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Horrors from the Ring by Jordan Collen
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Horrors from the Ring - Chapter 1 & 2
Date: 29 October 2007, 10:46 pm
Chapter One
Arrival
A green blob of plasma blasted from the end of the alien weapon, smashing into the side of the Warthog the four Soldiers were using for cover. The dirty-green metal started to corrode and the skeletal chassis of the LRV was exposed. A couple more shots to that area would most-likely make the vehicle explode. The blast would perhaps not kill the troopers, but the flaming jeep would crush them against the brown brick wall behind them.
"I-I can't take this any longer," A scrawny soldier said through his teeth, which were clamped to tightly with fear. Though a bit of a coward in stressful situations, he was a technical genius and was respected because of it. Hands shaking wildly causing the needles in his stolen weapon to wave uncomfortably close to his throat. His helmet didn't cover his neck, but sense still couldn't remove the explosive pink needles from that area. Under all the stress, he croaked out a sentence. "Sir, we gotta retreat!"
Sergeant Collins considered it for a minute and scratched his short greying black hair. There must be some kind of a hitch. There was at least twenty of those Grunt creatures surrounding the area. Why weren't they swarming in and killing them quickly? A few shots from their Plasma Pistols could kill them easily. They must be ordered to keep them here for something. Information? Covenant torture was, he had been told, 'unpleasant'. He turned to the three other men and whispered. "Okay. You lot evacuate. I'm confident I'll be able to hold'em back for a minute or two. That should give you enough time to escape."
"What could we use to escape? There's no doors here or anything, just brick wall," Private Hues said, holding the bridge of his nose between his fore-finger and thumb, "We're trapped, Sir. Even if we did get away from this area, there's nothing for us to get away form here with! We've been dead since we landed.. In our Albatross!"
The Sergeant smiled. He knew a way for them to escape. He glanced at the oldest of the three recruits; Corporal First Class Private Lewis in the typical UNSC Army uniform that he shared with his team-mates (an camouflage tunic, trousers with a similar pattern, all padded with grey-green metal armour in various body parts, some of which is magnetic for weapons to be placed on) who looked back at him. He could tell what the man was thinking. 'Why?' He could read it well. Everything about his body language said that he didn't want his friend to do this. Collins gripped his MA5B Assault Rifle tightly and looked at Hues. "Charge up that pistol you picked up and shoot it at the grate."
"Won't those Grunts hear it?" He whispered back, hope chiming into his shaking voice.
"Don't worry about them. I've got an idea to keep'em busy. You just focus on escaping." The Sergeant replied, pulling out a Frag Grenade and readying it for throwing.
"Sarge, you're not..?" Anderson gasped, shaking his head in shock. "Let me stay an-"
The Sergeant has already thrown the grenade in the air. The Grunts didn't seem to know what was happening until it was too late. Shrapnel sprayed the dwarfish creatures, stabbing them with a large amount of force, knocking them down as if they'd been attacked by hundreds of daggers, taking out half of their numbers. They barked in outrage and confusion, running in towards the 'Hog in hopes of avenging their brothers. Collins yanked off the dog-tag that hung loosely around his neck and placed it in Anderson's hands, ushering him to leave as he climbed over the Warthog's burning carcass. As he did so, the glob of plasma from Hues' pistol melted a hole in the metal grate that was integrated into the ground: melting the metal lid and allowing them access to the city's murky depths. Hues turned to the direction that the Sergeant's gunfire was coming from before he jumped down, and saluted. The soldier knew he was never going to see his friend again, and his heart was weighed down with grief as he heard the sounds of war aboveground.
The other two soldiers jumped down two, each giving a salute beforehand. Then he was alone. Collins lifted his assault rifle and started mowing down the orange-armoured beasts as they came close. Two minutes passed. His men must have gained a fair amount of distance. He smiled, even after he saw reinforcements on the way to help the Grunts. There was about five of them left. He felt elevated. He had done well. His friends had escaped, his mission was complete, and his life was now at it's end; nothing other than a miracle could change that fact. A naïve voice in his head called out to him. 'You could survive this if you run!' No. I'll die honourably. He kept repeating that one word, honour, in his head over and over again as he held off the enemy. He quickly stopped thinking and the word was changed to an out-loud scream. The 'kathing!' of the Covenant Beam Rifle had snapped him out of his trance. He looked down. His left leg was lying on the floor in front of him. He fell to the ground and saw a Jackal creature hobble towards him, holding a one of their Hellish sniper rifles. The barrel was still 'smoking', as far as Covenant weapons do so. The creature glared down at him and spewed something in its disgusting language as it lifted an orange hoof high. Collins smiled and quickly grabbed a Plasma Grenade from a nearby Grunt corpse. "Get your foot out of my face!" he cried as he activated the explosive and slapped it onto the creature. The glowing ball of energy burned itself onto the Jackal's orange skin and the Sergeant's hand. He could feel his skin bubbling under the immense heat. Thankfully, the grenade detonated two seconds later. He didn't complain once during the agony of the grenade. He just smiled. Even as everything flashed white, then fell black.
*****
Anderson spat as he laid down a mine. The others had gave him such dirty looks when he brought the first one out. But they knew as well as he did that Collins had no chance of surviving, and that he wouldn't be able to come and help them. The engineer had always been taught to lay mines if he knew he was to be chased. He'd set two already and had two more left. He'd keep those for now though. A few more taps of buttons and the a bit of wiring and voila, he'd finished. It was attached to the sides of one of the walls like a limpet, and had been set to wait for three seconds of motion to detonate. When it does, it should sent out a large blast of scrap metal (bullet shells, damaged equipment etc.) like a shotgun. This should cripple the enemy advance. Sarge would have been proud. His only complaint, really, was that their escape-route was a sewer. Christ. He was extremely happy that he had his custom helmet that recycled his breathing air. He felt bad for Lewis, though. He was sure that his squad-mate would kick himself if it were not for the fact he didn't want any more faeces on his body. The stench must be unbearable. The water was a thick green with human excrement. A lovely stew of sickness.
The roof arched and there was a platform that the troops could have walked on, but apparently it wouldn't be good cover. Like crap was any better, of course… He quit his bellyaching and slung his weapon back into his hands, sprinting forward to catch up with the remaining members of his squad.
"How many do you think will be left?" Hues said, sighing slightly and scratching his right hand. He was wearing gloves, so there was no real point in doing it. He wasn't even itchy. Just nervous.
"I don't know. Sarge is tough, but those bloody pigs outnumbered him. Hell, I wouldn't be surprised if more turned up."
"At least fifty. The motion detector picks it up at roughly that amount for now, but there could be more… Somewhere between seventy and eighty would be a safe bet, though I doubt that number will come down to get us. I think they've got a pair of Hunters with them too." Anderson glumly chirped in. "I think if we get to the boat, it'll be a miracle. An even bigger one if we can get away without getting blown up."
"What about those traps you set? Won't they catch them by surprise?" Corporal Lewis growled at his team-mate, obviously annoyed by his pessimism.
"Sure, I guess they could take a fair amount of them ou-"
"Then we should be fine!" Hues explained gleefully. "When we get out of here and those Covenant bastards have been kicked of our planet, I'm gonna get som-"
"Sssh!" Anderson hissed at him. There was large explosion. Splashing followed. In the distance, shadows lurched. The alien's hideous silhouettes warped to make them seem even more monstrous and menacing. The three soldiers dropped and started running low. Three seconds passed. Bang! Where they had just walked in, there was a giant explosion of what must have been a Fuel Rod Cannon carried by a Hunter.
There were more thuds, splashes and yelps in the distance. The troops hurried their escape. About seven seconds passed and one of the mines exploded. Anderson smiled and checked the motion sensor on his HUD. They had all stopped moving, but a large chunk must have been taken out. The red dots on his radar started moving again. But something was wrong… There were four large, slow moving dots. Hunters? How? There were only two last time he checked. He swallowed. In forty-five seconds or so, depending on the enemy's speed, the enemy would get blasted by the second mine. He spoke, just to try and keep his mind off of what could happen to him and his friends if all the Hunters survived the blasts. "You guys heard about those new air vehicle they've made?"
"Those hovercraft things? Yeah. I think some of the troops are callin'em Hornets," Hues replied, a man interested in anything that has destructive capabilities. "I saw one of the first runs against the Covenant back on my days on Bounty. They're missiles rip Banshees apart. It was awesome."
"Brilliant. I'm happy they're becoming a lot more mainstream. Pelicans were taking a beating from the Covie air support."
"Yeah, it is a good thing. Hey, you hear ab-" Hues was about to say before he was cut off.
"Ssh! It seems they've got those Hunters at the back. I can see them charging their weapons on my rear camera. But they're pretty close, that's for sure," Lewis said, waiting for the bolt to be shot near them. When it did, he was taken aback, as was Anderson, when a large beam of green plasma blasted over-head. Another three followed it. He cursed. Four. FOUR! These were supposedly even a challenge for those Spartan super-soldiers. How could three Soldiers take them out on their own?
Hues decided he'd be the guardian angel of the squad. "Hey, Anderson, can I borrow that Sniper Rifle?"
"But you suck with it. And I've only got two mags left," he said. He loved to think he was a marksman, but in truth, he was the least accurate with it out of the four. No. Three of them.
"It'll be enough." Hues grunted, snatching the Sniper from his ally's back. He adjusted a few settings, switched night-vision on and zoomed in. Four of them, along with about thirty Grunts and twenty Jackals. It looked like there was six, though low-ranking, Elites behind the Hunters, apparently using them for cover. One of the Hunters lifted it's right arm and readied the cannon for fire once again. He had never seen a Hunter in the flesh, but had been told they were comprised of orange eel-like creatures covered large, blue medieval-like armour. Those worms were their weakness. He lifted the gun up higher and shot one bullet at the creatures to the right's 'neck'. Another. And another. It slumped, and crashed to the ground, apparently dead. Two of the Hunters looked at it in shock, but the other seemed outraged. It lifted its gun and started where the vapour trail led. The men had guessed it would do this and had jumped forwards and to the side. He zoomed in again to the same spot as the last one, and fired, the wild Hunter fell to the ground again. The rest of their troops looked uneasy. Hues slipped out the empty magazine and slammed in a fresh one. He'd got lucky with that shot. The other Hunters had lowered to cover their armour. He looked around, and saw one piece of flesh exposed, but it was tight squeeze. It looked like it would hurt if he managed to hit it. Damn. Too late. The Hunters had covered themselves with their shields. An Elite Major stepped from behind and said something in their garbled language, which the translation software in their HUDs claimed was 'Unlock'. The Hunters did so, exposing the eels once again and firing. He zoomed in and shot one, but it moved and smashed into a white-ish visor. Luckily, it cracked and the bullet entered, smashing through its 'head'.
Hues dashed to catch up with the other soldiers. The other Hunter was not happy at his bond-brother being killed and blasted a large arch of Plasma, hitting the roof of the sewer just behind the boys, bringing it crashing down.
"You're welcome, guys." Hues grinned as he clambered up the rubble. They were on a road. They looked around and saw two people looking out of a window. An elderly woman holding a young boy. The others had noticed too.
"Shit. Civilians. We gotta help them," Lewis murmured.
"No. We've got too much on our hands. I'll just set up a rescue beacon for'em," Hues sighed.
"Those Covenant aren't gonna take their time coming here. I'll fetch them, you two go after the Albatross, and I'll catch up after you." Anderson yelled, running towards the house and attempting to open the door. It was locked. He pulled out an M6D Pistol and shot the handle, promptly kicking the door open. He looked around, and saw the young boy. He could only be about five. He ran over to the elderly woman, who hadn't moved, and grasped her shoulder. She was cold. "Ma'am, we gotta move. Follow me, we'll get you to safety."
There was no reply.
"Ma'am, this is serious, we have to leave NOW!"
Still no reply.
The boy looked up at him. "Granny hasn't moved for a while."
He cursed under his breath. "How long has she been like this," He knew the kid couldn't know, but he was used to asking these kinds of questions.
"Three hours." The boy said, scratching his short brown hair. "The blue aliens came in and hit Granny with their laser guns, and left."
Anderson turned the woman over and saw that her shirt had been burned through, along with her chest. Many of her organs were visible and charred. He turned to the boy. "Come on kid, let's go. I gotta get you to safety."
"What about Granny?" The boy said, cocking his head to the side.
"Your Grandmother has, uh, gone to Heaven." He said gently. The boy burst into tears.
"So she's dead?" The boy said, tears flowing down the sides of his cheeks.
".. Yes." Anderson said. He was a bit uneasy about how much this child knew about the world. "Now come on, they'll come back for the two of us if we don't leave."
The boy nodded and pulled a jacket on. He was already wearing shoes, though his white shirt seemed to have an uneasily familiar blue stain on it. Strange. He hoisted the boy up and ran for dear life to catch up with his teammates. While the soldier was a failure with a sniper, he held most of their ammo supplies.
*****
"Chuck me a clip, Ande- Damnit!" Lewis shouted, throwing his Assault Rifle heavily to the ground and grabbing the Shotgun Hues was customising from the ground. He pumped it and blasted, the buckshot splitting into several pellets, splintering into the squad of Grunts. He pumped it again and pulled the trigger, ripping apart one of the stocky creature as it took a stomach-full of the shell; it's insides splattering onto one of the aliens behind them with enough force to knock it unconscious and probably doing damage to its brain. The six Grunts were gone. He turned to the two jackals and kicked the leg of one, tripping it to the ground and shooting it in the face. He pumped the chamber again and turned to the other and shot it's glowing-amber energy shield. It backed away. He jumped forwards and grabbed the Jackal by the neck. He tightened his grip, crushing its spine. It fell limp and he threw it to the ground, it's lifeless corpse twitched slightly as it hit the ground. He picked up the two energy shields that the Jackals dropped and strapped them both on and ran towards the Elite his teammate was brawling with, once again pumping the shotgun.
*****
Hues swerved to the right, narrowly dodging the Plasma Rifle that the Elite swung down towards him. He shot a few plasma pistol bolts into the red-clad alien. The beast's energy shield flickered, in a few seconds the damage done would recharge. It was fine for now though. The beast once again swung its weapon; Hues ducking to dodge it again, and landed an upper-cut, pushing through the mandibles and smashing into the roof of its mouth. The Elite fell backwards, and Hues quickly pressed the trigger of the plasma pistol quickly, unleashing a barrage of green energy at it. The shield absorbed the first two before it fell, its flesh then fell victim to the barrage of super-heated plasma bolts that melted its chest. It fell to the ground and ceased breathing. The two soldiers sighed, relieved. They had reached the Albatross. The large green carrier seemed in good shape and was much larger than the average Pelican. It could hold a ton Mongooses and a Warthog or four, easy. It was also packed to the brim with UNSC weapons and ammo, and some scavenged Covenant equipment including two of their portable Plasma Turrets and a Shade they'd stolen from a small base camp the Covenant had set up a few miles outside of New Mombassa.
"How long do you think he'll take?" Lewis said to Hues, taking off his cap and revealing his slightly longer-than-norm blonde hair. Lewis had pale skin and a set of pale green eyes; one covered by a HUD (the lens purple). He placed the cap on the ship's deck and stretched his arms.
"I'll check," Hues replied, readying his radio and adjusting his microphone. "This is Sparrow 4. Sparrow 3, are you there? Over."
They paused and waited nervously for a reply. They got one.
"This is Sparrow 3, under fire. Grunts. The kid has been shot in the shin by a Needler. It's been blown off. He's losing a lot of blood and he's out cold," Anderson replied. His message was rushed and he sounded worried, "Requesting immediate back-up, guys. Over."
The two glanced worriedly at each other. "Roger that, Sparrow 3, back up is en-route."
They lifted themselves up. Lewis had two shields on hand; he'd pass one to Anderson when they caught up. Just to keep him safe. They were about to run in and back-up their teammate, but there was another message on the Comm. frequency about a minute and a half later.
"This is Sparrow 3, wait back at the Albatross. Blackbird 1 and 3 have met up with me and are en-route in a 'Hog. Stay at you current position, repeat, stay at your current position!"
"That was a tad anti-climactic," Hues muttered, sighing as he grabbed his shotgun from his colleague.
The other soldier shrugged and climbed aboard the ship, Hues followed. They kept their weapons ready and Hues gently placed his gun on the side, but kept his other one as it'd probably be needed. Three minutes past and a familiar hum was heard in the distance, followed by another well-known sound; Plasma fire. Pretty rapid, too. Hues gulped and Lewis grabbed some Sniper Ammo, throwing it towards Hues who caught it and slammed it into the long-range rifle on the ship's open cargo bay. Lewis ran forward and lifted the Assault Rifle he had flung to the ground earlier. They'd need all the firepower they could get if they wanted to survive. Hues sent a hand out for Lewis to use as a help for getting up.
"Corp., get up on that Shade. We'll need to back them up if they're followed by anything," Hues said as he ran over and started the ignition of the Albatross. He couldn't pilot the bulky machine, but Anderson had taught him how to start it up. They'd just need their Specialist-Engineer to get here. He ran back a little behind the Shade, waiting for the enemy to appear.
*****
Anderson ran, carrying the boy who was obviously panicking, in his left arm. His right shooting hand was gripping the M6D tightly, but not enough to accidentally fire the weapon.
He was about to turn a corner, when he saw three red dots walk towards it on his motion detector. Damn. He placed the gun in the boy's hands. Something sick to do, he knew that, but it was for the kid's safety. "If you see anything of those aliens, press the trigger and shoot."
The boy nodded. "Okay."
Anderson nodded and readied his Battle Rifle, setting it to fire in bursts of three, resting it against his shoulder and walking out. Two Grunts and a Jackal. Easy enough. He squeezed the trigger, a burst of bullets hailed from the barrel of the gun. As the first bullet exited, he swung the weapon quickly, hitting two of the freaks in the head, leaving only the Jackal alive and ran forward, the Jackal hid behind its amber energy shield and crashed the butt of his gun into the shield. His rifle bounced away and the shield changed to a nasty shade of red. He then pounced on the solid energy, the Jackal's head poking through one of the firing gaps, and grinned as he punched the beast in the throat with such force that it coughed up blood, and promptly ceased to live. He heard a shot of a pistol, followed by a scream. His heart dropped. The warrior dashed forward, throwing himself to the ground as he passed the corner of the building he left the boy. There was blood, and a foot lying somewhere. A Grunt towered over the child.
Anderson, in a fit of rage, dashed forward, grabbing the methane breathing device from the creature's mouth and punching it repeatedly in the face. It was holding a Needler. He grabbed ammunition and pocketed it as the Grunt gasped in panic behind him as he dashed over to the child.
Unfortunately, his foot had been blown off. The boy was out cold. Though there was a blessing for the child, as he was wearing a belt, which Anderson quickly grabbed and strapped to the kid's stump of a right leg to halt the bleeding. He heard something from behind him, though at a bit of a distance. "Wort wort wort!", the horrifying voice belched. An Elite.
*****
"Go! Go! Go!" Ver'Dor E'Restee shouted at his contingent of Grunts. There was a Human weapon being fired nearby. The fifteen little creatures dashed forward. He sat calmly on the side of the Wraith his second in command piloted. The Grunts would make quick work of the Human infidels.
*****
Anderson looked forward and cursed. A large group of Grunts were coming his way. He threw a Frag grenade, which detonated in the middle of the group, killing eight of the creatures and confusing the rest. They quickly regrouped. He fired randomly as he tried to guard the child who was getting worse by the second. His Comm. activated. "This is Sparrow 4. Sparrow 3, are you there? Over."
It was a miracle. He hadn't even considered to use the Comm. systems! His mind was on other things. He gently put the child down; returning fire to a few Grunts so there was now only four left. But he was out of ammo. He cast his Battle Rifle aside and readied his Needler and fired wildly, killing the rest of the Grunts. He sighed. A moment of peace. He got the comm. working and contacted his teammates. "This is Sparrow 3, under fire. Grunts. The kid has been shot in the shin by a Needler. It's been blown off. He's losing a lot of blood and is out cold," he gasped into the comm.., grabbing the M6D. "Requesting immediate back-up, guys. Over."
He sighed, reloading the Needler as more Grunts flooded the area. It wasn't over yet, at least. He was scared. Those grunts were clad in White. He was very surprised he'd survived.
*****
"He took out all of those Unggoy on his OWN?!" The Elite shouted out loudly, outraged. He cared for his men a lot more than the average Elite, being good friends with two of the Grunts in that squad. "Kig-Yar! Yes! Send in the Kig-Yar! I want them to rip him and the child to shreds and feast on their flesh!"
A squad of Jackals tottered onto the scene, seven in total, equipped with plasma pistols and energy shields. One in the front was equipped with a blue energy shield and a plasma rifle, to indicate his higher rank. They all marched forward, ready to kill with their bare hands. The weapons were nothing to them. They wanted the honour and thrill of tearing into the skin and meat of the enemy
*****
Anderson looked forward and cursed. They really wanted him dead. A squad of Jackals with relentless, bloodthirsty looks in their eyes, drawing closer by the second. He sighed and looked up to the Heavens, praying for the slight chance they'd kill him and the boy quickly. He was snapped from his trance by the sound of a large horn as a large, green LRV crashed forward throughout the streets, crashing into the Jackal squad and taking four of them out. The chain-gun mounted on the back then started ripping through the flesh of the avian-rooted aliens. The rat-tat-tat of the gun, crossed with the Jackals screams of pain as their life was ripped from them by hundreds 12.7mm surprises firing at an extremely fast rate from the smoking barrel of the Warthog's turret. After a few seconds, they were all dead.
"Climb aboard, Soldier," An ODST shouted, pointing at the shotgun seat. "Bring the kid too, of course."
"Thanks." Anderson replied with a huge breath of relief. Just happy he was alive. He clambered into the seat and started doing some quick medic-work on the kid, trying to keep him alive long enough so Hues could do some work and put him in the Albatross' freezing chamber. His friends could be on their way now, though. That could be a pain if he had to go back and get them. He opened the comm. once again. "This is Sparrow 3, wait back at the Albatross." He noted the insignia and words written underneath. "Sky Rocket 1 and 3 have met up with me and are en-route in a 'Hog. Stay at you current position, repeat, stay at your current position!"
The drove for about a two minutes unhindered. The Driver, thankfully, was very talented at his job.
The gunner swivelled around and yelled loudly in Spanish. "Hey bro, there's a Spectre catching up on us pretty quickly," He said, worried, "You want that I should kill'em? They're fully packed.."
"Yeah, fire away Private," The apparent leader shouted back, driving through a gap of buildings, where a large, olive ship stood waiting for them.
*****
There was a large growl. The Elite was outraged. The human had gotten backup. He jumped in the gunner seat of the Wraith and pointed at the Spectre next to him. "You four get in the Spectre, we're chasing them. Time to avenge our fallen brothers!"
There were nods of consent. They didn't share the same enthusiasm of avenging Unggoy and Kig-Yar, but they wouldn't turn down a chance to kill these humans, as many of their fellows had been cut down by this primitive species. Every kill was important to them. A red clad elite looked at the leader in the turret, "I'll command the Spectre via its turret."
"You must be quick; our scouts have reported that there are Humans at one of their ships. You must make haste."
"Yes sir. They're bodies will burn like the path of the Great Journey." With that, he jumped on the gun of the Spectre and they shot off, the purple boost glowing underneath its anti-gravity pods.
The gold-clad Elite, Ground Commander Ver'Dor E'Restee sighed. As much as the human infidels disgusted him, he couldn't help but be impressed of their skill, commitment and out-right luck. Perhaps the God's were on their side, not his. Bah! He put such thoughts out of his mind; they were blasphemous. The Prophets must have their reasons for not allowing the human filth to join their glorious armada. He turned to his driver. "Come, we must catch up to the Spectre. I want some of the honour of destroying the Humans."
"Aye, Ground Commander," The Driver replied, activating the vehicle.
"Good. Contact the Phantom too. Tell them to be on stand-by. We may have to fight the humans in air."
"Yes Ground Commander. I shall contact them now."
"Good."
*****
The Warthog came into view between two buildings that towered above their vehicle. One of the Sky Rockets was in the driver's seat, the other in the gunner. Anderson was in the passenger seat holding the kid tightly and doing some on-locations first-aid. Where the bottom of his leg would have been was a bloody stump that had been burned: most likely by one of the solders to keep the wound from bleeding. Behind them was a Spectre, it's Plasma 'beam' firing at the 'Hog. The gunner of the Warthog was shooting at his parallel on the Spectre to no avail. The Warthog driver drove past the Albatross. Hues knew what to do. He fired at the Elite sitting on the side as it went passed but missed, though it promptly turned to see what was firing, and was greeted by a Sniper round to the face. The Warthog gunner fired and shot the Spectre gunner. The driver turned-tail and fled and was gunned down by Lewis on the Shade. The Warthog drove towards the Albatross. They clambered out and jumped onboard the ship, the Albatross lifting the Warthog up into its 'dock'.
"Lemme see the kid, you get the Cryo-Chamber ready for him," Hues said, lifting the boy onto one of the seats and started doing some quick first-aid on him. Despite being the most violent member of Sparrow Squadron, and having one of the highest kill counts for his rank in the Army Corp., he was a Medic; many of the officers calling him the most violent medic to join the Corps in many' a year. Anderson smirked at the irony.
Anderson looked for the Cryo-chamber and when he found it, set the machine up the machine while he waited for Hues to finish his work. He placed the kid in, gently inserted the nutrient tube into his mouth and down his throat and closed the door. A thick blue gel quickly covered the kid. The boy would be incredibly sore when he was taken out, as he was still wearing clothes, but they were in a hurry.
Anderson walked over to the cockpit; Hues joined him and took control of the weapon systems. Lewis looked at the other men in the ship. They were almost the complete opposite of the Sparrow squadron's armour. They were draped completely in black armour, with full-face helmets that's visors where shaped loosely like a 'T'. Sometimes, kids mistook them for Spartan super-soldiers. The Trooper looked up and saw his cap, which he quickly grabbed and placed on his head. There were words that read 'UNSC Army Corps.', and the Sky Rockets chuckled, being ODSTs, elite troops. He analysed the two newcomers as they removed their helmets. One was Asian and had cropped black hair, the other Hispanic with the exact same haircut. The Asian man had a large burn mark covering half of his face and what appeared to be a prosthetic eye. Lewis assumed he was hit from a plasma rifle bolt or something weaker.
"So, is that the thing for your squad? You all get the same hair?" Lewis asked with a chuckle.
"Yeah. Three of us all had the same hair style.. One refused though." The Spanish man said, smiling awkwardly. His eyes strayed towards Lewis' pistol. "Do you guys mutilate your guns in this squad?"
"Oi! It's called 'Customising!'" Hues shouted from the cock-pit upstairs. Anderson snickered and the ship took off.
"There's a Wraith firing at is, by the way."
"And you DIDN'T think of telling us this earlier!?" Lewis yelled, looking at the back of the dock. The ship took off and the large plasma 'blob' crashed near them, vaporising the objects around it. "Anderson, get this bird off the ground ASAP!"
"I'm doing it damnit!" Anderson screamed back, the shuttle lifting off of the ground. A plasma blast narrowly missed the side of the Albatross. The ship jetted off.
*****
The Phantom landed on top of the Wraith. The two Elites inside hopped out and stood as the gravity lift grabbed the two inside the drop ship. The Wraith was held under the ship too. The Elite walked through the short halls, getting the occasional look and muttering from the lower-ranking troops. The two Sangheili reached the deck, meeting of their fellows, a silver clad Elite and a superior in violet with a golden trim.
"Good to see you are well, Ground Commander." The Elite in purple armour said, placing his arm on the gold-clad elite's shoulder. "I've ordered my men to chase the Human vessel. I have three Banshees en-route. We'll destroy the Humans as soon as possible."
Ver'Dor grinned. "It is good to see you again, Re'Gida. I must thank you for doing this for me." He looked over to the Elite who accompanied him from the Wraith, the one dressed in black. "This is my guard and apprentice, 'Nolanc Ce'ir."
"Ah, I've heard of you!" The Commander of the Phantom chuckled. "The swordsman who came up against fifty human infantrymen and cut them down without being hit once! Ground Commander, you couldn't have picked a better apprentice!"
'Nolanc merely nodded. He disliked people praising his name. He knew how strong and talented he was, especially in ways of the sword. He did not need people reminding him of his skills.
"This is my apprentice, Ro'San. Now, pleasantries aside, let's us get to business."
"Yes," Ro'San. "We have had the Converted One found by a group of human soldiers. They believe he's a prisoner we had here to translate that escaped."
"Interesting. Do you think the humans will fall for this plan?" Ver'Dor asked. He had not been informed much of the plan's details. This plan was intriguing.
"Yes, I believe so. The humans have no reason not to believe his claims. He's had no alterations to him, full stop. No cybernetic enhancements. We abducted him when he was eighteen standard human years old." Ro'San paused, taking a quick breath, "He retains his skills in one human language, and his speech variation. The only real difference between him and other humans is the fact he can speak both ours and the Prophet's languages fluently, he has been trained in various combat forms, knowledge of how to pilot nearly every standard ground attack vehicle and he follows the will of the Prophets as closely as even the most dedicated of us Sangheili. And these differences are almost impossible to tell unless he shows or tells someone."
Brilliant! This plan was foolproof! The Humans wouldn't know what hit them. "This is just a test for now, yes?" The Ground Commander asked, curious.
"Yes. There are about fifty others around ready if this specimen succeeds. They appreciate the honour of being the only of their race to be allowed to walk with us on the Great Journey." Ro'San replied cheerfully.
"Good."
"Ground Commander, we've caught up to the enemy. They appear to have landed on a narrow crevice surrounded by Human nests. Some have split-up from their group," one of the Sangheili pilots reported. "What should we do now, sirs?"
"I recommend we land somewhere and get some of our troops to
ambush them. If we fail, we fall back to Lenient Sentence to regroup and get more troops."
"I concur. Let's land." The Ground Commander agreed.
"Then let's land. Pilot! Set this ship down!" the commander of the ship shouted.
"Aye sir," the head pilot said, pressing his four-fingered hand on the control panel.
*****
"The Wraith's out of range now, but it appears they're getting a pick-up," Anderson shouted to the cargo bay.
"Phantom. Prepare for a bit of dog fighting. We're at a bit of an advantage; we have our Medic on guns."
The rest of the crew laughed. Nervous. Though luckily for them, Anderson was only being half sarcastic. Hues was amazing with most weapons, and a gun controls was no difference. He took out five banshees once with an M41.
"Yeah, you ladies in the back just keep chatting on, the big boys in front'll take care of the scary squid-boat." Hues shouted to the back, with a few yelps of protest.
The three men in the cargo bay sighed. One of the men was sat on the front of the Warthog, the other opposite Lewis on the jump-seats.
The Asian man's eyes strayed towards the large sand coloured weapon mounted on the wall. "What on Earth is that?"
Hues shouted from the cock-pit, guessing it was his weapon in progress. "It's called a 'shotgun'. They're really modern weapons, you see. Only created about six hundred years ago. Amazingly advanced concept."
The Hispanic man glared at the cock-pit, irritated at the man's insolence.
"Hues, uh, tweaked his Shotgun a tad. It's not finished, though," he indicated the fish-shaped weapon on the wall.
"And I did my M6D and Assault Rifle. Anderson did his Battle Rifle and has been experimenting with one of those Covenant Needlers. He's fond of their Plasma Pistols too.. Sarge didn't do any of his. He thought it was stupid. I'm Corporal F. Lewis, by the way."
"I'm Gunnery Sergeant L. Sang," The Asian man said, cleaning the visor of his helmet with a cloth he'd taken from a pouch on his belt.
"And I'm Corporal S. Garcia." The other man said seriously.
"You lost your squad leader, then?"
".. Yeah. Sarge sacrificed himself so we could escape," Anderson shouted from the cock-pit, "I'm Private J. Anderson by the way."
"What happened to your men then?" Hues added, looking at the
radar.
"Private Jeremy was shot by a Jackal Sniper to the chest, and our Medic, Trisha, was killed by the same sniper who shot Jeremy. We killed the bastard after though." Sang said, looking stressed. "Stupid woman..."
There was a long pause in the vehicle, until fragrant smoke filled the nostrils of the men at the back. "Christ, Hues, put that out!" Lewis coughed angrily. He hated his team-mate's smoking habit.
"The stress is getting to me, Frasier; I want to relieve a bit of it! Is that a problem? Oh… Fuck!"
"Mind that mouth, soldier." Sang snapped.
"But… There's this… Thing out there." Anderson said quietly.
"It's huge. I mean, massive."
"Let me see," Sang said, jumping from the seats and running upstairs to the cockpit.
A large beetle-like was vehicle making it's way through the streets of New Mombassa. Hues tapped the screen on his side
a few times to zoom in. It fired a large beam of Plasma at a M808 Scorpion MBT, blasting it to pieces in one shot.
A voice came in on the Comm. systems. "This is Sergeant Johnson! All air-vehicles get the hell out of the area of the walker until it's been taken out! The Covenant's bastard-machine'll fry you fly boys if it spots you!"
"No need to tell us twice, Sarge..." Anderson murmured. Hues grunted something about wanting a portable gun with that kind of firepower, but it was ignored.
"If you're going land somewhere, go do it there. My superiors wants us to get some Recon done there," Sang said dully. "We were on our way there when we bumped into you guys."
"We'll give you a hand, I suppose," Hues muttered dryly. "There's no obligation for you saving James or what ever."
"We think you'll want to help anyway," Sang said matter-of-factly. Lewis and Garcia discussed something, but no one could hear from the front of the boat.
The ship turned away from the Scarab and landed in a street. Jackal scouts were littered around the road and pavements. They looked at the drop ship, startled, and started firing randomly at the hull, doing no damage at all. The plasma pistols could have stopped the engine if a couple had been smart enough to charge it up.
"Do you guys wanna kill'em, or shall I do it?" Hues said smugly, aiming one of the gun turrets at the head of a Jackal, which promptly squawked and pounced out the way.
"You can, they'll probably camp us if we step out," Sang said. Lewis stepped up to object, but he continued, "It'd be safer to kill'em with this Drop-ship's turrets than to step out and get shot to pieces by those plasma pistols." He hesitated, and placed a hand on his helmet. "They burn."
"Roger that." Hues said, pulling the remote trigger and gibing the Jackals with the powerful guns. Lewis sat down and, always the scavenger, started looking for weapons he could take. The others followed suit after the Jackals had been killed.
"Guys, since we're gonna be with each other for a while, I think we should make ourselves a temporary squad." Anderson suggested.
"Good thinking, trooper. I concur." Sergeant Sang added with a nod.
"Then we'd better get armed up, lads," Hues said. "You two can grab a few weapons too if you want."
Pvt. Lewis took his trusty modified-M6D Pistol, a Battle Rifle; five frag grenades and an energy shield he took from the Jackals. There'd be more outside so he'd stock up. Hues took his proto-type Shotgun, a Sniper Rifle and two plasma and frag grenades he stole from the Covenant. Anderson took only his Needler and an M6C magnum, Sang took an M247 GP Machine Gun on it's own, as it was extremely heavy, and Garcia took only a SMG, but reached for a 7057 DP, though was warned off by Sang. They were all ready.
"Anderson, Garcia, stay here and guard the Albatross and kid while we scout the area for hostiles." Sang said, grabbing some ammo for his shell-devouring machine gun. "If we lose this bulky beast, we're screwed. It's vital to our survival."
"Hey, you could even think of a name for our collection of stragglers while you're here! You could be a war hero!" Hues shouted sarcastically to his friend as he hopped out the ship. "Because, that's vital to our survival too, y'know.'
Sang glared at Hues and sighed. "You two, guard the ship with all you've got and more. If it's destroyed, my foot is gonna get stuck so far up your asses that you'll be crapping from your mouth for the rest of your lives. Actually, forget that. The Covenant will have you dead by then."
"An abusive sergeant? How cliché…" Hues murmured, but was ignored as usual.
The two men nodded, though unhappily, and the three others walked out of the ship and surveyed their surroundings.
There was rubble, buildings and the occasional patch of nature. The three men walked out of the ship.
"Wait!" Anderson shouted out to the men before they left.
"I've got a name for now, at least; Sky-Sparrows?"
"Sky-Sparrows?" Hues muttered, laughing a little. "I guess it has a ring to it. I'm content. Didn't require much thought though."
Lewis simply nodded. It was confirmation that it would work though.
"Let's just get moving," Sang said impatiently, toying with the machine gun he was holding. "We've got work to do."
"Yes sir," Hues said. Once again, Lewis simply nodded.
Chapter Two
Recovery
"So, Sergeant Sang, permission to speak, sir?" Lewis said, trying to break the silence. They'd been with the man for about fifteen minuets and he was sick of the silence. His opinion of the new commanding officer was dwindling by the second, and the now-barren city of New Mombassa wasn't helping his mood at all.
"Permission denied," Sang replied, strapping a fifth Plasma Pistol to his leg. "We've got to keep our minds on the mission at hand."
"Well, that'd be a whole lot easier if you told us what the Hell we were meant to be doing!" Hues added, his temper rising. Sang turned and gave him an acidic look, so he added to his sentence, through gritted teeth, an insincere "Sir."
"I've told you twice, no, three times already, Private Hues! We're doing Recon in the area! A few minutes before we picked up your friend Anderson, we received intelligence-"
"And the moment you started talking again, you lost it all?" Hues added with a smirk, feeling smug that he'd insulted a superior officer. Sang merely ignored him and continued.
"-That another two squads were around here. I'm sure you two Army boys know'em?"
Hues and Lewis guessed the squads that Sang was talking about. There were only four others with them when they were debriefed and unleashed on the city. Five squads of four, totalling twenty men and woman; Sparrow, Crow, Jay and Finch squads providing the bulk of the force, whilst Owl squadron was to spy out any heavy Covenant activity. The Owls were borderline suicidal though, as usually scout squads lost most if not all of their men, and it was less-often good news, as it was usually nimble, experienced soldiers were used as scouts.
"So, some of the Crows, Finches or Owls are out here?" Hues said sounding a little excited. He knew the Jays wouldn't be there, as they had been dead for some time. He had their dog tags in his pocket. He wanted more men safe.
"Well, the Crows and the Finches. The Owls were reported K.I.A a few hours ba-," Sang was cut-off, as they heard a shotgun blast and an Elite war cry. "Let's go."
Hues and Lewis nodded, readying their weapons as they ran forward.
Pumping up his Shotgun, Hues swung passed the corner of the wall, slamming the ass of his gun into the face of an unsuspecting Grunt. He turned, ducked as an Elite swung its Plasma Rifle at his head, ultimately smashing it into a thin wall of a building and crashing through. Hues then turned to face the other Elite that was in front of him, which growled, mandibles trembling with rage. He punched the shotgun's barrel close to its stomach, the two blades on the front stabbing into it's flesh, and fired. The red-armoured Elite's shield flickered blue for a second and died alongside the alien.
The Elite in the building came to it's senses and ran out of the building, shaking it's Plasma Rifle wildly, only for it to be shot to pieces as a Sniper bullet from Hue's Rifle forced it's way through. The beast reached for his side-arm, a Plasma Pistol, but was cut off as an M6D explosive shell blasted it's hand, causing it to howl in pain as the explosion reached passed it's weak shield. Lewis then ran forward, kicking the creature in the stomach, causing it to fall to the ground and double up in pain. Sang walked forward, clapping.
"Good job, boys. Now, Mr. Elite. Go home." the Sergeant said as he smashed his heel into the alien's neck, killing it instantly. He lifted his boot, and sneered at the purple blood and gore on his leg from under his helmet. "Damn tourists." He murmured, grabbing the intact Plasma Rifle and throwing it to Hues while Lewis stole the Needles for Anderson from the Grunt he just killed.
Lewis looked around, and saw four men and a woman slumped over, injured. "Hues, Sang, get your rear-ends over here. Look for survivors."
The two men nodded, feeling the necks of each of them. Three of the bodies had pulses the other two were dead. Judging by their insignias, two were from Crow, the other from Finch. The other two dead Soldiers also appeared to be from Finch Squadron.
"How're we gonna get'em back?" Hues asked, fearing the answer.
"We're going to carry them." Sang replied.
Hues sighed. "I swear to God I knew you were going to say that… My seventh sense is at work…"
"Don't you mean sixth sense?" Sang asked.
"No. Seventh."
"Fine… I'll take the man on the right, Private Lewis, take the one on the left," Sang ordered.
"Yes sir." Lewis obliged, hoisting the man over his shoulders, leaving one arm free for his M6G to be fired. He realised now why Sang had been grabbing one-handed weapons from all over the place. Hues was holding a Plasma Rifle and a slender woman whose face was obscured by a helmet, and Sang was carrying a muscular man also shielded from sight by a helmet. Getting back would be hard, and from how he knew Sang over the last two hours, he assumed that they were going to have to go back and look for others. That wasn't a pleasing thought. He did worry for the soldier who fired earlier, but their hands were full, and it would be a danger for them to stay in one place for too long if they wanted to scout out for him. Heading back to the drop ship would be the safest thing to do for now.
*****
Ver'Dor sat on the roof of a large building. He had a squad of five Jackals accompanying him. All four troops were equipped with Beam Rifles. They'd take out these humans, return to the Phantom and return to their main ship. The glassing of the human homeworld should begin soon after.
"Sir! Humans advancing on our position!" the head Jackal noted, his rifle staying hovered on a human's head. "We fire now?"
"No. Not yet, Sniper." Their Elite commander ordered. "We wait until they are about to reach their ship. Perhaps the troops inside it will come out and try to aid them."
"Yes. Yes. That's good plan." The Jackal agreed, nodding wildly. "We wait yes."
The other Jackals nodded enthusiastically. They waited ten seconds, and then fired.
*****
Kathing!
"AAARGH!"
"Shit."
"What the hell was that!?"
"My leg! My leg! Snipers!"
"Damnit!"
Kathing!
"Damn! Another!"
"AAARGH! That one's hit in my stomach!"
"Shit, he's bleeding."
"Anderson! Anderson! Get a roof on the Warthog and cover us!"
"On my way!"
"Kathing!
"Damnit! He's been hit in the neck! I'm next! Shit! Shit! Shit!" The soldier fired wildly in the air with a pistol, shooting one of the Jackals in the neck.
The Warthog reared up towards them. Garcia was still on the Albatross.
"Get those alive on the 'Hog now!"
"What about him!?"
"He'll have to wait! We can't get him on. He might already be dead."
"He's still got a pulse! I can feel it!"
"Just get those others you were carrying in here and get Hues on too!"
"But what about Sang! I won't leave him here!"
"There's no more room. I'm… Sorry."
"Go! Just…" Sang coughed. "Go! Get out of here! Get me after the others are in safety!"
"You heard him! Let's GO!"
"… Fine."
Garcia hopped in the Shade and started firing at the direction of the snipers. Two Jackals fell from the roof. He dropped out to avoid getting hurt himself.
*****
"AAARGH! One kill! ONE! You're meant to be the best snipers on the Phantom!" Ver'Dor screamed at the Jackals. Outraged.
"I'm only one with lots of experience. The others not as good as me!"
He sighed. "We return to the ship."
"Yes sir."
"You two, however, will be punished."
"… Oh really?"
"Yes." He pulled the trigger, a purple-white beam blasted through the chest of the fragile alien. The others looked shocked, and the lower ranking Jackal shot the Elite in the chest, depleting his shield. But the Elite swung his rifle, knocking the Jackal from the rooftop, landing on the ground with a crunch.
"You, my slippery friend, will accompany me. You follow orders well and didn't attempt to stop me punishing your brothers." The Elite's shield charged. "You will get a lot more experience fighting with me. Come."
"… Yes sir."
*****
"Shit..! It hurts! God damn it!" Hues screamed as the Warthog pulled into the Albatross. Garcia just stood there. Looking at his friend. Still alive, breathing erratically, probably from fear. If he had been hit somewhere vital, he would have been either dead or unable to move at all. The ODST had managed to lift his arm up to feel the wound.
"Someone… Get Sang…" Hues gasped as he fell unconscious.
"We'd better get him in one of the cryo-chambers," Anderson said, running over and activating all the chambers for the men and woman they found. "Put them in here. We'll have…" He counted. "One spare. I'll check if they're just unconscious or need medical attention before I place them in. I'll get Hues in ASAP though."
"Garcia. C'mon, we're going to get Sang and the other stuff in here. Anderson, Do what you just said."
"I will. Be careful." Anderson replied.
"I always am." Lewis said, placing an arm on his friend's
shoulder. "If we get shot, don't come and get us. Just take off."
"… Okay."
The two soldiers ran out and lifted Sang up, one arm over one of their shoulders. Lewis grabbed Hues' shotgun and the plasma rifle that was dropped. They began running back. In that time, Anderson undid all of Hues' clothes and equipment and lifted his naked and limp body into the cryo-chamber, tapping a few buttons to get it activated. He turned to the others and checked their pulses. All were alive. He took off their helmets; first the Finch man's revealing a man in his early forties with short cut greying black hair and dark skin. He took off the woman's helmet next, showing a woman, while not beautiful, certainly wasn't ugly. She wore her hair rather short (not reaching about five inches below her ear that was almost blood red in colour. Her skin was darkish cream colour, and lacked any blemishes or anything of the sort. Her lip were a nice colour, without any obvious make-up. As he checked her pulse, her eyes began to flicker and eventually opened, revealing them to be a deep blue colour. "Who… Are you..?" she asked, frightened.
"I'm Specialist Engineer Anderson," The soldier replied. He helped her to her feet and took her towards a seat. "You'd best sit there."
Garcia and Lewis reached the ship, holding Sang. Garcia seemed weakened. They took off his helmet.
"Isn't it hard to keep a good man down?" He coughed. A chunk of his neck was missing. "It's just a flesh wound I think… No; hope. How's Hues?"
"I don't know. He seems stable, but I can't tell if he's been hit somewhere vital." Anderson informed him.
Sang lowered his head. "One of the rescued ones has woken up?"
"Yes. Just a few seconds ago."
The girl walked forward, knowing they were talking about her. "I'm Captain Cynthia Erickson. What's going on here?"
"A Captain, eh? I guess you're in charge now." Sang muttered. "I'm Gunnery Sergeant Sang." he said, just as an act of greeting as he took off his helmet. "Anyway, I was in a squad of ODSTs sent on recon to recover any survivors of group Free Birds."
"Hmm. Good job. How many did you recover?"
He counted in his mind. "Six of the original twenty. I believe there's another survivor somewhere in the area."
"Seven out of twenty? Perhaps it was Andrews you found," She said quietly, mainly to herself.
"Do you think we should go and get him?" Garcia asked.
"No. It would be smarter to just go to our recovery point. That's where we agreed to go if we got separated."
"No… Need…" A voice came from behind them all. They all turned around, curious. There was a man with one arm. The stump where its twin should have sat had blood flooding from it like a river, with tiny pink shards sprinkled around the wound. He picked up a plasma pistol from the floor and threw it to Garcia. "Shoot the wound."
He nodded. He knew it would burn the flesh and this stop the blood flow. Of course, it could clot up and there'd possibly be internal bleeding, but it was better than him dying on them right now from blood loss. He fired the green plasma bolt, which seared his flesh. He yelled in pain, but knew it was for the best. The agony disappeared as he fell to the ground, unconscious.
The Captain ran towards Andrews, lifting him up and dragged him towards the cryo chamber. Anderson ran over too, helping remove clothing and equipment from Andrews's body so he can get placed in the cryo-chamber. The two other men who were unconscious began to wake up. The man with his face still obscured removed his masking helmet, revealing yet another young man with a shaven head (though with dark brown stubble beginning to grow in) and extremely pale skin. His features were pointed and almost rat-like. His eyes grey eyes were glassy, like those of a dead man. He rubbed his dead eyes and looked around the ship. "Hmm.. Albatross. Nice."
"You're such a nerd," The other man grunted, lifting himself up and giving a hand to the other, younger soldier. He looked around, only recognising the Captain, to whom he simply gave a nod.
"Okay. Everyone give me your names and rank," The Captain asked as she got back from placing the man in the Cryo-Chamber.
"I'm Gunnery Sergeant Sang."
"Specialist Engineer Anderson, my friend in the 'chamber is Private 1st class medic Hues."
"Lieutenant Cole," the aging dark-skinned man nodded.
"Corporal Lewis."
"Corporal Garcia."
"Specialist Engineer Stephan…" The mousey boy said quietly.
"And I'm Captain Erickson. The man in the Cryo-Chamber is Gunnery-Sergeant Andrews."
"Okay then. Now I know who everyone is," The Captain nodded.
"Anderson, Stephan, go and pilot this bird. There's a frigate named In Amber Clad very near our position. I want you to fly us into it. There should be doctors there that can help our two injured soldiers, and take a look at your neck, Sergeant."
Sang nodded. The Captain walked with the two Engineers up to the cockpit and sat on the command seat. Anderson took the left pilot seat whilst Stephan took the co-pilot seat. The gunner was empty until Garcia ran up and took the position.
Hues' shotgun was still on the ground. Cole noticed it.
"What the hell is that thing? It looks like a brown fish made out of metal."
"It's probably one of the most powerful shotguns ever to be built," Lewis said dryly. "And it's being built by the man in that cryo-tube, who risked his life to save you and your friends."
"Sorry, I was just speakin' my mind," Cole muttered, taken aback by Lewis' outburst.
"Well, keep such comments about my friends to yourself next time, 'keh?"
Cole sighed. "What's his problem?"
"His Sergeant was killed today, and his team-mate and friend just got blasted by Jackal snipers," Sang sighed.
"Well, he's not the only one who lost friends today," Cole muttered.
"Yeah, I know. But he's got the worry of his friend still being in a critical condition, and the additional pressure of being his squad's acting leader now."
"Humph… No need for him to be an ass about it," Cole moaned, stretching his arms behind his head and leaning back under Lewis' cold stare.
Lewis sighed and sat on the chair between Andrews' and Hues' cryo-chambers. The comm.. activated and the mousy boy's voice filled the cargo chambers. "We're about to dock In Amber Clad."
Lewis nodded, smiling. They'd get medical attention for Hues and the others.
*****
Ver'Dor grabbed the Jackal Sniper, Keg, by it's scrawny upper-arm. He was outraged the Humans had survived. What made him all the more angrier was the more he hated the Humans, the more his respect grew.
Keg glared at the Elite. He had killed his fellows, taken his sniper rifle and had decided to drag him with him on dangerous missions. The only upside to this was that the Elite had promised him great things; from females to continue his bloodline with children (a great honour) to the freshest Unggoy meat that could be found, seared to whatever way he liked the flesh. He had to admit he did enjoy this possibility.
The two creatures of the Covenant reached the Phantom. The gravity lift pulled them into the ship and they both entered (though one of the pair was still being dragged). They were greeted by three Elites, who took them to the bridge of the boat. "The Banshees have arrived. Shall we try to destroy them while they dock?" Re'Gida asked, not asking how their mission had gone.
"No. We'll wait for now. We'll travel to the Lenient Sentence and await further orders." Ver'Dor sighed.
"… The Lenient Sentence was destroyed. We'll have to dock with another ship."
"Curse the Humans! We'll return to The Prophet of Regret's battle cruiser whilst we wait for a new ship. I'm sure we'll be welcomed by our superiors there."
"You heard him, pilot. To the Hierarch!"
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