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Halo: We Are Marines
Posted By: Nikolai-097<Spartan-097_nikolai@hotmail.com>
Date: 3 June 2007, 6:16 am
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This is a Halo Fan Fiction. The Spartans I have listed as Grey Team are not necesarrily correct. Bungie owns all rights to Halo.
Prologue
1537 Hours, February 19 2533(Military Calendar)/
Tercero Prime System, Perdot Colony Theater of Operations
Firebase Charlie
"Suppress those [censored]!" Corporal Drake ducked behind the firing port as dozens of plasma bolts slashed toward him. The sound of sand and burlap flash melting mingled with the chatter of assault weapons firing. A stationary machine gun stood, both its 500 round drum magazines emptied.
The large sniper rifle had fired sporadically, and the number of shots decreased as the Covenant encroached on the hastily made bunker. Privates Smith and Avery were backlight by daylight that struggled into the bunker via its firing slits. Smith's bolt clacked empty and he deftly reloaded. Pfc. Jacobitz was propped against the back wall, half his body burned away. Drake picked his MA5B Assault Rifle up and began firing with his men.
Despite the fire from the tenacious Marines, the Covenant continued attacking. Already the M247A1 had burned through its two barrels of AP rounds, making it useless and amongst the Marines there were no grenades. Down to assault rifles and pistols, they could simply not stop the horde of Grunts that passed them.
Drake heard a buzz on his com-line that quickly resolved into the voice of Captain Satrom. "This is Shadow Lead calling Fire Base Charlie. Come in Fire Base Charlie."
Drake answered as he pumped four rounds into a Grunt. "Shadow Lead this is Corporal Drake." The detonation of a plasma grenade cut him off for a second. "Sir, with all due respect it's FUBAR down here. The Covenant have breached our perimeter. They're getting through!"
The Captain's voice was calm, "Give me the coordinates of the grid in front of your outpost. Help will rendezvous with you there."
Smith screamed and tore off his helmet as a grenade stuck to it. He shoved it outside, but it detonated and took off his arm at the elbow. Avery stopped firing long enough to spray some biofoam on the wound. Meanwhile the corporal continued speaking to the captain. "Grid twenty-seven by thirteen, sir. Those reinforcements are gonna have to fight like hell."
The captain's voice sounded unconcerned, "They'll be there in thirty seconds. Be ready to cover them."
Avery spared a glance at her NCO, "Are they [censored] serious?" Drake simply shrugged, the [censored] officers always promised, but few had ever come through.
The sound wasn't a drop ship; it was more of a scream. Dozens of objects were falling from the sky, flaming with the heat of orbital reentry. "They bombed us?! Those [censored]!" Avery trailed cursing the officer who had ordered the strike. Drake looked on, accepting the sacrifice, but still shooting. Better, he thought, to go out with a gun in hand. Then the objects hit.
Huge crashing noises and crunching sounds accompanied the landings of the HEVs or Human Entry Vehicles. Several dozen Orbital Drop Shock Troopers kicked out of the pods and fired point blank into the dazed Covenant. Yet even amidst these soldiers, three stood out. They wore heavy green armour, yet despite this they moved gracefully, killing and wounding wherever they went. A hard-bitten Marine crouched and ran toward the bunker. He leaned in and shouted, "Who's in charge here?" Behind him the Covenant turned and ran.
Drake responded, "I guess I am," hesitated a second and added, "sir."
The Marine's scarred face stopped scowling for a second and cracked a quick joke, "Don't call me sir. I fight for a living." He turned serious then and began giving orders, "Your under ONI's NavSpecWep command now, just like the rest of us." Then gestured to the green armoured giants. 'They're in charge. All of 'em are chief petty officers, but you will follow their orders like God's."
One of the soldiers marched over while the others ghosted out around the area. "Lance Corporal, prepare to move out." He nodded, and called to his Marines. The figure continued to speak, this time to Drake. "As I'm sure the Lance Corporal told you, ONI Section 3 has taken command of all surviving Marine personnel for the duration of our mission. You report to the Lance Corporal and he reports to me. Understand Marine?"
"Aye sir." Drake watched as the three Spartan's moved around before disappearing from sight. He turned to his last unharmed soldier. "I never thought I'd see one of them…"
The woman agreed quietly. The Lance Corporal returned. "You'll be with third squad. The rest of the platoon is with the Spartans. You need something, call the LT. Call sign Shadow 1. We're sweeping the area. Watch for pickup in twenty."
As Drake affirmed his knowledge, the ODST turned and moved out with his squad.
A contact was sighted. The previously forested area was now a littered hell of smoking corpses and craters. A Jackal advanced, cautiously, surveying the area. It spotted nothing and gave a sharp barking command. The Grunt forces followed it. They were alert, but not as much as their guide. Plasma weapons were pointed downward. A green LED lit on the 1st platoon's HUD.
The sharp staccato sound of the MA5B was supported by the heavy thumps of frag grenades detonating. The Covenant patrol was getting cut down. Lance Corporal Valmores watched the Grunts struggle to flee before being machine gunned. He checked his ammo counter; pleased to see he had 40 rounds left. A hissing in his ear warned him that someone was going to speak soon.
"This is Grey Team. An estimated battalion strength unit of Covenant is between the main target and our position. 1st Platoon, draw them off." A collective sigh was breathed across the comlines. The Lieutenant called his squad leaders together.
They formed up in a large crater, and the LT jumped in. He looked at his subordinates with intensity. "All right Marines. The Spartans need us to pull their Navy butts out of the fire. Lance Corporal Valmores, you and first squad are going to be the breakwater at grid twenty-nine by seventeen supporting you from the rear will be second squad. Meyers and third squad will flank from the right at grid thirty by seventeen." He paused and looked his ODSTs over, noting with satisfaction that they all nodded.
"If the [censored] hits the fan, retreat here, otherwise stay loose. Now fall out."
As the Marines raced for their positions, the Covenant began turning their huge force against them. The battle was about to begin anew.
The fallen tree second was using for cover smelled nice as it burned, Valmores decided. He stood up a bit, sighted down his barrel and fired. The tracers streaked across the clearing to strike a Grunt. Around him, bullets and plasma crossed. First squad was firing the single stationary gun they had. The Platoon was slowly being surrounded, but the battle hardened ODSTs, also known as Helljumpers, stood firm.
This resolve was tested when a Hunter pair announced themselves by firing at the first squad. The HMG was destroyed along with several Marines who manned it. Third squad who had the necessary equipment to take out the Hunters had yet to appear. The Lance Corporal ducked behind cover and tried to block the screaming of wounded men from his mind. "Lazarski, get third squad on the line. Kerr take Jones and Katz. Sweep left and stay low." Instead of asking for an explanation, the man grabbed the two he needed and half-ran, half-crouched to the nearest cover.
"Valmores, they aren't responding. Like their dead…"
The Covenant machine poured on. Grunts rushing forward now, bolstered by the mighty pair of giants. The wave spilled over into hand-to-hand fighting. The ODSTs fought savagely, like those with nothing to lose. Knives, fists, and gun butts hammered the enemy. The superior height and strength the Marines enjoyed meant little when dozens of Grunts piled into each ODST.
Valmores screamed with feral rage as he head-butted a Grunt in the face. Its methane breather fell off and as it choked, three more tackled the Marine. The Hunter pair fired again, heedless of friendly fire. Lazarski and his radio vanished along with four Grunts. Scrabbling for purchase, Valmores fell backwards as yet another Covenant tackled him. He heard a menacing cackle and instinctively rolled on his back. A Grunt held and ignited Plasma grenade.
Panic aided him now as he kicked the Grunts off of him. An unseen ally shot the grenade-toting Grunt and luckily for Valmores, its body absorbed the blast. He hit the TEAMCom line and called out. "Fall back to the rendezvous point!" The surviving Marines beat a hasty retreat, plasma and Covenant following them.
Their pell-mell run cost them more soldiers as they turned to slow the Covenant tide. Their sacrifice bought the fleeing men time, though it would all be for naught.
The howling sound of Banshee's warned the ODSTs of the enemy before they took fire. Before the men of Captain Satrom's company lay the prior battleground, behind the Covenant Battalion. They covered the exposed territory like predatory birds, waiting for the chance to kill.
"[Censored] IT!" Valmores swore. "We'll fight the [censored] here then. We're already dead, the only question is how many can we take with us." As he spoke the Hunter's head popped into view. It bellowed a war cry and charged the Marines. Soon after its mate followed. The ODSTs had a pitiful number left. "KILL 'EM ALL!"
The ODSTs unleashed their Final Protective Fire, spaying and praying for hits and their MA5Bs emptied. Pistols were drawn, the last grenades thrown. This time though Elites cried out for human blood. Valmores jumped on a sword wielding Elite, hammered it in the face twice with his pistol butt.
Iron willed, and with muscles like steel it turned its energy sword on the ODST. The shimmering blade crept closer to Valmores armoured side. Armour that would do nothing against this lethal weapon. He jerked the trigger repeatedly, but the rounds deflected off the creature's shield. Though the facial features didn't allow for it, the Elite seemed to grin. With one hand it picked Valmores up by the throat, the other hand pulled back for a stab.
On the verge of death, Valmores retained his spite. He spit on the Elite, expecting the cold embrace of death in a moment. Instead the Elite's brains splattered him. He fell to the ground spitting blood. He stood shakily, and saw both Hunters were huge lifeless mounds of charred flesh. The Spartans of Grey Team had arrived. 097 was slamming a shotgun butt into another Elite's face before firing into it. A distant crack of a sniper rifle was rewarded with another kill. Covered in blue blood and brown mud, one of the Spartans was giving a wounded Marine CPR.
Overhead Banshees exploded into fireballs as Shortsword fighters swooped in. In a matter of minutes, the battle was over. The Covenant were dead. Casualties were high. Of the forty ODSTs who landed, five cold still fight and only three wounded would live.
Valmores stood with the other four uninjured as they had a quick memorial service for the fallen. Saluting the small shrine they had built, they boarded a Pelican. As thoughts of the fallen went through his mind, Valmores almost didn't notice the others in the Pelican. Grey team had been whisked away already, but he finally noticed the awe stricken civilians that Grey Team had pulled from the only city on this Godforsaken world and the last Marines from Firebase Charlie.
He wondered in a vaguely if the requisite little girl was going to thank him, or if any of the woman was going fall head over heels for his rugged charms. He snorted quietly, laughing at his thought. He heard a voice speak. "How did you do that? I thought that… well that they couldn't ever be beaten?"
He struggled for answer. He wondered if he should give a propaganda answer, or a heroic one. Perhaps something sarcastic. In the end he chose a quite simple sentence.
"We're Marines."
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