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Present Darkness, Chapter One: Part II
Posted By: russ687<russ687@hotmail.com>
Date: 18 November 2004, 4:50 AM
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0515 hours, November 21, 2552 (Military Calendar)
UNSC Carrier Stanton Bay
In orbit above Planet Red Dawn (Codename), Theta 1440+90 System
The GFCIC was swarming with activity. However, Major Jody Foster knew well enough that it wasn't the type of activity that he wanted, or anyone else for that matter. He stood before a large screen depicting the Area of Operations of his Battalion of ODSTs, and with that, all their drop zones.
Eight platoons were sent to land in the forest over the general area where those Covenant supplies were suspected to be, and the last four platoons were sent to secure a known Covenant base twenty kilometers northward. Those four platoons were the first on the ground, and reported heavy resistance at the Covenant base, as expected, but soon thereafter reported they had secured the base. He was feeling more confident about his drop locations after he heard of that success, but the word coming in from the other eight platoons had completely shattered whatever hope of overall success he had.
Somehow, within fifteen minutes of all their simultaneous landings, these Platoons reported in heavy Covenant presence, and went of the air. Foster was confused about that, for the main reason that he picked those locations for the drops because they were seemingly out of the way, that is, not being anywhere near a known Covenant force. But that was not the case here. Somehow, he had probably managed to pick the most hostile area possible, since he had never seen eight platoons be taken out so fast.
The current screen read the details of each platoon. Three of the platoons were listed completely as killed in action, another three we listed as missing in action, with no contact whatsoever from them, and the last two had reestablished contact. Current estimates of the causalities among those eight platoons was at 172 KIA.
How could he have done this? He had thoroughly checked these locations, even used first hand Intel, and yet he had just recommended to his CO, the man in charge of these men, to send them to those specific locations. This was a total failure; they had apparently lost over sixty-percent of their ground force, and with it so soon into the operation, completing their tasks would be an inevitable loss.
Foster turned around and looked at the chief communications officer. "What are we looking at?"
The other Marine manning his station looked up, his face grim. "The two Platoons we are in contact with have apparently secured their own locations, with each about a fifty-percent strength. Both platoons have lost their COs, but the person in charge of each of them has so far said they can continue with the mission."
Foster let his head drop. He sent these men to their deaths, and the ones that even survived are staying to fight. The courage and sense of duty these men had was beyond him; it proved just how much these elite troops would go through to fight.
ODSTs. Willing to do this, and yet most high brass commanders failed to recognize their sacrifice. They weren't ordinary soldiers; they surpassed every standard set before them by the UNSC.
Foster let out a long breath and looked up again. Lieutenant Colonel Nodern was walking over towards him.
"This is the shit I have to send my men through." The older mans voice was flat, but Foster could detect deep anger within. "What are our options?"
"Sir! We have an transmission over the net. It's from Second Platoon of Bravo Company." The comm. officer said. "It's from one of the KIA platoons."
Foster and Nodern both motioned for him to patch it through to the on-deck speakers. Any sign of life down there was a good sign at this point.
"...I say again, we are pinned down by heavy enemy fire. Coordinates are Alpha Five Seven Six--" Rife fire filled the static transmission, along with a deep explosion. Several rounds were fired off through the radio before the transmission ended in static.
"Did we lose him?" Foster asked.
The comm. officer held up a hand and pressed his headset closer to his ear. He then adjusted dials.
The transmission came back through the static. "Repeating last transmission: Our location is Alpha Five Seven Six, Bravo Niner Niner One; Drop Zone Mike X-Ray. Request any support. Out."
Foster looked over at his CO, who looked back with a hard gaze. "Give them whatever we got down there."
0520 hours, November 21, 2552 (Military Calendar)
Drop Zone Mike X-Ray
Planet Red Dawn (Codename), Theta 1440+90 System
Lynn strapped the radio to his back, then popped up around the rock and fired several rounds at three Jackals now just beginning to enter the cleared area of the drop zone. The Covenant were getting closer and closer to them by the minute.
"Anything over the radio?" Westfield yelled from across the drop zone, pausing his own firing to be heard.
A good question, Lynn thought. It was broadcasted over the primary communications net, so somebody had to have heard it. If anyone did, it was probably the actual ships in space. "I didn't have time to hear anyone respond, but somebody, somewhere must have gotten it."
The M271 began firing again as plasma fire shot across the empty drop zone. So far they were being successful in keeping the Covenant away and staying alive, but they were getting closer, and once they were on top of them they would have no where to run. He leaned back out and fired at the Jackals again, forcing them to move back into the forest.
"Contact, eastward!" He heard Johnson yell from out of sight.
Lynn turned and looked that direction, but didn't spot any Covenant. He scanned that entire side of the forest and didn't spot a single foe; not even plasma fire was coming from that direction. Then the whining sound of engines originated from that direction. Banshees?
The large black Pelican roared over the tree-line and banked sharply over the field, the door gunner firing down upon the Covenant positions in the forest; shells dropping out the rear over the drop zone.
"Friendly's in the air!" Westfield yelled out as the Pelican turned and banked back towards them. "Popping smoke!"
Lynn watched as a grenade landed and bounced about in the middle of the drop-zone, and began pouring out green smoke. He aimed his rifle and fired at a small group of Grunts running aimlessly towards them, taking two of them down. Plasma fire seemed to settle down a lot as the Pelican did another pass over the forests, firing down. This was their ticket out.
"Johnson, Wilson, Westfield: when they come back around for the smoke, head for it!" Lynn yelled out. He watched the ship turn and head right for the smoke, making a fast descent. "Move now!"
The four Marines, all from their different locations, stood up and moved for the smoke as the Pelican settled into a hover and began descending over the smoke. The downwash send the smoke in all directions, giving them cover from what plasma fire remained.
Lynn stopped at the open rear door and looked up at the gunner, who grinned back down at him. He motioned for him to get aboard as the other three ODSTs made it to the rear door of the Pelican.
"I don't usually come onto people so fast, but, need a lift?" The door gunner let out a quick laugh while firing aimlessly into the smoke towards the forest tree-line.
Lynn jumped up into the cabin, then turned and helped Westfield with his heavy M271. Johnson and Wilson aimed their rifles out the rear hatch, as if the Covenant were going to appear through the smoke, as the gunner gave a thumbs up and talked to the pilot through his headset. The Pelican began rising quickly as plasma fire began impacting the craft.
The Covenant wasn't about to give up easily.
The gunner held down his trigger and fired continuous rounds into the forest as the Pelican began accelerating away, plasma fire following the craft and continuing to burn through its armor.
Wilson let his head hang back. "Oh my God, we made it. We made it-"
The Pelican lurched forward and began vibrating heavily. The motion sent the crafts center of gravity out, which in turn sent all the occupants not strapped in to the floor.
"Shit, they hit us real good." The gunner said, noticing thick black smoke billow from the left side of the craft as the Pelican climbed for altitude away from the drop zone. The Pelican began nosing up steeper, sending Lynn sliding towards the rear hatch.
Westfield grabbed a hold of the safety harnesses and hung on as the angle increased. Johnson did the same, but Wilson began sliding over the steel deck floor of the cabin towards the hatch as well. Lynn reached out to grab something but everything passed his grasp as the Pelican continued to nose up.
He looked up to see the rear open door come up quickly, and there was nothing to stop him from becoming an ODST without a parachute falling towards the ground. He reached out for anything, but there was nothing to grab.
Lynn cursed loudly as the Pelican suddenly nosed down, stopping him nearly mid-air from falling out the rear hatch to sliding back into the Pelican. He grabbed a safety harness that swung out and grasped onto it as the Pelican began diving. The sense of weightlessness came over him, letting him know that the Pelican was diving towards the ground faster and faster.
The gunner turned around to face the four Marines barely holding on as the Pelican yawed violently. "Our pilot has just instructed me to prepare for a crash-landing, take your seats and buckle up or jump out."
Lynn looked across the cabin at Westfield and Wilson, who stared back with blank faces. They had seemingly survived one fate just to plunge into another. The clicking of harnesses resounded in the cabin as the Pelican leveled off a little, still descending towards the ground with black smoke tracing their path in the sky.
Lynn leaned back and closed his eyes. He had never been aboard a Pelican during an emergency, and until this point in time, never thought he would. It seemed as if something didn't want him to get off this God-forsaken planet, but it would still give him the luck to stay alive. Fate, it seems, has something undone.
"Brace for impact!"
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