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Author Note: I'm real sorry this took so long. For two reasons really. One, I was busy setting UNSCDF back up, and two, I really wanted this entry to be longer and generally more detailed. I hope you like it!



Deployment + 0 hours: 3 minutes: 18 seconds (Corporal Wilkens Mission Clock )/
UNSC In Amber Clad, moving into position above Delta Halo ring

"Alright, ladies", Lieutenant Roeder addressed the 12 men arrayed in front of him, all of which were going to be on the same Pelican as his, "Get ready for a fight. They know we're here, and they ain't going to just give up. Our objective, as you all know", and everybody did know, "is to recover an artifact known as the Index. This Index is key to the Covenant activating the ring. Obviously, we can't let that happen. Now, everybody here is to take a stim shot, and load up on ammo. I want that", he gestured over his soldier to the weapons lockers, and ammunition cases, "gone. We will most likely not get resupply from the ship, so we're going heavy. After we land, stay close. Now go get your gear."

Wilkens strode across the metal grating along with the eleven other men, and grabbed a sub-machine gun, an M90 Close Assault Shotgun, and six grenades, two of which being incidneary. He took twelve clips for the SMG, and near one-hundred buckshot rounds for the Shotgun. He put on his old battle scarred armor, and a combat vest over it, which offered various pockets and things for ammo, and any other supplies one might need in the field. Although, with all of Wilkens ammo, all available pockets were filled as tight as possible. He clipped two grenades onto his belt, and threw the rest in his backpack, along with around 12 MREs. He hoped it was all he would need. He was eager to get back to Earth.

After all the troops had gathered all available supplies and ammunition, they met the Lieutenant in Pelican Bay 01. Wilkens could see more than six other Pelicans in various stages of preparation. All pilots were in, and a few, including the Pelican next to their's, had it's group of Marines already on. There were two Pelican bays, each having eight Pelicans in them. A total assault force of approximately sixteen transports. Seemed like overkill to Wilkens. Fully loaded, each Pelican could carry around twelve troops, excluding the pilots. That times the number of Pelicans, equaled roughly around one-hundred ninety troops.

Of course, they would be proportioned out to various areas of the ring, but only in one section. Two targets. This "Library", and the Prophet of Regret. Only a few squads were dedicated to helping the Master Chief on his way to the Prophet, the rest of the Marines were going to be attacking the Library, and securing an area around it. Hopefully it would go as planned.

Deployment + 15 hours: 51 minutes: 18 seconds (Lieutenant Wilkens Mission Clock )/
Coastal Grid thirty-two by twenty-four, UNSC command structure A-9

Lieutenant Wilkens scanned the area with his binoculars. Nothing. No sign of Alpha 04's squad. "Try him again", he shouted down to Sergeant Richards to try the station's radio frequency again. He know there wouldn't be any response, but it couldn't hurt to try.

"Yes, sir", Richards responded, and put on the radio headset. "This is UNSC Coastal Realignment Station 14, stationed at grid twenty-four by thirty-two calling Alpha-04....."

Wilkens scampered down the rock he was standing on. It had been hours, where the hell were they? He had climbed up the rocks on the coast with Private Conahue near a half hour ago, hoping he would see Alpha's squad coming in from Old Mombasa. They had said they were close. 'Maybe', Wilkens thought, 'there's still Covenant in the city. Any way he saw it, he decided a rescue mission was in order, even if there was only a few broken, bloody bodies to be rescued and buried.

"It was worth a try, sir", Conahue said, and turned to go down the rope leading to the beach below.

He let Conahue climb down the rope first, and glanced back at the city. It was a smoldering wreck. Covenant bombardments had left gaping holes in buildings throughout the city, and smoke swirled into the dim, orange sky. Fires dotted the city scape, and Wilkens could see small orange, blue, red, and other colored creations moving about the city. Yes, there was still Covenant there. Damn.

Lieutenant Wilkens grabbed the rope, and slid to the ground. "Nothing, sir", was what greeted him below. Nothing from Alpha-04.

"Alright, Sergeant, pack it up. We keep watch in shifts, three at a time. Me, Conahue, and Diess are first. Next is Sergeant Richards", he looked at the Sergeant's tired eyes, and decided against it. "Let's give the Sergeant a rest. Instead, next will be Giers, McConolay, and Platts", he looked at McConolay, remembering how notorious he was for over-sleeping, "Don't worry, we'll wake you up. After that, you pick three to wake up, and so on. As for now, hit the hay." He pointed to their pre-fab memory structures. Most quickly dashed to each of their quarters. They had all been on edge since New Mombasa had been destroyed - nearly six hours ago.

He waited until they were all in their quarters, and slumped down next to Conahue, leaning against the rockface under the command station's canopy. Diess was manning the radio for any active military channels. They had received a transmission from a different station once more, after Alpha's, but lost it immediately.

There was nothing to do now but wait. Until tomorrow at least. That's when he would propose his search and rescue mission for the city, and ask for any volunteers. He didn't expect many, since it was likely most that went were not coming back. But he knew Conahue and Richards would. They were close friends, ever since boot. Conahue always used to be a joker, playing pranks on people, telling jokes, that sort of thing. But since the Covenant were spotted in the Sol system a day ago, he hadn't even cracked one of his sly smiles.

Diess, on the other hand, was an enigma. He didn't talk much, and tended to stay away from most people. Usually opting to be alone during recreation hours. To Wilkens, he just seemed . . .strange.
The only other thing Wilkens knew about him was his rank of Corporal.

"Diess, you and Conahue go up to the lookout post", he gestured over his shoulder to a small, rocky plateau a couple dozen yards away, which was high enough you could see past the rock wall and essentially both cities were visible. "Don't forget night vision, and take some long range NV scopes too, try to scout out the city. Report back at 0500." It was 0300.

"Yes, sir!" Conahue jumped up, grabbed his pack, and started to make his way to the plateau, Diess unenthusiastically trailing behind silently.

Wilkens took a seat at the radio himself. It was their lifeline - without some contact to the UNSC, they couldn't last another week without resupply. Ammo wasn't a problem, no one had an opportunity to pop a shot off, but food and fresh water were going to be trouble. The Mombasa Bay in front of them offered plenty of water, but was all saltwater, and they didn't have the equipment to refine it to drinkable water. So, while Wilkens and the search party were out the next day, he would inform the rest to keep the radio active at all times, and to start rationing to two meals a day.

He reached down for his pack leaning against the radio station's table. Feeling around, he felt, and pulled out a standard issue MedKit. Wilkens slowly, drowzilly rolled up his right sleeve. Reaching into the opened medical kit, he found a pressure injector, and some "wake up" stimulant. He put the small tube of stimulant into the pressurized syringe, and heard it click. Putting it to his arm, there was a lance of pain as the small stub of a needle lunged forward into his vein, injected the UNSC-made stim via a small puff of air, and went back into the injector. It all took less than a second.

Wilkens hit the needle ejector and the stub, the size of the tip of a safety pin, shot out into the sand. As he put the injector ands stim back into the kit, another needle slipped home, ready for use. This new syringe method had replaced the comparably long and awkward act of pushing a tube filled with the drug through a long, thin needle, into the bloodstream which existed up until the 21st century.

Soon Wilkens eyes no longer felt tired, and he immediately begun work on checking all the radio channels again, with little hope. He thought about flipping the switch to auto scan, but since he had just woken up, of sorts, and had plenty of time since the others came back, he decided to manually switch between channels, and send a pre-made transmission out to each and every channel. He felt sorry for Richards, this was quite boring.

Deployment + 0 hours: 9 minutes: 18 seconds (Corporal Wilkens Mission Clock )/
Pelican Dropship en route to Library construct on Delta Halo ring

Gorgeous. It was a beautiful yet potentially deadly sight. Wilkens' dropship was just one of over 16 other Pelicans en route to the Forerunner installation. Sunlight glinted off of one of the Pelicans next to theirs, and all sped through the clouds, tearing them apart in their wake. Wilkens went back into the troop compartment and took his seat, strapping himself in just as the Pelican shook violently. Just then, the same Pelican Wilkens had been looking at burst into flames, and unwillingly banked left and tumbled to the ground.

The Pelicans broke their formation, and decreased in speed as their elevation lessened with each passing second. All around Pelicans opened up at the tiny various turrets and anti-aircraft weaponry dotted below, all manned by Covenant and shooting. Rockets flew down and impacted, sending bits of technology and bodies everywhere, large 70mm chin gun rounds stitched lines on the earth and through bodies all over. Large spits of orange, red, green, and blue plasma sped towards the sky, hitting their targets occasionally. In most cases, not doing much damage.

It seemed the Pelicans were winning, but as the Library closed, it was all too clear that this fight might not be winnable. Near the structure ahead, dozens of Banshees circled, and at least six Phantoms hovered and glided through the various buildings, dropping troops as they pleased. But as the Pelicans closed on the Library's position, the various Banshees and Phantoms turned, and all fired straight at the oncoming human force. The Banshees' fuel rod cannons were the worst, and two Pelicans immediately took direct hits. One in the nose, the other in its left starboard engine.

Three more Pelicans were down, then a forth. Then two more. Only around 8 Pelicans were left. Here and there the enemy ships were put down, but in the end, the Pelicans, after deciding that there wasn't going to be anyone left to complete the mission, put down outside of the proposed LZ close to the Library. Just as Wilkens' Pelican was turning around to the newly established LZ, it took a burst of plasma fire on both of its' starboard engines.

He heard one of the pilots curse, then say, "We can't control it! Bail, bail, bail now!"

Wilkens jumped up and made for the door, all the way struggling to put on the parachute that had been strapped under his seat, as were the rest of his team members. The back door soon explosively jolted open, and fell to the earth so far below.

"Everyone try to aim for that bend in the river, got it?. Good, now go, go, go!" Lieutenant Roeder shouted just before he, Buzzard, and Michaels lept out of the quickly descending ship.

Wilkens made sure he was last out, and let the pilots go before him, before jumping a mere 100 meters above the ground. He quickly pulled the ripcord, and felt the usual jump, and pull upwards after the chute opened. Richard realized he had waited too long to jump out, and hadn't decelerated enough to make a safe landing. He had only a moment to curse softly before he slammed into one of the tall, fern-like trees below. Then he slipped down into a pool of darkness and unconsciousness.

Deployment + 20 hours: 23 minutes: 45 seconds (Lieutenant Wilkens Mission Clock )/
Coastal Grid thirty-two by twenty-four, UNSC command structure A-9

Bang. Bang. What was happening? An explosion. Bang, bang, bang. Another explosion, this one a little closer this time. Where was he? What was happening? Then he remembered. He had taken a wake-up stim hours ago. He looked at his watch. It was around 0530, a half hour over when Conahue and Diess were supposed to report back.

"Sir! Get up! We're under attack!", an unknown voice called to him.

Lieutenant Wilkens lifted his head up off of the radio station's table, and looked around. Everything was chaos. A few of their fixed gun emplacements were firing hundreds of rounds downrange. Wilkens turned to look. In the rocks ahead on the sandy shore were at least thirty Covenant. The rainbow assortment of colors darted behind rocks, fired various green and blue plasma orbs toward their position.

"Sir, we gotta move, we're vulnerable here!", the same unknown voice pulled Wilkens behind a nearby boulder. That's when the Lieutenant recognized him, it was Richards. "Sir, they took us completely by surprise. Their damned Jackal snipers took out Conahue and Diess in the night, don't know when. Then maybe ten minutes ago, they hit us. Had maybe forty troops. We were over powered. Nobody thought about you sir, the way you were laying, we had thought -"

"No need to apologize, Sergeant. How many casualties do we have?"

"Counting Diess, Conahue, and the few from when the city was destroyed, near 80%. All that's left right now is you, me, six Privates and PFCs, a Corporal, and one medic. I recommend pulling out sir, maybe into the city-"

Wilkens cut him off. "Affirmative, take the medic, and four Marines and retreat South." He checked his map. "At the next Coastal Station. Coastal Station . . . B1."

"Sir? What about you?", Richards asked cautiously.

"The rest of us will be giving you covering fire. Take the radio, and the medk-"

"Sir, no sir! I'll stay too. No way I'm leaving you here alone."

"I appreciate the sentiment Richards, but, with respect, get the hell out of here! We'll catch up, don't worry. Now go!"

Sergeant Richards had a strange look of sadness, anger, and fear imprinted on his face. "Yes, sir." He turned, grabbed the small, portable radio, and put it in his backpack. Then, to the four privates and the medic who were amid the rocks firing downrange at the quickly approaching Covenant forces, he shouted, "Smith, Andrews, Berscher, Colt, Gringer, and Paxton, you're coming with me. We're retreating. Stay low and follow my lead." The sergeant risked one last glance at Wilkens before turning and dashing behind the pre-fab structures that had served as their barracks the night before.

Richards shouted an order, turned around a bend in the rockface which the structures were in front of, and was gone. Wilkens rose from behind the rock, picked up his BR-55 that had been leaning against the now-vacant desk that had housed their radio, and fired a three round burst into an unlucky Grunt's head.

"Marines, hold this line!" He screamed heroically, thinking of Conahue, and all of the other friends he had lost fighting this war, and not caring anymore whether he lived or died.

"Gladly sir!", one of the Marines who was manning one of the .30 caliber portable machine gun turrets answered, and fired a burst of gunfire into a Jackal sniper who had crept a little too far out of his cover.

Wilkens tossed a grenade at a boulder around ten yards away, and heard the screams and body parts that flew after. His heart was pounding, and as he picked off an Elite, and turned to hit another, something akin to a red hot hammer punched into his side.

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