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Apocalypse Halo
Posted By: Elpolloguapo<tom_leith@bbns.org>
Date: 2 July 2008, 5:47 pm
Read/Post Comments
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Part One
Prologue-The First Battle of Earth
New Mombasa, East African Protectorate, October 20, 2552
The field radio crackled with static. "Corporal Fisher!" the Lieutenant's voice came through. "Report!"
I grabbed the transmitter. "Sir, we've taken up defensive positions in an office building overlooking memorial park. We've had a pretty steady stream of survivors coming in since the first attacks, though recently they've been scarce. Last count gave me five men left from my fire team, fourteen other marines, three of whom are too badly wounded to fight, twenty-seven civilians, of whom eighteen can be considered combat effectives. The rest are either wounded, elderly, or children. Two of them have medical training. Ammunition and medical supplies are plentiful, sir, we've captured about two dozen covenant weapons and many of the survivors brought medkits. Over."
"Good. Hang in there, Corporal. Air support and VTOLs for evac to hardpoints are inbound ASAP. Over."
"Yessir. Can I have an ETA on that? Over."
"Negative, Corporal, things are pretty messy and we're not sure when equipment's going to be free. Over."
"Got it. Thank you sir."
"One more thing, Corporal. Master Chief is on the ground working with the Marines. Have hope. Over and out."
My heart jumped to my throat. Master Chief was a living legend. To think that we were fighting the same battle as him, defending the same ground as him…
I replaced the transmitter in its cradle and grabbed my BR55 Battle Rifle as I stepped out of our makeshift CIC. "Jones, how're we doing?"
"Not much to tell, sir. Looks like we've got some grunts, maybe a jackal or two, hiding among the rubble down there. No exchange of fire in the past ten minutes," Lance Corporal Jones, my second in command, called out to me. While talking, he remained kneeling against the wall with his eyes down the sights of his rifle, which was pointing out the window.
I kneeled by another window and leveled my rifle, staring down the barrel through the 2x scope. I occasionally spotted the points of backpack methane tanks, and occasionally a hand or foot, sticking out from behind a mass of broken concrete in the park. "Yep, looks like five or six grunts and a couple of jackals. They must be terrified if they're hiding down there together."
"Any orders, sir?" The Lance inquired from my left.
"Keep your eyes peeled for anything more serious-elites, or god forbid, hunters. Any break in the pattern, any movement anywhere else, I want to know. Got it?"
"Yessir."
"Good. Now, how about a friendly little wager-I'll bet you a beer I can bag one of those grunts."
"Sir, I hardly think that proper."
"Damn you Jones, why do you have to act like some ancient English butler?"
"Actually, sir, an ancestor of mine was butler to the Duke of-"
"Stow it and make the bet."
"Is that an order, sir?"
"It will be if you don't do it."
"Then I accept your terms, sir."
"Good man." I had been making bets with Jones over just about everything since we had been in boot camp together. It was just a way for me to relieve the tension, the fear, of being in combat. I lowered my eye to my rifle and lined the crosshairs up on a grunt's methane tank, began easing the trigger and-
"Sir, come here, we have a problem," a marine from across the room shouted.
I cursed, got up, and ran over. Out the window I saw three squads of grunts, each led by an elite, advancing through cover across the park towards our building. "All right, wait until they get close enough for a sure hit, then headshot all the grunts. Once they're down, concentrate your fire on the elites."
"Got it, Corporal."
I called over a few men from elsewhere around the room to set up crossfire on the infantry below. The enemy slowly but surely advanced, and I lined up my shot, preparing to give the order to open fire. But suddenly the building shook violently and there was a deafening explosion.
I whirled around to see the corner of the building where I had been, minutes before, completely annihilated, and streams of white-hot plasma oozing in rivulets down twisted rebars. Through the hole I could see a bulbous purple vehicle, hovering a few inches off the ground. A Wraith. There was no sign of Lance Corporal Jones.
I shook my head and shouted to my men, "down the stairs, get out of the building, now!" Everyone scrambled to their feet and poured down the stairs. "Somebody grab all the rockets we have. Private Richards, get the launcher!" After I made sure everyone had gone, I sprinted after them, just in time to escape another lethal ball of plasma as it exploded behind me. We all poured out the back door.
"Civilians, get to the end of the street, take a left! Try to link up with Sergeant Banks' team! He's in the office building at the end of the plaza. Go!" I turned to the soldiers in my group. "Marines, take cover and provide suppressing fire. We'll hold out as long as we can, try to give the civilians a decent shot at escaping."
As the civilians ran off behind us, every marine unflinchingly raised their weapon and ducked behind whatever was available. There was no argument to the order in spite of the fact that it unquestionably spelled death for us all.
The approaching elites howled with rage as they saw the civilians escaping, and drove their squads in pursuit. The grunts closed extremely fast for beasts of their size, and within seconds were nearly in range. I brought my rifle to bear on a grunt's head and prepared to fire…when suddenly there was a screeching sound and it exploded.
I swung my rifle down and looked up. Just over the far line of buildings, a pair of stubby, delta-winged aircraft was circling back for another pass. They were UNSC Shortsword bombers. Looking back at the enemy squads, I saw the survivors scrambling for overhead cover, but they weren't in time. The bombers came tearing over once again, and the enemy infantry was engulfed in another massive explosion. A third pass destroyed the Wraith in a blast of blue flame and plasma.
As the bombers banked off to some other target zone, dipping their wings in acknowledgement of me and my men, three Pelican VTOL transports swooped over the buildings to our left, coming down with their landing bays open and their nose machine guns sweeping the ground ahead of them, ensuring that no Covenant soldier was left alive.
A cheer rose from the Marines as we came out of cover and trotted towards the Pelicans. Once everyone was on board, the transports slowly rose into the air and started for a field hospital far behind the lines. Rising away from that street, above the charred Covenant corpses, was one of the best feelings of my life. It wouldn't last.
We had just begun our horizontal flight, maybe fifteen seconds after takeoff, when someone looked out the aft hatch of the Pelican and called out to me. "Corporal Fisher, you gotta look at this!"
I walked to the back, ducked under the lip of the hatch, and stared out. The massive assault carrier that had been hanging over the city had turned and was ascending slowly into the air. As I watched, a white ripple appeared at the bow, then all along the forward edge of the ship. It was entering slipspace, running away.
"We got 'em!" A Marine jubilantly cried, "They're running!"
"We did…" I said softly. But something felt wrong. "No one slips this close to a planet…"
Just as I said it, the pilot screamed over the ship's radio. "Brace for impact! Close aft hatches, everyone grab on to something!"
Suddenly, there was a blinding flash of light from the center of the city. A wall of debris appeared in the air, rising higher and higher, and at the very top of my field of vision the New Mombasa Orbital Elevator began collapsing, until my view of it was blocked out as the wall approached.
The shockwave hit the Pelicans moments later. As the pilot screamed that she had lost control, the transport swung madly around, my view panning from rapidly advancing ground to rapidly advancing flying debris. Something, moving too fast to be identified, flew past not ten feet from where I sat, holding the seat so tightly that my knuckles were white. It was at least as large as a bus. Then a flash of dull color overwhelmed my sight as a thousand noises overwhelmed my ears, and I knew no more.
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