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Beckoning of Doom Ch. 3: The Last Stand
Posted By: Nick Kang<digitai430@yahoo.com>
Date: 9 July 2004, 1:47 PM
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I realize that the last chapter of this series had been titled chapter three even though it was chapter two. That's what I get for submitting at two in the morning. Please note that this is the actual chapter three. Enjoy.
Nick Kang
The Pelican rumbled as the anti-gravity hover-jets ignited. The small, battered ship slowly drifted down to the rough brown floor of the shuttle bay of the UNSC carrier Liberty. The second the descent ramp dropped open, Tesler stumbled out, dropped to the floor, and vomited. The inertia and uncertainty of the last battle had scrambled his stomach. He pulled himself together and got up, wiping the last bits of bile off his chin. He followed his surviving squadmates back to the dorm, where they caught a quick three-hour rest.
The loudspeaker emitted a deep rumbling tune, arousing Tesler from his sound sleep. He walked over to the speaker mounted on the wall and spoke.
"What is it?" He groaned, his mind still half asleep.
'Sergeant Nicholas Tesler, you and your squad are to report to the amphitheater for briefing on your next mission." The man's voice on the other end was deep but firm.
"Already?" Tesler asked hurriedly, "We just got back from the last one, lost half the squad!"
"Sorry, sir, but I have strict order from Captain Anderson to scramble his Company and be ready for their next mission, somethin' about a Covie Cruiser. So, you better get there, Anderson doesn't like to be kept waiting.
"Roger that." Tesler responded. He rubbed his eyes and groggily donned his uniform. After he had secured his boots, Tesler pulled the door open. It slid with a metallic screech and a burst of artificial light flooded the small room. Outside his personal barracks was a room lined with bunks. The soft snoring and shifting of the sleeping ODSTs filled the air. Tesler picked up a long, thin metal rod from the desk near the door and banged it against the wall. A loud, hollow thud echoed off the walls and met the ears of the ODSTs. They were instantly sitting bolt upright in bed, their thin covers drooping over the sides of the bunks. Their eyes were wide and their heads swiveled, looking for what had caused the noise.
"Wake up ladies!" Tesler shouted, "We gotta job to do!"
"Oh yeah!" Yelled Private Parker, one of the recruits replacing the soldiers that had died during the rebel counter-offensive. "I just got here and I'm already goin' to kill me some Covies!"
"There's always a first time for something, soldier! Now alla you, move it out! I want you in the main Amphitheater for briefing five minutes ago!" Tesler responded using his strict drill sergeant voice.
"Sir, yessir!" Twelve voices sounded in unison. They began dismounting from their bunks and putting on their uniforms. Tesler walked past them and pushed the Titanium-A dorm door open. It easily slid open and revealed a lit hallways bustling with personnel and Marine Security. Tesler strode out of the dorm and down the hallway, his boots clanking on the hollow deck.
The sounds of battle comenced again as the new enemy reinforcements charged down the hallway. Only the blockade knew what kind of warriors were in this new wave. Fanoon tightened his grip on the Needler and clenched his mandibles. All he wanted to do was get off this ship. The past half-cycle had become a living eternity, and it was shown on the faces of those who had survived the Grav-Lift bay. Fanoon closed his eyes and wondered what would have happened that day if the Cleanser hadn't proclaimed them 'Unstable' and attacked the Beckoning of Justice.
Down the hall, another Grunt screamed. Elites wailed and shouted battle cries, and Jackals screached. There was no sound to prove that Hunters or Brutes were in the new Enemy force. Fanoon sighed and relaxed a little. He wouldn't die.
Not yet, at least.
After several units, the battle ceased, and a slow, steady marching pulsed through the ship. The enemy had broken through. The only thing separating the enemy from the Control Room, were the four Hunters that had taken cover in the hallways. Once they were gone, the forces in the control room would have a battle on their hands. Without knowing, Fanoon clasped his hand even tighter around the smooth handle of the Needler.
For the first time since he had been carried to the Control Room, he noticed the condition of his comrades. They also seemed to be nervous. The Elite next to Fanoon shifted his weight uneasily from one foot to another, while the wall of Jackals ahead shakily conversed with each other in their raspy, screeching tongue. Ship Master 'Henifamee, having completed his checking of the ships monitors, paced in circles on the control platform, his hooves clacking against the metal floor. The reflected rainbow of light at the top of the room no longer seemed beautiful and amazing. Instead, it looked dangerous and malignant.
The sound of a fuel rod explosion suddenly cracked and rebounded off the walls. The Hunters had engaged the enemy. Three more explosions followed quickly. A host of Grunts and an Elite screamed as the unseen explosions tore at their flesh and sent them flying. The Hunters grunted from the enemy resistance, but from the continuing sound of explosions, didn't give up. Fanoon heard at least three more Elites, a Jackal and a score of Grunts go flying before one of the Hunters wailed and a heavy thump echoed into the Control Room.
Three more explosions came. A Jackal screamed. A Grunt wailed. An Elite warbled. And in the middle of it all, the never-ending sound of plasma bouncing of the Hunters' shields dominated the shouts of pain from both sides. Within two units, Fanoon heard two more Hunters fall, and the last scream of the enemy force sang a hollow tune in his head. Ship Master 'Henifamee quickly called back the remaining Hunter into the Control Room for medical attention.
As the chamber doors silently slid open and the Hunter unsteadily jogged out, Fanoon caught a glimpse of the hall. Bile almost immediately rose into his throat. The corridor was almost completely destroyed. Orange, purple, and blue blood was spattered throughout the entire passage. The walls were blackened and dented from the magnitude of the fighting that had taken place. Bodies were scattered everywhere, sprawled, broken, and bruised. The floor was black and some of the overhead light fixtures had been shot out, giving the Hunter and Grunt blood an even more sinister, glowing color. Time slowed down. The five seconds in which the door was open became units. The units became cycles. Fanoon waited.
When the door finally did close, after the harrowing short wait, Fanoon averted his eyes from the now-symbolic door. The door was a symbol of resisance, showing that it blocked the path, but in time would crumble to give way to the enemy forces. Fanoon also supposed the door could symbolize the Covenant Empire, strong and imposing, but there was always something else at the top of the meat ring. The Empire would eventually fall to a greater foe, possibly the Humans. The Veteran Elite suddenly realized he was getting sidetracked. In the short time that he had been thinking, Fanoon hadn't noticed the sound of marching that was coursing through the ship.
He gulped, and an ice-cold sweat trickled down his already moist skin. His heart leapt into his throat, but he gulped it down and gathered his courage. He made sure his Needler was functional again, and checked to see if his three plasma grenades were still strapped to his hip. They were. The marching continued outside the door, a harmless pulsing rumble, but the makers of the sound were everything but harmless, including determined.
The Ship Master noticed his troops' nervous appearance, and quickly whipped up a sloppy but still morale-raising speech.
"Fight well, my brethren, die for the Gods, die for the comrade next to you, but above all, die and take a dozen of the infidels with you!" At least forty voices rang out in response to 'Henifamee's speech, but the Ship Master wasn't finished yet. "We were abandoned by the Prohets, we were attacked by our own brothers, but I swear this on the God of War's resting place, we will not give in to their attacks!" Another cheer rose from the defenders, but 'Henifamee continued without stopping. "You see, my brothers, this is our last stand, and we want to make it clear to the enemy that we will not give up without a fight!" The loudest cry of all echoed through the chamber as the Ship Master crouched down behind a supply crate and aimed his rifle at the door. Fanoon, along with the rest of the defenders, did the same.
The marching had grown much louder now, and the footsteps were right outside the door. They quickly ceased, and Fanoon braced himself. It happened so quick the Elite became confused. The doors blew open in a rush of yellow flames, lazily tossing the two halves across the Control Room. Before the smoke cleared, before the attackers could even be seen, Fanoon and the rest of the defenders were up, and a plague of plasma and needles were already flying at the threshold.
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