The Covenant would receive no more reinforcements. They were stuck. Luckily for them, the last Bandits had dropped significant amounts of troops, and the Flood were already falling back.
Spar 1's saw the Covenant fight with renewed vigor as Elite roars could be heard from their position. Whole squads advanced behind Jackal shields, and plasma swords slashed even faster than before. In a few minutes, all Flood had been destroyed. By the look of it, at least 150 Covenant were left. Chief had seen 343 GS head out a while before, no doubt to get reinforcements. Chief realized this place was crawling with the things. A transmission cackled through on his comm.
"Sir, our motion detectors are picking up massive movements out on the plains three kilos out to the south and west. Request orders." It was Clonus on the line. He didn't sound rattled, but a hint of nervousness shadowed his voice.
"Clonus, form Hoplites into Squad-Phalanx Defense Pattern. They should've learned that one in boot. The SPARTANs know that one too. I want one man on the comm to me, but not a SPARTAN." His word was carried out, and then they headed home. They had to hightail it. Caesar and Titus left immediately, but Chief looked over his shoulder through the darkness. The Covenant were mobilizing towards the cliff.
The attack came only a few minutes after the transmission ended. Crassus and Magnus had led their platoons to the outer fringe of the trees to head them off and get a few potshots in before the real battle began. Crassus had one squad specializing in the Jackhammer and Sniper Rifle. As the first wave approached, he ordered to open fire.
Rockets exploded everywhere in a torrent of ground, dirt, and bodies. The Snipers picked off multiple targets. But the infinite horde soon got very close. "Alright boys! Here's where we show 'em why we're the best!" The last word was almost drowned out by his AR. On cue, 37 MA5Bs opened, spilling thousands of bullets. In three seconds, all clips were spent. They had time however, because at least fifty warforms fell. Magnus loaded another and fired. "Have at the bastards!" he yelled.
On the west front, Crassus encountered a slightly different situation. His keen eyesight saw the hundreds of Infection forms from far away. He remembered Chief telling him about these. He cued his troops, "Listen up! We're about to fire on some little white shits! They're small, they're fast, they can jump. They're also weak. You bastards better kill all these things, cuz if you don't, you're gonna become one of them Flood! These little shits infect you, and then you become them!" That was enough incentive for his troops. They opened fire.
The Hog of SPARTANs was quickly coming to aid. Chief took a moment to look through his field glasses. He glimpsed the first Elites coming over the ridge. They were heading in their direction. He put them away muttering, "Anything that can go wrong goes wrong," he muttered.
The effective resistance on the southern front fell quickly. Magnus lost two Hoplites who were surprised at the leaping abilities of the Flood. He called a general retreat to the base. Brutus moved up to cover his flank. They successfully fell back, only losing one more Hoplite. All on the south perimeter fired at the adversaries, and all fell to the 50 gunners. It was then that Crassus came crashing through the woods with Gamma Unit close behind. Behind them were Flood of all kinds. The common warforms, the former marines, even the carriers, which scared the Hoplites more than anything.
All the fire was concentrated on the west and south, and all the Flood coming from there were torn to shreds, literally. Bodies upon bodies stacked up of dead Flood. The SPARTANs got the feeling they were just testing their defenses, because they should have been attacking from all sides.
The Hoplites started getting lackadaisical. The enemies were getting cut like butter, so some of the unwise soldiers began to slack off. At that moment, a surge of Flood jumped over the wall of bodies and into the ranks. Pvt. James was decapitated by a whip-arm, and then it turned to Pvt. Conley who screamed and fired. His shots went through the Flood midsection, blowing it backwards. The warform still had strength enough to lash out and sever Conley's left arm. He collapsed and started yelling for a medic. He was rushed into the medical bay. That incident put all of them on their toes the rest of the fight. Clonus was the only SPARTAN who had seen it happen, and he went about the ranks yelling at the Hoplites who had lost focus. One in particular gave him shit. Clonus stopped. He knew that sometimes emotions ran high in battle, but insubordination on Basis was unacceptable. The sun had surfaced along the horizon from the short night. The purple MJOLNIR armor shimmered like a reflecting amethyst. He turned to the Hoplite and grabbed his combat armor. Pvt. Hartson was lifted a foot off the ground.
"What the fuck do you think this is? Do you see what that thing just did to Conley? Maybe you don't care, I don't know why though..cuz these shits are worse than the Covenant, and we've all seen what they can do. I don't need little Hoplites to tell ME that they don't need to take this shit seriously just cuz they ain't killin nobody!" Hartson was shaking terribly, seeking the anonymous eyes under the purple visor. Clonus went on, "This army doesn't need cancer." He placed his M90 on Hartson's chest. "And if you ever slack off in a battle again? You ain't gonna see me comin', you got that you little piece of shit?"
Many Hoplites had seen this, and none were brave enough to "not care" anymore. Other than an occasional jump-fest, nothing extraordinary happened; the power of 250+ elite soldiers. The battle was over after forty minutes. Alpha Unit went out to start patrolling, while Chief gathered all the Hoplites and told them of the Covenant cruiser.
"Expect company boys, and not any company, but the best of the best the Covenant have to offer. These guys fought off Flood in an almost barrier-less environments."
Hoplites broke rank and went about, gathering ammo and weapons. Chief was about to settle down to a short catnap when Caesar himself appeared with Clonus and Tiberius. With them stood a tall, elegant Elite with glittering green armor, the color of Covenant royalty. Chief instinctively reached for the MA5B by his side. "What the hell is that doing here?" he yelled.
Caesar spoke unsurely. "Sir, this is Lord Falshim, commander of the remaining Covenant forces on this moon. He wishes to discuss terms of surrender with you."
The Elite stepped forward and extended his huge hand. "Master Chief, honor mine is to you be met. Hearing a proposition...interested you would be perhaps?"