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The Siege of Beta Centauri XVI (Part II, Chapter I: Jungle Showdown)
Posted By: Insomnia<sjp0131@hotmail.com>
Date: 2 November 2004, 1:21 AM

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Well, here is Part II. Hope you guys like it.

Chapter IV

Part II: Landfall
Chapter I: Jungle Showdown

Ninth age of Reclamation, Infidel CenterDescending to surface via Phantom dropship to Beta Centauri XVIBeta Centauri System

      The phantom dropship bumped slightly here and there as it descended rapidly into Beta Centauri XVI's atmosphere, along with hordes of other gleaming Phantom and Regular U-Shaped Dropships.

The Dropship did not shake, and if it did, not much. The dropship was much bigger and roomier than a regular Covenant Dropship, and its odd anomylous shape gave it a distinct appearence among the legion of dropships that looked like bugs swarming towards a light, and that light being Beta Centauri XVI.

The wreckage out in the vacuum of space was enormous. Molded Titanium-A looked like red hot slags that simply burned orange, and would not seem to cool off. The angry vividness of the stars was more clear than ever, lighting up the cloud of super-condensed vapor where the "sacraficial plate" once was.

The Suprebleshmeberer guns, or "Mack" guns as the infidel's called them, was a vast assortment of wrecked parts and smoldering magnetic coils that interfered with the planets magnetic structure, sending ripples across the atmosphere, the sight of a true battle.

'Ala 'Omnamamee re-checked his inventory, a unactivated energy sword, his trusty pure Nisulphate or Silver-Platinum Plasma Pistol was also present, and a dozen plasma grenades. He looked around the interior of the menaculous dropship.

His squad was present. His Brute's in the squad were looking at the deck, reflecting on their pride and glory. Aemdaues, the second in command of the squad, a Brute wearing highly polished Blue-Black armor shone at a glaring sheen as he looked at the door where the pilot was, and then his gazed dropped to the deck with his co-species comrades.

The Elite's in the squad, wearing Blackish-Red armor, looked at 'Omnamamee, looking at him as if waiting for ever-present orders.

The Grunts in his squad looked nothing like their elites that favored their audacity looks. They were slouched, and tired, after the heap of work that was put on them during the last raid, and had gotten nothing but six units of sleep since then. They were either sporting that look, or were just not happy.

The Phantom dropship descended to the upper Troposphere, a sign that they were almost present to their appointed task.

"Well, coherents, it is almost that time again," 'Omnamamee started, "And we are here to finish what are former ancestors started, to eradicate the human waste dumped and heaped upon us higher beings. We will destroy more of this pestilence, and we will be scrub this waste, until there is NO MORE!" 'Omnamamee spoke.

The Brutes roared, the grunts looked up, and the rest made an agonizing growl.

The Phantom touched down, in what the humans called a forest.

'Omnamamee looked up and saw a sea of trees looming before him. It seemed to be never ending. A low gray mist hung low above the squad, obscuring their vision slightly, leaving strong moisture on the ground, and making the climate unbearably hot and humid. The searing heat was accompanied by the mossy, damp, marshy ground with overwhelming moisture. Vines choked the ground with intensity, suffocating the once fertile soil to an unusable, root smothered ground.

"Let's go and make sure the heathens on this planet are disposed of." Ordered 'Omnamamee.

He heard many squishing noises as his squad's boots slid on the uninhabitable ground. 'Omnamamee looked up and made out the faint texterity of the hundreds of Phantom dropships zooming out of the atmosphere.

'Omnamamee drew his Plasma Pistol to firing range with a flick of his wrist. He clenched his moisture-slicked hands and took a Plasma Grenade out of his belt, and held it, for those wretched primitive scoundrel that they were getting closer to every second.

He spun his Plasma Pistol around in his wrist, and made sure the battery was at capacity. It was, and the other squad members were also in firing position, with upped Plasma Rifles, The Jackal's handheld sheilding equipment glowed a ghostly silver. They were ready to make short work of any human force, and even the Elites had the newest weapons available, the Carbine, and the Brutes carried grenade launchers that could blow Human midsections apart.

The squad was busy sloshing through the jungle habitat. It was getting hotter, closer to midday. The grunts, hand-trained with iron discipline by 'Omnamamee himself, staggered for a second in the blistering heat.

All of a sudden, a shadow appeared, than dissapeared as suddenly as it came. 'Omnamamee, as with the rest of his squad, were at full alert, and the mud squishing stopped. "The shadow was undoubtley a human," a Grunt named Terrackaeria quacked. "We must destroy its fellow pathetic forces as well, or we will be surrounded."

'Omnamamee took this into consideration, stared at the head grunt for a second, then spoke. "Kill everything except for us in our path, even if it is not human."

The Hunters roared, and sprinted into action into a tree suddenly. Its massive poltsurfartenateum sheild penetrated and splintered the tree in its path, and a loud cry was heard. A human cry that somehow escaped from its filthy toungue.

'Omnamamee, with trained precision, fired at the source where the screams were coming from. A trio of plasma globes escaped the hinge of his gun, and struck the alien soilders face. It screamed off in the distance, stopped, and the smell of burnt flesh creeped around him.

Aemdaues, the Brute, roared, and pointed forward. "The Interlopers, AHEAD!" And he fired one of his hyper-vilocitic grenades at the small company of homosapiens.

'Omnamamee growled, and sprinted into action at the startled enemy soilders. One hundred of them in various locations, while 'Omnamamee's squad consisted of sixty. Perfect odds. He thought, pleasurably.

His squad took action, picking off humans. 'Omnamamee, however, sprinted, ducked, and rolled towards a startled enemy. It yelled something that sounded like: "No, it's over here, one of those bad-ass black elites, kill it!"

'Omnamamee barely heard it over the sound of the elite jabbing the human in the mouth, its fragile jaw bone shattered with a satisfiying Crunch.

He shoved a quick cross into its rib cage, and it coughed up red fluid, its blood source. And a final move with a kick to its chest, its breastplate cracked like porcelain, and its vital organs were crushed and the enemy fell to the ground in a heap.

The enemies cried, and started shooting 'Omnamamee. The projectiles simply bounced off of his protective energy shield. He drew his plasma pistol, and fired expertly controlled shots into the protected hides, which, quickly melted, off the human crusade.

Shots rang out, returned by plasma sizziling across the mist of vapor that spanned across the entire jungle. 'Omnamamee continued to shoot out quadruplets after octuplets after sextuplets of shots from his pistol, and continued to withstand bullet hits and pieces of brain that simply bounced off his shielding.

His Plasma Pistol soon reached empty, so he devised a new strategy. Slaughtering them. He put his Plasma Pistol back in his belt, which needed to be recharged aboard the ship, and took out his energy sword.

He activated it, and the Plasma Sword came to life, shuddering sparks that danced on the jungle carpet, and melted away some of the vapor.

He growled in rage, and sprang into combat. A thud eminated from the ground after his one hundred and eighty two unit body hit the ground with force. He took the energy sword, and slashed it across a homosapien who had his back turned. Blood spewed out of the wound, his arm had been cut off. The soilder yelled, but it was silenced after 'Omnamamee shoved it into the soilders spinal cord, the blood on the sword for a octasecond simply dissolved away, cell by cell.

He slammed it into another soilder through its right eye. It did not make a noise as its dead, limp hulk fell to the ground.

He armed a plasma grenade, and threw it at a cluster of humanoids. It clung and started melting a soilder's face, who tried to pry it free. Two seconds later, the screaming was hushed by the utter explosion that rang in 'Omnamamee's ears, shattering their bodies apart in gory bits.

Aemdaues slammed the blade of his grenade launcher into a humans face. It made a sickly, splatting noise as the soilder fell to the ground immediatly. The end of the Humans defenses just inched closer.

'Omnamamee led his squad through the rest of the jungle, and simply left the bodies to rot. They did not need to be buried. He saw the light through the clouds of vapor trailing in sinous strings of sunlight pouring through the vapor cloud. The cobblestone field that stood right outside the forest was thick with Covenant patrol. Banshees flew in formation and Covenant Shadows made routine checks on each mercanary.

A covenant bus, black with 'Omnamamee's squad logo, pulled up, obviously meaning for them to board it.

Five Covenant Buses with Banshee patrol in the air and Shadow/Ghost patrol that accompanied it on the right, forming a small convoy that was headed to Teremeaqs City, the Human's capital of this planet.

'Omnamamee stared outside as they moved at a considerable rate. The end just simply stretches closer to my fingertips, of this pestilence. He thought.

To be continued...