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Hidden Threat: Chapter 3 - The Plunge
Posted By: NBD24<NBD24@aol.com>
Date: 22 February 2004, 11:36 PM
Read/Post Comments
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1021 Hours, August 19, 2535 (Military Calendar)/
UNSC Pelican Dropship Chi 258,
in Zeta Omicron III's atmosphere
The Master Chief pulled himself up, surveying his team. His Spartans were fine, protected from the fall by their MJOLNIR armor, but the marines were not so lucky. Sergeant Jennaro and Private Fitzgerald appeared unconscious, and Private Green suffered from a leg wound. The Chief knew he needed immediate medical attention, but it didn't look like the marine would even survive the plunge. The Spartan was saddened by this: if only the Captain hadn't made the last-minute order, the marines would be out of harm's way. The Spartans strapped the marines in, and did the same for themselves.
Kelly's voice came over the COM. "Chief, I can't regain control, it's locked in a flip!" The Chief looked at the footage from the external cameras. The sky of Zeta Omicron III swirled around, turned to horizon, then ground, then horizon again, and back to sky. Sure enough, the feeling his stomach was experiencing concurred with the sensors.
The Master Chief had to come up with something, and fast, before the dropship slammed into the planet's surface. He skimmed through his memory of emergency Pelican maneuvers, but couldn't come up with anything, plus, he didn't have this experience to come up with a formidable solution. Wait, he had a plan. The Chief magnetized his armored boots. A clank came with his foot being pulled towards the floor. The Chief unstrapped himself, and moved up to the cockpit. The door slid open, followed by Kelly's voice, "You better have a plan, Chief. I'm not exactly in the mood for small talk."
"We're getting off this dropship. All of us."
Private First Class Adrian Clark looked through the cockpit window. The other Pelican dropship was flipping madly through the atmosphere. Fire streaked across the hull, making the armor plating warp the ship it was neatly grafted onto.
He was lucky his dropship wasn't knocked about by the explosion's ring, or else they'd be in the same position as the Chi 258. His COM button ominously flashed, removing him from his thoughts. He pushed it.
A female voice yelled over the COM, "Chi 255, this is Chi 258, we're going to jump! We need you to pick us up after we do." Adrian understood. If they parachuted, there would be no way to save the Pelican. It would plummet and crater into the ground.
"Roger that Chi 258, ready when you are." Adrian gunned the engines, and shot his dropship off towards the flipping Pelican.
The Master Chief pulled four parachutes out of the side compartment and gave one to each soldier. Except for Private Fitzgerald and Sergeant Jennaro, each marine would be able to pull this off. Maybe.
The Chief strapped his parachute tightly onto his armor. He wasn't sure the weight of the MJOLNIR armor would allow the chute to function. With caution in his mind, he turned towards Green.
"Can you handle jumping with that leg, Private?"
Green looked taken aback. "Sir, I was ready for this type of situation. I can handle it." The Private grimaced however, as he stood up. The red spot on his thigh dilated.
The Chief keyed his COM. "Kelly, you're getting off this thing, too."
"Of course, just setting the controls to autopilot." Kelly stepped out of the cockpit with her chute on, easily pulled up the sergeant, and stepped towards the troop bay hatch. Fred grabbed the limp body of Private Fitzgerald, and readied himself as well.
The Chief hit the hatch release. The huge metal door opened up, and the explosive decompression yanked the soldiers from the dropship. The Spartans and marines thrown upwards and started to fall towards the ground. It appeared the Chief opened the hatch while the Pelican was nose down. The Pelican's occupants were about five hundred meters from the ground.
If the Pelican wasn't already on a death trip, it certainly was now. The decompression pushed the dropship, and made it flip faster.
Air tugged on the Chief's backpack, and he realized what he should be doing. He pulled the ripcord next to his left strap, and the chute opened up above him. The recoil from the sudden slowing snapped his head back. He looked to his sides, and saw three other parachutes lowering their users towards the ground.
The Chief seemed to be accelerating towards the grouping of trees rising up to meet him. The MJOLNIR armor must be too heavy for the standard-issue marine parachute. He took a look at the two other Spartans, and noticed they were moving as quickly as he was.
Fred's voice came over his COM. "Uh, Chief, we seem to be in trouble."
The rumbling of large engines stimulated his eardrums, and drowned out Fred's voice. He looked behind, and saw the Pelican arcing towards him. It lowered and the Chief was practically on top of it, save for a few meters. It rose slowly, and he heard his boots clank on the Pelican's back. Realizing what the pilot wanted, he touched a button on his boots, and they secure themselves to the dropship's hull. A tug on his chest suggested that he get rid of his chute. He unstrapped himself, and the parachute rocketed away behind him.
The Pelican turned, and approached the other two Spartans. With a little more difficulty, they landed safely on the dropship as well.
As soon as he locked himself in place on the hull, Fred turned to the Master Chief. "Surfs up, dude."
"What's that, Spartan?"
"Uh, surfs up, sir!" The Chief smirked behind his visor. Fred's weak attempt at humor made him smile, but this wasn't the time and place for it. They still needed to get Private Green. The Private was slowly floating towards the ground, but with that bad leg off his, after he landed, he wouldn't be able to help the other marines out on their mission.
The dropship neared the private, and rose up to meet him. The marine's boots knocked against the Pelican. The marine was jostled around by updrafts. Without any magnetic sealing, he wouldn't be able to hold on.
"Green, you're going to have to get rid of your chute."
"No offense sir, but I think that's a bad idea."
The Chief didn't have time for this. His patience turned to anger, "Marine, you will unstrap yourself. I will catch you. Do it, that's an order!"
The private hesitated, but released his pack. It flew off, and he fell towards the Pelican. The Chief held out his arms, and the marine landed perfectly in them. The Spartan didn't so much as flinch. A two-hundred pound marine was a fraction of what the Chief could lift.
The marine looked into the golden visor. "Uh, thanks sir. I think."
The Spartans helped the marines into the troop bay, and the Chief marched to the cockpit.
Adrian sat at the controls. His hands were doused in sweat. He didn't even think he could pull it off, but the three thumps that shook through the Pelican told him he did.
The cacophony of metal hitting metal sounded through the troop bay. He knew it was probably the Master Chief, so he stood up and turned to face the cabin door. It slid open, revealing a two-meter tall figure clad in dented green armor. He didn't want to know how much that weighed.
The man behind the golden visor spoke to him. "Private, that was some nice flying back there. It was a good thing you were there watching."
"Well, sir, you ordered me to pick you up, so I-"
The Chief cut him off. "It doesn't matter. Good job." The Spartan walked past him and looked at the controls. "I want you to land near the downed Pelican, and then proceed to these coordinates."
Adrian looked to where the metal-covered finger was pointing, and acknowledged the order. "Yes sir." Adrian watched the Chief sit back down, and positioned himself at the controls. He pulled the stick to the right, and sighted his view to where he thought the doomed dropship landed. Indeed, there it was, in the middle of a field. It had dug a crater in the earth with it's nose. Smoke billowed from the Pelican, and it was charred all along the sides like it entered the atmosphere at the wrong angle.
He eased his Pelican near it, and left with the Spartans and marines investigate the site. When they neared the site, it reeked of smoke and burning metal. The Spartan next to him said something to the Chief. "Do you think the warthog works?"
The Chief walked into the burning cockpit and hit the warthog release. The modified jeep fell and landed next to the marines. It too, met the same fate as the dead dropship. The Spartan his HUD identified as Spartan-087 jumped in, and turned the ignition. Nothing happened at first, but a rumbling grew from inside the hood.
Spartan-087 jumped out and talked to the Chief. "Sir, the warthog is salvageable."
The Chief walked over to Adrian. "Private, I want you to attach the warthog to your Pelican."
"As ordered, sir." Adrian waited until everyone was on board, and backed his dropship against the wreckage, and hooked the warthog to the birdlike craft. He laid in the coordinates the Master Chief supplied him with, and leaned back in his semi-cormfortable chair. He was just about to take a nap, when a flashing red light alerted him. He sat up and glanced at his radar just long enough to silently agree with his suspicions.
He looked out his window. Sure enough, a group of elites were patrolling a ridge. When they heard the growl of the human dropship's engines, the upper-class Covenant soldiers fire their plasma rifles at the alien vessel. A bluish flash twinkled from the starboard wing. Those bastards were trying to take him down with their grenades.
Adrian pushed a button on his joystick, and twin fifty-millimeter chainguns opened up on the threat. Armor-piercing rounds punched holes through the elites' bodies. Flesh ripped and blood spilled out onto the cliff face behind them, colliding with the rock like paint on a mural. Those who didn't die kept firing resolutely. The Covenant commanders acted like machines, able to be turned on and off. Those who didn't know fear.
The thought of that reinforced his feelings. Adrian continued to shoot down the aliens. Until every last one of them was dead. Payback for the thousands already taken by the war. He hated them all.
The Master Chief jumped down from the Pelican. He surveyed the area. The LZ was situated in between two tree-covered hills, that eventually turned into mountains. He turned around and stepped aside.
His Spartans and the marines exited the dropships and walked towards a few rocks, where they laid down Private Green. A marine brought over a medical kit, and placed it next to the wounded soldier. He removed a canister of biofoam and ripped away some of the marine's pants. He hastily applied some of the healing solution to Green's left leg. Apparently, it was cut upon the dropship, as marked by a long gash. The other marine, the Chief identified as Corporal Rodriguez, was white from fear. Not fear of the enemy, but for his comrade's life. The only thing this mission needed to go south was a dead man, and the Chief didn't want that on his conscience.
When the substitue medic finished treating him, Green got up, and walked about. Since it looked like Green was going to be fine, the Chief started to formulate a plan. He analyzed the coordinates the Captain had given him, and uploaded a NAV point to everyone's HUD. Since the 'facility' was a few hundred kilometers away, they'd need to make a drop utilizing the Pelican.
One squad should execute a stealth mission into the facility. A few men will fly the Pelican around, for a distraction, and possibly to eliminate any air resistance. That facility would probably have a squadron of Banshees in wait. The rest would take the M12LRV and take out ground patrols.
But who should the Chief pick? He didn't want the marines to go alone, so at least one Spartan would accompany each team. Corporal Rodriguez, Private Fitzgerald, and James would take the modified warthog and destroy any air resistance. The rest of the crew would branch out into two groups. The Pelican team would be comprised of Private FC Clark, Private Green, Sam and Fred. Kelly, Linda, Sergeant Jennaro, Private Delaney, and he himself would operate the stealth mission.
He keyed his COM, "Spartans, marines, listen up. Green Team is James, Corporal Rodriguez, and Private Fitzgerald. Proceed to offer us any support on the ground you can come up with.
"Sam, Fred, Privates Clark and Green. You will accompany Red Team on the second Pelican, split with Red Team at the DZ, and destroy any air patrols.
Red Team is Kelly, Linda, Sergeant Jennaro, Private Delaney and myself. We will insert ourselves into the heart of the facility. Red and Blue teams will proceed at 0300 hours tomorrow. Blue Team will leave a while earlier. Got it?" Eleven acknowledgment lights winked on and off, signaling that everyone understood.
The Master Chief took a look around. The blue sky had darkened to black, and all the marines except Sergeant Jennaro and himself were asleep. Both of them were taking a look at the inventory. In front of the Chief were supplies he scrounged from the containers inside the Pelican.
One crate held about 25 clips for the MA2B assault rifles. Another was filled with medkits, and armor camouflage paint. The Chief grabbed the black, and he and the Sarge took turns painting their armor. Black would be an excellent choice for a night/early morning mission.
The Chief divided up the supplies between everyone, and set to work on his own sleep. Before he had a chance to relax, a crunching over in the brush alerted him. He looked at Sergeant Jennaro who, by his facial expression, heard it also. The Chief made the appropriate hand signals telling the Sarge to flank the threat's right. The Chief and the Sarge moved incredibly quiet, even with their heavily armored feet.
Both of them dove into the general position the noise came from, and tackled a human-sized figure. Probably an elite spy. They grabbed the enemy, dragged it into the clearing, and set it down. The Chief turned on his armor's headlights.
The Sarge voiced an expletive, "Oh, you gotta be kiddin' me. Private, what the fuck were you doing in there?!? I coulda shot you, or had the Master Chief do it. And believe me, he does not miss."
Fitzgerald zipped up his pants. "Sir, I was, uh, taking a leak sir!"
"Next time you decide to take a leak, in the middle of the night, in the brush, tell me first so I don't decide to shoot you." The Sergeant seemed really pissed about it. Too pissed. The Chief didn't want bad feelings to arise right before a mission.
The Chief voiced his opinion. "Sergeant Jennaro, desist. Private, apologize to the Sergeant."
"Sir! I am very sorry Sir! It will not happen again, Sir!" The Private seemed to be extremely apologetic.
The Sergeant frowned at the Chief, but with the Spartan staring back at him, he couldn't hold his face for long. "It's okay, Private. Just, make it less inconspicuous. We mistook you for a Covie scout."
Both of the marines retired to their sleeping bags. The Chief decided that that was a good idea. He woke Fred to be guard, and plopped down on the grass. He gazed at the stars, and wondered how many of them the Covenant had taken away. Planets upon planets were being glassed, and he had to do something about it. He knew that, in due time, he would.
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