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(Firebase Echo HQ, planet Jericho II, grid fifteen by twenty five, sector four, three miles north of Firebase Delta, 0905 hours AM, year 2552, Colonel Hood)
"Sir incoming transmission from Delta...it sounds urgent," Harold said, pressing his hand against his earpiece.

"Put on the overhead speakers," Hood replied.

"Yes sir," Harold said as he flipped a series of switches. A moment later the control room filled with a fear stricken voice.

"Colon...Hood////****they've breached the base per...they've taken out///the**//#hospital and are closing in on//con//center. ////need assistance//supplies...men...overrun-" the message was overrun with static.

"Lieutenant Colonel Marsh come in, over," Hood said. No answer.

"What should we do sir?" Harold looked up at Hood.

"Get Sergeant Major Crew to assemble a company of 190 men. I want them to load up in Warthogs, Scorpions, and five tons. Load them up with supplies and get them under way to assist Delta."

(Field Master Orna 'Orsamee)
"So 'Fasamee how is the attack on second base going?" 'Orsamee inquired.

"Wonderful, our troops have overrun the base and are taking out the last of the bases commanders."

"Good, now report."

"Field Commander Seraph has asked for one thousand additional troops, his troops have run into two separate human forces. Five thousand additional troops are on standby and all they need is our call. A human vehicle column has been reported leaving the main base and heading towards the second base, most likely to assist them."

"Good bring in one thousand troops and tell them to meet up with Seraph. Have an additional two thousand troops land along the human road and be prepared to engage this relief column. Have the Dropship pilots bring in Shades, energy shields, and I want five Wraiths on the sides."

"But Field Master the terrain on the side of the road is thick with tree," 'Fasamee protested.

"Well have them cut them down or blast a clearing," 'Orsamee ordered.

"Y-yes Excellency, but what of the other two thousand troops?"
"Have five hundred land in this clearing as an emergency force and tell the rest to stand by. And ask Command for an additional five thousand troops to ship into this system, and to await my orders to land. I have something in store for these annoying interlopers."

"Yes Excellency," 'Fasamee walked down towards to the makeshift 'communications center' to carry out 'Orsamee's orders.

(Sergeant Major Chris Crew, 6th battalion assistant commander, Baker Company, ninth regiment, 1030 hours)
Crew sat in the passenger seat of the second Warthog in the 120 vehicle convoy. In back of him were sixty other 'Hogs and then ten Scorpions and then thirty five ton trucks, and the rest of the vehicles were Warthogs. Parallel to him was Corporal Higgins the driver, and in back of him was PFC Baker the gunner, and PFC Donovan AKA Van, who sat at Baker's feet, holding an MA5B.

"Anything on the motion tracker Higs?" Crew inquired.

"Nothing sir," Higgins said, glancing at the motion tracker located on the pedestal in-between the passenger and driver.

Crew reviewed the previous two hours. Hood had called him to the command center and briefed quickly. His orders were to assemble 190 men and load them up on 120 vehicles and bury the vehicles with supplies/ammo. It took them the better part of the two hours to get organized and to wait for additional supplies to arrive from the orbiting ships. That took about an hour and a half. The next half hour was wasted loading up the vehicles and getting the men loaded up. Now they were half a mile away from Echo and no opposition had come their way...yet.

"Uh sir...there's something on the tracker," Higgins said.

"Well where?" Crew demanded.

"Ah to the left about twenty five yards."

"Well Baker, you heard him, open fire," Crew ordered. "Dallas stop!" Crew shouted up to the first Warthog's driver. The convoy stopped.

"Sir," Baker pulled back the 50 cal's charging lever and released it, it slid into place with a metallic 'snap'. Baker depressed the chain gun's triggers. The heavy chain gun shook the entire Warthog as Baker fired a sustained burst. A second later a hail of purple, pink, and green plasma bolts sprayed out of the bushes. Baker was safe behind the M41s protective metal plating and fired a volley of 12.7X99mm armor-penetrating rounds in return. Van opened up in short bursts with his MA5B, as did Crew. Higgins stomped on the accelerator as did Dallas in the 'Hog in front of them. The convoy started moving again.

"All men shoot at anything that moves, doesn't look like human, or shoots at you," Crew ordered. This mission could get worse.

Crew was right; the world erupted with plasma from all sides. Men began to get hit. Higgins was hit in the shoulder, Van was struck in the chest, and Crew in the arm. Three Warthog's back a Warthog exploded, then another.

(Sergeant Johnson)
"God dammit little bastard!" Johnson screamed as a plasma bolt shot past inches from his face. He sprayed the area where it had come. Johnson had volunteered to come with the convoy. It required no walking and he figured he would just sit around in a Warthog away from the action...he was very wrong. The 'Hog's gunner named Collins was firing to the side and shells were pinging off Johnson's helmet. "Damn Collins fire in another direction!"

"Sorry sir," Collins said and turned in the opposite direction to fire. Five seconds later he was hit.

Collins was firing to the left when a plasma bolt slammed into his lower neck and he fell onto Johnson. Johnson swore and pushed his lifeless body into the back of the LRV. Johnson wiped off some of the blood covering half his face. He resumed firing.

"Damn sir, how do you think the Covies knew about us?" the driver named Dells inquired.

"I don't know just keep driving," Johnson replied.

"Yes-" Dells was interrupted by two plasma bolts that slammed into the side of his head.

Johnson closed his eyes as blood sprayed into his face. The Warthog came to a stop and was jerked forward by the one behind it. Johnson looked over at Dells whose head had fallen against the dash. Blood covered the windshield and dash.

"MOVE IT!" someone behind him yelled.

"Damn," Johnson muttered as he got out of his seat and ducked as plasma shot past. He limped over to the driver side and lifted Dells into the back of the 'Hog. He hopped into the driver side and shifted into gear. He pressed down on the speed pedal and the 'Hog raced forward for the vehicles in front. Johnson's foot was full of pain as it stayed pressed down on the acceleration pedal. All around him plasma bolts shot past. His Warthog was getting peppered with plasma. The windshield was about to completely melt. Johnson stood his rifle up on the pedestal, so it would protect him from fire coming from the left. Sure enough the assault rifle was hammered with plasma. Soon it was so shot up melted metal began to collect in a small pool at the base of the assault rifle. Some of it dripped onto Johnson's leg. Johnson screamed as the super hot medal melted through his pant leg. He began to wipe it up with a greasy rag from his gun cleaning kit.

(Sergeant Murphy)
Murphy rolled down the window of the five ton and emptied his clip on a bunch of Grunts, standing to the side of the truck. "Oh shit," he muttered as a plasma orb shot into the cab and hit the inside of the windshield. Murphy rolled the window up.

"That was close," the driver named Sims laughed.

"No crap," Murphy said and reloaded his MA5B. A bright flash filled the cab as the Scorpion tank in front of them fired at a bunch of tightly packed Elites and Jackals. The group was on the left and truck shook as the 106mm shell impacted. A Grunt or at least half of one, came flying across the front of the truck, it skimmed the windshield, leaving a trail of blood.

The two men laughed but stopped as two Scorpions up a tank exploded and flipped onto its right side. "Mother of god," Sims whispered as he saw men jump out of the tank, on fire. The men were quickly cut down by volleys of plasma.

In back of the truck Corporal Davis was lying on his back as plasma orbs shot through the truck's canvas. A plasma orb had shot in front of him and luckily missed him. He took the little hole to his advantage and shot through it at the passing by Covenant.

"I'm hit I'm hit," PFC Reilly who was lying in the back of the flatbed, screamed.

Davis reloaded and crawled to a little space between the crates of ammo and supplies that dominated the flatbed. Through the space which was too small for him to crawl through, he saw Reilly lying in a pool of blood, his hands clutching his side. "Hand tight I'm coming over."

As Davis tried to move the crates out of the way, Reilly was hit again, this time in the head. Through the space Davis saw a wave of blood splash up against the crates and the pool turn to a river as it flowed in his direction. Davis sat up but slammed into the ground as a plasma bolt smacked into his chest, penetrating his armor. He roared in pain and his hands instinctively clutched the wound. Davis lay there, slowly dying, and feeling more bolts slam into his legs and feet. Davis made a final effort to reach for his MA5B but went limp in the process.

Murphy wondered why he couldn't here the rhythmic shake of MA5B fire, coming from the back. He slid the little sliding cover out of the way and looked into the back. Both Davis and Reilly were lying in pools of blood.

"Why aren't they shooting?" inquired Sims, who too was familiar with the feeling.

"Their dead," Murphy said, closing the slide.

Sims was quit from then on.

(Sergeant Johnson)
Johnson's LRV was slowing down. All the tires were blown, the LAAG was melted beyond repair, and the front left wheel was about to fall off. Twice the convoy stopped as a vehicle was blown up. A truck somewhere in front of Johnson had been destroyed and six wounded had crawled onto his 'Hog. Johnson had to keep on stopping and going. As a plasma grenade would come from out of no where and land in front of him, he would wait for it to explode and then speed up again.

(Sergeant Major Crew)
A plasma grenade flew past Crew's head and thankfully landed away from his 'Hog. Now that his 'Hog was the first in the entire column, it was the most shot at. Dallas's 'Hog had been hit by a Wraith and flipped on its side.

"Sir we can't keep this up!" Higgins screamed at him.

"There's no choice," Crew screamed back.

Van was clutching his wound when he was hit five times. Blood flew every where. Baker screamed as his feet slipped across the blood slicked flatbed. He opened up on several Grunts who had run out into the middle of the road. As he was firing a volley of needles shot his way. Two hit the LAAG and exploded, disabling it permanently. Baker was hit in the shoulder and when the needle exploded, blood sprayed out. Baker screamed and released his grip on the LAAG. He slid in the pool of blood and tripped on the tail gait. He fell out of the 'Hog and since the convoy had been tightly packed together, he fell on the front of the second Warthog.

"Holy shit, you okay?" Johner the driver of the second one inquired, while driving.

Baker was too weak to answer. He was about to get up when the first 'Hog exploded. "Oh Shit!" Baker screamed as he hopped off the second 'Hog which ran into the burnt chassis and stopped the convoy.

Baker ran up to the burnt 'Hog and took cover behind the wreckage. "Chris, Higs, you alive?"

He was answered with a groan. It was Crew who lay under a twisted piece of metal. Baker pulled him out and searched for Higgins. He found Higgins or at least the burnt corpse that had been Higgins. Baker carried Crew back to the second Warthog and threw him in back. He screamed at Johner to get going. The convoy started up again.

Baker checked on Crew. He was unconscious and was badly burnt. His face was covered with soot, ash, and blood.

"Is he all right?" Corporal Anderson the man in the passenger seat, inquired.

"He'll live," Baker said, as he gave Crew a shot of morphine and dressed his wounds. The convoy began to move again, under heavy fire.
Baker was shooting a newly acquired MA5B when he heard a whoosh sound. Over the main com channel someone shouted "Banshees" and sure enough two stubby winged fliers swooshed down for gun runs.

"Get down!" Baker screamed into his com link as the Banshees opened fire. Plasma splashed up against the Warthog, Johner was hit and he fell out of the driver's seat. "AAAHHHHH!" Baker yelled as a heat wave slammed into his back and threw him to the floor. The second Warthog was hit with one of the Banshees Fuel Rod Cannons. Then the third Warthog was hit with another Fuel Rod bolt. The two burst into green flame and the men were thrown from them, on fire.

(Sergeant Johnson)
Johnson heard the screams over the com freq and saw the two fliers screaming overhead. When plasma splashed from the first's gunports, Johnson ducked down. Two wounded men in back were hit and killed. Johnson looked up and the Banshees shot past.

(Sergeant Murphy)
Murphy couldn't hear the two Banshees but saw them. They were firing constantly and men were getting killed. Plasma bolts smacked into the front of the truck and against the windshield. One penetrated and smacked into the seat in the middle of Johnson and Sims. Johnson looked at the scorched leather which was two inches from his head. The cab filled with nervous laughter.


(Corporal Hudson, Foxtrot Company, 6th Battalion)
Hudson's Warthog was the very last vehicle in the large convoy. His was being pursued by Three Ghosts, who constantly poured fire upon it. Hudson slammed onto the brake as the convoy stopped. Hudson looked back at the Ghosts who stopped and sprayed the 'Hog with plasma.

"C'mon Hudson move it!" Sergeant Foster screamed at him.

Hudson had momentarily 'spaced' out. He came to himself to see that the column had started to move again. "Sir yes sir." Hudson pounded the accelerator with his foot and the 'Hog sped up.

The gunner Miles poured fire at the three Ghosts. He hadn't blown one to oblivion because he kept on having to duck when plasma would come from behind, it seemed to come from every direction, but Miles was bent on taking out the Ghosts. He ducked again as the Ghosts fire became more accurate and sic bolts whined past. The air to his left and right sizzled and cracked as the plasma went past only inches from his head.

"Damn it Miles take those bastards out!" Foster screamed as plasma bolts struck the inside of the windshield and one hit the dash board.

Miles got back to manning the gun and opened up. The first spray missed two by feet but the second spray hit true. A steady stream of tracers blew one to hell. Miles shouted a victory cry and lobbed a grenade into the other two's midst. The grenade exploded when the two had past it by a couple of feet. The explosion engulfed the back of one and the force of the blast lifted its back up and the Ghost flipped, the driver was thrown free and killed by the blast. The second Ghost's back lifted then fell into place. The driver resumed its fire and pursuit. Miles opened up full auto until he was satisfied that the bright ball of flame and twisted metal that used to be a Ghost, was inoperable.

A very distinct whooshing sound filled Hudson's ears. "BANSHEES!" he managed to scream before the two Banshee fliers banked into anther gun run. Hudson swore and ducked his head as the window, dashboard, seat, metal skin, and pedestal surrounding him were hit with plasma. Hudson got up and looked around. Miles was hit; Foster was slumped forward in his seat, a stream of blood waterfalling down his chest. Hudson kept his foot on the accel pedal when a needle hammered into his shoulder and another one on the inside of the windshield. He only got a grunt out when the one in his shoulder exploded sending blood spraying onto the windshield. The second one exploded sending micro shrapnel spraying into his face. After a series of screams, curses, and waves of the finger, Hudson turned his attention to the road.

(Sergeant Major Crew)
Crew slowly awoke from a world of black to a world of unbearable pain. He wiped the soot and ash out his eyes with his burnt sleeve. Crew's eyes widened as he discovered that parts of the sleeve and his skin had come off in the process. He looked up to see Baker firing an assault rifle above him. Crew was uncomfortable lying in a packed flatbed of a Warthog. Wounded men lay against him. Crew set his head/helmet down and closed his eye. This was a suicide mission.

To Be Continued...

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