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Taking Halo: Chapter One, Hot Drop
Date: 12 April 2003, 9:03 PM
Taking Halo: (Chapter 1) Hot Drop!
Dramatis Personae:
Colonel William Jenkins—1st *MAS Battalion Commanding officer
Major Jason Reynolds—1st MAS Battalion Executive officer
1st Captain James Armstrong—Bravo Company Commander
Gunnery Sergeant Patrick Myers—Bravo Company 1st Sergeant
Staff Sergeant Matthew Duncan—Bravo Company Sniper
Specialist Nicholas Moore—Bravo Company Demolitions Expert
Colonel Rick Santinez—2nd Armored Calvary Battalion Commander
Captain Greg Weaver—Commander of the Roost
Lako 'Ikaptammue—Covenant Ship Master
Karen Hunt—UWN (Universal Wide News) Reporter tasked to the UNSC Roost
*MAS—Mechanized Armored Suit
0100 Hours, November 1, 2552 (Military Calendar)/
UNSC Roost, unknown system, near 2nd located Halo
Colonel William Jenkins knew this was going to be a tough mission. He could feel it in his bones. He wasn't the type to believe in fate and whatnot. He just had experience and he knew when ONI said, "There's been some slight miscalculation..." they really meant, "Alright boys, we've fucked up big time and we're sending you in to become cannon fodder to make the politicians happy." He also knew this was one of those times.
The Office of Naval Intelligence officer, a tall pasty-white man with a sharp nose and glasses, surveyed the crowded room with a glance and continued, "The 1st MAS Battalion will be deployed near what we believe is the control room. They will then proceed to take and hold the control room at all costs. Once we have complete control over the control room, reinforcements will be sent to reinforce the control room.
"Meanwhile the 2nd Armored Calvary will wipe out remaining Covenant forces on the ringworld. Once the control room is secured the 1st MAS Battalion will proceed to the Library and surrounding areas to make sure the Flood is still contained. We do not know if there is even any Flood here. If there are Flood make sure they are contained, and do not, whatever you do, let them feed. This is extremely important.
"Next the 1st MAS Battalion will retrieve the Index. If there is a Monitoring AI Construct, capture it. We know from the first Halo that they can be psychotic, so watch out. The Roost will remain in orbit and hold off any Covenant ships. We still don't know why there weren't any already here.
"Other than that, there isn't too much to say other than—Good Luck!" The ONI Commander saluted and left the room, leaving the 1st MAS Battalion's and the 2nd Armored Cav's officers in an uproar.
Jenkins stood up and faced his Battalion officers, "Alright gentlemen you heard the man. All assignments should be uploaded to your APA by now. If you have any questions talk to my AI, Raja. We drop in an hour, so suit up, prepare your companies, and get to your SEVs (Suit Entry Vehicles)."
Jenkins followed his officers out and went to get suited up. He hustled through the Roost's enormous walkways until he reached the Engineering/Bay area, and walked in. He walked over and took a moment to grin at his suit.
The Mechanized Armored Suit was the answer to a super soldier. Spartans took way too much time and money to train to be used in large numbers, so the MAS had become the answer. It was a large two ton, seven foot tall slab of metal. The suit was shaped like a human, except its head was just a spherical dome viewport. The Suits were very tough. They could pick up a Scorpion Main Battle Tank and hurl it. They were also indestructible to most infantry. They didn't have shields, but their armor could easily stop Plasma bolts and grenades. The only infantry danger came from Fuel Rod Guns, and they could only knock a suit out of commission for a short while.
The MAS had been designed to destroy enemy armor, but it was quickly discovered that they could wipe out large numbers of standard infantry with ease. Their only faults were that they were extremely expensive—one suit was as much as ten Scorpion Tanks, and that they required extensive training.
Jenkins popped his suit and hopped in. The cool inner liquid gel sent a chill through his spine. The suit closed up around him, and he felt the slim needle inject into the base of his skull—straight into his neural interface. The suit whirred to life, its fusion generator pumping power through the suit's systems.
The suit was controlled from his neural interface. Basically it read his thoughts and moved accordingly, it also cut his reaction time down to one-fifth of the normal. A tech walked up to his suit, punched in a few numbers on his APA, and gave him a thumbs up. Jenkins dropped his helmet in place and walked out of the suit harness.
The two-ton suit moved without a sound. It seemed to float gracefully across the floor. He walked over to the armory and grabbed his weapons. The first was a large rifle, the MA7C. The MA7C consisted of a long barrel, a magazine, and a pistol grip. The weapon weighed over 80 pounds and was only used by MAS units, because it was too heavy for anyone not wearing a suit. It used a 12.7x99mm bullet in a 50 round clip. The weapon had four modes of fire: Single, Burst, Auto, and Grenade.
Jenkins ammo was stored in special 'compartments' on the suit and was easily accessible. He grabbed his backup weapon. The M6E pistol was an enlarged version of the standard M6D pistol. It was a lot bigger and used a 14.5mm round. But other than those two differences it was basically the same, except for an increased range.
This was just the standard armament. The suits could be equipped with a number of weapons, including artillery. These suits, nicknamed Artys, were equipped with two 80mm mortars with twenty rounds apiece. While their direct fire weapons were rather weak, at range nothing could smother a target with fire better.
There were also other types of suits, including: Demolitions, Sniper, Heavy Weapons, Mine Remover/Layer, Medic, Scouts, and Fliers. The battalion consisted of 600 suited troops without support personal. The 600 were divided up into four companies: Alpha, Bravo, Charlie, Delta. Each company consisted of 150 personnel divided into 3 platoons. Each platoon was divided into three squads consisting of twelve troops. The remaining suits were support suits and special operations suits.
Used effectively, suits could wipe out forces ten times their size with light casualties. The suits only fault was cost. This was going to be the first mission in which the suits were deployed in a combat situation and would make or break them.
After equipping himself properly, Jenkins got into the SEV and waited for the drop, which was two minutes away. A tech came to check on him and he flipped him the OK sign. After what seemed like an interminable wait a green light popped on in his HUD and his SEV disengaged from the Roost, reached minimum safe distance, and rocketed down toward Halo's surface.
Halo was a giant ring, the inside covered with a mix of greens, browns, reds, and blues. It was a technological marvel. Whoever had built it sure knew what they had been doing.
Jenkins SEV hit the atmosphere and shook from the turbulence. The inside heated up to over 100 degrees, but inside his suit, Jenkins was nice and comfortable. Helljumpers drop in without a suit, I feel sorry for those poor bastards. He looked out over the land and was amazed by its beauty. After the war these things sure will make nice vacation spots. If there are any humans left.
Raja his AI, spoke, "Colonel, based on telemetry data from the Roost plus my analysis, it appears the Control room will be about 3 kilometers from where you land. Your company should land near you. Hector, the Roost's AI, did an excellent job on drop coordinates."
"Thanks for the useless info," Jenkins mumbled. A moment later the SEV's skin sloughed off and the alloy crash cage revealed itself and deployed its airfoil chute. Raja sent a signal to the rest of the SEVs and they all oriented themselves so they'd all land less than a kilometer apart.
Colonel Jenkins's SEV hit the ground perfectly. He extricated himself from the SEVs wreckage and gathered his supplies. While waiting for his Battalion to group up, he used Raja and what sensors she had control of to check out the terrain.
Around him, a red windswept desert reached out in all directions. To his left there was a large canyon with bridges running across the top, held up by electrical blue traction beams. At each end of the bridge was a large weather worn door. Through that canyon or those bridges, he knew was the control room. But based on reports from the first Halo the control room had been located in an area with a very artic climate. Well, I guess the weather systems are natural, Cortana seems to think so.
He didn't have to wait long for the rest of his battalion, almost before he had finished surveying the area, Bravo Company had come sprinting down the hill, their suits carrying them at 70mph speeds. Captain James Armstrong jogged down the hill and stopped right in front of him, his suit knocking up dust, and saluted.
Jenkins returned the salute crisply and asked, "You seen Major Reynolds?"
"Last I heard, he landed with Charlie Company, but by now he's probably back with Alpha and on the way here. Delta was right behind us, sir," James said, his voice betraying his anxiety.
Beneath his suit, Jenkins pursed his lips. "Hmmm...Okay, I want Bravo to secure the LZ, but be ready to move out when the other companies get here. Did you detect any sign of Covenant activity?"
"No sir," James answered and ran off, shouting orders.
"Strange...me either," Jenkins said to himself. "Raja check with the Roost, see if her long-range sensors can detect anything."
"Checking...Roost detects no Covenant activity. But be advised, before we dropped in system, our scout ship, Prowler, reported two Covenant Carriers deploying troops and supplies. The Roost, has pinpointed their LZ, but they've disappeared. They could be lying in ambush," Raja answered him, her feminine voice all too human.
"Thanks for the heads-up," Jenkins said, then spun to face his XO, who was trudging down the sandy hill with Alpha and Charlie Companies. "Jason, where the hell have you been? If you're going to start half-assing it, I'm going to have to find a new XO."
Major Jason Reynolds, smirking beneath his domed helmet, replied, "And what, leave your sorry ass in charge, without someone who knows what their doing?"
"You mean, and what, leave your sorry ass in charge, without someone who knows what their doing sir," Jenkins corrected.
"Look at you, always pulling rank."
"Well like they say: Rank hath its privileges."
"Anyway sir," Jason continued. "Delta Company isn't too far behind. They had some trouble with 2nd Platoon. Apparently Private Milowski somehow managed to land head-first into a quicksand pit."
"Milowski...the same one who got sucked into a Longsword's engines during a training exercise?" Jenkins inquired with a chuckle.
"The very same, sir," Jason confirmed, grinning. "He was never blessed with a Marine's luck."
"It shows. Look here they are now," Jenkins said, pointing at a shallow rise. "Form them up and get ready to move out."
Jason nodded in response and went to get the MAS Battalion ready to move.
Covenant Battle Cruiser, Purity of Spirit, system edge
Covenant Ship Master Lako 'Ikaptammue stood at the center of his Cruiser's control room, his battle scarred face impassive, as he listened to his assistant's report. When he finished, 'Ikaptammue made him wait an uncomfortable period of time before responding. "Are you sure you saw these 'Metal Humans.' It sounds impossible."
His assistant bobbed his head, "No, Ship Master. I assure you that I saw the 'Metal Humans.' The filthy creatures were covered in metal and their heads were domed. They were at least seven feet tall and armed with all sorts of primitive weaponry."
"If what you say is true, we'll need to prepare an ambush for them. You may proceed about it however you wish, just make sure they all die, but make sure you capture one for study."
"We are the Gods' instruments," his assistant recited the True Saying in an awed voice. "I will endeavor to make the infidels die most-painfully, Ship Master."
"One more thing, 'Recunnae, before you go. Do not fail me. The Exalted ones do not tolerate failure," 'Ikaptammue said, his words dripping with superciliousness.
'Recunnae opened his mandibles—the equivalent of a frown—and left. 'Ikaptammue turned to back to his light panel and shivered. He was looking at one of the human vessels. His panel read: HUMAN CARGO SHIP, TYPE UNKNOWN. That worried him. Most of his kind thought the humans were filthy, primitive, stupid, and barely sentient. But he knew they were wrong. He had only fought the humans once in a ship-to-ship battle and he knew they were very ingenious.
His Cruiser had been at Sigma Octanus along with a Destroyer and two Frigates when a human Destroyer had jumped in system. His fellow Ship Masters thought the ship would be easy pickings and had gotten slack. The Human ship then caused their own weapons to destroy the Destroyer and eliminate the two Frigates in a matter of minutes.
'Ikaptammue had deployed troops and jumped to Slipspace. Ever since that day he had been wary of human ships. What their Ship Masters lost in technology they made up for in numbers. He knew, even though he'd never admit it aloud, that the Humans tactics were far superior to their own.
If it wasn't for their superior technology and numbers, he secretly knew they'd never stand a chance against the humans. Clicking his lower mandibles he turned his mind to other matters.
Hanger Bay of UNSC Roost
Universal World News Reporter Karen Hunt strode across the deck, aware of the appraising glances the marines and navy personal threw her way. She briskly walked over to the Pelican the UNSC had given her to use. She knew they weren't happy to have her here, but like she always said: The Public needs to know.
Stopping in front of Colonel Rick Santinez, who was sitting on top of his Scorpion, and smiled dazzlingly. "Good day, Colonel," she said offering her hand. He took it and shook, holding it longer than necessary. She continued, "I was wondering if I might ask you a few questions?"
"Why certainly, ma'am," he replied his seductive Latino voice surprising her.
She smiled at him again. "So what exactly are you and the 2nd Armored Calvary Battalion going to do when they land on the Construct?"
Rick frowned, but then turned and faced the cameraman behind her, as she shoved the microphone in his face. "Well our job will be to take out all Covenant armor on the ringworld. After that we will proceed to the control room and reinforce the Marine detachment there. If all goes as planned we shouldn't have too much too worry about."
Karen nodded and carried on, "What type of opposition do you plan to go up against?"
"Well, hopefully not too much. Mainly just Covenant tanks and assault vehicles, but we aren't too worried. We always beat the Covenant on the ground."
She nodded and pointed to the tank behind him, "Is that what you will be using?"
He grinned, "Yes ma'am. This is a M808C Main Battle Tank, also called Scorpions. They're armed with a 90mm High Velocity cannon and can shoot up to 30 rounds a minute. They have a maximum road speed of around 85mph. These babies," he said patting the track of the tank, "will make Swiss cheese of those Covenant Assholes."
All you had to do to get the talking, she knew, was to ask about their equipment. She turned to her crew and gave them the cut sign. They'd be able to edit it later, since she wasn't allowed any live feed.
She turned back to the Marine and noticed his eyes roving her body. She didn't blame him. She had been Miss Edina in her teenage days. She had long black hair and bright green eyes. Her body was tall, slender, and perfectly proportioned. The fact that she was wearing a skin-tight skirt didn't seem to escape the Marine either. She was about to take her leave when the intercom blared.
"ALL HANDS, BATTLESTATIONS. REPEAT BATTLESTATIONS. COVENANT CRUISERS IN BOUND!"
Taking Halo: Chapter Two, A Clash of Heavans
Date: 19 April 2003, 2:15 AM
Taking Halo: (Chapter 2) A Clash of Heavens!
Dramatis Personae:
Colonel William Jenkins—1st *MAS Battalion Commanding officer
Major Jason Reynolds—1st MAS Battalion Executive officer
Captain James Armstrong—Bravo Company Commander
Gunnery Sergeant Patrick Myers—Bravo Company 1st Sergeant
Staff Sergeant Matthew Duncan—Bravo Company Sniper
Specialist Nicholas Moore—Bravo Company Demolitions Expert
Colonel Rick Santinez—2nd Armored Calvary Battalion Commander
Lieutenant Samuel "Saint" Ryder—V141 "Black Aces" Squadron member
Captain Greg Weaver—Commander of the UNSC Roost
Lako 'Ikaptammue—Covenant Ship Master of CCS Purity of Spirit
Karen Hunt—UWN (Universal Wide News) Reporter tasked to the UNSC Roost
*MAS—Mechanized Armored Suit
0300 Hours, November 1, 2552 (Military Calendar)/
UNSC Roost, unknown system, near 2nd located Halo
Captain Greg Weaver sighed and dropped into his command chair. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a silver flask. Popping the cap, he drained the bottle, feeling the fire shoot down his throat and settle in the pit of his stomach.
It was strictly against regulations to drink while on duty, but Weaver could have cared less. It wasn't like he was getting drunk or anything. Just a quick sip here and there wouldn't upset the UNSC's precious regulations.
Pocketing the flask, he turned back to his command crew. He could tell they didn't approve. " Well screw' em," he thought. "They haven't had an entire ship shot out from under them because of their own failings."
Belching, he stood and groaned at his command crew. "What's the ETA for the rest of the task force?"
His COMs officer, a chubby blonde with a broken nose, said, "Approximately two days, sir."
"Sensors, any sign of Covenant contacts in-system?" Greg asked.
"No sir Captain," he replied. "Wait... a minute. I've got some anomalies at the edge of the system. Looks like something is about to exit Slip space, sir. I can't tell what it is, but it's very large."
"Damn, sound Battlestations and prepare Slipstream exits complying with the Cole Protocol. We may have to get out of here if there's too many of' em."
Acknowledgements came back to him as the bridge crew set about his commands. He stood up and marched over to the large viewing screen. Looking at it, he frowned. A highlighted section of space showed up on one of the grids. It showed where a very large mass was about to enter normal space.
"Helm bring us about to face the opening in Slipspace. Weapons remove the safeties from the MACs and arm the Archers. I want target acquisitions as soon as whatever it is drops out of Slipspace. I don't care what it is."
"Aye aye, sir."
"Aye, Cap'n."
The Roost swung to port with surprising grace for her bulk. She was the largest craft in the UNSC, crewing over 10,000 personal, not including her complement of over 20,000 marines and support equipment. Most of her space was for engines, berthing, engineering, and cargo, but she had four MAC cannons and 1,000 Archer missile pods. Add that to the three standard Shiva Tactical Nuclear Missiles and she could hold her own against all enemies.
Weaver and the rest of the bridge crew waited in terse silence for the ship to drop out of Slipspace. When it did, Weaver's breathe caught in his throat. A section of space 10,000 kilometers distant boiled a bright green and spat out a whole Covenant armada.
The armada consisted of a dozen Covenant craft, none of them smaller than a Battlecruiser. They were arrayed in a triangle formation. A lethal-looking Destroyer held the point of the triangle. Behind it floated multiple Destroyers, a Carrier, and a few Battlecruisers.
For a few moments they appeared dead in space, but that quickly changed when their noses came up, their shields sprang to life, and pulse lasers charged along their hulls. And they were getting closer.
Weaver gulped and turned to his Weapon's officer, "Estimated range to engage?"
"In about a minute we'll be able to fire at maximum range. Then, we'll have precisely ten seconds to get out of range before the Covenant fire, sir."
Weaver nodded. "At range fire MACs 1 through 4 and coordinate Archer pods 1 through 250 to impact right after the MAC rounds hit."
"All ready got it, sir," his Weapons officer responded, her voice cracking.
"Helm as soon as we fire I want full reverse. Maybe we can stay back and snipe at them," Weaver added.
One of the standard UNSC tactics used to deal with superior numbers of Covenant spacecraft was to stay out of range and send them MAC volleys. The UNSC MAC had an extra thousand kilometers of range on the Covenant Plasma Torpedo and UNSC captains used this to great advantage.
"We're in range, firing now," his Weapons officer shouted.
One large thump sounded through the hull as the MACs fired simultaneously. Four silver lances shot out and slammed into the lead Covenant Destroyer. The Destroyer's shields held for a split second then broke under the force.
The first MAC round entered right through the center of the ship, ripped through the thick armor like so much junk, and holed the ship all the way through. The others followed suite, hitting near the exact same spot. The result was spectacular as the Covenant Destroyer was spun out of control by explosive decompression, atmosphere venting from ruined sections of hull. Then the Archer missiles struck, slamming into damaged sections of hull and sloughing off armor by the ton.
Immediately the Roost went into full reverse as the Covenant Capital ships launched Plasma Torpedoes at her. The sapphire blue projectiles arced up and plummeted downward, missing the Roost by a scant 300 hundred meters.
Weaver breathed a sigh of relief. "Deploy all Marine personnel and equipment on board. We haven't got time to screw around, just hot drop them all. The Covenant won't glass the Halo. And we know that any Covenant forces won't stand a chance against the MAS unit and Armored Cav Battalion. So they should hold out until reinforcements arrive. I think we can hold the Covies off enough to drop our load."
His COMs officer glanced nervously. "But sir, they'd be without any kind off support for two days. And that Covenant Carrier can drop just as many troops as we can, if not more."
Weaver glared daggers at his COMs officer and whispered in a deadly voice, "I know damn well what the situation is Lieutenant. So don't try and tell me how to do my job. I was commanding ships before you were an itch in your daddy's pants. Now turn around and do your job or I will have you removed from this ship.
His COMs officer swallowed, mumbled a half-hearted "Yes sir," and spun around in his chair. The rest of the bridge crew exchanged glances. Their Captain was starting to lose it.
"I want all our single-ship fighters to launch and create a screen for the Covenant ships. How long until we're clear of all the ground-pounders?"
"Around ten minutes, sir."
"Sir," his Weapons officer shouted. "Next Covenant Destroyer in range. Fire?"
"Send them to hell, Lieutenant."
"Aye aye, sir."
Another thump reverberated through the hull and four silver daggers reached out and stabbed deep into the Covenant Destroyer. The ship was knocked off course by the force of the blow. The Destroyer listed to the left as Plasma gouted out from every direction. She rolled once and stopped, dead in space.
Again the remaining Covenant ships fired and again the Roost managed to get out of the way in time.
His Navigations officer looked over at him. "Sir eventually they're going to run us down. Their ships are faster and we can't keep this up."
Weaver looked miserable. "I know, I know. I just wish they had given us a damn A.I. I mean the godforsaken MAS commander got one and I didn't."
"Sir, all Marines and fighters are deployed."
Weaver grinned a predatory smile. "Good. Tell the fighters to pull back and support the Marine Landing Craft. Give me full engine power and change to heading two-seven-four. We're going to bring down that carrier."
"But, sir," his COMs officer protested. "That's straight for the Covenant formation. You're going to get us killed."
Weaver smiled coldly. "You will do as you are told. And, yes this probably will get us killed, but we must do it. It's the only way to accomplish our mission. Start evacuating all non-essential personal. Make sure the Black Aces cover them."
His COMs officer abruptly stood up, knocking data discs on the deck. "No. I will not let your psychotic mind destroy us all for some meaningless revenge on the Covenant over your lost ship and crew." He looked over at the Weapons officer. "Come on Chris, we can't let him do this. He'll kill us all for nothing."
Weaver nodded. Reaching into his waistband, he pulled out a previously concealed M6D pistol and pointed it at his COMs officer, who was now charging him. Weaver pulled the trigger. A deafening bang echoed through the bridge.
The COMs' head rocked back as the .50 cal round entered just below his nose. Blood, brains, and skull fragments splattered the bulkhead behind him. His lifeless body slumped to the deck.
The rest of the bridge crew just sat there, stunned. Weaver just shrugged. "We don't need COMs anymore anyway. Weapons make sure our all our weapons are ready to go and prep all three Shivas to blow on remote detonation and transfer control to my station. Navigations I want you to spit that Covenant Carrier amidships. Don't worry about avoiding Plasma Torps; we'll just take the damage."
The bridge crew sat for a second then hurriedly went about his orders. They might survive the Covenant, but they sure as hell weren't going to survive their own Captain.
Weaver sighed wearily and collapsed into his command chair. Looking outside the viewport he watched two Plasma Torpedoes slam into the bow of his Carrier. Armor plates tore off and spun out into space. The Roost rocked. She seemed to slow, then leap forward again.
"Damage?"
"Light, sir. Deck OneA is breached, but already sealed. 35 percent of Bow Armor has been stripped. Another hit like that could do serious damage."
"Drop the bastard that launched them, Weapons."
"All ready on it, sir."
Four MAC rounds and hundreds of Archer missiles slammed into a Battlecruiser and tore it into flaming blue chunks of debris.
A Covenant Destroyer launched another two Plasma Torpedoes. Weaver went pale. If a Covenant Destroyer's torpedoes hit, the Roost could be wiped out.
His Navigations officer shouted, "Five seconds to impact!"
"Fire the emergency thrusters. Now!" Weaver yelled, his voice losing its usual placidity.
The Roost blasted to the left with enough force to make the hull groan. The two Plasma Torpedoes shot through the area the Roost had just occupied, being close enough to cook off a thin layer of armor on her side. The Plasma Torpedoes kept going and lazily turned back around after the UNSC carrier.
"Sir impact with Covenant Carrier in twenty seconds. Course change?"
"No," Weaver snapped. "Blast her to hell!"
"Firing MACs now!"
The four MAC rounds shot out and collided with a Covenant Destroyer that had imposed itself between the Roost and the Covenant Carrier. The Destroyer expanded and blew outward in a cerulean explosion. The Roost knifed through the explosion and continued toward the Covenant Carrier.
"Will we be able to fire again before we collide?" Weaver asked his crew.
"No, we're going to hit. There's nothing I can do," his Weapons officer replied, his face ashen.
Just as the UNSC Carrier was about to ram the Covenant Carrier another Destroyer jumped in its way. The two Capital ships clashed and locked superstructures. The UNSC vessel creaked and groaned as her hull started to split.
"Its been nice knowing you," Weaver said as he pressed the control that would detonate the Shiva Tactical Nuclear Warheads.
Cockpit of C742 Dagger Space Superiority Fighter
Lieutenant Samuel "Saint" Ryder wasn't exactly having a good time. Ever since the V141 "Black Aces" had been ordered to cover the lifeboats it seemed as if every Seraph the Covenant owned were all striving to destroy him personally.
Saint slapped his control column to the side, where it thumped into the side of his seat, and shoved his throttles forward into afterburner. The Seraph following him shot past and banked out to the left.
He hauled back on the stick and rolled his Dagger out behind the Seraph. He lined his targeting reticle up with the Seraph's engine assembly and pulled the trigger. A hundred 20mm Vulcan Cannon rounds vomited out and missed their target as the Seraph dove into the mass of fighters below him.
Saint cursed and inverted his fighter. His Dagger shot downward after the Seraph. He barrel rolled out of the way of another Seraph and darted around a Dagger following it. He dropped in behind the Seraph that was eluding him and got an immediate missile lock.
"Ace Seven, Fox Two!" he said as an IR guided missile shot out of his Dagger's Weapons Bay and slammed into the Covenant fighter. The Seraph exploded in a brilliant flash of white as Saint dove below the explosion.
"Ace Seven, Vape five. I'm an ace!" He said as another sun sprang up behind him.
Bridge of CCS Purity of Spirit
Lako 'Ikaptammue wasn't having a good time either. The filthy Human ship had managed to obliterate three of his destroyers and a Battlecruiser. Then kamikaze charge his formation and detonate one of their primitive 'nukes.' That had destroyed two more Destroyers and almost taken down his Carrier.
He shrugged and turned to his assistant. "It appears the Humans have launched more of their invasion craft. Assign those top priorities. If they manage to dig in on Halo they may be able to take control of the ringworld. If they do then we are ended. We cannot allow this to happen. Make sure it doesn't."
His assistant bowed. "Of course, Exalted. Their primitive weapons will be no match for our warriors."
'Ikaptammue clicked his lower mandibles. "Let us hope so. These humans are getting craftier all the time. We may have trouble stopping them."
"I doubt it, Excellency. They are weak and puny. They will run and cower at our might."
'Ikaptammue wanted to snap this young one's neck. He was stupid and arrogant. Managing to keep his voice even, he said, "Run and cower?" Did you just not see what happened with that human ship? And you call them weak and puny. They will run. I think you are wrong, 'Nosalouq."
'Nosalouq glanced down at his cobalt armored feet, but didn't say anything. After a tense silence 'Ikaptammue continued. "It doesn't matter. Just stop these humans, but don't underestimate them."
'Nosalouq nodded. "Yes Exalted."
Taking Halo: Chapter 3, Bullets, Missiles and Plasma
Date: 3 May 2003, 2:57 AM
Taking Halo: (Chapter 3) Bullets, Missiles, and Plasma
Dramatis Personae:
Colonel William Jenkins—1st *MAS Battalion Commanding officer
Major Jason Reynolds—1st MAS Battalion Executive officer
Captain James Armstrong—Bravo Company Commander
Gunnery Sergeant Patrick Myers—Bravo Company 1st Sergeant
Staff Sergeant Matthew Duncan—Bravo Company Sniper
Specialist Nicholas Moore—Bravo Company Demolitions Expert
Colonel Rick Santinez—2nd Armored Calvary Battalion Commander
2nd Lieutenant Jack Hudson—2nd Armored Calvary Battalion C Company, 3rd Platoon Dismount
Lieutenant Samuel "Saint" Ryder—V141 "Black Aces" Squadron member
Captain Jeffery Wayne—Commander of the UNSC Talbot
Lako 'Ikaptammue—Covenant Ship Master of CCS Purity of Spirit
Karen Hunt—UWN (Universal Wide News) Reporter tasked to the UNSC Roost
*MAS—Mechanized Armored Suit
0400 Hours, November 1, 2552 (Military Calendar)/
Local space near 2nd located Halo, unknown system
Universal Wide News Reporter Karen Hunt wasn't sure she was going to survive this assignment. She wasn't even sure why she had volunteered for this assignment in the first place. Ever since the Captain aboard the Roost had ordered all nonessential personal to evacuate the ship and get 'ringside,' the fecal matter had well and truly hit the proverbial air propeller.
Her news crew had boarded the D77-TC Pelican they had been given to use and she had quickly followed. From there they had went through a harrowing journey just to exit the hangar bay. And her she was now, in the middle of a fully-fledged space-dogfight.
Plasma and missiles alike hurled by her rolling, twisting Pelican. They were almost to the ringworld, but a wave of Covenant Seraph Fighters was coming up to greet them. She looked over at her pilot. He looked back at her and shrugged as the Pelican inverted and dove, leaving her stomach in her throat. She wasn't much for flying.
Gripping the seat pads beside her until her knuckles were white, she watched a UNSC Dagger interpose itself between an approaching Covenant Seraph and her Pelican, and blow it to smithereens.
She had never truly appreciated a Fighter Pilot's job until now. The only vids the public saw of Fighter Pilots were them getting blown to pieces in order to save a Capital ship. The UNSC considered its fighters to be very good cannon fodder as opposed to Capital ships.
The Pelican shook as a Plasma shot hit it in the rearmost port engine, shredding through the armor there, but leaving the engine intact. Her pilot grimaced and yanked his control column to the side as Plasma Torpedoes sizzled by the Pelican. She turned to look at her cameraman. He was rigid in his seat with his eyes closed and looking very pale. Her supervisor sat right beside him and he gave her a weak smile.
Her pilot, a young Marine Lieutenant, rolled the bulky Pelican through sheets of Plasma fire, with a gracefulness rarely seen in Dropship pilots. A Seraph maneuvered itself on a head-to-head course with the Pelican and the Marine used the Pelican's 70mm Chin Gun to handle the problem.
After a few more minutes of flirting with Plasma the Pelican hit Halo's atmosphere and shook violently. The Pelican's trailing engines glowed red-hot and the rearmost port engine failed, but the Marine pilot managed to get her down into the atmosphere safely.
Around the Pelican hundreds of other vehicles dropped through, most being D77-VT Pelicans, with a few TCs here and there, packed to capacity. Also there were Lifeboats and UNSC Troopships along with a squadron of Daggers. This was turning out to be almost just like the first Halo.
"Lieutenant, where are we supposed to land?" Karen inquired of her pilot.
He shrugged. "I honestly have no clue, ma'am. I'm just going to follow the Troopships down."
She nodded. She didn't want to be stranded on this Covenant infested ringworld with only a Marine pilot for Military support. She'd prefer something along the lines of an armored column.
The COM channel crackled to life, "All UNSC forces, this is Colonel Santinez now commanding, prepare to land on sector fifteen, grid seven. The Daggers are going to give us air support so don't worry about the Banshees."
As if to add to his sentence, hundreds of Banshees came flying up to meet the landing UNSC force. The Dagger squadron, twelve fighters in all, dove down to meet the coming threat, their afterburners leaving a trail of flame fifty feet behind the sleek fighter.
Karen sighed and prepared for more aerobatic maneuvers that would leaver her stomach heaving. This assignment was just getting better and better.
Cockpit of C742 Dagger Space Superiority Fighter
Lieutenant Samuel "Saint" Ryder was feeling good. He knew he shouldn't be, but he was in his element and, besides, in his first combat action he was already an ace two times over. His Dagger was in the middle of an atmospheric, twisting, turning, rolling furball with nothing between his fighter and the Covenant but clouds.
He stood his fighter on its nose and rocketed downward after a maneuvering Banshee. Against Daggers the Banshees were nothing more than annoying gnats. While they were extremely maneuverable, they were also slow. The UNSC fighters could reach Mach 4 in the atmosphere and still obtain full maneuverability, but the Banshees couldn't even break the sound barrier, plus none of their weapons could catch a Dagger, much less dent the armor.
Saint dropped in behind the Banshee and immediately popped his airbrakes. If he didn't overshoot the Banshee before he even saw it. He lined his sight up with the target and tightened his trigger finger.
20mm Cannon rounds spewed out and disintegrated the Banshee into a flaming piece of debris. Almost before the bullets hit, his Dagger had already whipped by the Banshee. By now, the Covenant realized all they were doing was throwing their Banshees away, so they ordered them to retreat.
"Aces stop being so sloppy and form up. We ain't no Marine squadron, so there goes any excuse for being sloppy," the V141 Black Aces commander ordered over the COM channel. "Colonel Santinez has found a spot he wants us to land on, but it's currently in possession of some Covenant Queers. We're going to strafe the living hell out of 'em. Let's do it."
Acknowledgements were returned back over the COM channel and Saint formed up with his wingman, Ace Eight. A location marker beeped up on his HUD and he followed the rest of the squadron to it.
They shot along at treetop level, the Dagger's powerful Pratt & Whitney engines scorching the snow in their wake. Saint inverted his fighter to get a better view of what they were supposed to strafe. A giant snow covered structure about mile in diameter jumped up to meet him. He could see hundreds of Covenant Armor and infantry running about, preparing for an attack.
Saint rolled his Dagger right side up and armed his Twin 20mm Vulcan Cannons (T20VC). As he shot by the target he opened fire, destroying anything in his path. Covenant Wraith Tanks flipped and blew, Shadows seemed to leap up on tails of flame, Ghosts impacted and transformed into balls of fire. The rest of the Black Aces followed suite.
As he pulled up and away a dozen Covenant Seraphs buzzed up to meet them, like wasps after their nest had been disturbed. He slapped his control stick to the left and kicked his left rudder pedal all the way in.
His Dagger responded by rolling to port and slewing its nose around to face the Seraphs. Saint got an immediate IR lock on the leading Seraph, so he pulled the trigger, saying, "Fox Two." A heat-seeking missile darted off its rails and lanced into the Covenant fighter, exploding in the middle of the fighter and turning it into a sphere of flame, shooting out shrapnel on tails of fire.
Pulse laser fire sizzled by his fighter, leaving trails of carbon scoring across his hull. He pulled the stick back as far as it would go and watched as his Dagger's nose crossed the horizon and dropped back around to face the Seraphs, who were attacking the rest of his squadron.
He got another missile lock and obliged his targeting system by launching another missile at the straggling Seraph. The Covenant fighter blew up spectacularly, bits of purple armor whirling in every direction.
Just as Saint was about to send another Seraph a welcoming present, his Sensor Board shrieked, telling him another Seraph was on his six. Instinctively he rolled his fighter out to the left as Pulse Lasers soared by his fighter.
He cut his throttle and dropped his fighter's nose. He held it there for a split second then, yanked it back up. This maneuver depleted all of his airspeed and caused the Seraph to overshoot him. He sighted on the Covenant Fighter's engines and pulled the trigger.
His T20VC ripped the fighter to pieces and he shot through the explosion. Looking down at his instruments he noticed he was low on ammo and fuel. He wouldn't be flying too much longer if he didn't set down somewhere.
"Alright Aces, the Calvary is about to take this Covenant neighborhood and we're going to make sure no Covies that aren't invited don't crash the party," the Black Aces Commander said.
Deployment + 00hours:11minutes:47seconds (Colonel Santinez Mission Clock)/
Hills between UNSC LZ and the Covenant Base.
The throaty throb of the M808C Scorpion's Textron Lycoming AGT-10000 gas turbine engine almost put Colonel Rick Santinez to sleep. He had been awake almost fifteen hours straight and all of it had been spent busy. The Scorpion's engine was known to be an excellent lullaby to people in need in sleep.
Rousing himself, he turned to his driver. "ETA?"
His driver glanced at him over the railing separating driver from gunner. "Around two minutes, sir. The scouts are just pulling back. The Covenant were pretty wiped out from the air attack. Over that hill," he pointed toward a snowy hill in the distance. "Is the Covenant base. Once we cross it we'll be just out of range from the Covenant."
Rick nodded. He wished they could use the Artillery, but the Crusader Self-propelled howitzers were low on ammo and the Artillery Commander wanted to save his precious ammo. So, he'd been forced to plan this attack without Artillery support. He knew just how rare it was when Artillery was used on the Covenant, but when it was used on them, it ripped them to pieces. His one blessing was that the Covenant didn't have any Artillery, the best they could use being their Wraith Mortar tanks.
The Scorpion crested the hill, its powerful treads tearing up the soil in its wake. They roared down the other side and Rick activated the 90mm cannon and sighted on the nearest Covenant Wraith tank.
"IDENTIFIED TARGET, FIRING SABOT!"
Rick gently pressed the firing switch. The main cannon fired and a sharp craaaack echoed through the valley. The Wraith he'd fired at exploded, plasma ripping out through its hull.
"TARGET DESTROYED."
His driver turned the Scorpion and it fishtailed to the left, as a Plasma blast slammed into the area it had just occupied.
"TARGET ELEVEN O'CLOCK!"
"IDENTIFIED, FIRING SABOT!"
Rick traversed the Scorpions turret to the left and fired. Another Covenant tank went up in a radiant explosion. By now the rest of the 2nd Armored Cavalry had crossed the hill and they came roaring down, weapons firing.
Scorpions brought down targets at long range with their powerful cannons, Razor Armored Personnel Carriers took out infantry, and armor alike with their devastating 30mm Bushmaster Chain Guns, and Warthogs took the lead, dropping Covenant infantry by the dozen with 'Old Faithful.'
The battle didn't last long. The humans had always been better at ground warfare. Burnt-out Wraith chassis littered the battlefield, thick black smoke twirled into the air, bodies lay strewn upon the ground, so much blood intermixed that it looked like mud.
The 2nd Armored Calvary reached the middle of the structure, where a large square building stood. Rick keyed his COM, "Alpha Company, set up a defensive perimeter facing the building, B Company secure the outside of the structure. C Company, send a Platoon down inside the structure; I want to know what is down there. Get to it people."
(2nd Lt. Jack Hudson Mission Clock)/
2nd Lieutenant Jack Hudson ordered the APC down lower into the construct. The Razor spun, its treads rumbling on the metal floor. Its headlights illuminated the dark corridor ahead, where there, supposedly, waited Covenant in ambush.
His platoon had been ordered into the structure's interior to eliminate any remaining Covenant that had decided to take up refugee inside. Squinting his eyes, he could make out a suspicious looking object in the distance, but his thermal and NV scans were negative. He keyed his COM, "All squads dismount, and form up. Turn the Razors to provide maximum suppressive fire.
He dropped out of his Razor's command seat and into the troop compartment. The door dropped open and he ran out, followed by eighteen fully armed Marines. The Razors, shaped like a sloped box, but with a turret, were designed to carry eighteen fully armed Marines and be able to destroy a tank or armored vehicle. They did both exceptionally well.
He took a position parallel with the parked Razor, lifted his MA6C3 'Battle rifle,' and peered through the scope. When the rest of the squads had formed up he ordered them down the dark corridor. The Marines jogged down the hallway, boot heels ringing, equipment jangling, and barrel mounted flashlights glowing eerily in the dark.
Suddenly the corridor opened into a large circular room. The room was dominated in the middle by a large pyramid shaped structure. Around the structure dozens of four-foot tall rectangles dotted the metallic floor, like an above ground graveyard. Atop the pyramid and behind the rectangles waited a Covenant force.
The Covenant had been arrayed in a V-formation, ending at the Pyramid. Around the area sat at least a dozen Shade guns. Hudson took all of this in at a glance and ordered his Marine Dismount force to fall back as the nearest Shade opened up spraying argent energy over the Marines.
One Marine reeled back, his finger holding down the trigger of his Battle rifle, bullets ricocheting off the walls. Hudson dropped to one knee and took aim at the Shade. He sighted on the Elite manning the weapon and fired a three round burst.
The Elite's shields glowed an electric white and his aim shifted, giving the wounded Marine time to retreat. The Marine turned and ran, his left arm hanging uselessly at his side, the metal of his shoulder armor adhering to his skin.
Hudson jumped up and spun, heading back to the APCs. "Laager, laager!"
The three Razor APCs responded to the command by spinning each tread in a different direction. The vehicles turned a complete one-eighty without ever having to move forward or back. With a screech the ramps dropped down and thudded into the cold, hard metal floor. The Marines ran up the ramp as the Razor's 30mm Chain Gun opened up, vomiting fire at the Covenant forces.
Hundreds of HE rounds shot down range tearing into the now-exposed Covenant forces with devastating effect. The Shades literally exploded in showers of violet energy and flame. The Covenant infantry not behind cover was torn to bloody bits by the large caliber rounds. After only a minute of full suppressive fire, the Covenant force had been almost wiped out.
What few survivors there were turned and ran in the opposite direction, trying to escape the heavy volume of fire coming from the Razors. None did. After the Razors had did all they could do, Hudson ordered the Marines to dismount again and clear out any surviving Covenant. They did so methodically. The UNSC force had managed to capture a Covenant stronghold with inferior numbers and minor casualties. And they were just getting started.
Taking Halo: (Chapter Four) The Cartographer
Date: 9 June 2003, 3:42 AM
Authors Note: Its been a while since I posted and I kinda ended this one sooner than intended, but the next will make up for it. If you don't know what's happening click on "Read this series.
Taking Halo: (Chapter 4) The Cartographer
Dramatis Personae:
Colonel William Jenkins—1st *MAS Battalion Commanding officer
Major Jason Reynolds—1st MAS Battalion Executive officer
Captain James Armstrong—Bravo Company Commander
Gunnery Sergeant Patrick Myers—Bravo Company 1st Sergeant
Staff Sergeant Matthew Duncan—Bravo Company Sniper
PFC Nicholas Moore—Bravo Company Demolitions and Heavy Weapons Expert
Colonel Rick Santinez—2nd Armored Calvary Battalion Commander
2nd Lieutenant Jack Hudson—2nd Armored Calvary Battalion C Company, 3rd Platoon Dismount
Lieutenant Samuel "Saint" Ryder—VF41 "Black Aces" Squadron member
Captain Jeffery Wayne—Commander of the UNSC Talbot
Lako 'Ikaptammue—Covenant Ship Master of CCS Purity of Spirit
Karen Hunt—UWN (Universal Wide News) Reporter tasked to the UNSC Roost
*MAS—Mechanized Armored Suit
2350 Hours, October 31, 2552 (Military Calendar)/
Groundside on 2nd located Halo, unknown system, designated as System Halo II
The golden-armored Elite picked his way through the rocky landscape with great precision. Sensing something, the Elite dodged behind a weathered red boulder and peeked his head around the rock.
Craaaaaaaaack!
The Elite's head exploded in a shower of blood and bone fragments. The rock was stained a deep violet and the Elite's headless corpse slumped to the ground.
"Bloody good shot, Sarge," said the Bravo Company commander, Captain James Armstrong.
"Thank you, sir. We could have gotten closer, though. A mile is pretty long—even for my 20mm."
"Yeah, but they're getting closer. We don't want them to realize we're here yet."
Staff Sergeant Matthew Duncan eased his two-ton Mechanized Armored Suit up off the red desert floor and shouldered his 120-pound 20mm sniper rifle. "That's the Cartographer over there, isn't it?" He asked, pointing in the distance.
Captain Armstrong's helmeted head lifted and looked in the direction Duncan was pointing. "Yep. And, we're going to take it."
"It looks heavily defended. Even our suits can't stand up to Banshees," Duncan stated anxiously.
"Don't worry 'bout it. We've got air support. Now let's get back to the ol' man."
Duncan nodded and they stood up and jogged off in the direction of the 1st MAS Battalion's HQ.
2nd Located Halo local space, bridge of the CCS Purity of Spirit
Lako 'Ikaptammue turned and bowed to the Prophet before him. "You're early, Exalted. I would have thought you—"
The Major Prophet waved a gauntleted arm in his direction, signaling him to be quiet. "I do not care what you would have thought, 'Ikaptammue. I am here and that is all that counts. Now what is happening with these humans?"
'Ikaptammue inwardly flinched. "They have somehow managed to land on the ring world, but we did take out their carrier. They're stranded here—easy pickings." Just like arữbii.
The Prophet clicked his shoulder sockets in acknowledgment. "To what cost was the human ship taken out?"
'Ikaptammue groaned. "Three destroyers and a battlecruiser."
The Prophet's green eyes bulged. "You lost four ships to a primitive human ship. How did that happen? Did they use one of their dirty 'nukes?' Nevermind, it doesn't matter. What are you planning on doing about the humans on Halo?"
'Ikaptammue smiled for the first time this day. "I've already dispatched a force to take destroy them." The God's instruments are pure and invincible! How true the True Saying was.
Cockpit of C742 Dagger Space Superiority Fighter
Lieutenant Samuel "Saint" Ryder of the VF41 Black Aces was feeling lucky. It was a perfect day to fly—and kill Covenant. His Dagger had been fully prepared too. Carrying a full load of IR missiles, his Dagger also sported a full cannon load and four ISB-ANapalm bombs.
He pulled back on the stick and eased his fighter between two high hilltops. He was flying at an altitude of 200 feet—and about to break the sound barrier. Realizing this, he pulled his throttles back and pushed the nose up. His fighter slowed down noticeably.
Craning his head around, he could just make out the tips of the three other fighters in his flight. "Soup, tighten it up. Alright, Aces, you know the drill. Hit the target with Napalm and split, going after targets of opportunity."
COM clicks greeted him in acknowledgement, just as his HUD beeped and a Nav point popped up. It was time to rock. Knowing it was against regulations, not to mention dangerous, but doing it anyway, Saint initiated a sound track. Most of it was new stuff, but some of it was old, having been around for over 500 years. And hitting it off was a song by an old group long dead, Metallica. The song was Attitude.
As the kick-ass guitar-solo intro started off, Saint flicked his weapons selector over to 'Bomb' and watched the arming light on his HUD go green. "Saint has a hot pickle. Going into the break, watch for air."
Saint shot over a last green hill and found himself flying through a barren red desert, sparsely populated with boulders. Squinting through his visor he could make out the looming structure up ahead. "Tally ho!"
He flicked his engines into afterburner and was immediately slammed back into his seat as over 500,000 pounds of thrust shot from each engine. He barely had time to press the button on his control column that would drop the bombs before he shot past the structure.
"Rifle by four!" He kicked his fighter up into a port turn and craned his head back behind him so he could see the structure engulfed in flames. He wasn't worried the bomb would destroy the structure—it wouldn't. The ISB-ANaplam bombs were designed to flow around and inside buildings, destroying anything inside, but not the building itself.
He put his Dagger through a loop and looked down behind him. His stomach did a flip-flop. Two Covenant Seraphs were trailing him, and already he could see each of them launching a Plasma Torpedo at him. Instinctively he slapped his control stick to the side and pulled, while his other hand tapped the button directly below the throttles, spewing out decoys.
His Dagger rolled to the left and banked. Saint wasn't ready for the sudden onset of extreme Gs and he almost blanked out, but he managed to stay conscious. He checked his HUD and saw his Dagger banking through the vertical at over forty-five degrees a second. Nothing in the sky could turn like that.
His sensors told him the torpedoes had missed, so he completed his fighter's inversion and dove. That was when he realized he'd made a mistake. His altitude was around 5,000 feet, his nose was pointed straight down, and his speed was about to push over 500 knots. Stupid! Unless he did something he was about to be a Black Ace pancake.
He grabbed the stick in both hands and pulled with everything he had. He checked his HUD for altitude, speed, and G. He almost stopped turning in surprise. He was pulling over 75-G. The Dagger's computer, Bitchin' Betty started squawking, "Over G, Over G, Over G..."
If it weren't for the Dagger's inertial compensator, he'd be free floating atoms right now. Finally his nose swung above the horizon and he checked his altitude: -10.5674 feet. Computer must be off... The good thing was he found himself right behind a Seraph, and his computer's IR lock-up tone was growling in his ears.
Pressing the switch on his control column, he said, "Fox Two," and watched an AIS-36 ALRAAM missile streak away on a fiery plume of smoke. The heat-seeking missile lanced into the back of the Seraph and exploded. The fighter blew-up spectacularly.
Saint keyed his COM, "Saint is through and splashes one Seraph."
"I need some cover, Saint. I've got two of 'em on my six. Can't shake 'em. Fuck! My left engine's gone! I need some cover!"
"Hold on, Soup. I'm coming," Saint said as he punched his fighter up through a twisting loop and down—right behind another Seraph.
Deployment + 04:35:19 (Private First Class Nicholas Moore Mission Clock)/
Edge of structure under attack by the VF41 "Black Aces"
"Let's do it, B Company. It's time to earn your pay," the Bravo Company first Sergeant yelled.
PFC Nick Moore smiled to himself and kicked his two-ton Mechanized Armored Combat Suit out from behind cover, along with the rest of Bravo Company. Nick could feel the adrenaline pumping through him—it all seemed so surreal.
Here he was, a soldier in the modern army, charging a modern enemy like Viking savages. When the plan had been lined out, he had half-expected the command 'Fix bayonets!' Most Marines would consider this plan of attack suicidal, but they weren't armor-jocks. Only the suit he was wearing made it possible.
Around him over a hundred other suited Marines ran, all ready to fight. Overhead Daggers and Covenant Seraphs wheeled, twisted, and dove, each trying their best to kill the other. In front of him the structure was aflame. Hundreds of Covenant soldiers screamed in agony and died in excruciating pain. Unfortunately, there was still a couple of hundred left alive, and at 100 yards from the structure they showed themselves.
Elites, Jackals, and Hunters popped from around boulders, ready to fight. As Plasma sizzled past him and the rest of B Company, Nick leveled his weapon. Because he was Bravo's Heavy Weapons Specialist he had been issued a high-powered flamethrower.
He gently squeezed the trigger and watched the carnage. Most people suffered from the misconception that a flamethrower simple shot out fire in a mist and that it had no range whatsoever. Well, those people were wrong. At around 90 yards the flamethrower boomed and a long comet of fire rocketed toward the enemy.
An Elite was head dead in the chest and his shield literally dissolved, barely lasting half a second. The Elite died almost instantly, his body a scorched husk. Next to receive treatment was a higher-ranking Jackal.
The Jackal squatted down and hid behind his shield, his arm stuck out the side, a stream of plasma shooting out his pistol. The blast of flame slammed into his shield and knocked it—and the Jackal—back a dozen feet. The Jackal didn't get back up.
Looking up he could see no more Covenant. They had done it. The Cartographer was theirs.
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