 |
About This Site
Daily Musings
News
News Archive
Site Resources
FAQ
Screenshots
Concept Art
Halo 2 Updates
Interviews
Movies
Music
Miscellaneous
Mailbag
HBO PAL
Game Fun
The Halo Story
Tips and Tricks
Fan Creations
Wallpaper
Misc. Art
Fan Fiction
Comics
Logos
Banners
Press Coverage
Halo Reviews
Halo 2 Previews
Press Scans
Community
HBO Forum
Clan HBO Forum
HBO IRC Channel
Links
Admin
Submissions
FTP Uploads
HTTP Uploads
Contact
|
|
|
The Enemy Within-Chapter Eight: The Torrent Awaits
Posted By: Mind_Affecting_Parasite<pbplayer_24@yahoo.com>
Date: 28 April 2004, 12:45 AM
Read/Post Comments
|
(Author's Note: Once again, I sincerely apologize for the delay of this chapter. But, there is good new for those of you who are getting tired of waiting up to two or three weeks for the next chapter of this series. My schedule is smoothing out-reaching a level plain, and hopefully starting a gentle down-slope (end of school-year... slow down?-yeah right). I don't want to whine, but lately I barely have time to take a good crap, let alone write well. I will try to spin these out more quickly, but these things take time...and love and caring and...well it will get out when it gets out. Have a good read!)
The already lagging dropship took another hit in her hind quarters. A glowing green projectile implanted itself into the already damaged cockpit, and exploded. Molten metal sprayed outward, pushed away by the expanding cloud of radioactive induced plasma. Pues 'Koiwee, the scared beyond sense Elite piloting the failing craft, felt the heat in his small control room rise drastically. Just as he thought he might make it into the hangar, whose energy field was visibly warming into existence, another explosive weapon impacted his vessel.
Nuies 'Meiwonase looked away from the glowing blue rim of the approaching portal to look back at his fellow pilot's ship. He had just enough time to see a human rocket launcher round impact the back of the dropship, wreathed by sparks and smoke. The explosion tore the already weakened rear section apart, like a firecracker would have done, implanted in an orange. A plume of night black smoke erupted from the vessel, its' tip began to drop, and it rolled forward.
'Ipnaimee watched in horror as the single intact dropship ran full steam through the openings before him. The shield, not yet at full power, failed to fully keep the vessel from continuing. With sparks and screeching metal, the front two prongs slid into the ship bay. There was a crackle and pop as the shields reached maximum strength, and a red hot metallic pang filled the air. The front halves of the dropship's two troop carrying prongs flew away from the rest of the ship, colliding into the second level's deck. The other half of the ship pushed on the shield, visibly bowing it forward, before springing back into the Flood coated tunnel.
A now out of control dropship also headed for the docking bay energy field. The small vessel trailed smoke, fire and sparks, and was taking a nose dive. As the nose fell and the tail rose, the dropship careened into the shield. Its' full top side contacting the protective film, the craft pushed the near clear shield to its limits. The shield began to flicker, but barley pushed the ship back. This was not enough; however, and the combined force of the dropship, finally succumbing to the damage it had sustained and exploding, along with the push of the Flood and the impact of their weapons was too much for the shield's strained systems to handle.
Samantha was too tough for her own good. The Flood inflicted trauma wasn't quite enough to cause her to faint. So she screamed.
His wife's scream was barely discernable through the chaos around him. The Combat form guilty of slashing his wife wilted under a hail of armor-piercing rounds, green gore leaking from its' form. All the while, Kyle had been running towards Sam, screaming along with her at loudly as he could. He stopped firing as soon as the Flood form had hit the ground. Kyle slid up to his spouse and caressed her face, all the while attempting to pull her up. Crimson liquid stained the back of her legs and lower torso, running from the gashes in her clothing and, underneath, her skin. A wet spot started to grow around her legs. Sam was grinding her teeth in the pain, her face pressed to the ground. Her fingers dug into the stock and barrel of the shotgun she had gotten to, too late.
Kyle pulled Samantha closer, and tried to push them both up.
"Kyle!" shouted Sergeant Ferring, the bulky Rocket Launcher in his arms not permitting him to fire upon the Carrier nearing two of his squad. He fumbled with the large weapon, in the mitst of his battle. "Look out!!"
Patrick glanced behind himself, hearing an explosion detonate in the room his CO was still in. His legs and chest were burning, but he knew he had plenty more running to do ahead. As both Marines, holding the alien, and single Navy pilot came to the next bend, Pat Carter clicked his COM. Both of his squad-mates glanced back at the Corporal. He gestured handlessly, and the threesome skidded to a halt. Pat gestured towards the corner, and so they went without a sound.
The two Marines set the Elite down on the cold floor, which was the cleanest they had some upon as of late. It had lapsed into unconsciousness, and was just dead wait to carry along. Patrick didn't have an idea in hell of why they were carting this thing around. Sarge had said: "they might need it", but Corporal Carter didn't think so. He reached down tentatively and pushed two fingers into the neck of the animal-the mottled skin was warm, still alive. Pat eyed his two companions, trying to think up what to do next-but not before his Sergeant was back.
Derrick and James quickly affirmed Carter's hand signals, and slid into the two "legs" of the hall, their ARs twitching back and forth across the inky black beyond them. The darkness tried to fight the sharp beams of light assaulting it, but did not hold out.
"Sarge!" Pat shouted through his COM. He noted that he could still hear gun fire down the hall they had come from. "Where the hell are you?"
James turned his head to glance at Patrick before adding his own worries, "It sounds pretty damn noisy from here."
There was a pause, then the channel opened from the other end, static tinging the sound. "Keep your ass moving Marine!" shouted Sergeant Ferring back through the radio. His voice was followed by staccato bursts of automatic weapon fire in the background. "We're coming," Pat heard his Sergeant add in a whisper, before it cut off.
He knelt in his place for a moment, remaining still in thgouht until yet another explosion reverberated through the hallways. James must have seen the worry on his superiors face, as his face, too, morphed into one of concern.
"What now, sir?" he asked. Derrick also turned to face the Corporal, keeping his light pointed down his "leg" of the hall.
"He's coming," Carter answered. "So let's find us a way out of here."
"I said now!" 'Reigando shouted into the communications device. The lethargic Grunt on the other end was trying his patience.
The Ship Master stood rigid, his heart rate high, and temper flaring. Dealing with the Grunt Dwegol was becoming increasingly agitating. He needed to gain contact with Dwegol's Squad Master, and quickly. The Elite shifted his weight, and clicked his mandibles in frustration as he waited for the link to 'Haeimee.
'Reigando glanced back down at the display. Dwegol was taking too long, for a simple connection link. The angered Elite reached towards the control when an message flashed over the screen. It read: "signal lost", and flashed a bright red hue. The Ship Master's face faded to a lighter color, standing out against the flashy gold armor adorning his form. At first he was unable to move, too startled and too terrified to act.
"Master?!" 'Itlaee's voice snapped 'Reigando's mind into focus.
He regained his authoritative posture and turned to face the lower ranking Elite warrior. 'Itlaee's face, too, was lacking of its normal vivid color-the Ship Master's spirits dropped yet another notch. As his fear mounted, he began to believe that they could drop no further.
|
