- last post: 01.01.0001 12:00 AM PDT
Memories crash through me. The feel of the sharp pincer as it pierced my neck, and the horror as something began moving inside of me, tearing away at my body like a scavenger. The desire to scream, my blood burning as I lost control of my body. The only thing I can do is scream ,but by then I couldn’t remember how.
“Nobody can go against the Flood and survive. There’s only been one sonofa-blam!- lucky enough to fight the bastards head on and still walk away, and right now he ain’t around to help.”
Silence. Combat boots shuffling against the metal deck are drowned out by the engines. I chewed Private Pearson out not because he was getting on my nerves, it was mainly because he was voicing things that shouldn’t be said, not right before we set out to fight a battle where I’m sure none of these men will come back alive from. Doubts before war will always occur, but to have them voiced, to have those sentiments shared by those around you, it means there’s weight behind your thoughts. Those things can crush a soldier in the heat of battle, and I don’t want to see anyone else die needless deaths.
“Its your choice Pearson. You can do everything possible in a wasteful effort to get back to Earth, where you’ll die and become food for the Flood. Or you can shut that trap of yours and get ready for the battle, because it sure as hell isn’t going to wait around for you.”
A mumbled apology is all I get in response from the soldier, his eyes downcast and focused on the rough surface of his boots. -blam!-, now I’m starting to feel bad. These men need to think of me as their leader, but I’d rather I didn’t have to smack them around to get the message across.
Outside the small window I can see the battlefield now. The Covenant force was incredible. Hundreds of thousands of soldiers, vehicles, and other weapons of war were out along the incredible expanse of open space that lay before the city of Gestahl. Immeasurable amounts of firepower streamed towards the city limits, crushing buildings and soldiers alike. The Covenant were unleashing an artillery barrage unlike anything I’d seen before. The Elites in Gestahl weren’t defenseless, but their retaliatory attacks were unfocused and typically fell short of their targets. The forces in Gestahl were at a disadvantage when conducting these tactics. Outside of the major populate cities on the planet, the Covenant had glassed and covered the ground with a sturdy metal surface, eliminating any targets that the Elites might be able to use to zero in on the Covenant forces.
Unfortunately for the soldiers in the city, the Covenant had more than enough targets. Judging from the smoke and fire streaming from the city, the Covenant were driving that point home as hard as possible.
The Pelican began to accelerate, the thrum of the engines becoming a heavy roar as we broke into a heavy dive. It wasn’t going to take long for the Covenant to realize where we were, and when they did, we were going to be on the receiving end of their attacks. One hit from their plasma cannons would be enough to wipe out a Pelican and anyone unfortunate enough to be inside.
“We’re going in hot boys, keep your heads up…but not too far up.”
A poor attempt at humor to lighten the situation, and judging from the nervous chuckles that arose from my comment, the others knew it too. They laughed because the alternative was going back to the darkness inside of them, and right now anyone would gladly take an extended hand to pull them from that abyss.
Looking from face to face, I realized I was the most senior soldier aboard. Adding up the service of every other soldier would still leave them a few years short from matching my own time served. An old war dog, that’s what I was to these kids. Some dumb sonofa-blam!- that hasn’t realized how lucky he is to have survived for so long.
Lucky? How could anyone call this lucky?
Against my will I started fingering the intricate metal along my artificial limb. A sharp crackle of static blasted through my com link, signaling that someone was about to speak.
“Things are getting rough out there, so make sure you sit tight and don’t wander about.”
It was the pilot of our Pelican, Lieutenant Elisa Deniz. A short woman with a temper that could only be described with wild gestures and panicked looks. She knew how to hold her own against anything that might cross her path, and I respected her all the more for it.
I suppose the sudden silence should have tipped me off, but when it happened I was still knocked for a loop. One second I was fingering the knots on my harness, and the next, the entire front half of the Pelican was gone. A surreal moment followed, where the remnants of our ship coasted for a few moments after the plasma cannon round wiped out Lieutenant Deniz and her copilot. I couldn’t remember his name for some reason, and on reflection, I guess it was a stupid -blam!- thing to wonder about at the time.
Inertia finally took over and we began to plummet towards the ground at a speed I didn’t even want to guess. The wind screamed around us, filling the empty void as every soldier had their voices stolen from the terror coursing through their veins. Despite the urge to clench my eyes shut and wait for the inevitable crash, I twisted my head to gaze out the now wide open front end of our ship. We were falling at an angle, coasting almost. I had only a few seconds to realize that we’d probably hit the ground only a few hundred meters from the city before there was a sickening sound of metal being crushed as we struck the reinforced metallic earth that seemed to cover the entirety of the planet.
Mercifully my eyes finally closed, sparing me the sight of PFC Frank Miller as the section of wall behind him suddenly tore free and crumpled like a sheet of paper. The boy’s screams of terror were lost as he was encapsulated within a metal tomb, the sickening crush of flesh and bone assaulting my ears as I was savagely rocked in my seat. The force of our initial impact was enough to steal the breaths of every man aboard, and I sat in silence as the ship began to tumble and slide across the ground, sparks kicking up and our metallic shelter being torn away.
There seemed to be a grand pause before I realized that we’d stopped, and surprisingly I appeared to have survived without any injuries (not that such a thing would bother me anymore). Around me came the cries and groans of the others, and I was at once pleased and saddened to hear them. I would rather that they had all died then to survive whilst being mortally injured. The trip to Gestahl was one-way, and we wouldn’t be getting a lift back to the Lewis Puller until the Covenant either overran us and the survivors somehow contacted the ship, or we beat back the Covenant. There wasn’t going to be time to look after any wounded, evidenced as much to the fact that we didn’t even have a medic with our platoon.
“Sound off! How many of you are alive!?” I bellowed, trying to unhinge myself from the straps that likely saved my life during our decent and impact.
One by one I received acknowledgments from the remaining soldiers. PFC Miller, PFC Cortez, and Corporal Walle failed to respond. I knew what happened to Miller, but not the other two and I could feel something heavy settle in the pit of my stomach. Opening small slits allowing me to see, I caught a my first glimpse of what remained.
The entire roof of the Pelican had been sheered away, angry tears that bent the metal down to face us. The outstretched hand of a demon, coming to claim the lives of those that still lived. It was a miracle that so many of us survived. The Pelican must have hit the ground at an angle sharp enough to keep the fuel reserves from detonating and finishing what the impact hadn’t accomplished.
PFC Cortez was the first body I spotted. He was still strapped into his jump seat, and it wasn’t until I saw the unnatural bend in his neck that I realized he was dead, and not just unconscious. The shock from the impact must have caused Cortez’s neck to snap under the strain. It wasn’t a clean way to die, but as my eyes settled on Corporal Walle, I realized there were far worse ways to go.
Walle had been unfortunate enough to be sitting next to PFC Miller, and was nearly caught in the same metal tomb that housed Miller. Instead, the metal that had crumpled and was shorn away did not crush Corporal Walle… it impaled him. Protruding from his chest was a section of the outer Pelican skin that had somehow cracked through the interior, and ended up cutting right through Walle. His chest was rising and falling slightly, so he was still alive at least, but judging from the position of the metal shrapnel, he’d be gone before anything could be done. I wasn’t an experienced medic by any means, the most I could do was simple dressings for wounds, and maybe lend a shoulder or an arm to help a wounded soldier off the battlefield. Without a surgeon nearby, Walle was as good as dead.