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Arbie and the Sarge
Posted By: Hunter_Killer<jlp8118@sbcglobal.net>
Date: 25 May 2005, 12:40 AM
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Author's Note: Anyone remember me? Didn't think so.
_________________________________________
Arbie and the Sarge
Ch 1
//0936 Hours, 19 March, 2553(Terran Calendar)
Loyalist Covenant Space Station, Holy of Holies//
Sergeant Major A. J. Johnson racked another round into his Prototype Human Pulse Rifle, and fired. A lance of red slashed into the nearest Drone, causing it to spew green blood. The other two Drones took to the air, and Sarge jumped back as twin Plasma bolts came back in retaliation.
"That all you got, you buggers!?" He yelled up, firing again. The Drones scattered across the rooftops of the buildings.
"I hate Stations that have outdoors environments..." He mumbled, taking cover behind one of the Pyramid-like structures. A bolt of plasma hit the deck plating of the floor, and a section of it became white-hot and spewed sparks.
"Ha!" He sprang from cover, taking out the second Drone with another shot. "I didn't want to kill you," He yelled over there, "But you were simply too ugly to let live!"
The third one slowly crept up opon the Sarge, and drew a bead on the back of his head. The Plasma Pistol began to glow with emerald green plasma, hum, and shake violently...
When a Plasma Sword cut the creature fully in half. Sarge turned in time to see the halves go down, then saw the ripples in the air harden and the Arbiter, in full ceremonial armor, appeared.
"Heya Arbie," Sarge said, thumping him on the back and making a clang as the armors clanked.
"Greetings, Johnson. As you humans might say, 'Buisiness is good'." He clicked off his Energy Sword, stowing the handle in his belt.
"Yah. Look at this area; probably evacuated before we got here," Johnson said, taking in the empty streets and towering buildings.
"Vile cowards..." Arbie stopped, and sniffed at the air, suddenly alert. He whispered, "I can smell the stench of numerous Brutes, they are sneaking up on us from all sides. Our Motion Sensors will not work with the interferance of all this energy and obstacles. Prepare to fire."
Sarge readied his Energy weapon, and the Arbiter's Plasma Sword began to hum. With a roar, twin Grenades landed next to Arbiter and Johnson, who sprinted in different directions, Johnson firing off rounds into the thick hide of one of the Brutes, who cried out in anger as purple blood spurted out in little bursts.
"Brave Eagle, this is the Juggernaut," Crackled over the COMM as the two soldiers ducked between buildings to avoid a hail of Grenades and Plasma. "You still alive?"
"Yah, for now," Growled Johnson into the reciever as he was thrown several meters by an explosion around the corner.
"Well the battle in space is going poorly. We've lost thirty per cent of the fleet, with none to spare. Are you near the objective?" Johnson glanced upwards, at the massive impenetrable glass dome that passed for a sky, with light blue glow lines running along it. Large dots in space duked it out with Plasma and large fiery projectiles that were MAC rounds. Explosions dotted the sky, temporary stars mixing with the real things.
Then he referenced the scematics, still running. The Arbiter had taken a side route around the enemies, and was now next to him. A map of the city showed Johnson to be directly two levels above the Generator Complex.
"Yah, Admiral, we're so close I can taste it. Call in the Exfil." Johnson rotated the maps; there were multiple access hatches to the lower level, a fairly small maintenance area where Engineers skitted along. Or did. Everything was Neg now.
"Dropship Harken deployed," Sang out a female voice.
Johnson eyed an access hatch in the middle of the street ahead. Twin explosions behind them hastened their movements. They were soon in the narrow tunnels, above the Generator Complex, which housed about 100 Starship-Class Tritum Reactors. Wavering heat drifted in from the purple metalic grilles.
It was totaly empty, where there should have been hundreds of floating purple Engineers, scurring thing way and that. But Sarge did not ponder this, he merely pulled open the nearest grille. Or tried. It held steadfast.
The Arbiter pounded it, but it only minorly dented. "That's it, we do this loud," Sarge said, laying twin Frags on either side of the Frags, and a Satchel Charge ontop of it.
They dived away, and Sarge tossed another Frag. With a temendous noise Sarge was sure Admiral Harper could hear from space, the grille was blown off with tremendous force. Sarge jumped down, onto a catwalk. A group of Jackals had gathered at the noise, and Sarge began to fire. Red lances pierced several of the unshielded, unready Jackals. The Arbiter jumped down, and rushed the remaining enemies, taking them out with his Plasma Sword with a cold fury, in rapid sucession. A dozen dead Jackals lined the catwalks.
Sarge looked down, at the massive Reactors, each one producing a massive supply of power, running on Tritium, Star-Fuel. Drops of purple blood fell onto one of the Reactors, instantly fizzling and evapoating on contact with the increadably hot metal shielding.
A Brute Captain roared, dropping his weapon and charging them. They dove out of the way, and twin Pulse Rifle rounds did next to nothing to faze it. Then Johnson had an idea. He ran up a ramp, heading for a dead ending. The furious, alien simian followed, bellowing curses and ferral roars.
Johnson let him come, then slipped out of the way just in time. The Brute fell over the edge, onto a Reactor.
The heat made him scream in agony, and Sarge could see his flesh melting. Sarge turned away, the Brute still screaming. Arbie joined him, and they made their way to the other side; lined with control pannels.
Sarge stared at the Alien symbols. And stared. He squinted hard. Then, "I can't figure out a word of this gibberish."
"I believe I can work this 'gibberish', Sarge," Arbie said, and he holstered his Plasma Sword, going to work slicing the terminal. "Hm... slicing the system... Standby... I'm in. Reactor Controls.... OutPut Programming... Overload... done! Ha! Take that, Loyalist Engineers!" He cried in triumph.
Sarge already noticed the heat level in the room getting even higher. "Hey, let's go. Four minutes to ka-boom, and it's already hot as hell in here, three ways."
They climbed a ladder, then another one out of another access hatch, into the street. A nearby fountain was spewing boiling water, and the glow-strips began to get brighter as Sarge stared at them.
03:40. They took off, running. They nearly ran headfirst into the large group of Brutes from earlier, then quickly bypassed them, dodging explosions and sizzling plasma bolts.
"Landing Bay, 200 Meters, Northwest!" Bellowed Sarge, running as if his life depended on it. As a matter of fact, it did.
"Harken here," The female voice yelled over the radio, "I'm under attack. Multiple fighters. Returning fire. Might be late."
"Now she tells us," Arbie muttered, ducking a plasma bolt.
They were there. They flew through the doors, and the Arbiter locked them behind them. Explosions and loud thumps on the other side of the door hastened them along the hall, and onto a balcony on the third floor of a Landing Bay. No Alliance Dropship.
Sarge looked around. "Well, no ships." A light overhead exploded with a large force, and several holopanels did as well.
"I don't like this..." The Arbiter said. "Wait... enemy forces!"
A particle sniper bolt streaked past them, and Sarge looked to see twin Snipers behind several Brutes and Jackals. "More company..." Sarge muttered, "And nothing to help us get away. Welp, time to kill."
He fired upon the snipers, energy rounds peppering the area near them. An energy lance sliced into one of the Buzzard's heads, exploding with force and spraying his brother in purple blood, along with a Brute, who sent a Grenade at the team. They dove off the balcony, and landed on the second floor.
"Almost... alright, in the pipe! Five-by-Five!" Hearken's pilot declared. "Twenty seconds to Exfil."
The doors behind them opened, and a dozen Brute Captains ran out, firing at the two.
Sarge jumped to Level One, and Arbie followed. Grenades exploded all around them; their Energy Shields began to buckle and strain.
Arbie pulled a Needler and sent a hail of Magenta needles directly into the face of a Brute, exploding in a shockingly pink cloud. This also killed two others near him.
Doors on the Lower Level opened, and Elite Jackals formed Phalanxes in the doorways, sending Plasma bolts at them.
They ducked behind a cluster of supply crates; the enemies continued to fire, chipping at the cover. One of the crates was punctured, and Plasma Pistols spilled forth. Sarge grabbed two of these and stuck his head out long enough to send several bolts at a group of hostiles before returning to cover.
"Pinned!" Barked Johnson.
Then, large bolts of plasma slammed over their heads, into the enemies. Star Hammer Mk VII rockets glided into the bay, and exploded in hails of shrapnel and bodies.
The Gunship hovered above the two. "Need a lift?"
"You know it," Sarge replied, and jumped into the GravLift. He was carried upwards, and whooped as he landed in the Troop Bay.
"Some ride," He noted to the Marines and Elites inside the bay. The Arbiter materialized in front of him, and stood quickly.
"Hang on," Bellowed the pilot, and the ship lurched as she hit the Afterburners out of the bay. Sarge peeked out a Pressure Window, and saw the Holy of Holies being enveoped in white light and breaking out in explosions. Every ship hastened away from it.
Sarge slumped back in his seat, and sighed as the Station exploded soundlessly with brilliant light. "Phew. Hard day's work."
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