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Present Darkness, Chapter Seven: Part I
Posted By: russ687<russ687@hotmail.com>
Date: 9 January 2005, 8:03 AM
Read/Post Comments
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Chapter Seven
Left Behind
0815 hours, November 21, 2552 (Military Calendar)
ODST AO, Hill 203 (Location of a known Surface Entrance)
Planet Red Dawn (Codename), Theta 1440+90 System
To see war. To see the death that entailed, the challenges, the memories of a past peace, the memories of a past life, the need for a new life; the emotions that would never go away. To see the men you fought alongside, the men you fought for, to see their bodies; none of whom would ever be remembered except only by those who served alongside them.
To feel the anger inside, the aching thought of betrayal. To be hurt by more then mere mortal wounds, but by the actions of others. To explain the death of many to the waiting wives, children, family's; the pain of seeing their tears.
To Return to the present, the life lived not by choice, but by duty. To Return to the Hell whose only advocate was the endless bodies that were added every minute. To Return to a life of fear, of constant strain, of constant paranoia that could render even the strongest nothing more then bodies among millions.
To Return.
Lynn forced his eyes off the bodies that lay at his feet. He couldn't concentrate, he couldn't brake through the haze in his mind that was filled with the images of his dead brothers in arms. His thoughts were consumed by the never ending line of memories that demanded his attention; memories that would not leave him.
This wasn't some distant Platoon that had gotten sheered to bits by the Covenant. This wasn't some Squad of unknown faces being dismantled by their enemy. This was his team, the men he led into battle. The men he met along the way, the men that would have given their own life to save his own. He wasn't staring at the dead bodies of nameless Marines who gallantly gave their lives to the Cause; he was staring at his family.
The only family he would ever know.
Was there something he could have done? The thought of what could have been was no distant voice in his head. It was the only voice in his head. Could he have known? Of course. Providing the fact that this was war, he had no choice but to expect casualties. Was that fact going to change anything? His answer was no cover; it was no lie to the truth.
No.
Keeton walked over, the look in the man's eyes was haunting enough. This Force Recon sniper, a soldier who had endured months of training that most would hide from, a man who had seen his fair share of deaths, a man who had seen war many times; he was no pushover. The look in his eyes, however, portrayed a deeper side of the sniper. Not one that would leave and quit after losing his comrades, but someone that would make the enemy pay ten-fold.
"Wilson is okay. We filled the wound with biofoam and it is holding up. He cannot walk in his current condition, though, and if he ever wants to walk again we need to get him to a medic as soon as possible."
Lynn nodded, remaining silent.
"Tanner's fine as well," Keeton continued. "The bullet was in and out; clean. He can still hold his own..." The sniper's voice trailed off as he looked down at the body before them.
Private First Class Richard Johnson lay motionless before them. The Marine had lost the fight when three armor piercing rounds tore through the body armor, ending the man's life. He had died quickly, Lynn told himself, he hadn't suffered. This soldier had served flawlessly under him, and on more then one occasion saved his own life. Why him? Why wasn't it me...?
"You can't choose who lives or dies," Keeton said, reading Lynn's eyes.
Lynn stepped back and closed his eyes. "Fate? Bullshit odds? Some fucking ONI handler who feels like firing a gun? This wasn't the Covenant; this wasn't some alien who would strike it lucky. This was one of us. This was someone fighting the same enemy, for the same reasons. Nothing was accidental about this, and nothing he did merited being murdered."
It was true. Nothing was worth spending a life for some distant man's perception of duty. They were fighting one enemy, and the direction was clear to all. War between colonies and renegade forces was long gone. It was now everything they had against the Covenant, and to see it come down to this, on the surface of some planet known only to the men who fought here...it wasn't right.
"Sergeant, we need to get out of here. For a fact they're starting the evacuation process of every Marine on the surface, and they are not going to wait for us."
Lynn nodded, thankful he had something to do; something to get this out of his mind. "I'm going to call in the evac, get everyone together and ready."
0820 hours, November 21, 2552 (Military Calendar)
UNSC Capitol Ship Chesapeake
In orbit above Planet Red Dawn (Codename), Theta 1440+90 System
"Last wave of extraction Pelicans have just been launched, we should be fully ready to depart from the system in no more then thirty minutes." Commander Scotts' report was greatly welcomed by that of the bridge crew, along by Warren. "And Captain, I have some word for you. In private."
Warren nodded and left his seat on the bridge of the Chesapeake. He was very proud to command such a fine ship. One of the few built Cruisers of its type, the Chesapeake sported three Magnetic Accelerator Cannons and five Squadron's of Longswords. The ship was regarded by many as the second most powerful in the fleet; its only setback being of an older design. Nonetheless, it could still inflict substantial damage on any Covenant ship unwise enough to stray within the MAC's deadly range.
Having served for over thirty years in the UNSC, getting such a fine command was no easy task. He was fortunate enough to start his Naval career as a commissioned officer; receiving his Master's Degree from the UNSC Naval Academy with top honors. While his specialty major was in Political Science, with an emphasis on the multiple Governments and organizations that dotted the Human "empire", he was more then a mere current-events junkie.
Despite minor setbacks throughout his life among the large, gray ships, he was recognized early for his achievements. The Delta Symphia Rebellion, consisting of many suicidal people willing to fight them, was where his real origin was. Commanding his small Corvette fast-attack ship, he had single handedly saved the main fleet from certain death after intercepting, what has been to date, the largest nuclear bomb on the black market.
Honors from that feat quickly moved him up the Chain of Command, and years later, with discovery and subsequent war with the Covenant, his promotions were accelerated. The war had cost the UNSC many of its finest commanders, and positions opened up far more quickly then normal. His rise through commanding ships of various sizes led him to the ship he stood on today.
Warren and Scotts stepped into his on-duty office; a small, but nice, compartment offering him peace and quiet during the busy operations on the bridge. The Executive Officer seemed preoccupied beyond normal; Scotts was well versed and able to command a ship of his own, but Warren would not allow it. Not yet at least. Having such a valuable XO proved more important then anything he could think of, especially during the operations they had been through.
"We have received word, by a secure channel of course, that Lieutenant Colonel Nodern, commander of Second Regiment, Third Battalion Orbital Drop Shock Troopers, was killed aboard the Stanton Bay within the last hour."
Warren nearly coughed up the cold coffee in his mouth. "What?"
Scotts raised his hands. "I have no clue."
Warren set the mug down, careful to place it on a coaster. "By 'killed' you mean...?"
"Murdered."
The Captain sat down roughly on the padded couch adjacent to his desk and chair. There were always accidents, during both wartime and training, aboard these ships, but murder was a very uncommon, if nonexistent, problem that he had heard of.
"And his Staff?"
Scotts walked over to and poured some coffee into his own cup from the lukewarm pot. "The ship's security found Nodern, along with all of his Executive Staff, save one, killed near the GFCIC. They were all shot, from what appears to be ahead and behind them. While they haven't ruled anything out for certain, it's obvious to see this was not an accident. They were targeted and taken out specifically."
It was an inside job, Warren thought immediately. "They have threats aboard that ship...what was the nature of Nodern's planned visit?"
Scotts pulled out a data pad. "Apparently, he and his staff had discovered, by witness and recon on the surface, another factor of the operation. The matter was considered too sensitive for broadcast over the communications network, so he informed us of a priority meeting, with you and Admiral McCrea included. From what it appeared, this was pretty important."
"Far more then coincidence," Warren thought aloud. "This was not random either."
Scotts nodded.
"You said that one of the Staff members was not present with them."
"Yes," the XO replied. "Apparently, Nodern tasked his Intelligence Officer with going planet-side to confirm whatever it was he was going to brief us on. Any reports or communication from him would be logged in the GFCIC."
"Get me those logs as soon as possible," Warren said, standing. "All of them."
Both officers turned at the sudden flashing lights and alarms filling his office and the corridor outside. This type of alert was only used during training exercises or during combat operations when contact was made with the enemy.
"Oh shit." Scotts breathed silently, moving for the door.
Warren walked to the intercom on his desk as the normal white-lighting dimmed to operational red. "Bridge, report."
The reply was not low key. "Captain, Covenant forces have entered the system, ten minutes out!"
0825 hours, November 21, 2552 (Military Calendar)
ODST AO, Hill 203 (Location of a known Surface Entrance)
Planet Red Dawn (Codename), Theta 1440+90 System
"FLASH Priority Transmission, this is Red Eye One, I say again, FLASH Priority Transmissions. Prepare to copy."
Lynn quickly slung his rifle and turned up the LRISC. The call over the net was obviously for everyone to hear on their band, and the indicated priority level was the highest possible, meaning that nothing was more important or crucial to the operation or status of the mission.
Westfield looked up from his kneeling position over Wilson, who waited patiently through the pain for an evac to arrive and take him to someone who knew something about saving his leg; the gritting teeth from the Marine bore testimony to the pain, despite the biofoam precautions. Keeton didn't look over from his over watch position, but it was obvious the sniper was listening in. The long rifle kept scanning the area around them.
"All units, Charlie in System, I say again, Charlie in System..."
Lynn's heart jumped as the word filtered through the background white-noise. They were predicted to still have time to evacuate every Marine and leave the system without coming close to the Covenant. Their predications were wrong.
"...Last wave of Pelicans are en route to the following egress zones. Proceed with all due speed to these locations for the evac; the Pelicans will not be able for individual pickup. Estimated time until the evac crafts leave these designated drop zones is fifteen, I say again, one-five mikes. First egress zone is as follows..."
Lynn quickly scanned his map as the coordinates were announced over the net. There were only five spread across the Area of Operations, which meant that the remaining Marines, whose number was probably still near triple digits, would have to get to those locations before the fifteen minute mark came across.
"Got one," Lynn said as the radio transmission finished. "Bearing one-niner-zero at two clicks."
Keeton looked at Lynn this time. "What? We've got wounded."
Lynn shook his head. "No evac except at those locations. Odds are whoever's in charge up there wants to get out of the system as soon as possible, and they're not going to wait for the Pelican's to pick up each Squad." He looked over at Wilson, who tried to get to his feet. Would they make it? "We have to move now."
Westfield cursed and helped the Marine up, and Tanner ran over to help, despite his own wound. Lynn quickly thought of their situation, and devised a plan as best he could in twenty-seconds.
"Westfield and Tanner, you carry out Wilson. Keeton and I will provide security."
The Marines nodded and got Wilson to his feet; the cry of pain subdued but visible through the veins on the Marines neck. Under normal combat conditions, with no wounded, this might have been possible. With a wounded man and in hostile territory, though, this was nothing less then an exercise and futility. Did any of them want to stay on this planet, however, for what may be the rest of their lives?
That very fact helped motivate them. Lynn moved over to Wilson, who was suspended on each end by Westfield and Tanner. "This is a quick walk in the woods, but you need to stay quiet; there's plenty of stuff out there that wants our hides."
The Marine nodded in response. Lynn wished they had even just a Medic, someone who could at least give the man some Morphine. He turned and motioned for them to follow, and Keeton brought up the rear.
They were about to make a deadly run through the claws of their enemy.
0825 hours, November 21, 2552 (Military Calendar)
UNSC Capitol Ship Chesapeake
In orbit above Planet Red Dawn (Codename), Theta 1440+90 System
"Give me the SITREP."
Warren looked up at the primary viewing display aboard the bridge. He was connected to Admiral McCrea's ship via the Video Link, and for a split-second considered terminating the connection. He had enemy ships inbound, and this man wanted him to convey the situation. Warren didn't have time for this.
"Three Covenant medium-tonnage ships have entered the system, and are making way for our location at in-system speeds." Warren replied, annoyance in his voice. "I'm relocating the escort ships to provide cover for the Carriers as the Marines complete their extraction phase. If no more enemy ships enter the system, we should still be able to make it out fine."
McCrea nodded. "What's the egress time period for our forces surface-side?"
"Longer then ideal."
The Admiral obviously didn't share amusement to his smart-remark, and the fifty-six year-old man's face wrinkled in anger. "We're entering slipspace in fifteen minutes, is that understood?"
Warren looked down at his data pad. Was this man nuts? "Sir, we would have to cut our extraction times for the Pelicans in half to make that mark; we'd loose nearly half the Marines still on the surface."
"Leave those decisions up to me."
Warren nearly cursed. "Chesapeake out."
Scotts turned from his station and looked back at the Captain, question etched on the officer's face. Warren sat still, thinking of the situation on the surface. If he implemented McCrea's timeframe, they would certainly leave with far less Marines then expected. Was that the definition of a successful mission? Throughout his years of training and service, he was always prompted to consider the lives in his hands before making a decision. Was it worth risking his ships to extract all the Marines, or was it wise just to leave the System and expect the losses on the surface?
"Tell the evac Pelican's they have twenty minutes," he said finally, trying to compromise as much as possible. "We can't take the risk of losing a ship compared to a few Platoons of Marines."
Scotts nodded and went to work.
Warren couldn't even imagine what it was like on the surface, and his decision, or rather McCrea's decision, felt wrong. He had to weigh his options, though, and there were far more lives at stake in orbit if they stayed longer then if they extracted sooner and left some Marines behind.
What kind of situation was this? He had a sudden hate for those Intelligence-guru's that assured him they would have time. Those men sitting in a dark room several decks below him should be on the surface with a rifle, doing something useful.
He looked over as the Communications Officer sent out the order to the GFCIC, and the feeling washed over him immediately.
He had just condemned men to their deaths.
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