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Struggle to Survive Chapter3:Why does Everything Happen on My Watch
Posted By: Sh4rk
Date: 6 May 2005, 7:51 PM
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Chapter 2: Why does everything happen on my Watch?
A bottle was thrown, narrowly missing someone's head and smashing a window before shattering on the road outside. The bar was so noisy that you could hear it from two three hundred yards away. If the covenant had invaded Alan seriously doubted that anyone would have heard a thing, not that the covenant were going to invade. He was inside the bar, sitting next to him were Sam and another trooper called Max, Jenny, having connections had been posted on the Malta super MAC station with regular leave to Earth. The bar was noisy and full of cigarette smoke and there was a music system blaring out twenty first century flip music at a level that was not conducive to conversation. Actually Alan didn't really mind. He was halfway through the process of getting himself horribly drunk.
He'd been stuck on this world, Tara IV, for six months now. Nothing happened, no covenant, no training and worst of all no women, or at least no vaguely good looking women.
He'd passed his basic training with ease and had looked forward to some action. Now he was stuck on a world where the temperature didn't drop below thirty five and the chances of anything happening were so small as to be incalculable. Alan shook his head, he was thinking too clearly, obviously not drunk enough yet.
"Oih waiter, another beer please." The waiter behind the bar waved in acknowledgement. He was called Manuel. He stank of cigarette smoke permanently, and had the most outrageous mustachios known to man, but Alan liked him.
Manuel came over "One beer, four United Nations dollars please." Alan fumbled in his pockets, and swore, he was clean out. Turning to Sam he punched him lightly on the arm and scrounged for a few dollars.
Zealot Ena Turonmee stared in disgust at the message floating before him. 'Capture a Human!' he couldn't believe it. A human here on his ship, his precious ship, once it had been transferred he would order a thorough plasma cleaning of anywhere it had been. "General Briggs." He rolled the unfamiliar words round his mouth. It had a name! He couldn't believe that something as distainable as a human could actually have a name. Yet the exulted Prophet of Truth had ordered its capture and so he would obey. He switched on the ship intercom. "Honorable warriors of the Holy covenant," he began, "We have been again tasked to carry out the Gods holy work. One of the infidels, who by trickery and dishonorable conduct has risen high in their ranks, is traveling through this sector and it is our honor to be tasked to capture him. If we are successful the story of our triumph will be woven into your family's battle song" He switched off intercom and turned to his bridge crew. "Prepare for a slipspace jump to coordinates four sixteen nine."
"At once Your Excellency" replied one of them a red armored Nurka Sangheili.
Ena sighed, the trap was set. "I will be in my private chambers, do not disturb me unless absolutely necessary."
Deep down in the bowls of the covenant assault carrier, a young Sangheili known only as Alna, not having earned the right to a full name, carefully cleaned his armor. As he worked he recited the prayer that all recruits did. "I fight for the truth and for honor, for the chance for a better existence and for the glory of my ancestors. Let me not waver in battle nor bring shame upon my family. If I must die then let me die with honor and dignity. My courage will not fail. This I swear upon the sacred truth of the Gods." He straightened, his right knee clicking and looked at his armor standing on its stand. It glistened in the light of the single dim blue plasma lamp on the ceiling of the small room. Throwing shadows onto the floor and walls, it looked glorious. Armor fit for a warrior. Alna hoped he could live up to that designation.
General Briggs paced the deck of corvette Beta six, he hated being in space. He had joined the army for a reason, and that reason was that, on the ground the humans actually had a chance to fight the covenant. In space, the covenants technology was so superior that the humans never really stood a chance.
Something wasn't right. In his long years in combat he had learnt to trust his instincts. He started to sweat, his uniform soaking under his arms and over his lower back. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest. "Calm down," he told himself, nothing his happening. Even as he consciously told himself that everything was fine his subconscious self was already gearing itself up for a fight or flight response. The adrenaline started to pump through him and he felt his heart rate rise. None of this was helped by the fact that the pilots sextet of Longswords guarding him seemed to be feeling the same way as he did. He wished his escort was larger but there simply weren't the ships available He could see the helmeted head of the pilot in the closest fighter looking this way and that for the enemy, and they all had their weapons hot, cannon barrels exposed and the covers of the internal missile bays retracted. He looked over they heads of the pilots at the sensor display. "Damn" he swore quietly to himself, another thirty minutes before they were out of the gravitational shadow of the unnamed Red giant nearby, only then could they make an accurate slipspace jump. He stared out of the view port watching as two of the Longswords shot past, going to recon the area ahead. His uniform finally became unbearable and he decided to go and have a shower. He turned stiffly and nodding to the ships captain left the bridge and headed for his private quarters. His wife was there waiting for him. He wished that she was not with him; he loved her and didn't want her exposed to any danger. He kissed her as he headed for the bathroom. He stripped off his and stepped into the shower "Ah that's better," he said as the stream of water washed the sweat from his body. Half an hour later he turned of the stream of water and stepped out of the shower. He pulled his dressing gown off its hook and putting it on he stepped into his room.
As he entered his room, the lights snapped off. He felt his wife's hands run along his back leaving a tingling sensation on the skin they had touched. She pulled him gently towards the bed. He should have resisted, he was meant to be on duty but it was a welcome release for all his nerves. His wife collapsed back onto the bed pulling him down on top of him. He lowered his head to kiss her and was just beginning to run his and up her thigh when, the door flew open and the lights switched on. "Oh fuck" he swore.
"Your Excellency," came the timid voice from beyond the door. "Father!" Ena Turonmee sighed, he would have to see him, what did he want now? He picked his helmet up from the table. Placing it on his head he looked in the mirror to make sure he was presentable. Satisfied with his appearance he strode over to the door. Pulling it open he started, his son was not wearing armor. Recovering his composure quickly he beckoned him inside. He closed the door and sat down on of the chairs that sat round the small table at one side of the room. "Well my son, what is it that you desire and why do you not come wearing your armor as befits a warrior?"
"I am not a warrior yet" replied Alna stiffly, "and that is why I requested an audience with you. I wish to have the honor of going in with the Capture Squad."
Ena looked at him. "Your request is noted and denied. The capture Squad is composed of those of Molta rank or higher, my condolences." Alna stood and bowing low said. "Then fortune preserve then" and walked out head held high, determined not to show his father how much he had been hurt. He realized that Ena was right. The Molta Sangheili were definitely the ones for the job. They filled him with awe; their black armor seemed to cast an invisible shadow over any room they were in. Conversation died as they entered and people stared. One day he hoped to join their ranks but now he was a lowly blue armored Gudili. He snarled as a red armored Unngoy got in his way and kicked out viciously at the creature sending it yelping into the shadows at the side of the corridor. He went back to the barracks to await his orders for the upcoming battle.
Ena was on the bridge again. "Your Excellency," said one of the Sanheili, patrol Alpha Three reporting several human craft in sector four.
"Very well," he replied, "jump out to the coordinates given earlier.
The covenant ship entered slipspace seamlessly and within ten minutes had traveled the two million miles to the coordinates. They exited slipspace well outside the infidel's sensor range. "Deploy the stealth boarding craft!" ordered Ena. A small pod exited the carriers docking bay and burned towards the human corvette. Inside were four Molta Sangheili armed with plasma swords and carbines, though they didn't expect to use them. The small craft slowed and powered down as it slipped through the Longsword perimeter surrounding the corvette. The Sangheili inside held their breath hoping that the stealth technology would live up to its reputation. They need not have worried; the Longswords had no idea they were there. The pod docked with an unused airlock. The onboard computer quickly disabled the security on the hatch so they could enter with out setting off the alarm. The lead Sangheili stood, "Let the gods be with us," he said and activated his active camouflage. The rest of the Sanheili followed suit. They opened the hatch and closing it behind them slipped into the corvette. Like shadows they flittered through pools of light and shadow, gliding like an invisible mist through the ship, heading for the Luxury quarters. Each had memorized the interior of the ship prior to their mission. After three minutes they stood grouped outside General Briggs quarters. There was a lone guard, who was now lying on the floor, his neck broken. The lead Sangheili clicked his mandibles; that sound alerting the others who got ready to enter. He kicked on the door, the first buckling it the second snapping it open, and stepped inside, the second Sangheili hit the light switch flooding the room with light. There were two humans, lying together on the bed. One of them said something.
The Sangheili leader recognized one as the target. The other started to scream so he shot it. The carbine shot blew a fist sized hole through its head covering the target in grey brain matter and red blood. The heat of the shot fried its hair in a second filling the room with characteristic stench of burnt keratin. The target was in shock. Lying there propped up on its elbows gore dripping from its chin and the end of its nose onto the exposed chest of its companion. The Sangheili leader chuckled and opened a communications channel with Ena Turonmee, now that they had secured the target it didn't matter that the humans knew they were there. "Your Excellence, the target is secure, you may commence the assault."
"Sir!" cried a crewman, "There is a communication on the covenant frequency. It originated from inside the ship. The bastards are here, onboard, Oh my god we going to..."
"Sir, I'm detecting multiple covenant ships on approach, mainly seraphs and boarding..."
"Sir the marine guard outside the Generals quarters has not responded"
"Sir, what do you want to...?"
"Quiet!" roared the captain. "Alert the Longswords, boarding craft are primary targets. Sensors they must have come from somewhere, find out where. Communications, broadcast a distress signal, all channels. Finally send the marines to the general's quarters.
Private First Class James Burridge ran down of the corridor after lieutenant Reeney. He could hear the covenant behind him; hopefully the locked hatch would by them some time. He definitely hadn't signed up for this. He had hoped that the covenant would have not been able to board but there were too many seraphs and the Longswords had not been able to shoot down any of the boarding craft. He turned a corner and ran down a corridor with view ports on the left. There was a fierce glow outside and he glanced left in time to see a seraph explode under the sustained fire of a longsword. Any elation he felt was swiftly banished as the Longsword took direct hits from at least three other seraphs and blew up into an expanding ball of gas and shrapnel, secondary explosions marked the explosion of its armament. He grimaced reminding himself that the ball of gas marked the grave of another comrade. Hearing a crash behind him he sped up. He heard a wine and a string of blue plasma bolts sizzled past and hit the lieutenant in the back, he went down without a sound, dead. He ran towards the access hatch and slapped frantically at the door controls. Nothing! Turning, for the first time he smelt the awful stench permeating the corridor. He gagged and then vomited all over his shiny boots. When he straightened up there was a blue armored elite standing in front of him. He slowly became aware of another smell, coming through the burnt flesh and vomit, he also realized that his crotch was soaking wet. The Elite raised his plasma rifle and James started to scream, the plasma bolt took him in the mouth it burnt through is lower jaw and upper shoulder. James collapsed to the deck his vision blurring unable to cry out or do anything. He remained conscious long enough to see the Elite raise his left foot and bring down on his head. Then Nothing!
Alan was seriously regretting getting so drunk the night before. He was on duty in the communications bunker and his head was killing him. He was just about to be relived when a message came through on the radio. "Mayday, Mayday, this is corvette beta six, with general Briggs onboard, we've been flushed, I repeat, we've been flushed, send help please coordinates four sixteen seven..... Oh god they're coming through the door," there was a pause, "tell my wife I love her, Lieutenant Trosky signing off."
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