- Papa John
- |
- Exalted Mythic Member
Chapter V: "To Grandma's House We Go..."
Surface of Jericho VII
Lambda Serpentis System
02/11/2535 1146 Hours - Standard Military Time
Outside Apollo Valley - South of Delta Three-Three
"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 flanks."
The squad mounted the small hill only to see devastation. Camp Delta Three-Three was just visible through the fog, the billowing smoke and ferocious flames setting it apart from the normal grey. The squad was still at least three-hundred metres 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 to reach 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 hitch. I'll take point."
"Hold on there. Tremblant, keep trying Three-Four; Graves and 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 meagre man. Nearing six feet, he was 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 been a recruitment officer until his request for a transfer came through. Like the others, Jericho VII's western hemisphere was not what he had had in mind.
The squad moved at a fair pace, crossing the open ground with haste. Metre after metre, 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 had been smashed and every square inch was ablaze.
"Dawkins, Fox - scout it out," 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 armour 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 centre. 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 shit," Graves cracked.
"Yes. Yes, son, it is."
***
"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. "Screamers, 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."
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 armour, 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 yelled as he 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 manoeuvres.
"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 forward, 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 Jones 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 quickly 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 plains 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 horrid 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 over the heads 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's turret inspired a homely feeling in Tom. Dawkins and Parsons rushed out to help them with the last few metres.
As Jennings was lifted over the barrier, Jones let the turret cool down. 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 concrete bunker in the middle of the complex. A dark titanium door slid open and the injured Corporal couldn't help but laugh. "Well, what do we have here?"
[Edited on 07.29.2010 12:14 PM PDT]