Chapter 16 1835 Hours/ Tel Aviv, Israel Southern Platform Pushing farther on the throttle and changing gears, the Warthog roared down the abandoned streets of Tel Aviv, buildings both thousands of years old and maybe a decade old lay in ruins. Those who stood tall were covered with the dust of a thousands sandstorms, and no amount of cleaning material would ever wipe off the barrage they had taken. The dust tried to overtake the windshield of the Warthog, but Fred pulled a small lever to the right of the steering wheel, spraying a water/soap mixture onto it while the wipers cleaned it thoroughly. The Spartans set the visual receptors in their helmets to night vision, which although being a bright hour of the day, cleared the dust from their sight. Linda, sitting in the passenger seat and carrying her new sniper rifle on her shoulder, grabbed the handle and turned it upright, looking through the scope. The noise of it zooming in had not changed from the normal model and this new one, always a welcome noise. “Firing spotted up ahead. We’ll reach them in about half a minute.” “Any targets you can take out?” “Nothing is visible, even with the night vision. And I doubt the bullet will travel straight in this dust storm.” “That’s fine. Take Will’s new rocket launcher and be ready to use it. Will, keep ready on the gauss cannon. You’ll be the only thing defending us while Linda’s reloading.” “Don’t worry. I’m sure that I’ll have just as many CK as Linda, if not more. Just set up the target and they’ll eat a special metal to my liking.” Both Linda and Fred glanced at each other, both of them smiling. ****** “Man down! Man down! We need that artillery brought here immediately! Perez, Lucas, I want firing positions set up on the eastern and northern sections of this encampment! And where the hell are our reinfo-” “Incoming!” Everyone ducked for cover when a huge explosion rocked the entire base, scrambling omega leader’s insides. There were too many of them and not enough time or firepower on his side to keep the enemy at bay for much longer. He’d been promised reinforcements, but they had only a few minutes left before there was nothing to reinforce. “Firing teams, hold the line! If we don’t hold out for reinforcements, we’re all screwed. And if that happens, you won’t have to worry about those alien bastards. It’ll be me who feeds lead into your gut’s. Liperre, where’s that artillery!?” “The artillery has been surrounded is being taken out. Their just two clicks south of here, but we won’t be able to reach them in time.” In the corner of his eye, a green blob floated towards them slowly, but by the time Rogers turned to look dead on, it was already on Liperre. The plasma bolt discharge of a plasma pistol began eating away at the mans head, but it shook so violently that the helmet was thrown off and disintegrated while the man took whatever plasma left in his hair out. Rogers crouched down and let out a burst on a Grunt directly at ten ‘o clock. The rounds pierced its head and dropped it, giving him the chance to check on his marine. “I’m fine sir, just a scratch and some lost hair. We’ve only got twenty men left, and I don’t think they’ll be able to hold the perimeter for much longer. We need to evacuate right-” Plasma bolts flew overhead and both turned and discharged their weapons in the direction of fire, hoping to get a clean hit. “Get back, I’ll hold it here! Prepare to evacu-” “Sir! Look!” The marine pointed towards where they just fired, and a Warthog flew through the air, landing and crushing several grunts. The brakes screeched loudly, deafening both of them, and an Elite flew off into the distance, too far to see where. The gauss cannon on the back fired over and over again, each shot hitting its desired target. “Holy cow, I don’t believe it,” Rogers said in disbelief. “Would never have guessed that we’d get a Spartan to give us a hand. Well, what are you waiting for? Now’s your chance to get out of here. Regroup the men and tell them to set up base at coordinates 030022.” “Yes sir!” Liperre ran off, while Rogers went over to the Warthog. The three Spartans within it simply stunned him, almost too much for words. But he forced them out of his mouth. “Sirs, thanks for the help. We’ve been pinned down here for two hours. I’ve just sent my best marine to regroup the rest of our force, but I don’t think we’ll have enough to do anything on our own. Our communications systems have been taken out, and we could use a lift out of here.” The Spartan nodded, and in the massive suit of armor he wore, Rogers wondered whether he was already signaling a pickup team or doing something else. Solitaire might be fun. “Sir, we were supposed to have artillery sent here to give us a hand, but they were stopped by Covenant forces two clicks back in that direction,” pointing to seven thirty. “I’m sure if they’re still there, they could use a hand.” “We’re on it. Pelican’s will pick you up. ETA three minutes. Be ready; Covenant ships are coming out of nowhere. They might try to stop you if they get the chance. Don’t give it to them.” “Yes sir!” He saluted rigidly, and the Spartan returned it, then through the car into reverse and slammed on the gas, careening the Warthog back. Maneuvering it around, it kept going even after he switched back to normal driving mode, and left a huge trail of dust in its wake. Rogers walked out to where the Warthog had just been, and saw a single Elite lying on the ground, struggling to reach its plasma rifle. Walking over to it, he picked up the gun and the Elite grabbed hold of his leg, but its squeeze was weak. Pointing the gun at its head, disgust filled his entire being, as the bodies of more marines lay in the background of his vision. “Get the hell off my planet, Covenant scum.” With that, the charred face showed no emotion, and the hand attached to his leg weakened, never to rise again. ****** “Yes chief, the last report we received from artillery unit 273 was recorded just half an hour ago. They reported to be but shy of where you stated. All communication was severed with them as they were under radio silence so not to give away their position.” Looks like that failed miserably. “We will investigate the last recorded position. Keep me informed of any changes on the battle overhead and anything that happens down here.” “Understood. Comm. station 32 over and out.” The sandstorm had stopped, but it hadn’t shined any light upon this town. Now everything they wish they had seen they wished they didn’t. The ruins were enormous, a sight to behold. They refused to take it lightly, and Fred pushed a little harder on the gas. “Look on the bright side,” Linda stated while looking out into the horizon, “at least we can see where we’re going. Better to fall into hell with the senses you trust then heaven without any of them.” “That’s questionable, but for another time. Will, get that gauss cannon ready, we’re approaching the perimeter. Linda, take out any stragglers that aren’t our own. If anyone spots our forces, let the rest of us know immediately, and we’ll get them to safety. Without the good intel I wanted, we’re going in blind.” Two acknowledgement lights blinked on his HUD as the Warthog tore through the sand dune. The horizon ahead was shaky from the intense heat of 55° centigrade; although their internal suit temperature kept cool enough for each of them. Pushing down the clutch and sending the vehicle into 6th gear, the engine roared and their destination neared quickly. The Warthog’s radar showed no motion whatsoever, which was a bad sign. Especially since the armory trucks were now visible in the distance, and no movement meant either no survivors or that they all escaped. Or were hiding in the ruins. Coming up on the coordinates set, heavy tanks and artillery were scorched, burnt, twisted in ways Fred didn’t think possible. There wasn’t too much of it, enough to count using only his own fingers. He stopped the car and left the keys in the ignition, jumped out, and waved for Linda to follow. Will was about to come along as well, but Fred showed the ‘halt’ signal, and Will stayed with the car. Readying the new assault rifle, Fred set it to single-shot burst to keep any attacker at bay while allowing his aim to be perfect. The leeway this gave let him know that no recoil would stunt any later shots, and if a Grunt or Jackal, or anything else with or without shields that was simply unprepared for their arrival, that his first shot could take out the target. If there was anything that he might not be able to take on so easily, the switch to automatic fire was right next to the trigger. “Radio silence unless they find the Warthog or anyone finds survivors. Clear?” Both gave thumbs up, remembering not to use the suit to suit signal transfer system to show acknowledgement and other functions. When attacking the Unyielding Hierophant, they were found because they used that simple communiqué, and their position was found with pinpoint accuracy. That mistake cost a life, and Fred would not soon forget it.