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Beckoning of Doom: Ch. 1: --Surprises--
Posted By: Nick Kang<digitai430@yahoo.com>
Date: 25 May 2004, 8:32 PM
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Authors Note: This series is mainly from the Covenant point of view, but at the beginning of each chapter there will be a short part on the Human POV.
NK
BECKONING TO DOOM: CH. 1: SURPRISES
0230 HOURS(HUMAN MILITARY TIME)
JANUARY 3, 2553(HUMAN MILITARY CALENDAR)
EPSILON-ERIDANI SYSTEM
IN THE MIDST OF A REBEL COUNTER-OFFENSE
Nick Tesler sprinted through the Mess Hall, bounding over the bodies scattered throughout the cafeteria. He only had a small amount of time before the bomb went off, which would most likely engulf the entire Rebel Base.
"Come in, Bravo-45! This is Master Sergeant Nick Tesler! Prepare to pick up my squad and I at rebel docking junction 7-E!" He yelled into the radio. He ran through the Mess Hall threshold, past the scorched floor where the grenade had gone off.
Roger that, Sarge. This is Bravo-45 en route to junction 7-E." the radio crackled.
Tesler rounded the corner where they had captured the single Rebel Insurgent. He heard the boots of his ODST comrades slapping the Titanium-A floor behind him. He had to get to the junction.
The weight of his SMG slowed him down too much. He dropped it on the floor, letting it clatter on the ground. Up ahead he could see the junction. He ran out onto the junction bridge and spotted Bravo-45 flying toward the airlock. He waved his hands, signaling the dropship to pick the squad up. There wouldn't be much more time until the bomb went off. The first set of airlock doors slid open. Bravo-45 entered the large chamber. The atmosphere regulated within a matter of seconds, and the latches on the entry door popped.
Tesler tried squeezing the handle of his SMG, something he did when he was nervous, but realized he had left it in the hallway in his rush to get to the junction. The entry door slid open, and the Pelican slowly inched inside. Tesler bounded aboard before the hover jets were even activated. His squad was close behind him, running just as furiously as he had. Their gasps for breath echoed through the quiet hall. They appeared around the corner, nine ODSTs sprinting for their lives. A loud explosion echoed through the halls as the bomb finally detonated. Yellow fire swallowed the corridors and licked at the backs of Tesler's running squadmates. The slower ones were enveloped, and screamed for half a second before their pleads were silenced. The first three scrambled onto the floor plate and lay there, breathing heavily. Tesler kept his eyes glued to the scene as two more Marines got on. The last ODST disappeared behind the curtain of flame, never even getting the chance to scream. Tesler sighed and closed his eyes, tuning out the pilot's voice over the loudspeaker, and the humming of the ramp as it slowly closed. When he opened his eyes, the only thing illuminating the dark Pelican cabin was a small red light bulb screwed into the ceiling. The dark light cast shadows over the five other Marines' faces, making their features seem even gaunter than they already were.
"Okay people, brace yourselves, I'm gonna have to blow this wall open!" yelled the pilot through the loudspeaker. The Pelican shuddered as it fired an Anvil-II missile at the airlock. There was an explosion and then the dropship began to shake as the chainguns engaged. Tesler felt the engine kick in and sudden inertia as the Pelican shot through the hole it had made in the wall. Out the window, Tesler saw the cold grey metal junction turn into smooth black and white space. He was about to relax, when there was an explosion and the dropship violently pitched and tumbled through space. A missile streaked by the window, but Tesler couldn't see who, or what, had fired it.
Fanoon 'Farnasee crouched behind a purple supply crate and peered around the corner toward the humming Gravity Lift exit. Ship Master 'Henifamee had warned them that they would be fighting their own kind, so 'Farnasee planned on killing anything that came through the Grav-Lift. The large bay was filled with the clanking of armor and the thump of footfalls as more and more Covenant forces spilled into it, ready for battle. 'Farnasee's grip on his plasma rifle tightened as the upcoming battle grew ever closer. He felt sweat bead under his helmet and run down his forehead in slow streams.
The large, dark purple circle in the middle of the bay began to glow pink, then red, and then a dozen Grunts appeared standing in the middle of the loading zone. A hail of plasma and sapphire shards of light filled the air, and the loading pad was doused with blood before the Grunts could even focus their eyes on their surroundings. 'Farnasee got ready for another wave of enemy Covenant troops and raised the plasma rifle. Once again, the pad began to glow, and a circle of Jackals, shields pointed outward, materialized out of thin air. In the middle of the Jackal circle stood five Elites and another dozen Grunts. The Jackals immediately opened fire, downing a few Grunts, and the Elites inside the circle lobbed grenades over their protective wall. Blue explosions peppered the bay as 'Farnasee's comrades returned fire. A few lucky shots made it over the Jackal wall, but there were not enough to do much damage to those inside. The Jackals' shields made it too hard to take them out. You had to be patient and aim at unshielded pieces of them: hands, toes, parts of their legs, in order to get them to reveal their unshielded body.
'Farnasee fired at a Jackal, aiming specifically for the shields power core, the orange circle in the middle of the energy barrier. Blue plasma splashed across the shield and dissipated to nothing. The Jackal turned it's attention to 'Farnasee and fired. Fanoon ducked back behind the crate as green plasma bolts melted the front of it. He returned from hiding and fired a well-placed shot at the Jackal's hand, burning it straight off. The alien screamed and looked at it's arm where the hand had been melted at the wrist, and revealed it's head to 'Faranamee. The Elite wasted no time in firing a three-shot burst, which melted right through the Jackal's helmet and superheated the creature's brain. It fell with a thud on the purple metal and opened a firing point inside the circle. 'Farnamee lobbed a plasma grenade through the small opening in the circle. It stuck to a Grunt who had been prepping a plasma grenade. The small creature seemed confused at first, and ten threw it's hands in the air and ran around the circle, shouting cries for mercy in it's barking tongue. A blue flash of light rose up from the inside of the circle and sent several Jackals and an Elite flying. Several Grunts also shot out of the explosion with a wail.
'Farnasee ducked back behind the crate as an Elite targeted him with it's Needler. He felt the crate jerk as it took needle after needle, and then rise several feet off the ground as they exploded. He focused back on the inside of the circle, which was becoming more and more visible by the second, thanks to the constantly falling Jackals. Raising his plasma rifle, 'Farnasee gave a short burst at the Elite and watched it's shields flicker into view. 'Farnasee fired single shots to overload the shields, and then bursts to take out the Elite. It's heavy body thudded to the ground with a final scream. A plasma grenade landed with a clunk next to 'Farnasee, casting a blue glow over the smooth bay wall. He dove to the right and somersaulted just as the grenade went off. Cool heat splashed across his shields and drained them to half. He felt plasma hammer his shields, and realized he was without cover. Fanoon quickly scrambled behind another supply crate as plasma melted the section of floor he had just been standing on. An alarm blared in his ears as his shield meter blinked red and slowly began to recharge.
'Farnasee checked his plasma rifle battery core and realized it was almost out of energy. He ejected the core and retrieved another from the pouch on his hip. Depositing it into the core-operating device, Fanoon resumed firing and quickly took down three Grunts. By now only three Jackals, four Grunts, and an Elite remained. The Jackals quickly regrouped and overlapped their shields while the Elite stood behind them and the Grunts stood in front of the Jackals, firing their plasma pistols. A hail of green plasma rained down upon 'Farnasee's dwindling forces, killing four Grunts and two Elites. Fanoon lobbed his last plasma grenade over the purple crate and heard a Grunt yelp for mercy. He peeked behind the crate and saw one of the four Grunts running around with a blue blob attached to it's chest. The grenade detonated, sending the other three Grunts and a Jackal flying. The two other Jackals flinched, moving their shields away from their bodies. Fanoon fired a burst at one, and it screamed in it's alien tongue. 'Farnasee covered his ears at the sound of the shrill shriek, grunting in pain. He was so occupied with blocking out the sound, he didn't notice the enemy Elite raising it's Needler. He suddenly saw his shields flicker to life and quickly drain. Bright pink explosions surrounded him as the needles popped on his depleting shields. He was confused at first, but his mind regrouped just in time to see his shields fade. Hot pain suddenly washed across his thigh, spreading up to his hip. He gripped his leg and clenched his mandibles in an act of severe pain. Looking down, 'Farnasee saw four glowing pink needles protruding from his upper leg. All at once, they popped and sizzled, sending small bits of flesh and globules of blood up from his leg. He screamed with extreme agony as dark purple blood poured from the gaping hole in the middle of his thigh. The scream attracted the attention of the two Jackals and they opened fire on his crate. Fanoon couldn't even here the sizzling of burning metal over his own screaming. But the next thing he knew, he was on the ground, his leg still oozing blood. Fire ate at his back and consumed his right shoulder. With nausea, 'Farnasee realized that he had been shot in the back by plasma. With all his strength, Fanoon pushed himself up and crawled back behind the crate, where he curled up, preparing for his imminent death to come. But he never heard plasma sizzling on his armor, nor the popping of needles, or even the quiet hiss of a plasma grenade. Well, actually he did, but it wasn't right next to him, or anywhere near him, for that matter. Using his failing strength, Fanoon peered around the crate and saw a plasma grenade resting next to the enemy Elite and behind the last Jackal. It exploded, bathing the horrified faces of the two enemy warriors in blue light for a moment before they disappeared behind the curtain of flame.
The victory over the enemy squad gave 'Farnasee's forces a chance to rest, check the wounded, and count the dead. Fanoon felt relieved as a pair of medical Grunts waddled over to where he lay on the cool floor and propped his head up with a salvaged pack of raw meat. The two Grunts pulled out medical tools and got to work patching up Fanoon's injuries. 'Farnasee felt something cool pass through his veins as the medics injected him with a painkiller/anesthetic mix. The pain suddenly disappeared. Soldiers had begun to shout out casualties. Fanoon almost choked on his own saliva when he heard it: forty-eight dead. A single squad of enemies had inflicted severe casualties on his Company. Nearly one third of the total soldiers were dead. Who knew how many more wounded there were. But Fanoon's thoughts were cut short as the Grav-Lift again began to hum and turned purple. Then red. Suddenly, out of nowhere, six Hunters and a pair of Brutes, supported by two dozen Grunts and ten Elites materialized out of thin air. Fanoon was astonished. He had no idea a Grav-Lift could support that much weight.
The two medical Grunts saw the armada-worth of enemy firepower, and began to grunt and bark nervously to each other. They quickly and sloppily placed a body-heat activated adhesive cooling-plasma pack to his left thigh where he had been wounded by the needles. They completely forgot about his wounded back and ran screaming out from behind the crate. 'Farnasee looked out at the new enemy. Eerie green light collected on the tip of the fuel rod cannon wielded by one of the Hunters. In the blink of an eye, the light turned into a green fuel blast, which arced through the air and exploded right in front of the two Grunt medics. They were sent screaming into the purple wall, where they hit with a dull crack, leaving small globules of glowing blood on the smooth purple metal. The Hunter ejected the empty fuel rod, and another automatically loaded into the breach of the powerful weapon. Fanoon's comrades stayed where they were for a moment, dazed by what had just happened. Suddenly, before 'Farnasee could even realize what was happening, two enemy Elites were down, thin tendrils of smoke drifting from their twitching corpses. This was the only motivation the enemy needed. Every single opposing warrior opened fire. Almost instantly, purple and blue blood stained the walls where his comrades had been standing moments before. The bodies of another third of his company littered the ground. They were fighting a losing battle, and most of them knew it. Plasma bounced off the shields of the Hunters, ricocheting up to the ceiling where they burned small craters in the metal. Molten rivulets of liquid metal dripped down and sizzled on the enemy Elites' shields.
One of the Hunters, a smaller one, took continuous fire from the defending forces, and bright orange blood poured from the numerous wounds in it's midsection. Finally, after half a minute of continued fire, the small Hunter gave up with a guttural wail and thudded to the ground, it's heavy armor clacking on the blood stained floor. 'Farnasee raised his rifle and targeted a Grunt, but when he squeezed the trigger, nothing happened. He squeezed it again. Not even the familiar click that meant the battery was depleted. He inspected the rifle, and realized that somewhere in the confusion of battle, a stray plasma bolt had melted the battery core. Great. Now he was defenseless, and, having used up all of his grenades, without weapons. He felt a spark of madness kindle in his stomach. He threw the useless weapon as hard as he could at a Grunt. The weapon hit the creature's head with a crack and clattered to the floor, the small alien's body thumped to the floor next to it, blood oozing from it's lifeless eyes. The Grunt's plasma pistol clanked to the deck next to 'Farnasee. He quickly grabbed it and checked the battery core. It was eighty-six percent operational. Perfect. He fitted one of his two trigger fingers into the small trigger guard and gripped the weapon with both hands. Holding down the trigger, Fanoon waited for the blob of green light to form on the tip of the weapon before standing up and firing. The large green plasma bolt sailed through the air and knocked an Elite off it's feet. The Elite got back up, sparks shooting from it's personal shield generator. 'Farnasee finished it off with seven more single shots and then focused on a Grunt. It went down easy with green bolts of light hammering it's chest.
Now Fanoon noticed how few of his fellow soldiers were left. Three Jackals, six Elites, and nine Grunts remained from the 160 eager warriors that had entered. 'Farnasee took it upon himself to sound the retreat, seeing as how the Field Master was laying in a pool of blood on the other side of the bay.
"Retreat, comrades! Do not let these infidels cleanse you from the battle! Fall back to the Command Center!" his deep voice bellowed over the zapping and wailing of weapons fire. He stayed just long enough to see his fellow soldiers begin to run and then took off towards one of the doors. The smooth, silver metal parted with a silent hiss and revealed a lit, purple-metal corridor. Fanoon ran, fueled by the need to live, until a fuel rod blast, fired by one of the Hunters, exploded right in front of him.
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