts, napping quietly, one next to the other. Marty held his breath, then squeezed the trigger gently.
>POW!< Jernel heard a sniper shot, and a squeal of pain from one of the grunts outside. The admiral turned, and heard another shot. Yet another death cry came from a grunt. A sniper. One of the most feared enemies the humans had at their disposal other than the Spartan. But where was he? Another shot, and one of the admiral's lieutenants fell dead. He looked at the blue elite, a quarter sized hole in his noggin. Another shot, another kill, and another blue elite fell to the ground. That made four shots, so the human had to reload. Then, a glint of a sniper scope caught the elite's eye. He was hiding in the bodies. Jernel grabbed his sword, and charged the pile of corpses. He hacked and slashed at the mound, sending blood, organs, and blood stained bones everywhere. He would kill the sniper, and kill him quickly.
Marty was horrified. He reloaded, and saw the elite hacking through the bodies. He aimed for the admiral's head, and fired all four shots. It obliterated the shield, but didn't quite kill him. This was it. He was going to die here, among the dead. Suddenly, there was another sniper shot, and a >whump< of dead flesh. An electric hiss told Martin that the elite had been killed. Slowly, Marty rose, and searched for the man who had saved him. Then, he saw him. Another marine, blood oozing from a head wound, and mud plastered all over his body. He looked tired.
"You ok, man?" Marty called.
"Yeah. I saw you come out that hole earlier. I thought I was seeing things. I haven't seen another human for days. Alive, anyway," the other marine responded.
"Same here. I thought I was the last one left. So, you must have been the part of the initial strike squad, huh?"
A low whine told the commandos that wraiths were coming.
"I'll tell you when we get back, dude. Let's get out of here!" the sniper said.
They ran for the banshees, leapt in, and yanked up on the flight sticks. At that same moment, the wraiths thundered through, firing at the vehicles, obliterating their own tanks. Marty couldn't resist a laugh. He had faced death, and won. His resistance paid off.