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The Phokian Wall Part II: Precision Mishaps

"Hold the line here!" Lieutenant Leo Chiron shouted over the thunderous drumming of turret fire and plasma volleys. To his left Sergeant Alexander laid down a full clip's worth of suppressive fire, his assault rifle rattling madly as the stream of lead erupted from his weapon. Smoke choked the air around them, the product of thirty-some-odd ballistics weapons discharging along the line of defense. It was nearly impossible to see anything. Beyond, roughly forty meters and below one level, a sparkling array of plasma fire spewed forth from the commons area of Deck 34, the Covenant boarders already gathering a foothold on the ship. Chiron gave up trying to see his enemy through the haze, adopting a spray and pray tactic that was justified only by his use of 'grenade funneling'. This was where two teams of Marines would coordinate a flanking launch of frag grenades. These would funnel the enemy into a central position, bunched up and ripe for turret fire and a second volley of grenades. They had been doing that for the past ten minutes with little if any effect. The Covenant just kept coming.

Lieutenant Chiron leapt forward from his place behind the bunkered makeshift position of defense. Behind such random meter-tall edifices as these his scattered fire teams of Marine Regulars poured their small arms fire into the lower positions, all the while dodging plasma grenades and enemy return fire. The front of their rubble bunkers was black as sackcloth from the pounding of plasma scoring. Behind them the distinct musk of mixed sweat, blood, and urine permeated the air mixed with the acrid stench of melted armor and the dull cloud of ionized air. Overhead fires billowed smoke into the barely contained atmosphere of the ship's interior. The battle was going poorly, and time was running out.

The Marines had entered Decks 33 and 35 not twenty minutes ago and since had seen roughly a third of their infantry numbers be charred and blown apart by enemy fire. The sizzle of dead bodies encased in ruptured armor did nothing to bolster the hardened soldiers' resolve. Orders and curses were barely audible as they were shouted across the line. Taunts had so far ceased to be issued, as no Marine had the stomach to tempt their fate anymore.

Chiron knew this. He knew he had to do something. His men were dieing. Time was running out. But it might be alright; he had a plan. He could see from his limited vantage point that more Covenant boarders were pouring in through the breaches in the commons room windows along the walls. There had to be at least forty of them down there by now, with more and more being shuffled in every minute. Deck 35 offered a nice overlook to these windows but it was not enough to affect a firing solution. It was too open. The Covenant had that area suppressed. He could not hope to man the place long enough to gain some advantage; it was too hot. Nor could he file troops down to the same level as the Covenant. The gravlift had been disabled from that floor, preventing its commandeering by the Covs. For the moment they had them pinned down. But it was costing them. Only fifty or so Marines were still active on board the ship and with more and more Covenant coming in numerical superiority would soon be a thing of the past. Chiron would have to do something drastic.

"Keep me covered Mike!" he shouted to Private Alexander. The boyish-faced Marine responded by leaping around his upturned mess hall table and tossing a grenade into the general direction of the enemy before emptying another clip of assault rifle rounds. As the rattling of his trooper's gun sputtered lead into the air around him Lieutenant Chiron got low and made his way as quickly as possible to the next bit of cover, all the while juking and weaving in and out of plasma volleys. His vector was a square metal support beam warped by the heat of plasma fire. From there he could overlook the enemy's position with relative safety. One Marine huddled against a half-blasted column would not affect notice from the Covenant, especially if he kept his presence discreet and refused to open fire. Lieutenant Chiron now moved to make this prospect a reality. If he could get there in time he could try to coordinate some enfilading fire by way of those fire teams on Deck 33. As acting officer of the current situation he would have full authority to organize a pincer maneuver. As he reached the objective cover and squatted low to stay out of sight, he put his hand to the inside of his helmet, pressing the earpiece of his com unit deeper into his ear.

"Fire Team Tango, this is Grey Wolf, do you copy, over?" A replying voice squawked into his headset, obscured by the peppering of transmitter static.

"...oger Grey Wolf, this is Fire...Tango......over."

The officer gritted his teeth in the set jaw of a grimace as he struggled to make out the garbled words of his contact. "What can you see from your position, over?"

The reply came back equally disrupted. "...two new Coven....bout two clicks to port....fifteen Grunts and seven Eli............holding as best we can but..........ho.....hit!" Suddenly the voice was overwhelmed in Chiron's headset by the bursting sounds of small arms fire. He could hear it echoed below him near the lower portions of Deck 34. For a moment the sickening feeling that they were dead flooded into his guts. It was one that he had become well acquainted with as of late. Seconds later the voice came back into his earpiece, this time booming with tremendous clarity for a brief moment. "Bragrada! Bagrada! Bagra-", was all he heard.

A moment of frenzied fire and explosions came from Fire Team Tango's perceived location on Deck 33. And when it ended Lieutenant Chiron knew they were dead. 'Bagrada' was the code word for a sudden arrival of Hunters. Chiron didn't even stop to wonder how those Covenant bastards managed to get some of the worm-like hulks on board. It didn't matter. They were here and now he'd have to deal with it. Gritting his teeth again, he dialed for his only surviving junior officer.

"Corporal Telamon," he called. "This is Grey Wolf, come in, over."

"Go ahead, boss."

"We're in deep shit; Bagrada on Deck 33." Telamon conveyed his empathies with a curse of his own. "I want you to order all fire teams off that level and set charges and traps near the lift. I'm going to radio Captain Dytharimbos and alert him to our plight."

"Roger, Grey Wolf. Telamon out."

No sooner had his second in command's transmission crackled to a close than Lieutenant Chiron was dialing for C&C on the bridge. His transponder beeped irritatingly as Covenant energy weapons continued to strafe fire in his direction; the random application of suppression in the hopes of hitting a human. Behind Chiron by about fifteen meters, Sergeant Alexander ducked behind the square top of the mess table barely escaping a scathing volley of charged plasma pistol fire; the large green globule of energy punching a grizzly hole through the metal barricade. Directly behind him another Marine was moving forward, someone from Fire Team India. He didn't get ten paces before flailing backwards from a plasma rifle shot to his eyes. Chiron didn't have time to make out the details of his Marine's demise but he didn't have to. He knew what it looked like; he had seen it a thousand times. The eyes melted from the heat leaving two liquid-filled cavities in a head burned a sickly purple and black hue. The skull usually showed through when hit directly with a plasma rifle burst. It glistened an eerie bluish color as the blood and sinew sunk and sizzled around it. The only consolation for a fatal wound like that was it affected little pain, resulting in a quick death.

He was still thinking about it when C&C answered his transponder.

"This is Captain Dytharimbos, go ahead Grey Wolf."

"Sir, we've got a Bagrada below us on Deck 33, request you get the shipboard AI to close off all access from that juncture-"

"We know, Lieutenant," the captain said with resignation. "We found out about the breach two minutes ago. There's nothing we can do. Pull your fire teams out and we'll do our best to lock the place down."

"I've already issued the order to evacuate," Chiron replied. "I need to know what the plan is sir. If we're sticking around then I think I can buy us some time. Have we signaled any Pelicans for dockside pickup?"

"That's a negative, Grey Wolf; there are no Pelicans for pickup." The officer cursed under his breath, ignoring the rush of blood to his ears that happened every time he felt panic tickle the back of his psyche. All he wanted was permission to go ahead with his plan or new orders. This standing around and trading fire with the Covenant was getting his men killed. The poor bastards were dropping like flies. "Just hold with what you've got while we try to figure something out."

"Will do sir," he replied. Half a heartbeat later and he was peeping around the smoldering edge of the metal column to get a peek at the enemy's position. The transmission ended. Lieutenant Chiron made to rise and crawl his way back to Alexander's position. He gripped the rubber fore of his battle rifle and slid up the uneven side of the pillar. Suddenly a blast erupted to his right sending a green cloud of suffocating fumes and heat over half his body. It choked its way into his lungs and froze his senses with agony. He gagged and heaved as the cloud wrapped around his armored form. Seconds later he felt a disorienting loss of balance, stumbling where he stood and trying to keep the ground under his feet. Ahead he could see Sergeant Alexander calling his name, waving at him with a hand wrapped in white and red cloth. It was hard to tell but Chiron thought he saw red streaked across the young Marine's face. It didn't matter, though, for the next thought he had was one of delirium. He felt himself go weightless and tumble over the side of the railing, down onto Deck 34. The world spun and wheeled around him. When he landed the air burst out of him and his vision went dark.

He awoke on a table, one of the elevated ones of the commons room that littered Deck 34. Shaking his vision clear of stars he rolled off to his left, where he hoped the cover of the wall might reside. He was lucky, and in seconds found himself lying flat against a doorframe facing a swarm of frenzied Covenant. His chest heaved against his armored chest plate, trying to regain some of the air that had been forced from him by the fall. But it came in rattled spurts, refused by the scene he now bore sight of. Terror struck him then, as he witnessed without obscurity the full vision of his enemy. They choked and crowded the forward observatory of the commons room by the dozens, with more pouring in through the several breaches every other minute. At their feet he could see the fruits of his Marines' labor: scores of dead Covenant bodies riddled with gory wounds; torn and shredded by turret fire and grenades, splattered and burst apart by rocket fire, and riddled like Swiss cheese by the precision rounds of battle and assault rifles. The ground was pot marked with craters from grenades and rockets. In a few places along behind the Covs the outer wall was shaved dangerously thin by their own munitions fire. A few more rocket blasts and the hull integrity would buckle.

Hell, he thought, it might be the only way we can off these sons of bitches.

No sooner had that thought occurred to him than something truly daunting presented itself. The Covenant saw him. To be exact, two Grunts and a red Elite saw him, standing towards the fore of the Covenant beachhead. He watched through somewhat still-blurry vision as the Eite pointed at him and barked something incomprehensible and utterly vile. The hostility in its voice could not be misconstrued. Immediately the two Grunts at his feet went rushing for Chiron. He fumbled beside him for the battle rifle. His fingers clawed over bits of broken glass and smoldering shards of ship metal. Yet their attempts purchased no weapon. His eyes grew to the size of saucers as he eyed the approaching enemy came to about twenty meters distance, closing fast on hoofed feet. His heart pounded in his chest, the blood thrumming through his ears.

Holy shit, his mind screamed, this is it! I can't believe it!

He watched with near helplessness as the two Grunts and the Elite closed the distance on him. Quickly he abandoned his search for the battle rifle and looked to his left thigh, hoping to God that his pistol was still holstered.

I'll never swear again, he promised in thanks as his palm ran across the grained grip of his sidearm. He popped the latched strap and jerked the newly discovered pistol out. With one fell swoop he had the thing cocked and aimed at the enemy. Amidst the den of hellish noise and volatile cacophony of war that waged around him he could distinctly hear the repeat of his semiauto pistol bark precision-guided death into the air. At fifteen meters the second Grunt flew backwards, a pistol slug tearing through its crowned head. At ten meters the foremost Grunt doubled over with a bullet wound gushing blue ooze from its neck. With a concerted effort to rise, Lieutenant Chiron aimed and fired his rounds at the Elite. The thing glimmered and pulsed as the slugs ricocheted off of its energy shield, harmlessly landing at its grotesque feet. Chiron watched in horror as the monster drew a bead on him with its plasma rifle. He could see the small eerie eyes of the thing set atop its four tooth-filled mandibles. Its four-sided jaw opened in a growling snarl as it drew down its rifle on Lieutenant Chiron.

Suddenly the Elite jerked as the energy shield around it lit up. Bullets bounced off of the right side of its body. Lieutenant Chiron turned to the left to see two Marines rushing in with battle rifles blazing. The spray of rounds halted the Elite's oncoming rush mere meters from Lieutenant Chiron's position, saving him from a gruesome death delivered personally at close quarters. The thing turned with rage upon its new assailants who advanced fearlessly upon it with exacting vengeance. Chiron watched with admiration as the foremost Marine, a tall lanky chap with cold eyes and broad shoulders, moved elegantly over the strewn debris towards his prey. Behind him a much smaller, stockier Marine kept pace all the while drawing down on the Elite with a precision that seemed remarkable. In moments they had popped the Elite's shields and were strafing it, moving as a dais in a concentric pattern. The beast went down in a hail of strangely colored blood that sprayed all over those close by, including Chiron.

"Lieutenant Chiron?" the tall one asked as they huddled behind a shadowy wall, hidden from sight. Chiron nodded his acknowledgement, wiping his hands clean of alien gore. "I'm Sergeant Ptolemy, this is Private Nyx. We're of Fire Team India."

"You are Fire Team India," Chiron declared. "The rest of them are dead." The two only nodded their heads. "Thank you, Marines. I've never seen such good goddamned timing."

"We got lucky," Nyx said sheepishly.

Ptolemy ignored him. "So what's the plan?"

Chiron grinned devilishly. "Have you ever heard of a Phokian Wall?" he asked.

"A what?"

"Sounds like something we used to do back in college when the cheerleaders got drunk," Ptolemy answered wryly.

The lieutenant shook his head. "It's a defense. I've got a way of pushing these lizard-fuckers off this ship but it'll take time and an orchestrated effort."

"Lead the way Maestro," Ptolemy proffered, "I'm game." Without hesitation Chiron motioned for them to follow him. He made his way deeper into the dark hallway of the commons room alley, apart and hidden from the Covenant marshalling some forty meters behind them. Ahead were the auxiliary stairwells that would lead to Deck 35. Directly above them the sounds of Marine fire teams fighting tooth and nail could be heard as the battle continued.

"It's an old tactic really," Chiron stated as they entered the cramped access area to the left of the alleyway. "We need to gather all our bunkers and tables and try to build a wall at least a meter high. Then, while laying down cover fire, we advance with the walls in front until we're right up on their-" Suddenly he stopped mid sentence, wheeling back and issuing a shriek from his very soul. Terror gripped the three as a lumbering shape bolted forward in front of them, out of the shadows of the stairwells. All three reeled in horror at what had manifested three meters in front of them.

Towering over them like a gorgon beast from the abyss stood a Hunter, its orange, formless mass shrouded in the thick blue armor and two-meter long shield. At its side glowed the infamous plasma cannon. It roared at them, sending shivers of absolute mania down the Marines' spines. No one thought to raise their weapons. No one even thought to run. They just stood there.

With a tremendous jolt the juggernaut leapt for them raising its shield high overhead before bringing it crashing down. It hit all three of them at once, sending the Marines flailing backwards into the narrow hallway. The thing was over them in an instant. All three simply cowered in fear of the inevitable, any semblance of courage or destiny fled from their spirits. It raised its shield high above ready to bring the two tapered edges of its lower portion down into the bodies of the humans, skewering them and pinning their lifeless forms to the floor.

A fresh burst of thunder erupted from somewhere in the distance then, reaching the three's ears just as their eyes beheld an inexplicable sight. The Hunter's stomach exploded sending showers of orange wriggling goop all over them, painting the hallway in its putrescence. The thing roared like a thousand awful tempests before finally toppling over in a clamorous tangle of armor. There it lied, still as stone on the burnished steel floor of the narrow hallway, filling the breadth of the passage with its impossibly wide frame.

Chiron exchanged looks of bewildered relief as they rose from their positions on the floor. That kind of fire didn't come from any standard issue small arms. That was something special, like a sniper rifle. But there were no marksmen down here. How could there be?

"What in the Hell was that?" Nyx asked in shock.

Ptolemy shrugged. "I don't know, it sounded like some damned sniper fire."

Lieutenant Chiron had no time to answer. His transponder was beeping furiously. Reaching up into his helmet he secured the earpiece which had come substantially loose.

The voice crackled over his speaker. It was Captain Dytharimbos. "Grey Wolf, come in."

"I read you sir, go ahead."

"I thought you should know that you've got some extra help down there; someone who I thought we'd lost in the first attack wave."

"Who is it?" he asked with a tone that suggested he need not suspect.

"You've got a Dark Arrow in your midst, lieutenant. I'm sure he'll prove to be a real ace in the hole."

Perfect timing, Chiron thought, why didn't anyone tell me we still had SpecOps units on this ship? He birthed a sardonic smile. "Yeah," he replied knowingly. "He already has."

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