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2559
On board the Seattle
Ryan Kendal pulled his jacket over his broad shoulders and buttoned it up. He then went about assembling the remainder of his armor about himself, pausing to consider what gear would be most effective for the mission.
We could take out the guns with Jackhammers…but it wouldn't do us much good….bummer….we're going to have to go all the way in and spike them.
Ryan struggled out of his thoughts and looked at his reflection in the mirror positioned in the back of his locker. His once short brown hair now hung half way onto his forehead, and had begun to regain its curliness, his jaw and chin were blanketed with a forest of short whiskers, and his tanned face was adorned with a long white scar that had taken his left eye in 2553, which was now a cybernetic implant. He sighed, placed his helmet in the crook of his arm and closed the locker door.
Next stop: Armory.
The newly reinstated Sergeant strode into the Armory where his Sergeant, Kimmel, tossed him a M3 rifle with a belt of armor piercing round magazines. Ryan grinned and gave him a small nod.
The M3 was an expensive, new addition to the UNSC troopers…unfortunately that meant that there were a lot of them lying around. The UNSC was indirectly funding all of the Resistance's needs.
Hayes stood at the end of the trough that held a line of rifles, studying a SM2 sniper's rifle. Ryan walked over to him and pulled one off the rack for himself.
"UNSC's sure outdoing itself with all this new weaponry…nice rifle though, new favorite of prison sentries." Ryan said and turned away. Hayes grinned and began to fill his pouches with SM magazines.
Planet-side
Victoria, Canada: EARTH
"Alright boys show time! No touch down, we're dropping low, thirty seconds!" The crew chief shouted over the roar of the Pelican's engines.
Each Marine gave a high thumbs up indicating they understood.
"Alright go, go, go!"
Tyr Deramee was the first out. The Elite dove and tucked just before he landed into the dense snow. The Marines followed. Ryan hugged his M3 to his chest while he collided with the blanket of snow beneath him.
Ryan stood shakily and watched as the Pelican roared overhead, away from the target. He wore a ski mask under his helmet and goggles to protect his eyes, as did his comrades. Kendal tugged his scarf higher onto his cheeks and began to trudge through the snow towards Deramee.
The Elite's black armor had adapted to its surroundings and turned to white. The Veteran's cloak was stained with blood though he was not injured, an old injury, he supposed. Tyr crouched low overlooking a small bay fed by the Juan de Fuca Strait, and then the immense city stretched across the island a dozen miles away.
"The General's retreat is three kilometers north of the city," Tyr said pointing a gloved finger towards the Northern tip of Victoria, "And our target, is two kilometers north-west of our current position…" The Sangheili pointed to a small clutch of buildings at the base of a snow capped mountain.
"Right then, is Dominic on his target?" He asked.
"Yes, Lieutenant Dominic is close to his objective as well."
Kendal took one last moment the watch as the moonlight glinted across the frosty bay and then turned to his squad.
Private Mahler stood closest to him, loosely holding a MH3 LMG, being the support gunner of the squad. The soldier was sliding a fresh one hundred round drum into place as Kendal was inspecting him. Kimmel and Kane both sported M3Ks, cut down M3 rifles suited for close combat. Finally his gaze drifted to Hayes, who lay on his belly at the crest of a snow bank that overlooked the distant gun emplacements.
"Let us move, while the night remains young." Deramee's deep voice resonated against the silence of the night. The humans obeyed and began the long trudge across the snowy plains.
Eleven Kilometers South West of 1ST Squad's location
Field Lieutenant John Dominic shook himself dry of the freezing water of the Juan de Fuca. Four other wetsuit-clad humans emerged from the icy strait several meters behind him.
"Audio and nav check," he ordered.
"Bravo here, nav confirmed…" Laiho's voice crackled across the COM.
"Charlie here, nav confirmed…" Allen's voice followed, seasoned by an Australian accent.
"Delta here, nav confirmed…" Layton replied.
Dominic waited for the final drawl of Harris before moving on.
"Theta, respond, audio and nav check." John repeated.
"Report, unit Theta is deceased." A computerized male voice answered.
Anger festered from Dominic like an open wound. "Affirmative…Bravo, Charlie, take the gun on the first bunker, Delta, with me."
The commandos had been dropped into the Juan de Fuca an hour before and were sent to neutralize the second trio of guns that sheltered the General's retreat. Since these cannons were only two kilometers away from the city, their demise required stealthier tactics.
Dominic and his remaining team removed their fins and rebreathers, along with their oxygen masks. The four commandos hastily pulled black ski masks over their faces and snapped back the actions on their M3K carbines.
A short run brought them to the face of the southern bunker. The marines pressed themselves as close to the wall of they could, to conceal their presence from the constant enemy patrols.
"Clear." Delta reported.
The commandos skirted the bunker to the ridgeline that led to the entrance.
Dominic edged along the lip of the bunker and prepared to swing in through the gun port. Delta would neutralize the sentries at the door and flank the gun crew.
John took two quick breaths and flung himself into the bunker, his M3K at his hip. Two figures turned to him and let loose a hail of red plasma. Dominic rolled immediately to the floor behind a storage crate.
What the hell are Covenant soldiers doing defending a human artillery nest?
The two Brutes were just behind the loading mechanism of the cannon, raining plasma down on the beleaguered soldier.
"Delta here….pinned down tight, sir there's two Brutes at the door, what are they doing here?"
A plasma bolt seared over his head and he groaned in annoyance, "Two of them in here too…the hallways pretty tight, toss 'em a frag and give me some cover." John replied.
"Cover your ears…" Delta answered, followed by a dull whoosh and the heavy splash of liquid against the door.
The second commando burst through the door seconds later and rolled a second grenade inside. It landed between the Brutes and tossed them several feet into the air while cutting them to ribbons.
Dominic rose and looked to his squad mate. "So much for stealth…set the charges, I'll contact Bravo and see if their having better luck."
"Roger." Delta drawled.
"Bravo, report."
Static crackled across the COM but Laiho's voice finally resonated back. "….gun is spiked Alpha…. Charlie took a bad hit, I don't think I can move him," he sighed deeply; "…we're holed up here Chief."
"Roger that, Delta and I will take the last gun and we'll call evac from the Pelican on sight," John said as he signaled to Delta to move out.
"Here we go again." Layton complained.
"Stow it soldier, we've still got a job to do."
Three kilometers north of Victoria
The General's retreat
A middle-aged man sat quietly in an overstuffed chair at a mahogany desk. The man's features were touched with wrinkles at the edges of his eyes and mouth, and his dark hair the tint of silver about the ears. His grey eyes held little emotion, only the fierce glint of cold ambition.
A large mahogany door at the opposite end of the room creaked open.
"Pardon my intrusion Sir." A figure in the doorway asked.
"What is it Seamus?" The man asked.
"Two teams of rebel militants are carrying out strikes on our artillery emplacements surrounding the city."
"Were you not in command of security for Victoria, Seamus?" The man asked accusingly.
"Yes Sir that I was." Seamus replied.
"Take my Fourth Legion and the contingent of Covenant troops in the barracks and clear out the Resistance's combatants…and take them yourself Seamus, you have a debt that needs to be paid…do not fail me." The man ordered.
"The Fourth Legion Sir? Surely I could accomplish the task with my security tam already on site."
"If I meant for my orders not to be followed why would I give them?"
Seamus lowered his gaze ashamedly and murmured a gentle: "It will be done, General." and strode from the room.
The door shut and the man sighed deeply, running his finger along the back of the C3E .45 pistol that lay on his desk… "I should have saved my self the time and shot imbecile before he had the chance to fail me once again…"
Seamus cursed quietly and he bounded down the stairs, "The Fourth Legion! I'd rather be lost in slip space! Those soldiers can't be trusted to watch your back! And the Covenant Brutes, well I guess if they don't fancy you for a snack…" The young Captain grumbled to himself and he jogged towards the barracks.
The Fourth Legion were Battings' personal Special Forces unit, they had no affiliation with the UNSC, and no allegiance to anyone but the General…they were well paid, and weapons of war. The Fourth Legion were those responsible for the assassination of the UNSC's previous leaders and Battings' rise to power along with the behind the scenes involvement of the Covenant Juggernaut.
The Fourth Legion were stationed with most UNSC positions, to keep the soldiers in line, and more importantly from defecting to the Resistance, though in the battle that raged above the planet, Battings' had little control…control that waned by the day. With not enough of Battings' personal commandos to go around, the Covenant remained in the UNSC's crosshairs while the Resistance 'slipped away' time after time.
Such activities kept William Battings busier than ever, and constantly running short of competent commanders. He reached past the .45 and pressed the key marked INTERCOM .
"Send Marcus in please." He spoke crisply.
"Yes Sir." A soft female voice answered immediately.
The wooden door opened moments later, its frame filled with a tall, bulky figure. "General?" The figure asked in a throaty voice.
"Yes Marcus, come in." Battings replied.
The other man strode into the room obediently. He stood at the height of six foot three, his face was that of a man who could kill without discretion, his blue green eyes seemed to behold the countless stares of those he had executed. The sides of his head were shaved away, leaving a short Mohawk running along its middle. He was dressed in paramilitary black fatigues and sleek ballistic armor not issued by the UNSC.
"Your command?" Marcus asked as he stood before the desk.
"Yes Marcus…I would like to have Seamus, my executive officer, killed in the line of duty…accompany him on his mission and kill him once you are underway." Battings ordered.
Not a single emotion flickered across Marcus's face; he simply nodded and turned to the door.
1ST Squad's position
"Yee-haw! First gun is spiked!" Kimmel reported with a Texas drawl.
"Good work Mike, move on to the guard house outside and hold off any hostile reinforcements." Kendal breathed through the COM as his M3 rifle tracked a pacing sentry across the small courtyard at the base of the next bunker.
Kendal reached forward and flicked the safety off and selected the launcher attachment under the barrel. He slid a disk-like airfoil round into the receiver and fired on the sentry. A dull thump was the only sound that followed as the limp sentry collapsed to the ground.
Deramee rose to his feet beside him, brandishing a Covenant carbine. Kendal followed him as the Elite kicked in the bunker's main door.
Two stunned crewmen sat at a table playing cards. They reached for their .45s buckled at their waists, but Tyr left them lying on their backs with sizzling holes in their chests.
Kendal strode past the corpses regretfully, though he knew that Deramee was not one to exercise restraint. "The cannon is just ahead, set your explosives and let us hasten to leave this place." The Elite stated.
Ryan shook himself back to his job and nodded an affirmative.
2ND Squad's Position
"Okay…everything's set, let's get back to Bravo's position and blow this taco stand." Layton said as he finished with the final gun.
"Alright, take point…but keep your eyes open, something doesn't feel right." Dominic replied.
"You got it Chief." Layton reached for the door's controls at the wall and punched in several commands. The blast door slid open and Layton crouched to survey the hallway. "Looks good…moving up."
John followed him cautiously, carbine at the ready. Layton arrived at the door leading to Bravo's position quickly, after only two short corridors. Delta hit the door control and the blast slid away revealing a dark room beyond.
Layton's aim relaxed as he turned to look at his commanding officer, "Power's down in there, but it—"
The distinctive report of a .45 caliber pistol interrupted the young Marine and blew two holes in his chest. A startled gasp escaped his lips, before it was washed away by a torrent of blood spilling from his mouth.
Delta collapsed to the ground, terminated. The power switched back on, which seconds later illustrated a tall man with a Mohawk holding a C3E pistol still pointed towards Layton's prone form.
Dominic found himself looking dumbly at the bodies of Bravo, Charlie and Theta, who they believed lost in the drop. Before he could come to grips with things to burly Fourth Legion troopers disarmed him.
John struggled fruitlessly, and finally looked his captor in the eye.
"Your team was…much weaker than I had expected, Lieutenant Dominic? Was it?" Marcus asked.
John responded with spitting at him.
Marcus laughed humorously. A shorter, uniformed man entered the room from the adjacent doorway. "You've done it! Excellent, I'll report back to—"
"Oh yes, Seamus? The General had asked me to give you something…"
"Wha—"
CRACK! CRACK!
The two pistol shots tore wide holes in the man's face and he slammed onto the floor.
John looked to the fallen officer but his expression of rage did not diminish with surprise. Fourth Legion troops were ruthless, and, staying true to their reputation, their allegiance was fickle at best.
"This is how your 'resistance' comes to an end Lieutenant…" Marcus said as he calmly leveled the C3E at John's head and fired.
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