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The Culmination - Chapter Two
Posted By: russ687<russ687@hotmail.com>
Date: 29 December 2006, 7:33 am
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Chapter Two
"Men fight because they believe they can elude fate's grasp. What if the truth of predestination meant Man's defiance was the source of their initial action?"
It was a mad house. A literal frenzy of people trying to find some means of escaping the town that had inexplicably become their enemy's target. No one knew what kept them from simply bombarding the planet, or what reason compelled them to take this town by conventional means, but in any case the residents of Mari Crosse had this death warrant over all their heads. That very fact was what made everyone run, scream, and fight for something to carry them from this municipality. It was also the reason for the once peaceful town to become the harbor of neglect for consideration.
Specifically, the consideration of others.
Ronis Alderne stared out his second-story window onto the streets below, his face contorting in a mixture of anger and disbelief. The community of Mari Crosse was scurrying around below him, people pushing, yelling and nearly trampling others in their attempt to escape the inevitability that had settled over this town. Indeed, he knew it, too. Word had filtered through the population of five thousand that a Covenant ground force was en route to their little town, and with word of that ground force came mass panic.
Nobody knew why they had been spared an orbital glassing, but they did know that something here was wanted by their enemy, and being between them and their objective was a sure way to die. This invariable truth, combined with the fact that Mari Crosse was situated in a valley surrounded on three sides by rising mountains, made the quest for escape a terror-driven fury to beat everyone else to the few military aircraft that were trying desperately to get everyone out.
Descending out of the low clouds were those black "Pelicans," but it was painfully obvious that there were not enough of them. And considering that the only side of the town that was vehicle-accessible was the current attack route by their enemy, the options were either to fight your way to one of those transports, start hopelessly climbing those rocky slopes, or watch it all from your home in quiet contemplation.
Alderne was by no means a man of thought, a scholar or philosopher, but he couldn't help but process the sickening change his peers had undertaken. People he once shared meals and worked with were now fighting each other mercilessly to escape, and aside from finding it horribly disappointing that the once tight-knit community was now a scrambling horde, he couldn't deny the rage building inside. The only thing that kept him and his family separated from that mob were the walls of his house.
War was a cruel disfigurer of people. Whether they hold a rifle in defense of others or be the noncombatants with balled fists of desperation, it changed people. Innocent sons turned to cold killers, and peaceful families turned to selfish men and women pursuant of deliverance. This was the ugly truth of war; no matter how close or far one is from the battlefield, it twists the character and ethics until they are no longer recognizable.
Indeed, their enemy had already won in breaking their resolve and solidarity. Now all that remained was for their foe's sword to end their dissentious lives. He placed a hand on the cold glass, his breath condensing on it as he exhaled, fogging up the window before his face. If hope could be considered man's greatest strength and concurrent weakness, then individualism could be considered their greatest and worst gift by God.
"Ronis," came the soft voice from beyond.
He turned slowly to see his wife of twelve years stand silently by the door leading into their upstairs bedroom. Her face was a sad complexion of stress and fear, and it ate at his heart with an indescribable ferocity. His family was in the path of this enemy, yet he stood here in the relative silence of his home as the masses stampeded outside, their voices seeping through the windows and walls. His home gave him no special safety from their incoming enemy, yet he could not devise some unique plan to get them all out to safety.
What could he do? Take his wife and two children into the streets and hope to catch one of those few transports? As he stared at his wife, seeing the look in her deep brown eyes, he felt as if there was nothing he could do. He was supposed to be the protector and provider of his household, yet here, waiting for their enemy to arrive, he had little control. One thing was obvious, however; get them out of here.
"Krita, get the kids," he said softly.
Mrs. Alderne stared at her husband for a moment, then turned and stepped out of the doorway. It was painfully obvious to Ronis that she knew he had no alternative but to try and get them on a transport—but what was he to do? There was no savior, no rescuer that could pluck them from this damned town and bring them to some haven. No, nothing could help him here, which meant that the survival of his family rested upon him getting them in one of those transports…
No matter what.
Within five minutes the four of them had their coats on. Ronis coaxed them into the streets from their front door, joining the stream of frightened people, heading towards the town's center where the school sports field was. The occasional military aircraft landed and departed from that point, and he pushed his family along towards it, trying to protect them from the frantic and shouting people striving to get on those evacs. He could only pray to God that they would escape this graveyard waiting to be filled.
Even if it means I stay, he found himself whispering as the crowd around him blared, let them escape.
As they passed homes and shops, trash littered on the sidewalks and the few cars remaining on the streets, he couldn't help but hope that there was even a God. Before learning of the Covenant's discovery of his home world, and then of their eventual invasion, the thought of God was more of some moralistic, superficial concept. Just something to make everyone "go to church" and believe in something greater than themselves.
The true belief in God was not on his hit list, and accordingly he gave no such thought to a supreme being until the news of their enemy arrived. Now, he was sincerely praying to God, pleading with him to allow his family the chance to live on, while all along he didn't really know if God existed. All these years spent following a trend to buy into the idea that there was some ultimate being—to make an appearance for his fellow men that he was some "holy" man—had left him with nothing.
Yet, walking briskly along with hundreds of others, nearing the town center as the drizzle continued to fall upon them, he wanted to believe that all along he was merely arrogant of God's existence, and not simply ignorant. For if that was true, then there was some entity that controlled the universe, and consequently some hope that his prayers could be answered. If it was false, and his years of attending sermons was only for the social benefit of having others believe him to be an ethical and believing man, then his family would die today.
A sizeable crowd was encircling the school field, only kept back by soldiers who fought to keep it clear for those black craft to land and take off. Several soldiers were yelling through loudspeakers, trying to organize how they could get the most people out in the fastest amount of time, but it was evident the majority was only concerned with their own survival and not the utilitarian approach to saving this town.
Ronis pushed his family closer into the crowd, but found that they would be getting no closer than several hundred feet from the fence and soldiers separating those transports from the desperate assembling. He tried pushing harder, yelling, persuading those in front to let his family advance closer to the field, but no one would budge. For all he could see, they were mired in a sea of people, every one of them hoping to God that they would get out.
But of course, we're all hoping that God will save us.
"Move aside! Move aside!"
He turned his head to the powerful voice coming from behind. Approaching from the street they had just walked along were several soldiers, rifles pointing down but their eyes clearly telling everyone to give them room. Three preceded a man walking next to another, neither of them having a rifle. Those must be officers.
They were heading right towards them, and the people around—while letting out pleas—squished together to allow a clear line for them to pass. The leading trio of soldiers were motioning them back for the two officers to pass, and the crowd complied surprisingly quickly. Perhaps they thought to impress them with their obedience.
"Sir!" Ronis yelled out, mustering all the volume he could. The group didn't even notice him as they approached. He took a step out from the edge of the squeezing crowd and into their path, finally catching their attention as they were forced to stop before him.
"Sir, please move aside," the first soldier ordered curtly, obviously not wishing to entertain another civilian trying desperately to gain his attention.
"I have my wife and two children that must make it out of here—"
"Sir, everyone has a fucking wife and child. Move aside, now."
Ronis pulled them out behind him, causing the stern expression to soften slightly at the sight. "Please, take them up and let them escape."
"Sir, if you do not move—"
"Sergeant," one of the officers from behind cut in. The officer leaned forward and whispered into his ear, staring into Ronis's eyes as he did so. Alderne couldn't hear what the man was saying, but stared back at him assertively, hoping that something supernatural would just get his family out of this.
Without another word, the sergeant grabbed the two daughters of Mr. Alderne and gave them to the two enlisted men next to him, then he grabbed his wife and began moving forward again, shouting for the people ahead to clear. Ronis's daughters cried out for him suddenly as they advanced away from their father, and his wife looked back with a numbing expression that caused his heart to sink farther than he ever thought possible.
His face contorted in a mixture of sadness and joy as he watched his family leave his side, though their departure would hopefully lead to their survival. The children's crying quickly faded into the roar of the crowd, and before long the path closed behind the five soldiers and his family, their faces disappearing.
He wanted to let out a scream of farewell, something positive to give them hope that they would meet again, but his throat remained an empty vessel. With clenched jaws and a tight gut, he silently said goodbye to them in his heart, knowing that no other method would render the slightest amount of hope for him or them.
After waiting until he knew that they could never make contact again, he took several steps back and out of the crowd. He walked against the constant stream of people heading towards the town's center, brushing by some and bumping into others. Though, admittedly, his silent walk back towards his home was not entirely of sadness and despair. He had done what any good father needed to do, and that was get them out of harm's way, even if it meant suffering a huge hole in his heart from their absence.
As figures passed by him rapidly, their talking and screaming mixing into the moist air as the clouds seemed to descend lower upon the town, he could only afford to give one more thought as to whether anything supernatural really existed in this damned reality. With quick and solemn conclusiveness, he decided that God must be up there somewhere.
Nevertheless, despite his newly found belief that his family was in the safety of escape, the loneliness stabbed excruciatingly into his mind. He was now one man in the way of an approaching foe, and the only truth that calmed his soul was that those he loved most were going to depart this impending cemetery. Now, he could only hope that their escape would not lead to another predicament, where their lives would rest on the supernatural hand of God himself.
A distant explosion caused everyone in the streets to look back briefly to the valley mouth leading out of Mari Crosse, out to where the enemy was approaching from. Who was he kidding? From now until they meet again—honestly, until the war was over—they would be in the hands of a higher being.
God, let them make it.
"Okay, we can take three more—"
A far-off series of blasts caused everyone to look east where the Covenant were said to be approaching from. The low gray clouds and persistent drizzle kept anyone from actually seeing the source of those horrid sounds, but that didn't make it any less unnerving. Somewhere, just out of sight, was a multitude of enemies; enemies charged with removing them from existence.
"Fuck, they're getting close."
Chief Warrant Officer Wes Kenton shot a condescending look at the Staff Sergeant who made the remark. The two Marines were in the process of helping civilians aboard the black D77-TC, and they did not react positively to the bleak comment. Sergeant David Rivera, the craft's gunner, rolled his eyes slowly, understanding why he shouldn't have said it.
"Sergeant!"
The gunner turned to see three soldiers approach, with them two kids and what was ostensibly their mother.
"I got three here for you. Is there room?"
Rivera nodded. "Just enough."
He reached an arm out of the back of the Pelican and grasped the hand of a woman, pulling her up and into the craft. Kenton did the same with the young girls and then made sure they were buckled in safely. The pilots and crews of Marine Aircraft Group 11, 3rd Marine Air Wing, had been evacuating the citizens of this damned town for the last hour. They were making progress, with nearly a thousand already safely relocated, but with the sounds of war looming closer it was obvious they weren't working fast enough.
From what Kenton knew, some sizeable Covenant force was on its way to the city. To counter that, soldiers from the 5th Marines had been sent to interdict that advance, but he could only speculate as to how well they were fairing. The sounds of explosions meant that they had at least made contact, but whether or not they were being victorious was another thing. If those Marines didn't at least stall that advancing Charlie force long enough, they might be looking at several thousand dead civvies by the nightfall.
"Alright, we're full," Rivera announced, waving off the small crowd of men, women and children that had been lined up around the Pelican. The idle downwash from the thrusters made the scene loud and gusty, but those elements didn't faze the people trying desperately to leave this doomed town.
Kenton nodded and walked back towards the cockpit, passing by the twenty or so individuals that they managed to fit on this flight. While hundreds had already fled the town by foot, choosing to take the rough trails leading over the mountains, a good portion of the town's residents remained.
That was what made Mari Crosse a mixed blessing. The town was surrounded on three sides by rising mountains that made travel by vehicle nearly impossible—making it an easily defensible location—but that also made evacuations extremely hard, considering that the one main way out was currently being occupied by Marines and Charlie's in battle.
The CWO3 opened the door and took his seat on the left, sliding it shut behind him. He quickly strapped in and looked over at his boss, Second Lieutenant Darren Putnam, the pilot. "Ready to go."
He nodded quickly, depressing a button on the control stick. "SIMPLEX Air, Foxhound Two-One is RTB."
"Copy, Two-One, be advised that we have enemy air activity in the vicinity."
Putnam let out a sigh. "As if this couldn't get bad enough."
The two pilots flipped switches and set instruments. This was their third ferry flight out of the town, and each time before this they hadn't seen or heard of any enemy aircraft. This trip would be a little different, apparently.
"Counter measures on standby, RWR on passive," Kenton announced as the bird began lifting off the ground. They ascended above the field they had sat on for the last five minutes, the thick crowd surrounding the field, and finally the dense scattering of houses and shops. The town was somewhat old-fashioned, and didn't have all the modern luxuries one might expect coming from a larger city. It was simple; streets, shops and houses. On any other day, it might have looked like a peaceful attraction that any man would long to live in, but today it looked like a gloomy graveyard that was waiting to be filled.
As they began moving forward, continuing their climb to clear the sharp two-thousand foot hills surrounding them, Kenton stared out the cockpit window in silence at the small figures that roamed the streets. Below them were people waiting, hoping for something to get them out of there, yet the undeniable truth of the situation remained. Everyone was not getting out, time simply wouldn't allow it. No matter how hard they and the rest of the 11th tried, they wouldn't be completely successful with this mission. And as much as he hated to accept it, everything rested on how long those men from the 5th Marines kept the enemy occupied.
Putnam was obviously contemplating the same grim reality as he keyed up the radio, "SIMPLEX Air, can we get an update on the ground situation?"
There wasn't an immediate response as they ascended into the thick clouds, nothing but a dull gray filling the cockpit windshields. To Kenton, this reinforced the dreadful reality of the fog of war. Just like they were relying on instruments to tell them where they were, the commanders at some CP were relying on various reports to know how the battle faired. Hopefully they had some definite information.
"We have reports of full contact, and unconfirmed details that the armored company has been KIA."
There was one foul word to describe both pilots' instant thoughts.
"However, artillery and aerial strikes have neutralized a significant portion of the Charlie force, most likely their armored forces as well. Looks like this is mostly a troop skirmish at the moment."
Putnam sighed. "Roger SIMPLEX Air, thanks for the info."
That was it. This substantial Covenant attack force and the sizeable Marine group meant to stop them had effectively killed each other off. The main threat of Wraiths and other Charlie armored craft seemed not to be an issue anymore, but the Scorpions and APCs needed to repel an enemy counterattack were gone as well.
"Well, let's hope those grunts—"
Kenton was cut off by the whoop whoop from the craft's radar warning receiver, the device designed to notify the crew when they were being actively targeted. They had barely cleared the mountain crests surrounding Mari Crosse when they became some foe's objective.
"Aerial vehicle, bearing 250 at 20 kilometers!"
Putnam immediately switched his center multifunction display to the terrain following radar, pushing the nose of the D77 over and cutting the power from the thrusters. The craft began dropping like a rock towards the hills, the ground coming up quickly through their radar and thermal sensors.
"Shit, they must have gotten a lock when we cleared the crest," the copilot said quickly, flipping switches. "Target is inbound and has a clear paint of us."
Putnam didn't respond as he focused solely on getting this bird down and into ground clutter, trying to evade whatever was out there moving in for the kill. The radar-altitude indicator reported them dropping within one hundred feet above ground level before he pulled the collective stick up to level them out. Trees reached out to touch the black craft as it raced above their tops, flying on in the cloud that continued to obscure everything. Thankfully, they didn't need clear skies to fly, but it gave a very unnerving feeling—as if they were trapped.
"Target bearing 200 at 15—" Kenton announced.
Putnam quickly cut him off. "SIMPLEX Air, Foxhound Two-One is being engaged—"
"Firing, firing!" Kenton shouted, depressing the flashing red button on the control panel. On each wing, several flares and a scattering of chaff shot off.
"Two-One, we have no radar coverage—"
This time the Pelican's computer interjected with another unsettling whoop whoop, followed by "evasive maneuvers, evasive maneuvers!" The female voice seemed to instigate a mixture of apprehension and reaction into the minds and hands of the two pilots.
"Get us below that ridge!" Kenton shouted as the bird banked hard to the left.
"We're not going to make it!" Putnam responded furiously.
"Terrain, terrain! Pull up, pull up, pull up—"
"Watch the trees!"
"Terrain, terrain! Pull—"
As Kenton reached to depress the countermeasures button, his head jerked back suddenly and slammed into the headrest of his seat, some force from behind throwing the craft forward violently. His eyes focused out the windshield just as the first treetop cracked the thick, armored glass with a sinister thwap. The next four appearing out of the thick gray fog would be the last he saw before it all went black.
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