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The Forerunner: Prologue
Date: 19 November 2003, 3:46 AM
The Forerunner: Prologue
Corporal Timothy Ryan was having a bad day. And that was a serious understatement. It was the worst day of his entire twenty-year life, and it didn't seem to be getting any better. Here he was, stranded on some Godforsaken jungle planet in the middle of nowhere with the other surviving members of his squad. Not to mention the fact that they were surrounded by Covenant. Loads and loads of Covenant.
The day had started out pretty good, with his platoon being sent down on an out of the way, inhospitable, no-decent-atmosphere planet to check out some sensor anomalies. Apparently, the Razor's Kiss, his ship, had picked up some traces of technology being used down here. It didn't match any known Covenant or human technology.
The Captain of the Cruiser had ordered a platoon to go dirtside and check it out. Ordinary operating doctrine required that he send down at least a company, but Captain Harding had wanted to save operation cost, and had instead sent down a platoon with minor vehicular support.
His platoon had landed in the middle of a swamp-like area, and Lieutenant Green had ordered them to proceed toward their objective on foot, leaving the protection of the Junglehogs behind. He would regret it.
For the next hour they had trudged through the most-strange swamp, while cursing and fixing their rebreathers. It had been impossible to see anything beyond twenty feet, and most of the Marines had been extremely nervous. With reason.
After another hour, the point, a PFC with the unlikely name of Richard Pritchard, had warned of multiple heat sources approaching. He had been about to say something else when something exploded out of the water next to him, grabbed him and then disappeared back under the water.
A Marine next to Ryan had immediately brought up his rifle and fired a three round burst into the water, but Gunnery Sergeant Jack Hall had bellowed, "Stop firing, you idiot. You could hit Dick. Spread out and search in pairs. Shoot anything not wearing a Marine uniform."
Ryan had gulped nervously and had made his way forward, searching for Dick. But it was another Marine who found him. When he did, he had screamed.
The Marines had immediately made their way toward his position, Gunny in the lead. The Marine who had found Richard was leaned over, heaving his breakfast out. Dick was lying on his back in the dirty water floating. Gunny Hall had rolled Dick over with his foot and stepped back quickly.
Dick's throat had been torn open all the way to the bone. Two small holes where in his chest and had exited all the way through his back, piercing the armor there, easily. He had looked drained, tired, and bloodless.
Ryan had been about to say something when all hell had broke loose. A Marine to his left had suddenly lurched, blood spewing from his throat like a fountain. Around him Marines had started dying. Just dropping dead, with limbs, heads, or torsos holding gaping wounds. Ryan hadn't seen a thing, except for the occasional gray blur.
Like any good Marine, he had ordered his squad (Sergeant Wicker had just been decapitated) to E and E out of there. Then he had followed his own orders. The next few hours had been hell. He'd run through the swamp, never stopping, never looking back. The number of Marines with him had steadily decreased, until they had exited the swamp into a more-forested area. There the attacks had stopped, and he was down to only twelve men. Twelve men. Out of fifty. That was when the lights started to appear in the sky.
Silver lines and azure fireballs traced trajectories across the nighttime sky with random explosions intermixed. The show ended abruptly with a brilliant explosion, taking up the whole sky, followed by a meteor shower. After that, comets had begun to appear in the sky and one of his Marines, sporting their only spotting scope, identified one of the comets as a Covenant dropship, Phantom class.
The dropships had landed in extreme numbers, causing Ryan to wonder why the Covenant would send so many ships down after his small group. How could they even know they were on the planet; the Marines' body signatures weren't large enough to pick up from space, even with the Covenant's advanced technology.
The only plausible explanation he could come up with was that the Covenant had also picked up traces of the unidentified technology. And they were after it. And as many dropships as the Covenant was deploying, it was obviously important to them. Very important.
"Corporal," a Marine named Peters called. "Incoming contact. Signature matches that of a Ghost."
Ryan nodded, then started speaking into his rebreather. "Hide and let it go by. Hoffman, if it detects us, you be ready with a Jackhammer."
The Marine he'd indicated nodded nervously and checked the safety on his SPNKr rocket launcher. The rest of the soldiers quickly dispersed, hiding behind trees and bushes, effectively concealing themselves and giving them a good line of fire.
Ryan found himself beside Hoffman, whose face was getting paler by the second. Leaning over and trying to keep the fear out of his own voice, Ryan said, "Fire only if that Ghost detects us and fires. NOT before. We want to stay undetected for as long as possible."
Hoffman nodded again and shifted the SPNKr to his other shoulder. A few seconds later Ryan heard the distinctive wail of the Ghost. Signaling his Marines to be quiet he ducked back down.
After another few seconds the Ghost broke through the foliage and entered their little track of forest. Almost as soon as it came into view, he heard a whoosh from beside him and looked up to see a rocket slam into the ground ten feet away from the Ghost.
Fuck, he thought. Hoffman got nervous and fired to early; now we're all screwed.
The Ghost had already turned toward their position and started firing. Ryan rolled behind the tree to his left, as superheated plasma tore through the foliage and burnt long scars into the tree. Hoffman gave a shout of pain, followed by a series of helpless gurgles before becoming silent.
Ryan looked over and saw plasma burns stitched from Hoffman's chest to his throat. His body was a smoking ruin. Ryan's gore rose, but he pushed it back down and, hazarding his hands, quickly reached out and plucked the still smoking Jackhammer launcher from Hoffman's sizzling corpse and rolled back behind the tree.
Somewhere off to his left a Marine opened up, hoping to distract the Ghost from Ryan. It worked. The Covenant vehicle swiveled as bullets bounced harmlessly off the Elite pilot's shields, and fired again, scything plasma through the area where two Marines were hiding.
Seizing his chance, Ryan rolled back out from behind the tree and peered trough the rocket launcher's scope. Realizing he had only one shot, he steadied his frenzied breathing and dropped the crosshair right on the Ghost's nose. He gently squeezed the trigger.
The SPNKr rocket streaked across the distance and slammed into the Ghost's nose, punching all the way through and exploding on the other side, shredding the Ghost like tinfoil. Fire, smoke, and shrapnel rained outward and the ruined remains of the Ghost hit the ground like a rock.
"Everyone okay?" he shouted.
"We're fine," another Marine called back. "Barnes took a round to the chest, but his armor stopped it and we're okay. You?"
Ryan sighed. "Hoffman got nervous and fired to early. The Ghost got him." Getting up and joining the other Marines, he formulated a plan. "There's nothing we can do about the body," he said to them, "so we'll just leave it here."
"Be we can't just leave his body like that," Peters protested.
Ryan shook his head. "We haven't got the time or recourses to take the body with us, nor bury it. Hoffman stays. I don't like it either, he was a Marine, but what can we do." He took a knee. "Here's the plan," he said, pulling out his digital map and outlining the route. "I think we should turn around and skirt the edges of the swamp until we get to where we left the 'hogs. They'll have food and supplies. If we move quickly we can make it by noon tomorrow. Any comments?"
The Marines shook their heads. "Good. Let's move out. Peters you've got point."
The Marines nodded and formed up. They still had a job to do.
The Forerunner: Chapter One
Date: 21 March 2004, 4:47 AM
The Forerunner: Chapter One
Corporal Timothy Ryan peered through his binoculars. What he saw sent icy-cold tendrils snaking through his gut. He scanned to the left, barely making out the fleeting glimpses of Covenant troops through the thick fog.
His squad—or what was left of it, anyway—were in a small ravine that overlooked a valley the size of a football field. In the valley had been where B platoon of Bravo Company (they had called themselves the BBs) had landed. It had required six Pelicans to off load the Marines and supplies, including the four APC-hogs and two standard jungle-camouflage Warthogs.
The route B platoon intended to take, however, had been too swampy for the Warthogs and the Marines had had to proceed on foot, where they had been ambushed and virtually wiped out. The Covenant had apparently decided to use this same spot as an LZ for their own troops; Ryan could see two Phantoms sitting on the ground, not to mention the smoking ruins of three Warthogs and the detachment left behind to guard the Marine's LZ.
He flicked the binoculars' mode over to IR mode and scanned the area again. He counted around four Elite-sized signatures, four Jackal-sized signatures, and about twenty Grunt signatures—a sizeable force.
Sliding back down the ravine, he surveyed his eight remaining Marines and informed them of the situation. "We're in luck," he whispered. "I do believe one of the two surviving Warthogs is the one with the Gauss Rifle mount. If we can sneak down, we can use the Rifle to take out one of the Phantoms and capture the other one and escape. What do ya'll think?"
A big Marine by the name of Herald Lincoln said, "Sounds good. Though I think that half of us should head for the 'hog, while the other half attempt to seize the Phantom." He lifted his MB6C Battle Rifle and flipped off the safety. "I'll take Esker, Smith, McHugh, and Peters. We'll sneak around to the opposite side and take the Phantom, while the rest of you all take that Gauss Rifle and light those Covies up."
Ryan thought for a second. He didn't like taking orders from Privates; he was a Corporal after all. But Lincoln's plan appeared to be sound; it wasn't like they had unlimited choices. "Alright," he finally said. "Go ahead and sneak around. We'll give you five minutes to get into position, then we're moving, so you better be ready."
Lincoln nodded, and his group turned and followed him off into the woods. Ryan gave a few quick orders to his three Marines then eased back over the ravine's lip, zooming in at their target. The Warthog was parked haphazardly in a ditch with its rear end facing the majority of the Covenant—a perfect position. The nearest Covenant were almost fifteen yards away, so if he was silent they could sneak up to the Warthog unnoticed.
He waited four minutes, then ordered his Marines forward, following closely behind. They didn't make a sound and they reached the Warthog undetected. PFC Horn quietly jumped in the Gauss Rifle mount and said, "Somebody turn on the 'hog; the Rifle's not drawing any power."
Ryan nodded and reached for the ignition. When that didn't work, he leaned over and looked at it, realizing why. Some dastardly Elite had put a Plasma Rifle bolt right in the ignition switch.
"Sir," a Marine next to him said, noticing the same thing. "I can hot-wire a 'hog, if you let me get where you are."
Ryan let the Marine get where he'd been and watched as the Marine set about his work, his hands elbow-deep into a mass of wires. Ryan briefly wondered where the Marine had learned such a talent, though he knew not to ask.
The Marine looked back over at Ryan and gave him a thumbs up, then touched two wires together. There was a spark and the Warthog roared to life, alerting the Covenant to the Marines' presence. Immediately two Plasma bolts slammed into the side of the Warthog and Ryan jumped in the driver's seat and threw the 'hog in reverse as Horn opened up with the Gauss Rifle.
The Warthog slowly pulled itself out of the ditch and he whipped it around and headed straight for the targeted Phantom. Multiple Gauss Rifle bolts slammed into it; tearing great gouges in its armor and melting its engine. The leading support strut gave away and heeled over, sinking nose first into the mucky ground.
A couple more Gauss rounds later, the Phantom started to smoke and Ryan considered it out of commission. He then whipped the 'hog around to engage the Covenant. Plasma bolts slammed into the side of the jeep, superheating armor but leaving the Marine's unscathed. Apparently the Covenant were having a hard time hitting fast moving targets.
PFC Horn spun the Gauss Rifle Mount around, wiping the Covenant out. When the heavy shots hit an Elite, they immediately overloaded the shield and turned the alien into a smoking ruin.
But even with the Gauss Rifle and the Warthog, the Covenant had too many soldiers and the majority of them were battle-hardened, not panicking and taking cover. Ryan knew that it wouldn't be too long before the pure volume of fire would take them out. He slammed the brakes and cranked the wheel around, causing the Warthog's rear end to fishtail and crush a Jackal, covering the Warthog's side in purple ichor.
Suddenly the gun on the remaining Phantom opened up, not at Ryan and the Warthog, but at the Covenant who were dug in. The heavy Plasma scorched the ground and melted the Covenant. It was over quickly—the Covenant couldn't withstand such firepower at close range.
Ryan parked the Warthog by the Phantom and immediately got out, his rifle at the ready in case there were any remaining Covenant. He was about to board the Phantom when Private Esker, who was standing at the boarding ramp, suddenly gave a shout of surprise and pointed behind Ryan.
Ryan spun and felt his guts go cold. Not too far away was a group of Covenant Shadows, approaching at full speed. He sprinted for the Phantom as fast as he could, his group of Marines right behind him. But before he could make it, the Phantom suddenly lurched and rose form the ground, its bay door closing. Esker waved goodbye.
The Phantom floated to the left, slamming into trees, before it accelerated skyward. Ryan stomped his foot in anger. "Those IDIOTS," he exploded. "They'll never make orbit."
Almost as if to prove his point, two Banshees dropped out of the sky behind the Phantom and trailed it for a few minutes, obviously radioing it. In perfect formation they both broke off and banked back around behind the Phantom. Two green blobs of Fuel-Rod energy slammed into the Phantom, disabling its shields.
Cobalt Plasma bolts pounded the Phantom, slowly crippling it. The Phantom's turret spun and spat a bolt of energy at the Banshees, but they dodged with ease. Suddenly one of the engines flamed out and the Phantom began the slow plummet back down to the ground, trailing smoke.
Ryan shook his head, still angry. Those idiots had stolen their escape vehicle and then wasted it on a premature escape attempt. But who should he blame? He was the one who had let Lincoln lead the team to take the Phantom. It was his fault as much as theirs.
"Corporal," PFC Horn shouted. "The Shadows."
Ryan turned and saw that the Shadows were getting quite close. He jumped back in the Warthog and slammed the accelerator down, barely giving the other Marines time to get in. Horn had already spun the Gauss Rifle, blasting one of the Shadows away in a cloud of fire and smoke. The other two sped up, covering the rough terrain with ease, and fired.
A Shade blast sizzled by, just missing Ryan, but scorching his face. The Warthog was bouncing up and down, throwing Horn's aim off so much, that he was having severe trouble hitting the Shadows. Plasma started to hit the ground around them and Ryan realized the Covenant were trying to melt the Warthog's tires.
He cut the wheel to the left and the Warthog leapt into a nearby stream. The wheels caught, throwing up gravel and water. The Shadows dipped in after him.
One of the Shadows turned too tight and its leading antigravity strut caught the ditch bank, causing it to completely swing around. As it slammed into the ditch, its armor crumpled and the Elite driving it was crushed.
The other Shadow almost flipped getting into the ditch, but managed to recover and didn't waste any time shooting at the Warthog again.
Ryan knew they couldn't keep this up. The road was too bumpy for Horn to get a good shot, but the Shadow merely glided along, as smooth as smooth could be. He got an idea.
"Hold, on!" He screamed.
Stomping on the brakes, he cranked the 'hog's steering wheel to the left. The Warthog responded by swinging around to face the remaining Shadow.
The Elite in the driver's seat gave an obvious look of surprise and jerked the Shadow away from the Warthog—right into a Gauss Rifle shot.
The blue-white energy bolt lanced straight into the Shadow's cockpit and turned it into a mass of torn metal and dying Covenant. Ryan sighed with relief—they'd almost gotten it, then.
"Ahh, Corporal? Turn around."
Ryan did so and almost jumped out of his seat in alarm. Behind the stopped Warthog were a trio of Ghosts with mean looking Elites at the wheel.
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