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2/1/2008 1:23:30 AM
191
DIG IN: The Jericho VII Conflict [ FINISHED, Enjoy! ]
[quote][i] As this story has come to a close, I would like thank all of my readers. Thank you for your support and your enthusiasm. It is much appreciated in every way. Your maps, machinima, and comments never cease to amaze me. Thank you and I hope you have enjoyed following Tom and the squad through thick and thin.
I'd especially like to thank [url=http://halo.wikia.com/wiki/Main_Page]Halopedia[/url] and H.B.O. for their great resources. [url=http://nikon.bungie.org/]Halo.Bungie.Org[/url]'s time-line is what started this entire project and Halopedia's information kept it accurate and afloat. Of course, that being said, I still couldn't have done it without the support of [url=http://www.bungie.net/fanclub/41623/Group/GroupHome.aspx]Mjolnir Battle Tactics[/url], and the members of the fanfiction community—wherever they may be now.
Dig in and give 'em hell![/i][/quote]
Be sure to check out Sierra's map [i][url=http://www.bungie.net/forums/posts.aspx?h3fileid=32743215] DIG IN! [/url][/i] as it comes to the Bungie Favorites this week thanks to the good people over at [url=http://www.bungie.net/fanclub/118020/Group/GroupHome.aspx] CompoundIntelligence[/url].
Also, check out MBT's [url=http://www.bungie.net/fanclub/41623/Forums/posts.aspx?postID=22316857] Official Fanfiction Contest [/url]. Give it a shot. I'm the judge.
There is a distinct lack of fanfiction nowadays, quite different from before Halo 3. As part of [url=http://www.bungie.net/fanclub/41623/Group/GroupHome.aspx]Mjolnir Battle Tactics[/url]’ third birthday, I decided that I would release a previously exclusive fanfiction to the world! Sadly, it does not make up for our stunning defeat in the Humpday Challenge. It’s been nearly two years since I first released the original version and nearly four years since I began writing fanfiction, back in the days where there were only a few of us “fanfictioners”. I've revamped the original version and have recently completed the story.
Eric Nylund's [i] Fall of Reach [/i] touches briefly on the Jericho VII conflict, but it does not bring to life the struggle of the average Marine. I want to bring you down into the trenches with the grunts as they fight it out against the numerically-superior Covenant. It's an all-out battle for survival that you won't want to miss.
Enjoy!
[b] As of June 7th, [i]DIG IN[/i] has been completed. Chapter Ten is online. [/b]
[url=http://][quote][/url][/quote][b][u]Index[/b][/u]
[i] [b] Chapter I: First The Food, Now This?[/b][/i] - Page 1
[i] [b] Chapter II: Welcome To Jericho VII, Enjoy Your Stay[/b][/i] - Page 1
[i] [b] Chapter III: A Walk In The Woods[/b][/i] - Page 1
[i] [b] Chapter IV: Tea For Two[/b][/i] - Page 1
[i] [b] Chapter V: To Grandma's House We Go...[/b][/i] - Page 1
[i][b]Chapter VI: Back In Black [/i][/b] - [url=http://www.bungie.net/Forums/posts.aspx?
postID=17058736&viewreplies=true&postRepeater1-p=2] Page 2[/url]
[i][b]Chapter VII: Rest In Pieces[/i][/b] - [url=http://www.bungie.net/Forums/posts.aspx?postID=17058736&viewreplies=true&postRepeater1-p=3] Page 3 [/url]
[i][b]Chapter VIII: A Midsummer Night's Dream[/i][/b] - [url=http://www.bungie.net/Forums/posts.aspx?postID=17058736&viewreplies=true&postRepeater1-p=4] Page 4 [/url]
[i][b]Chapter IX: Return Of The King[/i][/b] - [url=http://www.bungie.net/Forums/posts.aspx?postID=17058736&viewreplies=true&postRepeater1-p=5] Page 5 [/url]
[i][b]Chapter X: Never Get Out Of The Boat[/i][/b] - [url=http://www.bungie.net/Forums/posts.aspx?postID=17058736&postRepeater1-p=7] Page 7 [/url]
[i][b]Epilogue[/b][/i] - [url=http://www.bungie.net/Forums/posts.aspx?postID=17058736&viewreplies=true&postRepeater1-p=7#end] Page 7 [/url]
[url=http://][quote][/url][/quote]
[i] January 31st, 2008. Redux Edition. Written by Papa John. [/i]
[quote] [b] [u] DIG IN: [/b] [/u]
[i] The Jericho VII Conflict [/i]
[/quote]
[i] [b] [u] Chapter I: First The Food, Now This? [/u]
Surface of Jericho VII
Lambda Serpentis System
02/11/2535 0550 Hours - Standard Military Time
United Nations Space Command Outpost Delta Three-Four [/b] [/i]
Private First Class Tom Waters sat playing with the mountainous mixture of mysterious food lying on his mess tray. [i] Not only was this the worst post in the entire galaxy[/i], he thought, [i] it was also the worst food in the entire galaxy[/i]. Nonetheless, he would need his nourishment and even if the odd mixture of bread, butter, bacon and some mysterious looking wafer covered in dripping brown sauce didn’t look to be of his taste, he scoffed it down, forcing himself to swallow between large gulps of hot coffee.
[i]Coffee[/i], he thought, [i] now that’s something he could go for more of [/i]. He got up, rubbed his eyes, counted the grand total of ten other heads in the gray lifeless mess hall and made his way slowly to the front counter where he could talk to the cook, a good friend of his, and try to swindle a few extra rations off of him.
Tom was an average man. He was no taller, nor shorter than any of his comrades. He was well built, and sported a long cut on this right bicep. His near-black hair was scruffy and not well kept and he looked as if he hadn’t shaved for a few days. Even though the bags on his eyes drooped down, his eyes still twinkled as they always did. His dark eyes glinted in the dull light of the mess half and gave him a sort of malevolent look, which he lived up to with his sharp comments and wise cracks. All of which his squad mates had come to enjoy.
“Tom you ole dog, come on over here! You look bright and cheery eyed early on this fine day. Don’t you love the smell of rain on the dirt? Probably not, we’ve had that smell for the last two weeks,” roared a voice from the long brown table off to Tom’s left.
Tom turned and faced the voice, distracted from the front counter and the cook. The familiar accent of his fellow squad mate, Corporal Jennings made the hairs on his neck raise as they usually did when the aging Corporal spoke. The man had a way with words, always managing to drag Tom into long conversations in his thick English accent. Tom knew something was up though; Jennings only spoke with him when he needed something. So he put down his tray on the front counter and walked up to the Corporal.
Before he could reply, his superior, Jennings whispered over to him, “keep quiet, I’m going to let you in on some… classified information. I suggest you make good use of it. In about half an hour, the Sergeant Major is going to announce that this early start was not just for the fun of it. The Covenant has been detected in the system. We’re going to be engaging the enemy if they land. Take heed of my words, get your stuff together early, I want our squad ready for the Sergeant Major’s announcement. Pass on the word, then get yourself going,” he said, finishing it off by crunching down into a stale peace of bread, trying to keep a straight face.
Tom looked across the mess and of course, to his luck found none of his squad-mates. He quickly bartered with the cook, his former shipmate on the way into Jericho VII years ago. He ended up gaining three extra cans of coffee and a tin pot for a small price of a few odd dollars.
He left the dull mess hall and made his way across the camp to his barracks. Before he entered, he scanned the sky, expecting to be able to see the Covenant fleet up there through the clouds. He didn’t. Tom sighed, knocked the mud off his boots against the door and entered his squad’s barracks.
He found them all there. Some were playing poker with a deck cards, others lighting up their cigarettes while humming an old Marine Corps tune. Regulations weren’t enforced very much on camp. The camp was in the middle of a large forest not far from the deepest and widest valley in that hemisphere. They were between nowhere and somewhere, so the rules often got overlooked.
“I’ve got some bad news boys and girls. This early wake up wasn’t for drill day or extra training, no it certainly wasn’t. Grab your gear and suit up, the Covenant are coming,” Tom stated, watching the enjoyment on their faces quickly disappear. The cigarettes in their hands fell to the floor.
He moved to his bunk, took off his boots and began to dress himself appropriately. He doubled his socks and threw an extra pair in his bag. He put on his pants, then a thin layer of a semi-bulletproof and slightly metallic material which was standard issue and would serve to protect his thighs and calves. He finished by putting on his flak jacket and his appropriate chest armor. He slipped on his boots again, tightening them as he went.
Grabbing his sack, he threw in the three extra cans of coffee, a few extra snack bars which he had hid under his mattress for quite sometime now and a few other odd assortments of food which had previously been stored in his bunk area for safe keeping. He threw in his appropriate supplies, some small medical items, the pot, a small flat pan, a sharp hunting knife, a pack of cigarettes for good luck and zipped it up. He shouldered his sack, grabbed the olive shaded helmet from his bunk, then said goodbye to his fellow squad-mates and made for the center of the camp.
[i] It won’t be long now[/i], he thought, and at least it’s not [i] raining [/i]. He waited a few minutes. Slowly, his squad assembled, along with members of other squads who had apparently overheard about the announcement, or had been told in the same manner as Tom, from one of his superiors.
The Sergeant Major finally arrived and stumped up a small podium where he could be seen by all. Seconds later, a bell sounded and the Marines and other personnel not in attendance were rudely notified.
After waiting several moments the entire camp was now present. A motley crew of more than two hundred Marines and other UNSC personnel gathered around to hear what the Sergeant Major had to say.
[Edited on 06.19.2008 7:44 PM PDT]
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[i] [b] Continued...[/b] [/i] “Today, we do not do drills. I don’t expect to here any cheering because thanks to the Covenant, we’re gonna be fighting them instead! Officers, I’ll need to see you in my quarters immediately. As for the rest of you, get your stuff together. Marines, be ready to travel in ten minutes, have your packs filled and your weapons loaded. Any other personnel, I ask you to arm yourselves and go back to your regular stations and await orders. I’ll be around,” he said, and in good time too. Just as he was finishing, the once calm and wet camp quickly became an active and wet camp. Tom hurried to the armory. He got in line, second from the front. He waited for a few seconds while the standard issue was handed out to the two female Marines in front of him. He made it to the front, showed the grungy arms keeper his badge on his arm and awaited his weaponry. An M6B sidearm, two clips of ammunition, two fragmentation grenades, and an MA5A assault rifle with two extra magazines. “Hey, buddy listen it’s gonna be tough out there, can’t you give me anything better than this pistol? How about giving me one of those ‘E’ models? Come on, I’ll bring it back,” Tom pleaded. “Yea, I know what you mean. These new ‘B’ variants are much weaker. They’ve got an experimental scope on them but aren’t much good for anything really. Here, take this M6E and two clips. Just give me the ‘B’ back and we’ll call it a mistake if anyone asks why you got one of those,” the Gunnery Chief replied. “Thanks. Good luck to ye!” Tom yelled behind him, thankful to be out of that line because he was taking a fairly long time and there were many Marines to arm up. He waited by his barracks for his squad leader, Lieutenant Jones, to return with their orders. After waiting a few minutes with the rest of his tired and blurry-eyed twelve man squad, Jones came rushing to them, drawing his pistol and eyeing the sky every chance he got. The Lieutenant was a middle-aged man who concealed his age under layers of thick muscle. He had thick dirty blonde hair and a large scar on his left cheek. He was a no-nonsense person; he was a fierce fighter. He led his squad by example and was never in the back. He was a real leader. “They’ve arrived. Our ships are engaging their fleet while we speak. We’ve been ordered to link up with a squad from Delta Three-Three at this location,” he said, pointing to a small clear area on his map, “between Apollo valley and our current location. If they’re not on time, we’re ordered to wait at that location until they do arrive or are reported unaccounted for. Any questions?” Jones asked, holstering his pistol. “When do we leave?” Tom blurted out. Before Jones could reply, above them the sky filled with hundreds of small teardrop-shaped Covenant dropships and the more bulky human ones as well. The Covenant had made short work of the human defenses and now the survivors were returning to the surface, imprinting the clouds with small dots, sending a continuing pattern of black and gray across the morning sky for miles. The Sergeant Major came running out yelling like a mad man, “get out of here now! Get your troops moving. Securing those life pods is vital! This entire planet is being invaded by the thousands, and our space defenses are failing. Our orbital defenses may not hold through the day. A relief fleet is on its way but we have at least forty-eight hours before they’ll arrive. So, dig in and give ‘em hell!” He finished, snapped an unsightly salute and got in the armory line up himself. “You heard the man; we have to get a move on!” Jones cried in his gruff voice, shouldering his assault rifle as he began to march his way slowly towards the camp exit, followed by a single file line of twelve Marines. Just as they reached the rectangular camp’s exit, located in the far south-westerly corner of the camp, the morning turned even worse. A landing craft nosed down inside the camp. The sides of the diamond-shaped, lilac craft blew open and a swarm of assorted aliens jumped out, eager for battle. The camp lit up within seconds. The Covenant soldiers charged into the fray, attempting to gain ground on the surrounding Marines. The camp personnel continued to back off slowly, firing as they went, completely engulfing the badly outnumbered landing team. Small aliens, nicknamed Grunts were cut down within the first seconds of combat. Rounds cut through the little creatures like Swiss cheese, bursting their methane breathing tanks and sinking deep into their flesh and armor. As the ranks of the aliens thinned, they finally had gained enough ground to engage the Marines on even ground. The Grunts were in short number but their companions, however were not. Surrounding the entire landing team were nearly twenty birdlike creatures that each carried a small side arm and a large round energy shield varying in color from yellow, red and blue. These creatures had been nicknamed Jackals and with their shields, they usually offered a much better fight than their counterparts, the Grunts. Using their shields, the Jackals had created a box around the team, protecting the remaining fighters until they could get close enough to do some real damage. Inside the small grid were the highest ranking of the assault group and by far the most deadly; the most vicious creatures of the crew, the ‘Elites’. These creatures wore suits of colored armor, blue armor signifying a regular foot soldier and the more complex red armor signifying a veteran warrior. These ‘Elites’ were surrounded by energy shielding of some sort which could absorb a limited amount of damage before failing and leaving the creature vulnerable. A single Marine lobbed in a fragmentation grenade from the balcony on the second floor of the main command room. The grenade landed on the Covenant grid’s left and side and blew away five Jackals, leaving their flank open and the Elites unshielded from the attack. The Marines filled the Elites with round after round as they charged helplessly forward to their deaths. The rounds tore through shielding, armor and flesh, leaving few of the creatures, only to stand in pools of their comrades’ iridescent blood. A single gold armored warrior had managed to enter the Marine ranks. He hacked and slashed wildly around with a glowing blue energy sword. It cut through a squad of Marines like raw meat, splattering gore everywhere. The Elite continued on his rampage ripping Marines apart until finally, his shields failed under fire and his lifeless body slumped to the ground under the weight of hundreds of assault rifle rounds. Tom walked closer to the beast, inspecting its odd shaped mouth. The thing had large fangs and a mouth which split into four sections. The creature was much taller than any Marine, standing at a rough seven feet or so Tom guessed. Unlike the Jackals who were near average human size or the Grunts who were just above four feet, the Elites brought fear into the heart of their opponents. They were large and viscous beasts but cunning also. They were born leaders, inspiring even the most cowardly of the Grunts to stand tall and fight it out. Tom was happy that the thing was out of their hair now. He watched as the last few Jackals were mopped up, and rejoined his squad to move out. He shouldered his assault rifle and fell in line with his fellow squad mates and discussed their latest encounter. “Shut it and keep moving! I don’t like this anymore than you do, but you talking isn’t going to help us any. So keep quiet and keep alert, those things could be anywhere waiting for an ambush.” Tom’s Corporal said, antagonizing him once again with his droning tone and his thick accent. [b] ***[/b] By mid morning the clouds had momentarily broken through for a glaring sun. The air became hot and the squad was forced to rest. They set up camp in a small grove of tall dark trees, completely shading them and cooling them off to a pleasant, more bearable temperature. “How much further L-Tee?” Tom questioned, hoping to hear that they wouldn’t need to go much further in this current heat. “Not far now, we’ve still got a bit of a hike, about another three miles due northwest. We’ve got to cross open ground soon though, so keep your eyes peeled and no goofing off, all of you,” Jones said, wiping his forehead with a cloth before saying, “I kind of miss the rain now. Hopefully this doesn’t keep up.” As if he was a god himself, moments after he spoke, the clouds rolled back in and poured more rain to the ground below. It beat down harder than ever and drenched the once drying ground. The dirt turned to mud again and the grass to pure slush and swamp. The trees grew heavy from the weight of the downfall and the Jericho VII’s oft-volatile western hemisphere was showcased at its worst, again. “Let’s get a move on. This rain will cover any tracks we could leave. We’ve got about half a mile ‘till we hit open ground and become easy targets. No stopping until we reach that point. We can’t risk stopping in the wide open and we can’t risk stopping in the woods after that, we have to keep moving. We can’t let ourselves get pinned down. Now, let’s move out!” The Lieutenant roared as he picked himself up off a tree stump and began to walk out in front. “Jennings, get our six. Waters you got point. Let’s move, single file, and keep sharp,” he yelled, waving forward with his pistol in hand, signaling to move out. [Edited on 05.06.2008 8:16 AM PDT]
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[i] [b] [u] Chapter II: Welcome To Jericho VII, Enjoy Your Stay [/u] Surface of Jericho VII Lambda Serpentis System 02/11/2535 0700 Hours - Standard Military Time Forest North-West of Delta Three-Four [/i] [/b] The thickly wooded terrain slowly began to retreat behind the squad as they left the green foliage for a less inviting long open span of mud and weed covered plains. Fog surrounded them holding visibility to only twenty meters in every direction. The squad trundled through the mud, attempting to keep silent but their footsteps gave them away every time they stepped down. The mud consumed their feet, making the hike slower and more tedious than ever before. What had appeared to be a fairly short hike through open ground had now grown tremendously in time. Tom kept moving; his squad was slowing down behind him and were more than five meters back from him now. He turned momentarily at a sound he heard coming from behind him, a gurgling noise. On the ground and in the mud lay one of his squad mates, dead. A large plasma burn scarred his armor and had left a huge imprint on his chest. He had been shot, but from where? Tom immediately dove down. Mud or not, he wasn’t getting blown away like his pal there. Tom scanned all around him with his assault rifle but there was absolutely nothing to see. His squad did the same. None were rewarded with the sight of their hidden foes. He crawled through the soaking mud and over to his comrade’s body. He snapped off his identification tags, and pocketed them. [i]Damn it![/i] Tom thought. Private Brown had been their best shot, he was always on target, rarely missing, but now he was gone. “[i]Psst[/i], Graves! Where the hell’s that coming from?” Tom hissed, keeping low in the mud and reeds. “I think I saw it come from our right flank, but the fog is blocking the view. We’re going to have to sit tight I think, right L-Tee?” Private Graves asked. Graves was the comedian of the pack. He always had something to say, and was known for back talking. He was well liked throughout his squad, as they all were but he seemed to be especially charismatic. He was also a fair shot and had seen more combat than anyone else in the squad except for the Lieutenant himself. “Stay put. We’re gonna have to stay here until the enemy shows itself. We can’t risk moving. Stay put, and fix bayonets,” Jones ordered, rummaging though his pack and pulling out a small spindly metal spike. The squad followed suit, attaching their sharp metallic bayonets to the nozzles of their assault rifles. If things were going to get close, this would make for an added surprise at close range that even energy shielding wouldn’t be able to stop. [b]***[/b] Seconds ticked by, then minutes and finally an entire hour passed them. The mud had now seeped through the layers of clothing Tom had put on just hours ago. He was wet, pinned down and hiding from an invisible enemy. Not exactly his though of a vacation. Finally, something caught Tom’s eye. A small glint through the fog passed in front of him. He blinked twice and quickly rubbed his eyes but already, it was gone. It had been as if the fog itself had been momentarily rippled. As odd as it was, Tom was supposed to be watching their perimeter, so he paid it no attention. In a matter of seconds their position light up into a blue flurry. Graves was on one knee, holding his rifle out as far as it could go, pushing his bayonet through the chest of an Elite. It stood sputtering blood as life rapidly faded from its body. It shot blue bolts of plasma in random directions with its plasma rifle, unable to aim properly in its desperation. More Elites appeared from thin air, opening fire upon the Marines. The fog quickly turned into Elites as they came from every direction and seemed to just appear. They had been using some sort of camouflage which allowed them to become ‘invisible’ or to at least take on the form and color of their background without disturbing or distorting it in any easily noticeable way.
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[i] [b] Continued...[/b][/i] Tom forced himself up and hacked out at a nearby Elite with his assault rifle. He cut through its throat, puncturing its lungs and killing it instantly. He turned to his left only to be faced with another foe. He squeezed the trigger and filled the creature with rounds of burning hot lead. Blue gore poured from the creature’s stomach as it lurched over and fell to the ground in front of him. Within seconds, more Elites were on him. He stabbed at the first one, missing once but making contact the second time. His assault rifle became lodged in the Elite’s armor and Tom became defenseless. He whipped out his sidearm and blew three rounds through the creature’s skull. Shield or no shield, at that range and with a magnum of that caliber, nothing could survive. Tom spun around only to be met with another Elite. The creature dove upon him, forcing him back into the mud. They rolled around in the weeds as the Elite attempted to get a grasp upon Tom’s neck and succeeded. Huge claws held Tom in a choking position as the air in his lungs quickly disappeared. He gurgled and gasped for air but was unable to take any in. The powerful creature now stood, holding Tom’s helpless body nearly a foot above the ground, while squeezing the very life out of it. Tom’s eyes began to glaze over, and his senses began to fade out. Darkness shrouded his eyes and his arms and legs became limp. The darkness had almost won, he could feel his very lungs being crushed by the brutish creature’s menacing grip. His thoughts slowly died away and the only thing crossing his mind was that his magnum was still hanging in his right hand. [i][b]-BAM-[/i][/b] A single round tore through the Elite’s mid section. Tom fell from its grasp and back into the soaking mud. His magnum fell from his hand and his finger slipped from its trigger. Darkness completely surrounded him. His senses faded out. The fighting continued on for nearly twenty minutes. Elites continued to push forward, breaking the ranks of the squad only to be stabbed back again with bayonets and assault rifle bursts. The squad had begun to dwindle and their chance for escape had now been completely robbed, they were outgunned, outnumbered and outwitted. They needed a plan. “Down, everyone down! We’re gonna play a little possum. Get ready and when the moment comes, we’ll catch these bastards the same way they did to us,” the Lieutenant said, coming up with an idea to counter the Elites. The remainder of the once twelve man squad all hit the ground, spreading out in the mud. They began to play dead, keeping silent and still. They would wait for the moment the Elite entered their ranks, then spring up and finish them off, while they were all in attendance. Streams of aqua plasma bolts filled the fog above and around them as the cobalt armored creatures became curious. Slowly they deactivated their shields and entered the small groove in the mud and reeds in which twelve Marine bodies lay still. “[i]Hmph[/i]. [i]Wort![/i]” An Elite snorted, scratching its skull and placing a large foot paw upon the back of the dead Private Brown. An entire platoon of Elites entered the area through the fog. They came from every direction and were all walking with pride as they believed themselves the victors of this fight. Unfair or not, they still believed it to be a victory. They pilled in unaware of the trap and staring at the human bodies with a burning hatred. Many knelt, other stood as they conversed in their native tongue. Some had begun to rummage through the squad’s supplies but they found little of use for themselves. Then, the moment came. A single red armored Elite addressed the entire unit. He began to speak, obviously about the fight and their next orders. His voice was stern and he commanded the attention of every other Elite in the unit. As his speech came to a close, a single battle cry came from one of the ‘dead’ Marines. “[i]Now![/i]” It screamed, as the bodies became full of life once again. Eight bodies rose up and lashed out with their bayonets taking down an equal amount of unshielded foes. The squad opened fire upon the unsuspecting Elites. They tore through them with heavy bursts, cutting their numbers down to an equal amount and leveling the playing field. Rounds exploded through raw flesh as the unshielded foes were slaughtered without even a chance to fight back. Their backs had been turned and their shields deactivated, now it was the Elites who were fighting for their lives. The veteran and commanding red Elite activated his shield and charged towards the Lieutenant. A Marine ran between the Elite and the Lieutenant and received a burst of plasma fire for it. The blue plasma burned through his armor and killed him instantly. The Lieutenant shouldered his assault rifle and brought it up against his cheek. He stared down the barrel and looked through the crosshairs at his charging foe. He waited momentarily, sucking in some air and firming his handle upon the weapon. The Elite was now within a few feet of the Lieutenant and was preparing to smash him down with his hand when two staccato bursts blew through his skull and sent his corpse tumbling backwards into the brown weed strewn mud. The Elites scattered as they were being finished off. They’re leader was defeated and they were losing. They began to retreat back towards the fog where they could hide but were rejected the opportunity. Assault rifles rattled and clanked as the retreating enemies were cut up into minced meat under the fire of hundreds of automatic rounds. “Take a breather. Check the dead, grab their tags. We move in five,” Jones ordered, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand and grabbing a bottle of water from his pack. The Lieutenant drained back some water and looked around at the devastated squad. They’d come with twelve, now seven remained. Then something caught his eye. One of the corpses was moving slightly. He ran over to check who it was. “Jesus, Tom! Are you alright? Wait, don’t answer that,” the Lieutenant said, staring into the glazed eyes of Private Waters. “O’Brian, see what you can give him. We need to be able to move him.” The Lieutenant ordered at the squad’s Medic. After a few minutes, Tom was on his feet. He was panting like a dog, and gasping for air but was able to stand and had regained his sight from death’s grasp. Tom straightened his back and fell in line with the rest of the squad, ready to move out. [i] It’d take more than that to keep this Leatherneck down![/i] Tom thought, as he trundled on through the mud and gloom of Jericho VII. [Edited on 02.26.2008 3:23 AM PST]
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[b][i][u]Chapter III: A Walk In The Woods [/u] Surface of Jericho VII Lambda Serpentis System 02/11/2535 0845 Hours - Standard Military Time Plains North-West of Delta Three-Four [/b] [/i] The fog tediously retreated in front of the squad as the shelter of the forest loomed in upon them. The plains dragged on behind the squad as they entered the forest once again, happy to be back under shelter. “Whew. That was a close one. I say, next time, we take a bus. This whole walking thing just isn’t working for me,” Graves stated, among multiple laughs and snickers from the rest of the squad. “Shut it. You can talk when we get to the rendezvous point, until then keep quiet.” Lieutenant Jones said, becoming frustrated with Graves. As the squad continued on, the forest seemed to get thicker. The trees grew taller, and darker, with more leaves and branches seeming to sprout out of each one. The soil was soaked, the water only being displaced by roots and grass. A forest turned marshland. From a distance a large roaring could be heard - a monotonous tone. It was buzzing louder the closer it got closer. As the sound approached through the penumbra of the forest, the sound became more varied. It now included the odd squeak and a few clanks. “Stay cool, I think it’s one of ours. Take cover behind the trees and we’ll find out,” Jones ordered, jumping behind a particularly thick tree and kneeling, waiting to see what was coming in their direction. Cracking, like lightning on cold steel, filled the air. It was followed by a few pops and an almost-atomic bang. The Lieutenant jumped out of hiding with his weapon at the ready to see what the noise had been. Overturned and badly damaged lay a Light Reconnaissance Vehicle, in common terms, a [i] Bronco [/i]. The small vehicle had three seats, one for a driver, one for a passenger and another in the back. The vehicle was on fire and suffered from heavy plasma burns which had corroded and diluted the dark green armor plating on its two doors. Lying around the smoking vehicle were three Marine bodies. They all twitched and moaned as they struggled to get up after their crash. One, a tall and lanky marine, managed to pull himself up. Leaning precariously, Graves ran to his side and helped him towards the Lieutenant. “Jesus, where’d you guys come from?” Jones demanded. “United Nations Space Command Camp Delta Three – Five, Sir. We were running Sergeant Dawkins here over to Delta Three-Three in the valley when we were attacked. We had to make a run for it, and then, well this happened.” The private stated, pointing to the overturned Warthog, then the body of Sergeant Dawkins as he fixed a patch on his right arm which read ‘Pvt. Connors’. “O’Brian, see what you can do for the other two. We’ll rest here for ten then we have to move. It looks like this party just got bigger. Salvage your gear from that LRV, and be ready to move, we’ve got a meeting with another squad and we can’t be late,” Jones ordered. Private O’Brian stood at an even five feet and nine inches. His hair was as dark as a raven’s feather and his skin was quite the opposite. He wore a small pair of glasses which just covered his eyes. James O’Brian was known as the squad’s best medic and also as the largest bag of worries around. He was usually very timid around new situations but his work as a medic was unmatched by anyone else in the squad which made him a huge asset. As O’Brian approached the overturned vehicle, the rain began to poor down at an increased rate. Like a typhoon on performance enhancers, the fires of the LRV were quickly doused. The trees and ground were soon given yet another large soaking. The rain splattered against the face of Sergeant Dawkins. She tossed and turned but seemed too fatigued to get up. Her chest pained and her head throbbed with a constant drumming in her ears. “Are you alright?” O’Brian asked, staring into her dark green eyes as they stared back. “My…back,” she spluttered, as rain entered her mouth with each word. “Right, here I’ll get you up.” O’Brian said, putting her arm over his shoulder and dragging her up with his own. He brought her over to a tree and leaned her body against it, then stated, “hold on, I’ll be back.” O’Brian ran back to the vehicle. He began to question the other Marine, a Corporal, who had managed to sit himself up against the torched vehicle. O’Brian administered him a small dosage of pain relievers from a needle and then returned to the Sergeant. “Sit still, this will only take a second” He said, injecting her arm with a transparent liquid. “There, you should be alright. Just watch yourself and the moment that stuff starts to wear off, tell me.” “Fine.” She said through gritted teeth while she brushed away a strand of her dark black hair from in front of her eyes. She then grasped onto the tree and managed to get herself up again. She retrieved her pack and weapon from the wreckage and went to consult the Lieutenant. “So, you’re in charge I guess?” She said briskly, through the pain. “Yes, missy I am,” the Lieutenant replied, checking a map and paying little to no attention to the Sergeant. “I ain’t no missy, I’m Sergeant Dawkins. It’d be better if you remembered that.” Hissing, she left the Lieutenant standing in awe. “Well, that missy certainly has style,” he laughed. [b]***[/b] As the troop moved on further into the forest, the haze had begun to do the same also. Visibility was now even worse that it had been only twenty minutes ago when they had met their new guests. The squad was forced into walking double file in order to keep everyone within sight range. “First shuttle off this place, I’m on it,” Graves said, complaining yet again. “I’d rather take on one of those Elites up close than have to keep on walking through this crap!” He said, pointing to his boot which was completely covered in squelching brown mud. “Be careful what you wish for,” Sergeant Dawkins whispered, apparently she was not at all amused by Private Graves or his complaints. “Well, I hope the mud tastes better than breakfast did,” Corporal Jennings laughed, adding in his two cents on the situation with his thick accent. “Alright, enough chatter. We rest here. Five minutes is all I’ll give. Don’t move from this area. Who knows what the hell’s out there,” Jones said, scanning around at the fog which had formed a box around their position. Tom took a seat upon a downed tree trunk and opened up his pack. He grabbed a bottle of water and began to take a sip. He had gulped back half of the bottle before he even knew it. He hadn’t had this much exercise for quite awhile and the strain was showing. His close encounter with the gloomy underworld hadn’t helped either.
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[i][b] Continued...[/b][/i] Tom put back his water into the sack and began to search through the pack again. He rummaged around inside and came out with his pack of cigarettes. He pulled one out and rested it upon his lips as the rummaged through one of his pockets with his right hand looking for his lighter. His squad mate Private Evans took a seat next to him on the drenched log and pulled out his lighter. “Trade a light for a smoke?” Evans asked, lighting Tom’s cigarette and saving him the trouble of searching for his lighter. “Sure” Tom replied, holding out his left hand with the pack of cigarettes in it. “Thanks, I don’t remember the last time I’ve walked so much and after that encounter I could use something to calm my nerves.” Evans replied. Private Evans had come to Jericho VII on the same shuttle as Tom. He’d seen him around the mess during the trip but didn’t really get to know him until they were assigned the same squad. Will Evans was a basic man. He stood an even six feet and had scruffy red hair. He was well liked throughout the ranks and was known to be a gambler and a card shark with a stern poker face. “I don’t know what was better, the long days of rain sitting in the mess hall and the barracks or the long [i]day[/i] of rain, fighting the enemy. In some ways, I find that actually doing something seems better than sitting around all day robbing people of their money in two-bit games of poker,” Evans said, staring off into the distance, obviously pondering over his prized possession, his deck of cards. “Easy for you to say, some of us actually lose money to you. I don’t know how you do it, but you always come out richer than before we started, no matter what the game is!” Tom stated, with a grin spreading across his face. The Lieutenant began to show Corporal Fox and Pvt. Williams the map. Williams nodded and went towards Tom to discuss their formation for the rest of the hike while Fox went to the others and told them himself. Private Williams whipped back her wet brown hair and told Tom and Evans that they’d be moving in double file for the rest of the trip. “Alright ladies and gentlemen, it’s time to move,” the Lieutenant yelled. “I ain’t your lady” Dawkins hissed but it went unheard under the heavy rain. [b]***[/b] The rain continued to poor down, drenching through their packs, their uniforms and as Graves thought, through their skin also. The downpour seemed like it would continue on forever, damning them to death by drowning or maybe the mud would eventually overtake them. “We can’t be far now, can we L-Tee?” Corporal Parsons asked, rubbing his blonde eyebrows with the back of his right hand. Corporal Ken Parsons had been recently been transferred to Jericho VII. He had spent months on Reach before he grew tired of it, and chose to be transferred off-world. However, Jericho VII was even less of his type of planet. Parsons was a strong-willed man, who had an uncanny ability to lead in combat. Not noted for intellect, he did have both courage and strength. His body showed the latter. He stood at six feet and one inch and was well built. He had bulging biceps and looked as strong as an ox. “Too bad our LRV didn’t make it through, that thing would make this trip a lot shorter.” Parsons stated, reliving his crash through his mind. He had been helpless when they crashed, he hated that feeling but there was nothing he could do while riding in the back of the vehicle to help. “Easy for you to say, I had the pleasure of driving that bucket. I don’t even know what held it together that long. We took a bunch of shots from those Covenant landing teams,” Private Connors replied, looking off into the distance and picturing the crash in his mind once more. “Your brilliant driving didn’t help that any.” Dawkins laughed, staying cool, as always. “Children, keep it down” Jones whispered back. “We’re close now. Keep quiet and listen for any movement” He ordered quietly, scanning what little terrain was visible. Jones pulled a compass from his pocket and checked their location on the map. He then concluded that they were only a short distance south-east of where they needed to be. They continued to trek onward to the north-west, watching over their shoulders as they went. They were becoming wary to the point of paranoia. The rain had slowed to a drizzle but the fog still held visibility to less than twenty feet. An ambush would be very hard to detect in these conditions. The Lieutenant threw up his hand in a halting signal. They were standing in a small grove of fallen trees. The fallen trees made an almost perfect circle in the middle of the fully foliaged forest. It was as if a small pinprick had been poked into the forest where this grove was, as only a few trees remained standing and the others were down. Jones walked into the center of the grove and rested his back against one of the still-standing trees. He scratched the back of his head and took a look at their rendezvous point which was only a little more room than needed for the size of their squad to all get comfortable and be able to relax. Jones sighed, dropped his pack, and pocketed the map. “Well, this should be the place. Take a breather. It looks like we got here first.”
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[i][b][u]Chapter IV: Tea For Two [/u] Surface of Jericho VII Lambda Serpentis System 02/11/2535 1107 Hours - Standard Military Time Rendezvous Point – Grove: South-East of Delta Three-Three [/i] [/b] “Where could they be?” Graves asked loudly. “We’ve been here for more than a half an hour. Something isn’t right.” “I’m beginning to think the same thing” Corporal Fox said in his stern voice. Corporal Fox was also fairly new to Jericho VII. He’d just been transferred after working to train new meat onboard a ship near the Outer Colonies. It had been dull work, so he was glad to be off the ship. Now he could smell fresh air. Even as diluted as it was on this planet, it beat being on a ship. Corporal Gordon Fox was fairly short for a man of his strength. He was five feet and ten inches but was built like a tank. He had large biceps, and was an inspiration to even the most backbone lacking Marines. He had blue eyes and blonde hair and could have passed for a Marine poster boy. “Lieutenant, do you think we should move out and try to find them?” O’Brian asked curiously, growing tired of this gloomy grove. “I’m trying to contact the Sergeant Major. The entire network is a mess. I can’t reach anyone. We’ll have to stay put for now,” Jones stated, wiping his brow with the back of his left hand. “Anyone up for a game?” Evans asked, seeing this lull in the action as a potential opportunity to make some winnings. The entire squad roared a resonating ‘no’. They knew that their money wasn’t safe while playing with Evans. He always won. He was as good of card player as anyone could be and he knew every trick in the book, and then some. “I’ll play you,” Dawkins stated sternly, sitting down upon the same log as Evans. “Let’s see what you got.” “Alright then, what would you like to play miss…”-He was cut off. “It’s Dawkins! You can call me Dawkins. I’d like to play blackjack, you know how?” She asked. “Yea… yea, I do,” Will replied. “Let’s play” He shuffled the deck with an amazing speed and began to deal. He passed her two cards, one up and the other face-down. Her card that was up was a nine and she glanced at the one which was face-down, a nine also. “Best two of three. The prize, if you win, is bragging rights and if I win, a kiss from such a fair lady such as yourself. Does that sound fair?” Evans demanded, looking at her deep green eyes; a truly lustrous beauty, for a Marine that is. “Fine, but you won’t win.” She replied coolly. As the game went on, Evans won the first time. He had drawn himself a nine and a ten which had been enough to beat Dawkins’ eighteen. During the second game, Dawkins had won. She managed to get twenty-one and just topped Evans’ twenty. “So, it comes down to this doesn’t it sweets?” Evans laughed, getting ready for his prize. He was going to enjoy this. As he drew the cards, things began to play to his advantage. He had a five showing, and a ten face-down. She had a nine showing, and a three face-down. He was up three. “Hit me.” She said, as Evans passed her an extra card. She glanced at it, smirked, and placed it down upon the log, it was another nine. She had twenty-one. Evans drew a card for himself, took a look and placed it down. He placed the six down upon the log with a grin which spread from one side of his face to the other. He had twenty-one, also. They flipped their remaining cards and were shocked when the tie became evident. The entire squad gathered around in awe. A tie, against Evans, Dawkins had done the impossible. She didn’t win but neither had he and that was good enough for them. “Delta Three-Four?” A voice suddenly whispered from behind the fog. “Who’s there?” Jones asked warily, flashing his weapon in the direction of the noise. The entire squad began to pack up and grabbed their arms. Everyone went from a state of relaxation to being back on their toes again. The fun was over, now things had gotten serious. A shadow emerged in the fog. It broke the mist and entered the grove. “I’m Sgt. Macy. I’m looking for a missing squad. You haven’t seen them around anywhere have you?” The man asked jokingly. “Are you from Delta Three-Three?” Graves blurted out. “Yes, I am. So I’ll assume that this is the Rendezvous Point and that you’re the squad from Three-Four. You guys look like you’ve been through hell but it could just be the weather.” He laughed, but it was more of a sigh. “What happened to your squad Sergeant?” Jones demanded sternly. “I dunno. I was on point. We were somewhere north-west of here, we’d just left the valley when we got attacked from both flanks. The bastards cut through us in an instant. One moment we were crossing some plains with low visibility and the next we were being swamped by hidden foes. They appeared out of thin air! They broke our ranks and we had to make a run for the forest and shelter. We scattered and planned to regroup but we never did. I don’t know how many, if any, are still alive but I know that Delta Three-Three is going to be in big trouble, real soon,” the Sergeant told the squad, rubbing his dark amber hair furiously. “Alright then, grab your weapon and fall in with the rest. I’m going to try to contact someone on the COM channels and see what the hell’s going on,” the Lieutenant told Macy. “All I’ve got left is a sidearm. Some mean blue son-of-a--blam!- took my real ordinance,” Macy commented, sliding a fresh clip into his M6B. [b]***[/b] Minutes passed on but still no luck on the COM channels. Jones continued to change frequencies and tried focusing on certain camps but was still unsuccessful. He could only assume that the camps were either destroyed or that the COM channels had bugged out. Finally, his COM burst with static in his ear. A voice cried out, searching if anyone was able to hear it. Jones replied quickly, “I read you, where are you?” The voice answered: “This is Camp Delta Three-Three. We’re under attack from an enemy force. They’re penetrating our defenses. We need reinforcements now. Can you help?” The voice began to plead incoherently into the COM for help. “We’re from Delta Three-Four, we can’t reach them. Most of the COM channels are jammed. Can you patch me through to Three-Four? I need to speak with the Sergeant Major immediately.” Jones asked with desperation. “One second. Hurry, we don’t have much-” The voice screamed in pain through the COM. Silence. The voice was gone. The COM rang in the Lieutenant’s helmet as another, more familiar voice came on. “This is Delta Three-Four, Jones is that you?”
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[i][b] Continued...[/i][/b] “Yes, Sergeant Major it is. We’ve made it to the Rendezvous but the other squad wasn’t so fortunate. We have one of their survivors, plus three others from Three-Five which we picked up during our voyage. We lost four during combat though. How are you hanging in?” Jones asked. “We’re fine. Those bastards haven’t had the balls to try us again since you left. Unfortunately, they will soon. Even through the fog, we can make out their shapes. They’ve got us completely surrounded and badly outnumbered. We can hold them off though. The walls will serve as good protection. Unlike Delta Three-Three, our walls are of stone, so they’ll hold,” the Sergeant Major said, relieving the Lieutenant of his worries. “Our orders, sir?” Jones asked curiously. “Save those poor Marines over at Three-Three. Be quick about it too. They won’t have long. Contact me again from there, over and out.” The Sergeant Major’s voice disappeared. “So, what does he have us doing now? Hopefully it’s something better than walking,” laughed Graves. “Yea, it is - [i]running![/i]” The Lieutenant shot back at him. “Double file, double pace. We’ve got a camp to save. Get moving! Jennings, Dawkins you got point. Waters, Graves you two can pull up the rear! Let’s move, move, move!” Jones roared. The squad jogged out of the grove, moving now at double the speed they had before. No fog, rain or mud was going to stop them from reaching camp Delta Three-Three. Neither was any Covenant. Tom and Graves followed in behind the pack, shouldering their weapons and following at a somewhat slower pace. [i]They’d catch up, but they didn’t need to do it yet[/i], Tom thought. “Lovely weather for a jog in the woods isn’t it?” Graves whispered to Tom. “Always the best for us, isn’t it? I don’t know what was worse, the trip here on a large over-crowded cruiser or the days spent here in the gloom twiddling my thumbs. Not much choice though when it comes to the climate, well unless you’re one of the lucky ones living it up in paradise. ‘Guess I got the wrong hemisphere. It’d be alright if the pay was a little better though,” said Tom. “Yeah, it would. It’s not the pay I’m worried about. It’s living through this to use that money, that’s what I’m worried about,” Graves laughed. Tom hurried to catch up behind the squad, pushing down deep imprints into the slush of the forest floor. They were all washed away within seconds from the deep pounding rain. No traces that the squad had ever been through the area were left behind. Tom trundled on through the fog and rain, leaving the elements behind as pure adrenaline pumped through his veins. [i] No matter what happened, they’d get to Delta Three-Three[/i]. [i]No matter what happened, he’d get through this day alive[/i].
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Nice work, Papa. I bet that you worked on this for quite a long time.
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Awesome Fan-fic Papa John. Your Fan-Fic's are definitely some of the best out there. Thread Saved*
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Post more. These are awesome.
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1 word........ wow...........
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well done.. as usual..
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*Thread Saved* I will read it later. From the comments I assume it will be amazing.
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Hey Papa John when will you be releasing another new chapter your chapters always end with cliffhangers...*stalks away frustrated*
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As usual, it's a great read.
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[quote][b]Posted by:[/b] Guardian Hunter Hey Papa John when will you be releasing another new chapter your chapters always end with cliffhangers...*stalks away frustrated*[/quote] I've got one 'in the can' and more are on their way! [i] Papa John [/i]
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Thread saved. I'll read it when I have time. Sounds very awesome.
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cool stuff
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Chapter 5 will be going online tomorrow. Stay tuned. [i] Papa John [/i]
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[i][b][u]Chapter V: To Grandma’s House We Go…[/u] Surface of Jericho VII Lambda Serpentis System 02/11/2535 1146 Hours - Standard Military Time Outside Apollo Valley – South of Delta Three-Three [/b][/i] “Three-Three should be just over this ridge,” Jones said. “Stick close, eyes up. Waters, Graves, you keep our six. O’Brian, you got point. Dawkins and Fox, watch our flank.” The squad mounted the small hill only to see the devastation. Camp Delta Three-Three was just visible through the fog, the billowing smoke and ferocious flames setting it apart from the normal gray. The squad was still at least three-hundred meters off and it was open ground between them and the camp. “This is where the first ambush happened. We got hit within a few minutes of leaving the camp. I’m not surprised that the camp bit it, there had to be a couple hundred of them, mostly elites too,” Macy stated eerily. “Something’s up; intuition speaking here. The Covenant are barbarians but why send hundreds of Elites to overrun a couple of squads and a shabby outpost? It doesn’t add up.” Jones pondered, “Tremblant keep trying Three-Four. I want to know exactly what’s in this valley.” Dawkins piped up, “if what you’re saying is right, we should be able to waltz into Three-Three without any hitches. I’ll take point.” “Hold on there. Tremblant, keep trying Three-Four; Graves, Evans stick with Tremblant in the rear. As for the rest of you apes, let’s move,” the Lieutenant ordered. Lance Corporal Tremblant was a meager man, nearing six feet, not very muscular and wore basic glasses. He was of French descent and had spent most of his military career in Côté D’Azur. He had a recruitment officer, until his request for a transfer came through. Jericho VII’s western hemisphere was not what he had in mind. The squad moved at a fair pace, crossing the open ground with haste. Meter after meter, the flames of Delta Three-Three approached. Finally, the squad was within range of visibility, not that they wanted to be; the camp was in complete ruin. Bodies had been hacked, ripped and spread around, walls and been smashed and every square inch was ablaze. “Dawkins, Fox - scout.” Jones hissed. “Sir, Three-Four connected. The Sergeant Major is waiting,” Tremblant huffed. “Patch me in,” Jones clasped his hand to his ear, “Sergeant Major?” “Jones, this better be important. I need a status report on Three-Three ASAP. We can’t hold on much longer here and I need to know where I can fallback to, if anywhere.” “Sir, Three-Three is down; we’re checking for survivors now. Situation is FUBAR. No signs of Covenant in the vicinity though. Whatever they’re after here, Three-Three was in their way.” The Sergeant Major sighed, “most personnel aren’t able to enter the valley but that’s where the Covenant are headed. I doubt you’ll find any security to stop you. I’ll upload the current codes for when you reach the valley’s base.” “What exactly is in this valley?” Jones asked. “ONI. They’ve got a testing facility. They’re tracking some new armor or something. Get there, and close down the shop. Give them time to transmit, then trash the place. I don’t want the Covenant touching those prototypes and I certainly don’t want them getting those files. Good luck,” the Sergeant Major’s voice was drowned in static and repeated staccato bursts. Sergeant Dawkins and Private Evans returned back to the squad. Dawkins made her report. “Sir, no living found, just a lot of dead bodies. It seems the Covenant hit the place on the move; my bet is that they’ve gone down into the valley, guessing from the amount of displaced dirt and mud stretching out from the back of the outpost.” “You’ve assumed correctly. The Sergeant Major gave us what sounds like his last orders. We’ve got to get to the base of the valley. There, we’ll find an ONI communications center. We’ve got to get there and keep the Covenant at bay long enough to trash the place. What happens after that is anyone’s guess but it’s everything or nothing right here, right now. Let’s move,” Jones ordered, with every set of eyes in the squad on him. “This is some pretty serious -blam!-,” Graves cracked. “Yes. Yes son it is.” [b]***[/b] “Clear!” Dawkins called out, scanning down the ridgeline of the valley. The Covenant had been there. From the masses of blue and grey scattered bodies, they had apparently not been successful. “Alright, let’s move. The Covenant will be back. We’ve got to get down this slope. It’s only a matter of time before those bastards return,” Jones said. “L-Tee, you hear that?” Graves hissed from the back. “[i]Screamers[/i], flying in low I’d take it.” “Hit the dirt. We’ve got aerial coming this way,” Jones sounded off. “Keep low and keep moving. The last thing we want is a squadron of Banshees flying up our asses.”
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[i][b] Continued...[/i][/b] Two Banshee fliers spotted the squad. Out in the open, they were easy prey. The craft swooped down upon the squad’s position. Plasma canons lit up as they came level with the squad, their menacing forms moving swiftly across the skyline. The duo let fly with a salvo of blue death, tracing the ground in attempt to find a target. Private Connors had been slow to react. Two steaming bolts splashed across his chest. One met head-on with his armor, only knocking him off balance. The second bolt, however, had been fatal. It incinerated his skin upon impact, charring organs and flesh. Jennings dove at him to keep him down; he was late and got a shot in the leg for it. “They’ve got my leg! Wankers…” The Corporal fell to the ground, continuing to move slowly down the slope of the valley on his chest. Above, one Banshee exploded into a super-heated molten mess as the second made evasive maneuvers. “What the hell was that?” Grave cried out, covering his head with his arms. Debris fell rampant from the sky as the second Banshee was shredded upon impact. A crimson beam of light had traced the flier and downed it instantly. Whatever it had been, it had ripped through the flier’s heavy metal alloy. The pilot didn’t stand a chance. Evans coughed, “whatever it is, it’s on our side. I’d wager it’s coming from below us.” “Always a betting man; I’d say you’re right. Break ranks, full pace, we’ve got to get off this slope. Dawkins check on Connors. Waters, Graves grab the Corporal! Move, move!” Jones jumped up, beckoned to his squad and made a sprint down the valley’s steep slope and out across a small plain towards the ONI complex. Dawkins took a long glance at Connors. She pulled off his identification tags and followed the Lieutenant. Remorse coursed through her veins as wind blew by her ears. Connors had survived their crash but had been taken by surprise. As a Marine, there were no guarantees. Lieutenant reached the complex first. He jumped over a barrier and scanned his surroundings. Not to his surprise, the complex was deserted. He spotted a M247 turret along the camp’s barriers and strapped himself in. The rest of the squad fell in but Graves and Waters would need cover. Jennings was not a light man by any means. Even with two squad mates helping him along it was slow work. The three had just made it out onto the plain when the familiar screech of Covenant Banshees was heard. This was more than the mere patrol that they’d encountered before hand, this was an entire flotilla. “When this is all over, you’re going to lose some weight,” said Graves. He checked back over his shoulder. Through the ceiling of fog over the valley, he could just make out a horde of looming figures. “Banshees.” “This is the scene in all the vids where the heroes die saving a fallen comrade,” Tom muttered. “I always hated those vids.” “Waters, tell me about it. Now can we get a move on? I’ve already lost my leg; I’d prefer to keep the rest of me, thank you,” sassed Jennings. Anxiety was biting at him. Automatic rounds shook the heavens above as the squad’s cover fire riddled the incoming Covenant fliers with lead. Flashes of plasma scalded the ground behind Tom as he fought for every inch. “Let’s just say you’re gonna owe us one after this.” Tom coughed out, as a blue streak slashed by his left ear. Jennings stepped down hard on his charred right leg. It gave out under the strain and he toppled over onto Graves. “Jesus…” Graves cried out. A bullet-riddled Banshee came down hard overtop of the fallen squad mates and hammered into the soil. “…Thank you.” Tom heaved himself up and dragged Jennings with him. Graves recovered and with a renewed sense of urgency they pushed forward. They juked past the downed Banshee and made a break for the complex. The roar of a Jones’ turret inspired a homely feeling in Tom. Dawkins and Parsons rushed out to help them with the last few meters. As Jennings was lifted over the barrier, Jones let the turret cool off. The fliers diverted course and flew off, utterly defeated. “Seven kills – not bad,” the Lieutenant laughed, wiping his brow. O’Brian took to Jennings quickly. He sat him upright against the concrete barrier and sorted through his kit. Jones and Tremblant tried the COM channels as Jennings looked past them to the rectangular bunker in the middle of the complex. A door slid open and the Corporal couldn’t help but laugh. “Well, what do we have here?”
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Chapter 5 was good. Keep up the good work!
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Yes keep it up man! I don't have the time to read it all but it certainly sound like a good story in the making. YF
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[quote][b]Posted by:[/b] Mort Donner 1 1 word........ wow...........[/quote]
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Amazingly good work... good job
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incredibly addictive papa john, keep up the good work.
