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Anathema - One
Date: 8 January 2005, 9:10 PM
Anathema
by Bloodcider
----
One
1248 Hours, July 20, 2552 (Military Calender) / Sigma Octanus IV / Control Point Alpha
The mud caked, blood splattered, plasma scortched Warthog rolled to a stop at Command Point Alpha. The tents that housed the various supplies waved in the wind, the sun casting their shadows across the metal boxes underneath.
"Where is everyone?" Pvt. Keller asked. He climbed out of the Warthog, and lifted his MA5B assault rifle from inbetween the two seats where he had placed it. Sargeant Sharp climbed from the passenger seat, and lifted his own rifle.
"Careful Keller...I don't like this one bit."
CP Alpha always had at least six men on guard. He looked around, over the stacks of boxes, the command hut, and the other Warthogs. It was all empty, desolate. Almsot as it it had been abandoned. Looking closer, Sharp saw the plasma burns.
"Keller, eyes open!" He barked.
Keller dropped instinctivly to a halfcrouch, bringing his MA5B to ready. The Covenant had been here. Recently too. The burned metal was still hot.
After the invasion, and destruction of Cote d'Azur several days ago, The Covenant still had forces in the area, despite the victory of the UNSC. CP Alpha served as the beginning of a vital supply route to Firebase Delta, the last UNSC command center in the region. The clean up effort after the fight for Sigma Octanus wasn't even halfway over, and the Covenant still managed to hamper their efforts. CP Alpha held a number of supplies. Ammunition for all UNSC standard issue weapons, and vehicles, medical tools and equipment, dozens of crates full of weapons, parts to repair vehicles...
All the other Command Points had these features too, hence the supply route. It was the most efficient way of getting equipment to troops in the field, or getting troops from the field to the command center. Each Command Point sent out several patrols each day, scouting for Covenant activity. Just recently, Sharp and Keller had been attacked by four Ghosts. They usually travelled in pairs. It was a miricle He and Keller were still alive.
Sharp peered around. It was odd. If the Covenant had been here, they would have destroyed the supplies, not just killed the guards. There were twenty men stationed at CP Alpha, twenty two including him and Keller. They all wouldn't have just walked off.
Not without leaving a note. Sharp thought sarcastically. He smirked.
"Sir!" Keller called. Sharp looked over to see Keller standing near the edge of the grassy field surrounding the camp. "You might want to see this, Sir."
Sharp jogged over, and frowned as he smelt the familiar stench of fresh blood. The long grass was splattered with various amounts, and colors of gore. The twenty men under Sharps command lay dead in the grass around the camp. Each body sprawled out, dead from plasma burns. But not all of them, some looked as though they had been beaten to death. Some of their skulls were even caved in.
There were only two dead Covenant Grunts.
"What the fuck?" The Sargeant involuntarily muttered. Two Grunts? Impossible. There had to be more. There was the possibility that they had left already. But why go through the trouble of killing the guards, and not destroying the supplies in the process?
Things didn't add up.
"If the Covenant hit here, they're gonna go after the other Command Points too, Sarge." Keller suggested.
"You're right. I'll try to raise the other camps on the radio. Just keep an eye open for me." Sharp said, and jogged over to the command hut. He opened the door and stepped inside the concrete prefab structure. It was noticably cooler inside. As his eyes adjusted to the lighting, he ran a hand through his hair and replaced his cap. The command hut doubled as a barracks, and had ten cots around the room, since the day shift and night shift was ten men. There was a radio set up to the left, a refridgerator, and lavatories, as well as a table.
He picked up the radio, and read over the frequency chart for the other reachable stations. After setting CP Bravos frequency, he spoke into the microphone.
"This is and emergency message from Command Point Alpha, do you copy? I repeat, this is an emergency. Respond." There was only silence. He gave it a few more tries, then switched to CP Charlie's frequency, repeating the same message.
"Roger, CP Alpha. What's the problem?" The radio operator from the other end spoke.
"CP Alpha has been attacked by the Covenant. Extreme casualties. Also, I can't reach CP Bravo on the radio."
"Hang on, sir. I'll try and contact Bravo now..." The operator responded. There was silence for a few moments. The radio crackled a moment later. "No response, sir."
"Put your CO on the line soldier." Sharp commanded.
"Yes sir."
He sat down in the chair, and glanced over at Keller. The young marine stood in the doorway, peeking out at the sunlit fields around the camp. Concern, and fatigue present on his youthful face. He held the MA5B up, pointing out the door, ready for any alien that might approach.
"Sharp?" The radio spoke.
"Yes, Sargeant Farnsworth."
"What's the situation over there?"
"Covenant invaded while I was out on patrol, all twenty marines KIA. Sargeant, if they hit here, and most likely took out Bravo, you'd better get your defences ready." Sharp spoke quickly.
"Mmmhmm..." Farnsworth replied, apparently thinking. "Should I send a 'hog out to pick you up?" Farnsworth replied.
"No, there's a few lying around here. We'll drive over to you after we check out Bravo."
"Roger that. Over and out."
Sharp hung up the radio, stood, and walked out of the building. Keller followed. He approached one of the other Warthogs, one with a usable LAAG chaingun. The gun on their Hog had been destroyed in the skirmish with the Ghosts earlier.
"Sir? What about the bodies?" Keller spoke, nodding in the direction of the field.
"We can get 'em out of the grass, but be can't waste time burying them." Sharp decided.
They set forth with the task of moving the bodies behind the camp, lined up in a row, with a white sheet draped over all of them. It took them over fifteen minutes, but at least Sharp had a clearer conscience. He whiped sweat from his forhead, and silently said a prayer for the his fallen soldiers. Sharp wasn't a religious man, but he felt it was the right thing to do. With a salute, he turned on his heel and walked away.
Sharp climbed into the Warthog and started the engine. Keller climbed up onto the the rear mounted chaingun, and Sharp put it in gear. The Warthog drove off, leaving the desolate camp behind.
"Keep moving." The Jackal barked.
Nayap growled, but obeyed the order. He heaved and tugged the heavy Elite behind him, despite the pain in his shoulder. He had closed the wound on his shoulder a little while ago with a superheated piece of metal. It stopped the blood, but not the pain. At times it ranged from barely tolerable, to excruciating. But Nayap had to move on. Surely, if he didn't, Iziz would kill him. Iziz seemed quite proud of himself, from what Nayap could decipher from his ugly grin. He seemed to enjoy being in control, and even more enjoyed what he expected to come.
After Raka fell, Iziz had come from hiding. He held Nayap hostage, even as Nayap was tending to the unconcious Raka. Iziz wouldn't kill him just yet. He would make Nayap drag the Elite to the extraction zone, and then kill him. Iziz would receive the praise and reward for rescuing the team leader, while Nayap would decay on the ground, forgotten as the Grunt he was. Iziz had also taken Nayaps plasma pistol, and now had it clipped to his belt. How careless Nayap had been to discard the pistol on the ground as he treated Raka. He cursed under his breath, but he knew it was too late for regrets. He needed an escape plan.
"So, you're just going to shoot me and reap the rewards of a successful mission? The term 'Jackal' suits you just fine." Nayap snapped, and tugged the Elite again, moving a few feet forward. His race was stronger than judged at first sight, but an eight foot Elite in full combat armor was a heavy object.
"I would hold my tounge if I were in your posistion, Grunt. I have the weapons, and I can easily deform your skull right now if you continue with such talk." The Jackal replied. "Besides, I am in charge. Raka himself would probably approve of my actions. In fact, I-"
"But he would not approve of you hiding like a coward, as he and I were nearly shot to death. Surely you didn't think that he would forgive such actions?"
"Silence!" Iziz barked. "Your life is in my hands now Grunt. You will do as I say, and bring this Elite to the extraction zone."
Nayap did not presses the issue further. He didn't want the plasma pistol going off before he could form some plan. With the shard of metal lodged within himself, and the pain it caused, he doubted his already limited mobility would be of use. He'd have to outsmart Iziz, or die. The latter just wasn't acceptable. Not like this.
Raka will have his head placed on a pike for running away instead of shielding us, anyway. Nayap thought. Though, reaching that outcome meant that Nayap would be dead, and wouldn't be able to enjoy the sight of it.
Nayap gazed with tired eyes at the surroundings. They were moving uphill in the jungle north of the human camp, towards the extraction zone. They had more than enough time to reach it. Being it around twelve fifty in the afternoon, extraction at five in the evening, they would make it on time. Even with the slow rate they were moving, due to Nayap dragging Raka.
"You know, you could help." Nayap spoke, and tugged once more. There was one clean drag mark in the soft soil, leading all the way up the hill. Any humans following them would find it easily. Not a comforting idea.
"I could help. But then, you could do it by yourself." Iziz replied, then gave a cackling, squaking sound that passed for a laugh among his kind. Nayap growled, but kept pulling.
They reached the top of the hill not too long later. From where they stood, they could see the whole valley before them.
"Rest." Iziz commanded. "We will start again in a fifteen."
Nayap nodded, and sat down. He concentrated on his breathing. The rhythm of the mechanical breather feeding him the life sustaining methane relaxed him. Allowed him to think. He had no dexterity advantage, and time was not on his side. He needed a surpise. One quick, definate move that would take Iziz out of action. But what? He looked in the Jackal's direction, and saw it sitting on a log near the edge of the hill.
The edge of the hill.
Nayap stood and stepped around Raka. Iziz wasn't paying attention. Nayap walked forward, and began to pick up speed. Soon, he was in a full fledged sprint, as fast as his body would allow, speeding strait towards the Jackal.
"Fuck-" Nayap hissed, summoning the worst of all curses he could think of. He tensed his legs and sprang forward. Iziz stapped his head up just in time to see Nayap soaring through the air towards him. "-you!"
Nayap collided with the Jackal's chest, tackling him over the edge of the hill. They began rolling downhill, barely missing trees they tumbled by. Leaves, rocks, twigs and other clutter dislodged and moved down the hill with them. Nayap did his best to shove the Jackal away from him, but everything was spinning, blurring togeather. The ground, then the tree tops, then soon the ground again. He felt dizzy, and he was still rolling. Iziz was no longer there, and Nayap found himself trying to grab onto one of the many passing trees to stop his fall. But he couldn't. He was bouncing and tumbling along far too fast to get a good grip.
He rolled to a stop face first at the base of the hill. Winded, dazed, and confused. He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. To shake a strange shroud that had worked its way into his skull. He lifted himself off the ground and looked back up the hill, blinking rapidly to clear his vision.
Iziz lay motionless in front of a tree, purple blood running from an open wound on his head, about halfway up the hill. Undoubtably, he had made a head on collision with the tree. Nayap felt no pity for him. Instead, he gave a huff of proud acheivement as he lifted himself to his feet. Now all he had to do was get back up to Raka, and bring him to the extraction zone. But as he moved towards the hill again, he saw that it was far too steep to climb from this side. He'd have to move back around. As he went to leave, he almost missed the dull green glow underneath a pile of leaves at the base of the hill.
Prodding through the pile, he retreived a plasma pistol. Iziz must have dropped it, or it fell from his belt, or-
Who cares?
Nayap didn't, he was grateful he had a weapon. He shook his head, clipped the pistol to his belt, and moved off to the other side of the hill. All he had to do was bring Raka to the other side of the valley. It wouldn't be too hard. Not too hard at all. Nayap smiled.
Things were getting better.
Anathema - Two
Date: 12 January 2005, 10:44 PM
Anathema
by Bloodcider
----
Two
1320 Hours, July 20, 2552 (Military Calender) / Sigma Octanus IV / Wilderness North of Control Point Alpha
Nayap trudged up the hill, quite confident with himself. He'd realized what Iziz had. By aiding the Elite, not only would he have the satisfaction of knowning he did just that, but he'd likely recieve some kind of promotion. Maybe even a position on one of the starships, away from the battle front. But he did not view the Elite as an icon to be used for his own personal gain. Raka was to be respected, given what he had just done, and his impressive history.
Nayap had served under three other Elites in his time. The first he had only met once, Nayaps first mission under his command. That Elite had been killed by a human sniper just moments after touch down. Luckily, the dropship had taken care of the problem before the whole squad had been killed. The second Elite lasted a long time, but was eventually killed also. A Ghost had exploded, and one of the piece of shrapnel managed to lodge itself in his chest. Because of the terrain, which was very swampy, he died of infection a few hours later. A very bad way to die indeed. The third Elite had been blown up along with Cote d'Azur a few days ago, after serving with Nayap for several weeks.
Nayap often wondered how he managed to survive all the time. Grunts were nothing more than cannon fodder. They always died in large numbers. But Nayap always came out ontop. He took another breath of the methane, and climbed faster. The sooner he got to Raka, the more time he had to bring him to the extraction zone.
There was a rumbling in the distance, from behind. Nayap turned to face the noise, and saw a shape moving across the field. As it got closer, Nayap recognized the figure of the human vehicle, the 'Warthog'. It was going fast, bounding though the fields towards the woods. It sped off to the right, and into the trees, disappearing into the foliage. Nayap waited for the engine noise to become distant before he moved again. He scrambled to the top of the hill, and waddled over to the still form of Raka.
The Elite lay on his back, limp, breathing raggedly. Nayap began to wonder if Raka would ever wake up. What if he was in a coma? What if he died before Nayap could get him out? Those weren't very positive thoughts, and Nayap stopped thinking them. He tucked his arms under the Elites armpits, clasped his hands around his chest, and pulled him. Slowly dragging instead of the quick, jerky movments he'd been doing while Iziz was present. He glanced back at the valley before him, let out a sigh, and proceeded to bring Raka downhill.
The Warthog sped along through the jungle, bouncing over the rought terrain. Command Point Bravo was not too far away, past this forested area, and just beyond the valley after that. Perhaps a little over a click away. Sharp kept a decent speed, but constantly braked and slowed down to maneuver around trees. Soon, the 'Hog broke free of the jungled area and into the valley. Sharp looked up at the sky, noticing it was gradually getting cloudy. The air was humid too.
"Rain." Sharp muttered.
"What?" Keller called. He was still standing at the turret in the back of the truck.
"Oh, I said I think it's going to rain." Sharp called back.
"Wonderful." Keller responded, heavy with sarcasm.
Sharp peered through the windshield and saw a line of black smoke in the sky. He followed it with his eyes, and saw its source was coming from behind the next patch of jungle. Sharp swallowed nervously. CP Bravo was also just beyond the next that patch too.
"Hey! Look!" He shouted back to Keller and pointed.
"Maybe it's a signal fire? Emergency flares or something?" Keller responded, his voice barely hearable over the roaring of the Warthog.
Flares don't make that kind of smoke.
Sharp applied more pressure to the gas, and sped off across the valley. He reached the treeline within a minute, and slowed down again, narrowly avoiding the obstacles. They emerged from the trees once more, now faced with a downhill ride to CP Bravo.
Even from their distance, Sharp could see the camp in flames. He steered the Warthog downhill, pushing the Hog a fast as it would go. He hit the bottom of the slope and the Warthog bounced hard, but he kept moving.
The Warthog screetched to a stop a few dozen meters from the camp. Bravo was ablaze. The command hut was now a pile of rubble. The supply crates were knocked over, their contents spilled and now burning. The Warthogs were broken, scortched husks.
The Marines of CP Bravo lay scattered around, their skin blackened and flaming. Sharp covered his mouth and nose, the smell was so horrible. Not just the cooking flesh, but the smell of everything else on fire too. There was nothing they could do. Bravo was destroyed beyond repair, and Charlie would meet the same fate if they didn't get over there soon. Sharp drove around the camp, and felt guilty relief when the heat passed from his face, and the smell grew distant.
The Warthog rolled to a stop in CP Charlie. It was now somewhere around two in the afternoon. They had made good time. Sargeant Farnsworth jogged from the command hut up to the Warthog as Sharp got out. Farnsworth was an older man, probably in his late forties. He wasn't wearing any protective gear, just fatigues.
"Sharp." He nodded.
"Bravo's been whiped out." Sharp stated.
"I see." Farnsworth spat on the ground and clenched his teeth.
"What's going on here?" He asked.
"Come with me, we'll talk inside." Farnsworth replied.
Sharp followed, and Keller waited on the Warthog. Farnsworth led Sharp to a desk at the command hut. A map of the area was laid out across the desk, with various colored pins in it.
"We have men here," He pointed to a pair of red pins to the west of the camp "With jackhammer launchers. Should be able to take out any dropships quickly enough."
"The rest of the men will patrol on foot, or in the available Warthogs. We have two already, and with yours, that's three. Good enough."
"Standard rifles for everyone?" Sharp questioned.
"Some of them will carry M90's as well." Farnsworth commented. Good, the M90 combat shotgun made short work of anything at close range. Especially useful for Elites.
The front door opened, and a Marine walked quickly in. He saluted, then spoke. "Three enemy Dropships on the eastern horizon, sirs!"
"Very well, get everyone togeather Corporal. Immediate defensive manuevers." Farnsworth ordered.
"Yes sir!" The Corporal shouted and charged back out the door.
"I'll have to stay here for a bit and coordinate things." Farnsworth said, and unclipped a shortrange radio from his belt. "Rocket team, enemy dropships due east, move your position to get a better shot."
Sharp took it as his cue to leave, spun on his heel and walked out. The various Marines rushed this way and that, Warthogs' engines roared to life, and the three black dots on the horizon grew closer and closer. The dropships descended upon the base. Sharp gripped his MA5B tightly, watching the floating objects move through the atmosphere with such ease. They didn't drown out all other noise, but Sharp blocked it out, focusing on the three U shaped objects. He saw that the lead ship had two of the heavy Covenant tanks in its antigravity field. Wraiths. The others had two Ghosts a piece. Probably a couple squads of infantry inside the craft as well.
Two flashes of light appeared in the field just outside the camp, accompanied by two white streaks that charged towards the lead dropship. The first rocket impacted just behind the turret on the bottom of the rear of the craft. The side hatches had already opened, and the Elites, Grunts, and Jackals within were jumping out in hopes to survive. The second rocket impacted, gutting the craft and blowing apart its cockpit. Some of the Covenant who had jumped from the Bandit were caught in the blast, and fell to the ground in flames.
The dropship tilted, and began to rapidly decend to the ground. The antigravity field had disabled, and the Wraiths were in free fall. It took Sharp a moment to realize they were heading strait for him.
He dove away at the last second as the first of the Wraiths plowed through a stack of supplies that was just infront of him. Various tools were knocked across the ground as some of the damaged crates opened and spewed out their contents. The second landed some distance away, directly on top of different stack, crushing the top boxes, and knocking the pile over. Sharp scrambled to his feet and ran past the Wraith.
There were two more flashes in the field. The rockets streaked through the sky and over Sharps head. He spun and looked to see them hit the cabin of the second dropship. Its hatches were open, and the troops inside were incinerated as the resulting explosion engulfed the cabin. The Bandit did a barrel roll and collided with the ground, catapulting the Ghosts through the air. A third volley of rockets were sent towards the last dropship. It fired its turret at the oncoming projectiles. The lead missile was destroyed, but the second made it through. It impacted just above the turret, obliterating the cockpit. It dropped to the ground and skidded a few feet before it came to rest.
The chatter of assault rifles sounded out around the camp as the Marines engaged the Covenant who had landed.
A bundle of four Elites had survived the crash, and were clashing with Marines not more than nine meters away. Sharp dropped to one knee, lined up his sights, and fired a burst of six rounds. The bullets harmlessly bounced off an Elites shield, and richocheted into the dirt. He had to get closer, or he'd wind up taking out one of his allies. Sharp charged forwards to the skirmish with the four Elites.
He skidded to a stop on one knee, raised his MA5B and pulled the trigger. The rifle jumped and shook in his hands, spewing out round after round at the closest of the aliens. Its shields flickered and disappeared, and another Marine delivered a buckshot round to its head with a shotgun. It fell to the dirt in a splash of purple blood, and Sharp was moving again. The remaining three Elites were firing, not just at him, but at the other four men that were at the scene too. Sharp dove away as the ground behind him turned to glass from the plasma impact. Three more heavy M90 shots, mixed with the chatter of assault rifles, and the plasma fire stopped.
Sharp climbed to his feet, and was knocked down soon after by an explosion from behind. He fell face first in the dirt, and felt the heat wash over his back. "Jesus." He hissed, and crawled away. Looking back through the flames behind him, he froze.
One of, no, two, Both of the Wraith tanks were active. A gigantic blue orb of plasma shot forth from one of the tanks, impacting with the command hut. The building crumbled under the force, its contents burned, the Marines standing near the door were thrown away like ragdolls.
The roaring engines of the Warthogs drew nearer, coming out of the background noise. Two of them were speeding strait towards one of the Wraiths.
"Yeah, Get the fucker." Sharp mused. He found himself backing away though. The duel LAAG cannons blared, spewing out a wall of lead at the Wraith. The rounds chiped and pieced its thick metallic armor. The Wraith fired again. Sharp squinted in the bright light as the two Warthogs were engulfed in an explosion of blue and red. The husks were thrown either way, and a glass crater sat on the ground where they once were.
Gunshots sounded out all around him, accompanied by screams of pain. Sharp felt lost within it all. The Wraith tanks were his primary concern, they were going to raize the whole camp, but he couldn't take them on. Not by himself. Looking around the camp, he found Keller crouched with his back against a stack of supply crates. His MA5B was pointed around the corner, spraying fire. He was barely fifteen meters away.
Sharp kept low and moved quickly over to him. Keller acknowledged his presence at once.
"Covies on the other side, sir. Some of those little grunt bastards. Maybe more." Keller reported.
Sharp nodded. "I'll move around and flank them. Keep spraying, little bastards won't know what hit them."
Corporal Red Gaudette stood over the dead Elite. One hand held his M90 slung comfortably over his shoulder, the other removed the cigarrette from his lips, allowing him to breath out a cloud of smoke.
"Elite my ass." He muttered, looking upon the bloody corpse at his feet. He flicked the cigarette away, and moved onwards.
CP Charlie had been decimated. Only a handful of survivors were left, and they were still fending off several stragglers. All of the supplies and buildings were destroyed by the Wraith tanks. There was only one Warthog left, a dead body in the drivers seat. The Wraith tanks had been destoryed by the rocket teams.
Red silently prayed for them. If they hadn't gotten off that last shot before the Wraith had fired upon them, then Charlie's survivors would probably be dead by now. Two of the Covenant bandits had been destroyed, and the third had been crippled by a rocket. Again, if it hadn't been for the team of Marines who had the rockets...
Red shook the thoughts away. It had been close.
Not even close, it was point blank for christ's sake.
All of the supply crates that might have contained anything useful had also been destroyed by the damned Wraiths. Ammuntion, Medical, and Weapon supplies, all melted into nothing. The Command hut lay in complete ruin, a pile of blackened bricks on the ground. Bodies littered the area, many of which were on fire.
"Corporal!"
Red turned and saw the Sargeant from the other camo approaching him, aswell as another Marine.
"We're bugging out before the Covenant comes back." The Sargeant told him.
"Not sure if they're coming back, sir." He replied, looking at the shattered camp.
"Even if they aren't, there's nothing here. We need need to get to Firebase Delta, and organize a better resistance." The Sargeant responded.
"Yes sir." Red said.
"Come on, then."
Red followed the two soldier quickly across the burning camp. Many sections of the dirt beneath his were burnt so badly that they cracked and shattered under their feet. They arrived at the Warthog. The dead man lay slumped over the steering wheel. His shoulder and neck had plasma burns on them. The entire side of the hog had been splattered in the Marines blood as a result.
"Jesus." The other marines remarked.
"We'll have to take him out of there." The Sargeant commented.
"Stop being a bunch of pussies." Red said, and grabbed the dead body by its armpits. He pulled, and lifted it from the drivers seat. He let go, and it crumpled to the floor. He climbed into the driver seat after whiping his hands on his pant legs. The Sargeant moved around the got into the passenger seat, and the other Marine climbed up into the LAAG cannon.
"Take this thing to Firebase Delta, Corporal." The Sargeant ordered.
"Yes, sir." He replied. "Let's just hope it's still there."
Anathema - Three
Date: 21 January 2005, 10:04 PM
Three
1500 Hours, July 20, 2552 (Military Calender) / Sigma Octanus IV / Wildness North of Control Point Alpha, Extraction Zone
Nayap collapsed from exaustion, exhaling in relief. Somehow he had managed to do it, to drag an unconcious Elite over two miles, with a wounded shoulder. The bullet wound itself had reopened somehow, more than likely from Nayap stressing it so much. A stream of light blue trickled down his shoulder and across his side. A trail of it ran across the ground, be he doubt there would be anything following it. The pain wasn't as severe as it had been before, having now dulled down to a stabbing pain. Not all the much of an improvement.
Nayap picked up the small radio from Raka's helmet again. He opened a Comm. Link once more, and spoke into the mike.
"Hello?" He grunted.
"Who is this?" An Elite on the other end replied sharply. Nayap rolled his eyes, having had this conversation before.
"Nayap, Assault Squad, Sabotage Mission, Sigma Octanus Four. The Squad leader and I are in position, and ready for extraction." He replied.
"Put your squad leader on." The Elite barked.
"He's unconcious, and-"
"Oh, it's you." The Elite cut him off. "We tried to contact you a few hours ago, Grunt. Why was your communicator turned off?"
"I, uh...well, it wasn't." Nayap replied, surprised.
"That explains nothing." The Elite responded. He was right too, it didn't. Though, Nayap didn't know how he could have missed a radio call. The only time he was seperated from the radio was when he'd tackled Iziz over the hill.
Damn. That had to be it.
"Well, sorry for the inconvienience. What was it you were trying to tell me?" Nayap queried, his voice hesitant. He hoped the Elite wouldn't make a fuss over it. Though, they tended to do that alot.
"Due to the assault on the human command center, we are rerouting dropships to different locations. Your extraction isn't coming." He replied.
"What am I supposed to do?"
"If you can, you have to move to the third human camp. A dropship will be able to pick you up there."
"The third human camp?" An aggitated Nayap questioned, keeping his voice in control even through his fury, "Where is that?"
"It's to the North. Hurry up."
The line went silent.
Nayaps hand curled into a fist and raised the radio above his head. He caught himself in time, before he slammed if off the ground. Such acts of rage would not benefit him. He'd simply have to move onwards to 'the third human camp', wherever it was.
Even now, Nayap could see the smoke curling into the air in the distance. It was a likely spot to begin his search, and he would get to it in due time. He noticed the sun was setting, meaning he'd have to make his second tiring trek in the darkness.
Nayap let loose a growl. A growl of built up anger, and frustration. He brought his foot back and kicked the dirt. He wanted to kill something with his bare hands. He was tired, in pain, and after all he'd accomplished, it had been for nothing, as now he'd have to move even farther. He sighed, his shoulders sagged, and once more he began the tedious task of dragging Raka.
A throbbing pain began to rhytmetically pound into his mind, forcing him into an aware conciousness. His eyes snapped open, and Iziz let out a low hiss of pain. His hands gripped the dirt, and tried to lift himself from the ground.
The blood that had trickled from his head had managed to coagulate and stick to the tree. As he pulled away, the gooey substance stretched, then ripped the scab from his forehead. Iziz clutched the reopened wound with a cry of confused pain and anger, twisting his body and screaming, mistaking the sudden pain for an attack. He regained his posture, calming himself down to rationality when he realized he was alone.
Breathing ragged breaths, trying to overcome to the splitting pain in his head, Iziz tried to get a grip on his current situation. The sun hung low on the horizon, meaning he'd been unconcious for several hours. He could have missed the extraction. That also meant that the Grunt could have been extracted. Then, maybe he was still on his way there.
"I should have killed him when I had the chance." Iziz spoke to himself. "No, I can fix this. I..I can find him again. And kill him then." The more Iziz thought about it, the more pleased he became with himself. The pounding of his wound slowly but surely dulled down as he thought more and more about it. He could work his way out of this. Iziz had underestimated the Grunt, but he'd recover from it. All he needed to do was get to the extraction point. The Grunt would be there, or on his way there, and Iziz would end his miserable existance like every other Grunt.
"Yes, yes, yes, this was only a minor snag. I can fix it, and it will all work out quite nicely." The Jackal repeated. He climbed to his feet, retrieved the plasma pistol from his belt, and jogged off through the forest.
He would find the grunt, and he would kill it.
Second Lietenant Shawn Lowell had been just leaving the command building when a Warthog came rolling through the the check point at the front entrance. The traffic gate lowerd behind it as it stopped.
Sitting in the Warthog were three very bewildered looking Marines.
Lowell raised his hand, made a few gestures, and pointed towards the jeep. Four of the patrolling Marines accompanied him as he walk towards the Warthog.
"Report, Marine." He commanded, as he approached the drivers side.
"I'm in charge, Sir." The man in the passenger seat. Lowell looked over at him, and recognized him as Sergeant Sharp of Control Point Alpha. His uniform was soaked in various shades of blood and gore, and smeared with mud. His face was pale, his eyes distant. He looked like hell.
"Sharp." He nodded.
"Sir. Control Points Alpha, Bravo, and Charlie have been attacked by the Covenant." Sharp said quickly. "No survivors, except us."
Lowell raised an eyebrow in confusion. They'd received no emergency calls from any of the three bases, yet, he didn't know Sharp to be a liar. Not that he'd take a Warthog all the way to Firebase Delta to make a false claim. No, something had happened.
"Come with me, we'll discuss this inside." Lowell responded. He then turned his attention to the other marines in the jeep. "What're your names?"
"Corporal Gaudette, sir." The driver replied,
"Sir, Private Keller, sir." said the gunner.
"Very well. Report to medbay, some soldiers will show you the way." Lowell said, and looked back at two of the four Marines. "Men."
Gaudette and Keller climbed out of the Warthog, and were escorted to the medical bay by the two Marines. Sharp followed him inside the main building as a soldier moved the Warthog down into the parking garage.
One they were inside Lowells office, he started asking questions immediatly. "These attacks, when did they happen, and what exactly did happen?"
Sharp sat silent for a moment, looking as though he was trying to recall what had transpired.
"Private Keller and I had been out on routine patrol when we were attacked by four Covenant Ghosts. We destroyed 'em, only to get back to camp and find the twenty marines dead. I tried to contact Bravo camp, but got no response. But, I did get through to Charlie and managed to warn them. Keller and I drove off from Alpha immediatly after that. We found Bravo camp destroyed, all of the supplies ruined, and soldiers dead.
"So, we went to Charlie camp. We helped prepare defenses, but, the Covenant hit the camp hard. Wraith tanks, Bandit dropships, alot of infantry. If it hadn't been for my warning, the Jackhammer teams never would've been deplyed. Though, I don't see what it matters, aside from myself, Private Keller, and Corporal Gaudette, no one at Charlie survived. It's in the same shape as Bravo. Dead. We went from there to here right after we mopped up the rest of the Covenant."
Lowell sat back in his chair, stroking his beard thoughfully as he took in the information. At last, he spoke;
"You said Alpha is still in good condition?"
"Yeah, but the soldiers are d-"
"That's good for us then."
"How, sir?"
"Because, Sergeant, we're packing up. Leaving Sigma Octanus in less than a few weeks. You know what that means, right?"
"Uh...no, no I don't, sir."
"It means we've already begun shipping out supplies, Sergeant. Weapons, tools, vehicles, the whole nine yards. Alpha, Bravo, and Charlie still had those things, thats why the camps were there, incase of emergency. But now, the camps are destroyed, except for Alpha, which is strange. But, do you see the point I'm getting at?" Lowell said, he found himself leaning forward in his seat now, both elbows on the desk.
"I think so."
"It means that the Covenant destroyed our emergency supply caches. Meanwhile, we've already shipped out most of our main supplies. They took out the little fish, so the big fish has nothing to feed on to sustain itself."
Sharp sat back in his seat, paler than before. He swallowed, and talked, "Then w-what the hell are we going to do?"
Lowell rubbed the bridge of his nose with his index finger and thumb, letting out a sigh. "There's not much we can do. For one, we'll have to find out how the Covenant knew we were packing up. Maybe they intercepted and decrypted a radio transmission, maybe they captured interrogated someone. Hell, maybe they were just damned lucky. But finding out will have to wait, I think, we'll have to get supply team out to Alpha to salvage what they can. Apart from that, we'll have to prepare for invasion."
"How much time do you think we have?" Sharp said after a moment.
The intercom crackled, and a alarmed voice shouted from the other end. "Hostiles sighted at extreme range, sir. Eight dropships and counting."
Lowell slammed his fist on the table, "Fuck." he exlaimed loudly. He pressed the button to transmit a message to the waiting marine on the other end of the intercom.
"Very well. Prepare for immediate emergency defense." He spoke.
"Yes sir."
Moments later, an airstrike alarm sounded out around the base, the long continuous horn drowning out the fantic shouts of Marines outside as they ran to their positions. Lowell turned to Sharp, who was now standing, clutching his MA5B rifle.
"We don't have anytime, Sergeant. Get your shit togeather, we're being invaded."
Iziz slowed to a jog, and gradually a stop, as he approached the designated extraction zone. But the Grunt was nowhere to be found. He bent over with his hands on his knees and attempted to catch his breath. He'd just run a very long distance in a short amount of time, something he wasn't quite used to.
But the Grunts are used to it, his mind informed him. The Grunts are fodder, they run around all day and get shot. They're worthless, I'm not.
A grin spread across the features of his face, and he exhaled once more. As he breathed in again, he caught the smell. It was a famliar smell, though he was more aware of smelling it on a much larger scale.
"Grunt blood." He spoke aloud, and looked around.
The shining blue blood of the the Grunt was trailed across the ground, and was not hard to see at all in the dimming light. The Grunt wasn't here, for some reason, he'd left. There were no signs of the Elite either, save drag marks on the ground.
"But why would he move..." Iziz wondered aloud. This was the extraction zone. Surely not even a stupid Grunt would forget such a thing. He had to have had good reasons.
Reasons Iziz would find out.
He walked along the trail of blood. It stopped just a few feet from his location, and pooled. Then, it continued onwards, with dragmarks on it aswell. The Grunt had taken the Elite with him, that much was clear. But there were no signs of struggle, even though there was blood. Iziz scratched his head, and tilted it to one side in a jerky, birdlike motion. He'd ask the Grunt what had happened before he killed it.
Iziz started off at a jog again, following the blood trail, and disappearing into the growing darkness.
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