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EUPHORIA: PT .1
Posted By: Herbert Markwirth<herbertm@pcisys.net>
Date: 2 January 2008, 5:32 am
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CHAPTER ONE
CRASH
Year: 2548
Location: Planet of Euphoria, City of Republica, The Utopian Sea
Corporal Martinez held strong as his Sparrow landing craft, a sleek vehicle propelled by spinning fans, outfitted with 12 outdoor seats surrounded by railing, glided out of the misty clouds, high above a rain-washed beach, facing a green ocean. Hundreds of more Sparrow landers and Pelican drop-ships stayed close behind, like a swarm of black bees, blurring sunlight. There had been a rumor going around that the was a SPARTAN among them, but Martinez just ignored the fact. A fog clung to the beach's dark sands, obscuring it. Past the beach, up a large hill covered with barbed wire and electric-blue mines, a row of strange purple, polyhedral bunkers stood guard. Beyond that, laid a large city, Republica. It was one of the three cities that made up the colony on the planet Euphoria. Euphoria was a docile, jungle planet, teeming with indigenous life, teetering on the outer ridge of UNSC controlled space. It was called the one last peaceful paradise of a planet, until now. Republica had been seized by a collection of alien races only known as the Covenant. Their religious beliefs of an ancient gateway to salvation had brainwashed there troops into doing anything their religious leaders, The Prophets, told them. It was the UNSC's job to get things back to order.
The Corporal armed his MA5K assault rifle, the morning rain trickling against his armor. The sky had turned to a light gray, rather than blue, because of the newly set up Covie factories. The AI-controlled lander glided just above the sheets of enemy fire raining down from turret emplacements within the dark Covenant bunkers. Rows of blue plasma burned through the Sparrow ranks, sending the burning crafts spiraling into others, in plumes of orange and red. On top of that, lighting would occasionally flash down causing any ships in the vicinity to stall, hurling them towards the ground, which resulted in an untimely demise. A burst of plasma caught his squad's lander control console and the maneuvering fins, sending a burst of sparks, and groans of metal into the air. Slag splattered along the length of the craft glowed a white-hot red. The crew of twelve UNSC soldiers, dressed in jungle camouflaged fatigues and army green armor, all tensed as the ship dropped six meters in a half-second. "Were fallin' too fast! Pull the stabilizers!" yelled the commanding officer, Lieutenant Hackerson. The tech specialist quickly kneeled to a panel, prying it off. He reached for an orange-handeled saftey lever within the panel and jerked it. Stabilizer fins sprung out all sides of the Sparrow lander, with a metallic springing noise. They were not strong enough to withstand the strong ocean winds, and the damage so far distained. They snapped off like toothpicks, exposing circuitry and wiring, in a flare of silver, crackling sparks. Fire and smoke billowed from the under belly of the craft and it dropped even further.
"Everybody, brace yourself!" The tech specialist yelled over the crackling of the fire. Corporal Martinez ducked down and grabbed the ship's frame, bracing himself against it. The rest of the marines did the same, creating what looked like mass of green lumps. The lander began to skim the green ocean water, spewing up a frothy white haze over the hull of the lander. The ocean mist sopped the troops in a salty mist, leaving them dripping and cold. The Sparrow lurched over a sand bar, wrenching bolts from the hull, and tossing pieces of armor into the wet mud. It swerved parallel to the beach, flipping the battered vehicle into a wild spin. The marines were flung like rag dolls, into the sloshing water. The corporal felt as if he were being wrenched up, like a child's toy being tossed around by a toddler. His vision was a mess. A blurry pattern of sky, sea, sky, sea, sky, sea, sky, and then to sea, in a body-rattling plunge in to the unusually, chilled water.
The Corporal felt a sense of vertigo, and then slowly came to, from the hazy blur of blackness. He felt the cold water in every crevice of his uniform, seeping to his bones, sending chills through his limp body. He tucked his legs close to his body and jerked his arms forward, bringing him to a right-side-up position. Instinctively, he went into a frenzied swimming. He burst through the surface of the glossy water, gasping. Martinez quickly felt his stomach lurch and he vomited into the water, faintly hazing the patch of water ghostly white. He looked to his left, other marines also burst through the surface, some motionless, and pale. The water surrounding the confused marines was a thick red, striped by frothy ocean foam, rather than its normal bluish-green. Amidst the chaos, seagulls picked at the dead, using them as rafts to stay afloat. To his right the flaming landing craft slowly drifted apart into pieces of charred wreckage. Lt. Hackerson, swimming away from the flaming mass, yelled. "GET BACK UNDER THE WATER, IT'S GOING TO BLOW!"
Martinez breathed in a deep breath, his lungs burned, and he tasted blood in his mouth. He dove back into the water. The corporal curled into a ball, sinking into the dark abyss as far as he could go. There was a pause of silence. A stifled blast sent a acoustic burst through his now ringing ears. A concussive wave of pain threw Martinez out of his ball, flipping him head over heels. Yet again he struggled fight the blackness of unconsciousness. It was a losing battle.
"Martinez! Are you okay! Snap out of it! Wake up, WAKE UP!" Martinez was shook back into conciseness by the squad's medic, Dominic "Doc" Malone. He could barley see, the medic was just a blurred figure of a man. The loud ringing in his ears, made the world seem like it was on mute, the medic yelling blankly. Martinez hacked up water in a rough cough. He felt a jab of pain in his thigh. His vision quickly snapped back into its regular clarity, and his ears returned to normal a moment after. Doc had given him an injection of k-6-12, designed to help disoriented soldiers get back to it. Martinez's vision cleared further bringing him the image of a beach littered with burning vehicles, mangled, smoking bodies accompanied by flocks of gulls, and twisted supplies scattered everywhere. He realized where he was, behind a half of an obliterated Sparrow, crumpled and laying on its side at the shore. Water sloshed up and down nagging at his body. Fish were tossed onto the sand by rushing waves. A flopping fish next to the corporal, made a wet smacking noise, and a wop, wop, wop, with its gaping mouth. Martinez sprung into a sitting position, "Shut up, you frickin' fish-face." He thrust his combat knife through its scaly head, pinning it to the ground. It quickly went limp.
"I can see that your back to normal," Doc remarked. "Get up," He said reaching out a gloved hand. Martinez clenched his hand tightly and pulled himself up. "Thanks," he groaned. "Here," Doc handed him a battered MA5C assault rifle. "there's only a few clips left," The medic said as he handed him two clips, one half used. The corporal shoved one into his supply pouches, and he slapped in a fresh clip into the rifle's empty stock. The ammo counter glowed a omniscient blue 32. Dominic ripped another assault rifle from the Sparrow's emergency weapons locker, and pulled the arming lever, with a electronic beep. "Let's move."
CHAPTER TWO
CITYBOUND
Year: 2548
Location: Planet of Euphoria, City of Republica, the South Utopian Beach
The two marines ran from cover to cover, shadow to shadow, covering each other as they moved along. A rehearsed symphony of what they learned in training at boot camp. "Not much longer now, there's an opening in the barbed wire, further down." The medic gestured towards a part of a beach where a long black gouge in the earth streaked through the barbed wire, severing the rows. An overturned pelican sat at the top of the hill, the maker of the gouge. Martinez and Dom jumped down in the deep crevice, kicking up ash. They maneuvered their way over the irregular land, almost stumbling on the loose, coarse sand and rock. When they reached the top, out of breath, they stopped beside the pelican, stuffing as much ammo as their armor could hold before bursting. A few weapons were scavenged from the wreck, but one was intact. Martinez held up the only surviving gun. Luckily, it was a M90 CQB shotgun, they may need it in close quarters. He flicked the pump, ejecting a red shell. "My little friend…" The corporal grinned, as he slung his rifle around his shoulder, and looked down the shotgun's sights.
"Whoa, look." Doc pointed towards a bunker, Martinez looking to the marked point. their eyes began to follow a trench, with arch shaped supports running above it draped with camouflage netting. It ran down to a stairway which led into a deeper trench at the back entrance of one of the polyhedral bunkers. "I think we just found our way in," the corporal said matter-of-factly. The two soldiers hit the ground and crawled through the mud, and stopped just as the barrels of their guns crossed the edge of the deeper trench.
A long beak-like snout, lined with serrated teeth poked out of the large purple sliding door, marked with alien characters. It emerged further, looking left and right with it's large pink-red eyes. It had an avian body, with beak-like head, the end of it spiked with white, orange, and brown feather-like spines. It was a jackal. Almost one of the ugliest covenant troops of the bunch. "Do it," Doc whispered. Cpl. Martinez Glanced down his sight a squeezed the trigger. The gun kicked back with the sound of thunder, showering the trench in a cone of pellets. Only a small amount of the pellets made it to the jackal, giving the closed door a dusting of blue, blurring the red alien character. The jackal reeled back and stumbled, giving off a shrill hiss. It went into a kneeling position, activating a wrist shield, the only thing protruding, a plasma pistol glowing a bright green. "Get down!" The corporal yelled, as he shoved Doc's head down and then his own. A green globule trailing plasmatic gas whizzed past the soldiers' helmets, bathing them with heat. If it hit them, it would burn through their armor like a super-heated knife through melted butter. Martinez pulled the pump again, and squeezed the trigger, two more times in quick succession. The jackal stumble back as the first blast hit the shield with so much force spread evenly across, it overloaded. A flash of white, and blue, and the shield had disappeared. The jackal looked down at his wrist generator, and went into frenzied fear, slamming his fist uncontrollably on the silver piece of Covenant technology. The second blast ripped through the alien, sending it wheeling back into a wall plated with purple alloy, with a moist, pulpy smack. The corpse slid down the wall, leaving a trail of blue, and grits of flesh and organ. The two soldiers pushed up out of the mud and jumped down into the trench with a muddy clank. "Damn…" Doc said as he observed the jackal corpse. It's flesh resembled Swiss cheese, and it's skin turned pail, and turned a tinted purple around wounds.
"File up on the door," Martinez said through the misty air. As the corporal strolled toward the door, it unexpectedly slid open, exposing a surprised elite warrior. The elites were the iron fist of the covenant, standing 8 feet tall, clad in latest covenant body armor protected by an energy shield. You never want to run into a pissed off elite, because, most likely, you'd end up dead. "Holy shit!" Doc yelled as he stumbled back into a wall. Martinez fired the shotgun in a fiery blast, into the elite's body center. The elite ducked back, taking the pellets pretty well. It warbled a deep moan of anger and lunged at Martinez, pinning him against the wall. He wrenched the shotgun out of the corporal's fist and tossed it into the bunker. "You are one ugly sun of b-" Martinez's throat was clenched tighter by the elites long bony fingers. "TIME FOR YOU TO DIE." The elite hissed through his mandibles in a guttural tone. A burst of fire from an assault rifle caught the elite in his head, his shields flaring. He backed off, roaring an alien word. He removed his damaged. sparking helmet, and tossed it to the ground with a metallic clatter. The elite chuckled sinisterly, pulling out a white bar, shaped like a handle. Two blue blades bursted out of thin air in an electric white-blue flash, from either side of the handle. An energy sword, deadly in hand to hand combat.
It lunged once again, towards it's target. Martinez jumped to his side, narrowly missing the white hot blade. He rolled and skidded to stop at his shot gun, his thick soled boots squeaking against the slick floor. Just as the elite turned his head, a burning shower of pellets trailing light impacted across him. He tumbled back, splattering in his own entrails. The remains stinked horridly, like an animal carcass. The energy sword slid across the floor, stopping. It began to sink as it burned through the rubber trench flooring.
"Ok, lets get this over with." Doc pulled out a beacon and armed it with a ping and a flash of red. He tossed it into the bunker door. "Let's go, bombing drones are on the way. The other bunkers should already be marked by the other. Let's get the city and quick." The two-man team ran toward the gloomy building silhouettes in the distance, bobbing up and down over the land, sprinkled with craters.
CHAPTER THREE
METROTROPOLIS
Year: 2548
Location: Planet of Euphoria, City of Republica, Near city hall
The convoy of Wolverine AA vehicles, Cougar armored cars, and Warthog all-terrain jeeps, protected the marines as they traversed the streets. Corporal Martinez grabbed the roll cage above him as the Cougar rattled over some debris. Doc and Martinez had stumbled upon a convoy a few hours ago, and the commanding officer, Captain Yakamari simply said, "Welcome to the survivors club, marines. Get into one of the cougars. We're headed for City Hall."
Martinez sat against the landing ramp, and looked down the rows of seats filled with soldiers. "So, who are you?" Said a marine sitting across from Martinez, with a shaved head, and who showed the onset of five o' clock shadow. "Cpl. Martinez, Me and my friend here," The corporal gestured towards Doc, " are all that's left of 205th brigade, you?" "Name's Sgt. Frost, just got promoted a few hours ago. If it hadn't been for that assault on the beach I'd still be a corporal like you… Oh yeah, I'm with the Helljumpers, or you could just say I'm just ODST." Frost eyes looked towards Martinez's armor. "I can see that you seen some action," he said referring to the purple stain splattered across the corporal's uniform. Martinez looked down at himself," Oh, this," He chuckled, " We ran into one P.O.ed elite. Luckily I had a shotgun and I blasted that bastard into next week. Anyway, does any one know if there is anyone else from 205th around here-"
The Cougar rattled once more, and the pilot turned his head back into the troop cabin, "BANSHEES!" The Cougar shook even more violently. Banshees were the Covenant's low altitude combat fliers, that had that mysterious Covenant purple color. The landing ramp slowly slid down, and the intercom blared, "Jump!" "Are you serious?" The corporal questioned. " Just go!" The soldiers one by one walked to the landing ramp. Martinez was first. He crouched low, and crept to the edge of the ramp, carefully avoiding the flaring white-hot sparks. He waited until the Cougar armored car skidded past a small patch of grass beside a palm tree, sufficient padding, and jumped with all his strength. He slammed into the wet grass, spewing up rain water, and went a roll. He sprung back up and jogged towards an old car wreck, from when they evacuated the city. The two crushed cars provided cover for now. He glanced up, two banshees hovered low, maneuvering around the concrete jungle. The convoy had stopped alongside a office building, that had had fallen into a state of disrepair. and Martinez knew he had get there. He went into a kneeling position and burst into a sprint. He went into a zigzag when he felt heat washing over him and blue in his vision. The corporal jumped and slid over the hood of a Warthog, landing in the office building doorway. He looked back, the street was peppered with holes and slag. The warthog was on fire, the paint peeling and burning in blue fire.
Inside, there were cubicles who's walls had collapsed, the aisles were littered with papers, and computers, printers, fax machines, and phones were trashed across the entire floor. Martinez guessed that the Covenant really searched the entire building, probably finding nothing of interest. "Come on," yelled Doc, standing at the bottom of a stair-well. The corporal, corpsman, and the rest of the 50 or so marines rushed up the steps, like a giant backwards river. At the second floor, the soldiers went into leaning crouch against the wall facing towards the street, looking down at the abandoned line of vehicles. Martinez looked up, the banshees were still circling. "Hit the dirt, they're going strafe the windows!" Yelled Lieutenant Maverick, who assumed command, for as the captain's life was lost when the banshees struck the convoy. The corporal, next to Doc ducked as blue fire spewed across the buildings main face, splattering slag through the air. It narrowly missed the marines, and hit the carpet, burning through it quickly with a tiny flame. A stale, pungent smell of the synthetic carpeting wafted through the destroyed cubicles. A radio man dashed across the room to the Lieutenant, who barked an order, "Get air-support, Hornets if you can, they're best against Banshees. That's an order." The Radio man pressed the headset mouth-piece against his face, and began chatter with Air-Command (A-COMM).
Not a moment too soon, the voices of the soldiers were shrouded with the sound of roaring engines. Three Hornet fast-attack aircrafts hovered out of the clouds, plummeting towards the city. The swooped in a low, inverted arc, passing below the roof tops and in-between the glassy sky scrapers. A hailstorm of slugs and missiles belched from the hornets four multi-purpose rotary cannons. The leads Banshee twisted, and dented, the hull being easily punctured in bursts of electric blue fire. The flier burst into a large ball of fiery plasma, plummeting to the street. It scraped the asphalt street, tearing into multiple pieces. The chunks of armor, and technology bounced into shops and cafes along the street, setting them a ablaze. As the second banshee's wings were blown off, the body of the craft began descending. The long streamlined banshee airframe, a pod encasing an elite, folded open, revealing it's pilot. A Covenant warrior, clad in an helmet protecting it's entire head from high-altitude, grabbed each side of the banshee piloting pod. He stood up, still clenching the flier. Letting go, he jumped, pulling a lever on his shoulder. Hatches in the back-plating of the elite's armor slid open, exposing a pair of jet thrusters, suspending him in mid-air. It all happened in one fluid motion, in a mere matter of seconds. As the hornets flew, full-speed, they were unable to dodge the unexpected elite soldier.
The alien smacked against on of the Hornet's plexi-glass windshield with a loud thud. The elite groaned, a sound that went unheard in the commotion, and shook his head. He reached down and grabbed a holstered plasma rifle. Firing a burst of plasma, he burned a ugly hole in the now blood-spattered glass. Sensing that the pilot's vital signs had gone flat, the craft went into auto pilot. The elite warrior put the rifle away, now with a plasma grenade held in his large fist. He tossed the flaring blue ball through the jagged opening and jumped back into a hovering state, the hornet gliding below him. It was headed right for the office building.
As the elite now exploded into a cloud of blue mist, once targeted by the other aircraft, the soldiers watched in horror, as the rocketing hornet hurled towards them. The Marines all ran for the opposing wall, jumping against it, not taking a single moment to look back. Martinez, pressed against a wall stripped to nothing but wiring, frame, and bricks, heard a loud, piercing shatter, things colliding with others, and a horrid screeching of a metal. There was a pause and then a muffled boom, sending a shock wave at them that would have knocked them over if it hadn't been for that wall. In an instant it was all over. The row of stunned men turned towards the source of the sounds. The entire street-facing wall of the second floor, was gone, wiped clean by the hornet. Surviving sun light streamed into the room. The floor was no longer visible, underneath a layer of bricks, dry-wall, metal, battered cubicle walls, and torn, crumpled paper. Nearly touching the marines, sat the twisted frame of a burning, unrecognizable Hornet Aircraft. Maverick took a step forward and turned to the men. "No time to gawk marines, we got a war to fight."
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