The fight for Omega Centauri. Part three: assuming command
Posted By: Aonghus Maher<aonghus@gofree.indigo.ie>
Date: 31 January 2004, 8:32 AM
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"Scout team alpha? Come in scout team alpha." Comm. officer Tom Cooney turned his seat to face General Wilder. "We lost them, sir. Radio equipment is shot to hell. I don't think they're coming back." There was a lump in his throat which he quickly swallowed.
"Damn. Raise the other scout teams. Get them back here. I presume that we didn't get the co-ordinates."
"No sir. They were forced to reposition before we could get it all. We have enough to cut down the search area from fifty miles to thirty, but beyond that we have nothing."
General Wilder tugged at his trimmed, regulation length beard. He was bothered by the Covenant tactics. Every time they had found a new human occupied planet they simply glassed the planet from orbit after dispatching any UNSC ships protecting the planet. They never landed troops. Wilder's musings were cut short as a red light blinked to life at the communications station. Cooney looked at it, did a double take and then turned his seat to face General Wilder once more.
"Sir, incoming transmission from the captain of the cruiser the Angel's Wings. It's tagged as urgent."
Wilder picked up a headset and placed it on his head, adjusting the mike so that it was level with his mouth.
"Patch him through."
"Ground base, this is captain Lucan of the Angel's Wings. I want to speak to the highest ranking officer."
"This is General Wilder, sir. With all due respect, what do you want, sir?"
"I want you to move your forces to Mt. Rina."
"What? On whose authority."
Cooney looked at the display screen as it beeped for his attention. Then he swore quietly under his breath.
"Um, sir. You should look at this."
Wilder leaned over Cooney's shoulder, looking at the screen.
"Goddamn! FleetCom, HighCom and ONI authorisation. Impressive credentials, sir."
"General, it is of the utmost importance that you get to Mt. Rina. More will be explained once we can ensure that we have a secure line. One more thing, General. You will find reinforcements there."
The comm. channel went dead. Wilder took the headset off, stared at it and then threw it to the ground. He clenched his fists for a moment and then turned to Cooney.
"We're repositioning to Mt. Rina. Gather half our forces and get them ready for transport. I only want warthogs and troops. Leave the heavy ordinances here. I want them all in the courtyard by the time I finish talking."
"Yes sir."
Cooney issued all the orders. Within a half hour fifty warthogs and a hundred soldiers lay waiting in the main courtyard. Wilder looked down over them all. He could see that they were nervous and confused. He knew how they felt. He checked the ammo count on his pistol and then climbed into the driver's seat of one of the leading warthogs. He turned to the astonished marines.
"What the hell are you all waiting for? A goddamn invitation?"
The marines jumped aboard the warthogs and drove off, Wilder ahead of them all. He looked at the passenger beside him. He then looked at the name stencilled onto the front of the young black man's uniform.
"Private A. J. Johnson?"
The young man turned his head fractionally so that he could look at the general while still keeping one eye on the road ahead, holding his rifle tightly.
"Yes sir?"
"Are you nervous, private?" enquired Wilder.
"The only thing I'm nervous about is that we won't see any action on this road trip, sir."
"Ha! How long have you been in the armed forces, Johnson?"
"Few years, sir." Replied Johnson.
"And you're still a private?"
"I figure us grunts get to see the most action."
"Why did you join the army, Johnson?"
"Permission to speak crudely, sir."
"Granted."
"I wanted to blow shit up, sir."
"Ah yes. Good reason."
They drove on in silence for a while more until the motion tracker pinged. Wilder's eyes snapped down to it. It was clear. Wilder looked warily back to the road, scanning the area ahead. He grabbed the radio.
"Wilder here. Stay sharp. We've got company."
No sooner had Wilder dropped the radio than it buzzed to life again.
"Contact! Hell of a lot of Contact!"
The sound of 50 cal fire came from the back of the formation of the warthogs. A plasma grenade hissed through the air on a direct course for General Wilder. Johnson raised his assault rifle and the grenade stuck to it. Then he threw the rifle back into the bush from which the grenade had been thrown, pulling his pistol from its holster at the same time. There was a high-pitched squeal from the bush shortly before the grunt hiding there was blasted apart. Elites sprang from their hiding places and opened fire. The humans returned the favour and soon the air was full of the sound of automatic fire and the hiss of plasma weapons. Another grenade blasted Wilder's warthog onto its side. Johnson sprang up and opened fire with his pistol, directing five shots at one elite's head. The elite's shields stopped the first four but the last burst through them and implanted itself in the alien's head. There was a splash of purple blood as the elite slid to the ground. Then Johnson ducked down again. He looked to General Wilder and, seeing him trapped in the over turned vehicle, holstered his weapon and tried to pull him out. An elite poked its head over the side of the warthog, smiled and raised its weapon. Then there was a burst of automatic fire from behind it. The elite's shields shimmered as it spun and fired. Johnson pulled Wilder out and stood again. He wiped his eyes and looked again, not believing what he saw. Most of the aliens lay in pools of their own blood and the few that were still standing were soon felled by the new soldiers that had arrived. Once the last of the Covenant troops lay dead one of the new soldiers turned to General Wilder and saluted, his bulky armour not even making a whisper as it moved.
"SPARTAN 117 reporting, sir. With all due respect, we're assuming command."
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