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The New Reach Campaigns by Gasmask
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The New Reach Campaigns
Date: 20 July 2002, 4:09 pm
"Get ready, red team. They're coming." Adam 387, a Spartan, stood on the rooftop of what had once been an apartment complex. It was now a gutted husk. Most of the buildings in Kennedy City were husks, mere shadows of what they had been before. It had been peaceful, before the United Space Soviet Socialist Republic came into the picture. When it did, Adam and two of his teammates, Steven and Emily, had taken out the leader on New Reach. Now it was time to kill his followers. The group that they had reached and revealed the truth to had joined them, so they were not alone. "Here they come," Adam said as he peered through his binoculars.
"Yes, I said move group three forwards, and bring group five around to flank them! What part of that simple plan did you not understand?" General Cossades's veins were throbbing out of his head. How did he get stuck with these idiots?
"I understand perfectly sir, but group three is under heavy attack. The two supporting scorpions have been destroyed, and my men are under heavy fire," came the voice of the captain over the radio. "I am requesting permission to alter the plan a little under enemy fire."
"Permission denied," the general barked, "You'll stick to it. I'm sending in a Spartan team as we speak. You'll be all right."
"Yes sir," came the reply. Gunfire could be heard over the radio, and a blood-curdling screech of pain. The General knew that the captain had just bought it. He turned around to see one of the Spartans standing alone behind him, a sniper rifle on his shoulder.
"Ah, I see you're ready, Captain. What was your name again?"
The Spartan's reply was brief. "Jareth, sir."
"Yes, well, you'd better get going. I want you on ridge three, sniping off every officer that you see. Is that clear?"
"Yes, sir."
"Good. Now move out."
Emily stared down the scope of her sniper rifle, searching for the right target. She found it, a lieutenant, and squeezed the trigger when her integral targeting reticule went red. Blood spewed from the wound, and he fell to the asphalt with a "CRACK." Men scattered. They weren't expecting this, Emily thought, Not expecting that we'd get the high ground. A voice crackled over her radio. "Emily, give me a situation report."
It was Adam. He sounded cool, calm. The way he almost always did in battle.
"Adam, this is Emily. Nailed a captain and a lieutenant. How's things going from the CO's perspective?"
"Pretty good," the other Spartan replied, "we've lost about eight men so far, though. Steve?"
Another voice came through Emily's comlink as she found another target and squeezed the trigger. "Yo, whatcha need, boss?"
"Steve, you got that RL ready with you?"
"I follow. You're singing my song, buddy."
Emily smiled. Good old Steve. Always came through in a pinch. Once more she found a target, fired, and heard another death cry.
Steve smiled as he heaved the rocket launcher onto his back. He took aim at a large group of soldiers, and fired ahead of them. They ran straight into it, and were incinerated. Bullets pinged around him from assault rifle fire, and he lowered the launcher. He took out his shotgun, and ran down the stairway to the bottom floor. He needed to be in his element. His shotgun was like another part of his body when he was in combat, and he controlled it perfectly. It was time to go out and show those Communists who they were dealing with.
Adam continued to survey the battle through his binoculars. Steven was going out of his post, but Adam didn't care. Steve always took care of himself. Always. Adam rose to head for the stairwell, when a sniper shot rang out. The bullet barely missed his head. Adam dove behind a concrete barrier, and another shot rang from the assassin's rifle, only this time the bullet hit his foot. He could feel the bullet penetrate his shield, and he felt hot lead go in one side and out of the other. "Another **** reason," He growled, "Why I prefer front line combat instead of commanding." He hit his comlink button. Nothing happened. "They're jamming me. They know who to come after. I'm trapped!" To Be Continued
The New Reach Campaigns Chapter 2
Date: 24 August 2002, 2:53 pm
Jareth 440 smiled as he stared down his scope. He had his target pinned right where he wanted him, and he had jammed his communications. All he had to do now was wait. His target would surface soon. Soon.
Adam sat behind the concrete barrier between him and the sniper. He didn't dare move, but he called and called into his comlink. "Emily, this is Adam, do you copy? Over. Steve, this is Adam, do you read me?" He knew that his cries for help were useless, that the enemy sniper was jamming his transmissions, and that he couldn't override it. He could only watch and wait for his friends to find him. He knew that the battle would be over soon, but would the sniper leave with them? He would have to find out soon. Soon.
Steven flew through his enemies. He fired his shotgun at any opposition, and rolled out of the way of enemy fire. A rocket missed his head by inches as he ducked behind a large piece of scrap metal. He loaded five more shells into his shotgun, then spun around, hitting an enemy assault trooper in the neck with the butt of his gun. He fired into the next enemy's chest, knocking him backwards and killing him. The rocketeer fired again. Steven jumped clear, but shrapnel penetrated his shield, embedding itself in his shoulder. He put his shotgun in the auto lock holder on his backpack, and took out his pistol. The rocketeer was a long ways off, so he would have to snipe him. He maneuvered into a good spot, then fired several shots into the enemy soldier's head. The marine fell, dead as a doornail. Suddenly, a voice came over his radio. "Steve, do you copy? This is Emily. What's your current situation?"
Steve's breath was ragged as he answered, "I'm good. Got a piece of ******* shrapnel in my shoulder, but I'll be ok. Where's Adam?"
"He dropped out of contact," Emily said, "But I don't think he's dead. His life signs are still registering. He may be unconscious or captured."
"Forget the captured bit," Steven said, "They couldn't lay a finger on him. Look, they're retreating now, so I guess it's over. How many men did we lose?"
"Seventeen," Emily replied.
"Gotcha. I'll be heading towards your position soon," Steven said as he walked towards the center of the city.
"Roger that. Over and out."
Emily started to pack up her gear. She had capped a few officers, and sent the grunts running for their lives. All in all, a good day. She still hadn't heard from Adam, though, and that worried her. Where was he? It was getting dark, and really stormy. She hoped to hear from him soon. Soon.
Adam was still sitting behind the barrier. It was night, and the enemy had retreated. He was alone. On second thought, Adam thought, I'm not. I've probably got that sniper still hanging around. Suddenly, the Spartan had an idea. He grabbed a piece of metal, and stuck it up above the barrier. A shot rang out, and a bullet hit the piece of metal, and went through it. So, Adam thought, He's still there. I've got an idea.
Adam reached in his backpack, and produced a small cylinder. "Habbe Quiddam, sniper boy."
Jareth looked at the strange object on top of the barrier where his target was hiding. What was that thing he put up there? Suddenly, there was a blinding flash of light. Jareth screamed, and realized what it was. It had been a flash grenade. Since he had been looking through the night vision of his scope, he was now blind. His target would get away, and there would be nothing he could do about it. He heard a loud, "BANG" a second later. Now he was deaf, because he had turned up the volume to listen to the enemy chatter. He would die soon. He knew that his target had alerted his friends, and that they would kill him soon. All he could do now was wait for it. Soon.
Steven, bleeding and drenched, finally heard the voice he had been waiting to hear for over an hour.
"Steve, Emily, come in! This is Adam! I have escaped a sniper, and need immediate assistance. I am transmitting my coordinates now!"
Steve brought up his tactical map from his integral computer, and saw a flashing red dot to the south.
"Hang on!" Steve growled, "I'll get him. How'd you get away from him?"
"Used a flash-bang," Adam replied, "He should be an easy target. He's about a klick out from my position."
"Roger that," Steven replied as he got in a Warthog jeep. "He's mine."
Jareth lay prone on the ground, still blind, and still deaf. They would find him soon. It was inevitable, but he didn't want to make it too easy. He had taken cover behind a small, grassy hill. They wouldn't find him yet. Or would they? Jareth felt the rumbling of the earth beneath him. A vehicle was coming. But was it friend or foe? Where was it coming from? As quickly as the rumblings had started, the stopped. Funny, Jareth thought, I wonder where they are. He never saw the enemy. He never heard him come up. But he did feel the shotgun butt contact with the back of his head. He knew no more.
To Be Continued
The New Reach Campaigns Chapter 3
Date: 31 August 2002, 1:01 am
General Krensky sat back in his chair, smoking and drinking vodka. His latest assault on the UNSC HQ had been a failure, but he knew that there would be other battles. Other chances to show the UNSC the errors of their ways. He gave one last draw on the burning embers of what was once a massive cigar, and then dropped it into his ashtray. It still lay there, smoldering. It was time to get back to work. He opened a file from his computer, and reviewed the satellite imaging of the latest battle. He saw a friendly sniper take a potshot at a Spartan enemy, and pierce the target through the foot. He saw an enemy sniper take out several officers, and another Spartan launch a rocket into a large group of his troops. Curse them all. If the Spartans hadn't been there, who knew if the USSSR would have been stopped? He got out of his chair, and hit his intercom button.
"Elisa, tell majors Strucka and Hloren to meet me in briefing room four in ten minutes. I need to discuss tactics with them."
"Yes, sir," his secretary responded. He could hear her sending the message in the background. She was a hard worker, and he appreciated her. But even more, he appreciated his majors even more. They helped him with decisions. The way the cabinet did to the UNSC president back on Earth. He rose, and walked across to the window. He looked out, and onto the fort's parade ground. He ran Fort Dartmouth, and he would never forget it. His men and his government came before his very life. He shut the plastic blinds, and the tinkled behind him as he left the office. He walked down a long hall to the turbo lift, and hit "4." He whisked up to the briefing level, and opened the door to BR 4. The majors were already inside.
"Gentlemen. Thank you for coming."
Adam 387 looked out the back of the Pelican he was riding in. He saw mountains, fields of flowers, lakes and rivers. It was a tranquil scene. He would have to enjoy it while he could. They were on their way to Fort Dartmouth, to strike back for the USSSR attack on Kennedy city. The Communists had taken much heavier casualties than they, and it was the perfect time to strike as they were licking their wounds. A longsword squadron passed the Pelican. Right on time. They were going to bomb the fort after they took out the AA guns. Then it was up to Adam and his men to mop up. There were three Pelicans flanking his, two of which held his personal teammates. Steve and Emily had helped him out numerous times, and he was about to rely on them again. He knew they could do this. They would always help him out in a pinch.
Adam surveyed the marines and a few other Spartans. They looked ready to fight, ****** off about the attack on HQ the night before. He shared their emotions. They were going to make those ******** pay through the nose.
Krensky finished up his speech. He had received advice, and hit his comlink. He was about to signal the pilot to man their longswords, when he heard a deafening boom outside. The officers rushed to the window, and saw smoking husks where the AA defenses had been. Suddenly, they heard a low whistling overhead.
"Get down!" Krensky ordered, and he flung himself at the two majors. This was unthinkable. Where did they get longswords? How could they smuggle those in under the nose of the entire USSSR? However it was, Krensky resolved to make them pay.
Explosions rocked the fort. Hangers exploded in a fuel fed fire, and the barrack burst into flames as a bomb hit it. Men screamed as they died, begging for mercy, or for their mothers. There was mass pandemonium. Four Pelicans landed in the midst of the wreckage, dropping of eight Spartans and forty marines. Bullets burst from firing chambers, men fell, and carnage ensued. Officers died, falling while retreating or in the defense of their men. Adam was in the midst of all this. His assault rifle was blaring, lead spewing from the barrel, and smoke was wafting from the weapon. The fort would soon be theirs. The raided the bunkers. Officers raised their hands in surrender. They found every officer. All but one. And that one man laughed as he rode in his Pelican, all the way back to Fort Strom. It would continue.
The New Reach Campaigns Chapter 4
Date: 5 September 2002, 1:17 am
Adam watched the pelican zip away from the newly captured fort. His team hadn't recovered one body. The one of General Krensky and a few of his officers. He turned away. He would hunt the general another day. For now, he had a new base of operations to establish. It was going to be a long night, even with the four more pelicans coming in with more marines to help. It was time to get started. He walked over to one of his fellow Spartans. "What do we have here, Mike?"
"Well sir," the soldier replied, "The hanger isn't that bad. There were a few vehicles that we salvaged. Some were in perfect condition, just a few dents, but others will need a bit of maintenance."
"Good. What have you found in the bunkers?"
"Military records, sir. Hard copies and a few in computer terminals. Not too much major, but we're still scanning things. They have some good strongholds down there, and we ought to be able to get up a central command in a few hours."
Adam nodded as he looked around the wreckage. "Any ammo or fuel depots?"
Mike shook his head. "Just one small armory down in the bunker, and we hit all the fuel depots. However, we should be able to re-route some of the USSSR's supply trucks to our position. The decided to make them robotic as to cut down on any casualties in case we hit one of the trucks. Our hackers ought to be able to crack the code in about an hour."
"Good," Adam said, "Let's get to work."
The Spartans began to work. They positioned three girders to support the hangar, and then the gargantuan task of clearing out the wreckage began. Razor edged scrap metal was every where. They sifted through it, not only for using it on the roof later, but also salvaging for parts. They found a few weapons, but not much else.
After Adam, Steve, Emily, and Mike had finished clearing out the hanger with twenty other marines, they began to work on the ammunition depot. They lined the make-shift shelves with ammunition and supplies. This took about another hour. The work day was long and hard, and after ten hours of manual labor, all the troops (75 total) were able to bed down in a barracks for the night. They would start on the roof of the hangar in the morning. Once that was done, they would plot their next move.
Meanwhile, someone else was plotting his next move. General Krensky consulted with General Orumov on their next attack. They talked away into the night, hours and hours of discussing tactics and plans. Orumov would supply Krensky with all that he needed. Men, fighter aircraft, dropships, and vehicles. All they needed was the right time.
Adam awoke the next day to gunfire. They were back. They were planning on retaking Fort Dartmouth. "Red Alert! We are under attack! Get your butts outa bed and get moving!"
Everyone woke with a start as they heard screams from friendly and hostile soldiers. It was go time. Emily grabbed her sniper rifle and headed for the back door. Adam picked up his assault rifle, and Steven loaded five more shots into his shotgun. A soldier pulled a rocket launcher from under his make-shift bunk, and loaded two rockets into it. The soldiers burst through the door, spraying bullets into communists as they did so. Men fell, blood spewed, and brass casings fell on concrete, tinkling and smoking. A longsword bomber swooped overhead, and the soldier with the rocket launcher fired directly into it as it sprayed bullets that could penetrate heavy aircraft armor. The smoking husk fell directly where it was least welcome. Straight into the supply depot. It went up in a giant fireball, scorching men who were too close, and incinerating those inside. Adam held the trigger on his assault rifle, and bullets sprayed into the enemy. He took fire, and dropped on his stomach. He continued to fire at the enemy, blood spewing from their wounds. Suddenly, he heard a sound that made his stomach lurch. There was a boom of to his left. They had hit the hangar with a "daisy cutter" bomb. It blew sky high, destroying the bomber that had hit it. Adam couldn't control his rage. He spat profanities at his enemies
as he fired. He had only one objective. To kill the enemy. Kill, kill, kill. And to eliminate anyone or anything that got in his way.
Emily stared down the scope of her sniper rifle. She was looking for a good target. She finally found one. From atop the ridge where she was perched, she could survey the entire battle, including enemy officers. She found one. It was General Krensky, the ex-head of Fort Dartmouth. It was time to turn him into an ex-general. Better yet, an ex-life form. She slowly raised her rifle, and squeezed the trigger. The bullet flew true. It was close. But it didn't hit him. A captain had stepped in front of the general on accident, and now he didn't have a head. Krensky turned tail and ran. She fired two more times. She hit. She had to have hit. She knew it.
She hit, all right. She hit him through the shoulder. Blood oozed in torrents from the bullet hole, and he screamed in agony as he fell to the ground. He was wounded. His men were supposed to be wounded, not him. He jumped inside a pelican and ordered the pilot to lift off. He no longer cared about his men. All that mattered to him was his self-preservation. The pelican lifted off, and once more flew off, with Krensky brooding inside it.
The New Reach Campaigns Chapter 5
Date: 16 September 2002, 2:23 am
Pandemonium ensued. The troops of the USSSR knew that they had been left. They knew that this mission would be their death sentence. They were right. Bullets tore through men, blood staining the concrete. Men on both sides fell. Finally, after an hour, it was all over.
General Krensky hopped out of his Pelican. He knew he had sent those men to their deaths. He also knew that Orumov would kill him if he ever found out what Krensky did to his men. He would have to dispense of Orumov first. He saluted as he made his way to the main offices. He would have to gain his trust first. That would mean lying. That was it. He would lie to Orumov, gain his trust, then kill him to get the jerk out of his way. That would leave him in charge of Fort Strom. Yes, it was perfect. As long as Orumov never knew, nothing could hurt him. He was invulnerable. He was going to lead the USSSR, one way or the other. He walked over to the lift, hit the button marked "12" and zipped up to the satellite observation tower. He would have to destroy anything implicating him. It was time to get cracking.
The same could be said of Adam. The Spartan finished piling up the dead, and then lit the bonfire of bodies. All the troops around the fire saluted, honoring their sacrifice. Adam walked over to Mike. "What do we have left," he asked quickly.
"Not too much," the other Spartan replied, "A few Longswords, three Warthogs, and a Scorpion. We still have all of our dropships, though."
"Good," Adam replied, "How much damage did they do?'
The other Spartan snorted shortly. "You have to ask? They hit the supply depot and the hangar, and took a chunk out of the barracks. They didn't get anything in the command bunker, though. Good thing we have that."
"Alright. I'm putting you in charge of operations while my team and I are gone."
"Gone, sir? Where are you..."
" We need supplies, Mike, and I know just the place to get them..."
New Orleans Revived was a large city, bristling with lights. People walked the streets, minding their own business. They had to. The city was held by the Communists. The only reason why this Communist city was more prosperous that the others is that it was a supply city. It was well guarded, however, to prevent radicals infiltrating and going renegade against the USSSR the way that Spartan team had a few months ago. It was nearly impenetrable. It was guarded by snipers in towers, and regular ground pounders patrolled the streets regularly. There wasn't much of a chance of anyone getting in here. But where there is a will, there is a way...
Maranatha stood in his sniper tower. He didn't want to be there, however. He wanted to be at the front lines, avenging his brother, Jareth. Unlike his brother, however, he was not trained as a Spartan. He was just another expendable regular. He held no bitterness for his brother now, but he did before. With his brother's death, he thought that he had lived up to his name. Cursed. Ironic, really. He wasn't chosen to be a Spartan, and now his brother was dead.
"Can it get any worse?" he asked himself. As is the case, it soon did.
A shot rang out. Captain Stromgarde sat up in his bed. What was going on? It sounded like one of the snipers had fired. But there was a hitch. It sounded like one of the snipers had been shot and fell out of his tower. He could tell by the sickening splat of flesh and crunch of bone. One of his men was dead. He didn't want another to die. He hit his comlink. "Lieutenant Cabbel, get your men to Alpha alert. We are under attack."
"Yes, sir," came the garbled reply. The Captain got up and walked over to his locker. He opened it up. Inside was what he was looking for. A suit of Spartan armor. He pulled on the boots and greeves, and heard another sniper shot, and a deathcry. He swore as he put his breastplate on. He was getting his armored gauntlets on when he heard the first actual assault rifle fire. There was a lot of it. It must be a raiding party, he thought as he fitted his helmet on and grabbed his assault rifle. He was proud of the weapon. He had used it in many battles against Covenant and his fellow man. He punched the activation switch, and the door slid open. The fire outside was getting more and more heated as he descended to the ground floor. Men lay strewn about, dead. He ran out, firing at enemy marines. He was in his element, spinning around enemy fire, and returning it. He fired, his weapon smoking, and men fell. It was time for his enemies to die.
Maranatha hyperventilated as he looked down his scope. He had found the enemy sniper. He started to shake, but he calmed himself. He could do this. He would avenge Jareth's death with this sniper's. He blinked once or twice, then squeezed the trigger.
Emily never knew what hit her. She had lined up an enemy Spartan in her sights when the bullet pierced her helmet. Her head lolled and fell onto the rooftop that she lay prone on. She knew no more.
Adam saw what happened to Emily through his binoculars. His heart fell. He had lost a good soldier. The sadness was quickly replaced by rage. His hands grasped the binoculars too tightly, and they broke. He had never been so full of anger. He pulled out his pistol, zoomed in on the sniper's head, and fired twice. The soldier's brains splattered the concrete below the tower. Adam was not a bit sorry. He put his pistol away, then grabbed his assault rifle. Forget commanding and not fighting. He had to do something. He had to do it now.
Steven took fire as he returned it. Lead sprayed from his beloved shotgun, and took men down. He ran with superb speed, hitting people with the butt of his weapon, and blasting them full in the face. All of a sudden, he saw Adam run out of his hiding place. He was firing full auto at any enemy target that presented itself. Steve wasn't surprised. He though Adam had been getting too much stress from just commanding. He could take it out on the field.
Steven continued to fire. He had killed thirty men. He would kill over thirty more if it would end the battle. Suddenly, a stray rocket hit a building in front of him, and a chunk of it fell towards him. He tried to dodge out of the way, but it clipped his foot. He felt it being crushed under all that tremendous weight. He lifted the concrete up, then hobbled out from under it. He could still fight. The next scene filled Steve with unimaginable horror. He saw Adam lying on the ground in a pool of blood next to an enemy Spartan. No. It just couldn't be true. It just couldn't be. But it was. His best friend was dead, and there was nothing he could do about it. The marines had already fled, and their dropship was taking off. He turned on his com unit. "Emily, this is Steve. Adam's dead. We need to get out of here. Do you read me? Come in, Emily!"
Emily's voice did not come on the other end of the line. "She's dead too. And we have you now." Steve had the terrible feeling that the enemy Spartan had answered him. "You *******! What did you do? You ****** ******!"
The voice came back cooly, "Now is that any way to speak to your host? I would hold my tounge if I were you."
Steve saw what his enemy meant. There was no way of escaping. Unless... He turned towards the last dropship, and saw it explode. The voice came back.
"Oh, please. You don't think that we would have let you off scot-free, now do you?"
Steve fell to the ground. It was more than he could bear. This was it. They were going to kill him or capture him. All he knew is that whatever they did, it would not be pleasant. Unfortunately, he never saw the medtech with a sleeping medication syringe behind him. All he felt was a little prick through the kelvar he wore on the back of his neck. He fell asleep, and dreamed fitful dreams. Dreams that always ended up with his team mates dying, and him helpless.
The New Reach Campaigns Chapter 6
Date: 25 September 2002, 5:48 pm
Steven awoke in a dimly lit room. He saw his reflection on a shiny mirror on the opposite wall. He couldn't move. He was strapped into a chair by use of duct tape. He looked down, and he only had his boxer shorts on. They had been smart to take away his armor. It would ensure that escaping would be much, much harder. He began thinking of ways to escape, but before he could ponder for much longer, a speaker clicked on, and a crackling voice issued from it. It was low and menacing. Like the one that enemy Spartan had.
"State your name and rank, prisoner."
Steven paused. He didn't want to tell them his PIN number among the Spartans. He had to forget that information on purpose.
"My name is Steven, and I am the rank of Lieutenant, UNSC."
"What is you PIN number?"
Steven was ready. His expression turned to one of deep concentration, then said, "I don't know." He then felt pain as he had never known before. They obviously had a lie detector attached to him. He would have to just calm his nerves so that it wouldn't affect him. He took a few deep, rasping breaths, then with all his composure, said,
"318."
There was no sharp shock of pain. There was no scornful response from his interrogators. Instead, a new voice came over the com system.
"Where is you base of operations?"
Right, he thought to himself, They wanna question me? Then why shouldn't I question them?
"Don't you know all ready? Good grief, I thought that your intelligence systems would be more up to date than that."
Again, a sharp shock of pain. He was expecting this. He knew that the best thing to do now would be to not cooperate. Not give them anything they wanted. Just to make them mad. Again, the gruff voice came in over the commlink.
"Don't toy with us. Where is your base of operations?"
"Where do you keep yours? I keep mine in my pocket at all times. In..."
Again, the pain. And again, and again, and again. Four hours later, the communists had received no new information, and Steven had received severe burns. As he lay in his cell, he knew that the worst was probably yet to come. He huddled on his straw mattress, the flies, resting on his burns and agravating them. The worst would probably come later.
Stephan Steale walked the empty grounds alone. He was tired after the day's battle. He had a bullet through his left shoulder, and caught a bit of shrapnel. But he refused to stay in the hospital wing. He had to walk the grounds and patrol.
He was still brooding on the events of the day. His injuries, his kills, and his lost friends. His best friend, a Jew named Maranatha was killed in the battle. Maranatha all ways thought that his name meant "cursed." Stephan had tried to show him that it meant something much better, which it did, he just forgot what it meant. He thought it was along the lines of "the Lord is with us," but he wasn't sure. He would have to look it up.
Stephan was one of the few Christian men in the Communist party. The government had tried to regulate what the people did, and they didn't want anyone worshiping God. They wanted them worshiping themselves and the government. Stephan decided that, in this case, it was better to serve God than man. If only he could find the courage to defect.
Two days later
Stephan was patrolling the prison halls. He shouldered his assault rifle. There wouldn't be any breakouts. He stopped at one cell where a high security prisoner was kept. He could hear him talking to himself. He leaned closer.
"I can do this. I may be out of my armor, but I can do this. I can bend these bars." Stephan heard the prisoner grunting and straining in the cell. He then heard a sigh of exasperation. "No good. I'll find a way, though."
Stephan knew who was in there. It was the enemy Spartan. He was one of the ones who lead the attack. Suddenly, it came to him. This was his chance. His chance to defect. He stole away, punched out, then got his replacement to come in. He had a plan...
The next morning
Steve got up, and put on his shirt. He had spent his night sleepless, attempting to find a solution. There all ways was one. He just couldn't see it. He got off of his cot, and there was a tap on his door.
"Laundry," the man outside said. Steve grabbed his soiled and torn garments, and got ready as the guard opened the door.
"Here you..." he stopped. Inside the laundry bin was his armor. The guard held a finger to his lips. Steve understood. It was a jailbreak. He gave the guard a thumbs-up, grabbed his armor with dirty laundry, then stole back into his cell. He but on the greaves, boots, chest-plate, gauntlets, pauldrons, and his helmet. He was ready. It was time to break out, and break out his friends and supporters. He grabbed the barred window, and pulled. It came out, and he bent the iron into a spear. He thought of just one Roman proverb. "Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned." The proverb also applied to Spartans. He kicked out the door, and ran.
To be Continued
The New Reach Campaigns Chapter 7
Date: 7 October 2002, 1:28 pm
Steven ran down the halls, looking for a way to free the other prisoners. He kicked some doors in, but others were reinforced.
"Have to find the cardkey," he mused to himself. A jailor came out, pistol aimed at Steve's face. The Spartan jumped over the line of fire, and brought his make-shift spear down into the man's skull. He took the pistol which the man had dropped, along with some keycards. They had cell numbers on them, and one was a prison access. The soldiers he had already freed were behind him, ready to fight.
"You," Steve called, "Take this card and open cell 827. It's down the hall."
The soldier he called took the card, then sprinted down the hall. Another jailor came out, this one with a live grenade in his hand, along with an assault rifle. The Spartan fired twice, and the bullets sank into his head. The enemy dropped his grenade, and it went off in the room behind him.
"Let's go!" Steve shouted. They ran as fast as they could, freeing as many prisoners as possible in the amount of time that they had. Steve knew that an alarm would sound soon. Then he saw another jailor. Only this one was freeing prisoners. The Spartan ran over to him. He recognized the man as the one who had slipped him his armor. The man just grinned.
"I suppose I'm back in the UNSC now, huh?" the man asked.
"I suppose you are," was Steve's reply.
Captain Stromgarde awoke with a start. His comm link button was blazing red. An emergency? Why hadn't anyone raised the alarm?
"Yes," he said, a tone of urgency in his voice, "this is Stromgarde. What's wrong?"
"Sir, this is one of the jailors. There's been a break, and they've killed two jailors already. Also, one of our own has defected to the UNSC. And to top it all off, that Spartan got his armor back!"
"Oh, no," the captain replied, "I'm initiating alpha alert. We have a situation!"
A "situation" was nowhere near what happened. Bullets ricocheted, barrels smoked, and men fell to the ground to drown in their own blood. Steven was once more in his element, and that element was combat. He fired his pistol with deadly accuracy, and took a few hits himself. He and that jailor had to buy the rest of the troops time. Finally, he heard the door to the outside world his and open. Steven ran out, firing behind him as he went. He turned to the jailor.
"Where's the armory?" he yelled above the gunfire.
" East wing! Follow me!" the soldier replied. They ran, taking out enemy targets as they went. The detainees they had rescued scattered, so they wouldn't be caught very easily. They were all to meet up at the armory. Steve heard screams, and knew that some of the soldiers he had rescued had just bought the farm. He stepped his pace up a bit. Finally, they reached the armory. Thirty-five of the fifty men Steve had rescued were there. The jailor passed him his assault rifle.
"Cover me! They've changed the passcode!"
Steven fired into the oncoming throng of people, and handed his pistol to another soldier. They both fired, defending the jailor and the ex-prisoners.
"Got it!" the jailor said, "Everyone inside!"
They obeyed, and grabbed all the weapons and ammo they could hold. Steven handed the assault rifle back to the jailor, and grabbed a shotgun and five boxes of shells. He loaded up his weapon, then took a rocket launcher and eight rounds and put them in his pack.
"Party time," he said as he hefted his shotgun.
Captain Stromgarde was in his MJOLNIR armor, and ready to kill the bums who had escaped. He held his assault rifle high, and fired at the armory door, bursting the lock to smithereens. He and his squad of eight men entered, with the rest of the base waiting at the door. Suddenly, there was a loud "THWACKKKK," and one of his men went down.
"What the..." And then he saw it. The enemy Spartan, with a shotgun pointed down at him from the rafters. The enemy fired, and the Captain's head exploded in a bloody shower of pellets. The rest of the men turned to fire, but Steven's squad opened up on them and killed them quickly.
Steven knew they were being watched. He knew that the second anyone set foot outside that door, they would die. His mind raced franticly.
"You," he said, turning on the jailor, "What's your name?"
"Stephan, sir."
"Is there any other way out of this place besides the doors?" Steve asked.
"Well, there is a secret tunnel out of here. No one ever watches it."
"Can you get us through there?"
"Sure, no problem."
No one saw the soldiers leave through a large pipe leading from the armory. What they did see was a rocket hit the armory. They never found a trace of the enemy who destroyed such a vital facility. They never knew what hit them.
To be continued.
The New Reach Campaigns Chapter 8
Date: 16 October 2002, 7:24 pm
October 21, 2997
Colony of New Reach
Empire City
9:52 A.M.
Chancellor Veloram paced his office, looking at the man standing in front of his mohogany desk. The corporal was standing erect, giving his report about what happened at New Orleans Revived. A high security prisoner had escaped, and a heavy armory was destroyed. This was not working. He had to do something. He had to kill someone. The corporal. Yes, that was it. He would take this out on the corporal. He reached inside his desk, and pulled out a covenant sword.
"Do you know what this is, son?"
The corporal paused for a minute, then said, "I believe it is one of the energy swords that the Covenant elites used. But how..."
The chancellor waved away the question with his right hand. "Ancient history, corporal. I would like you to have this weapon."
"Really, sir?" The corporal's expression was shocked.
"Really, son. I want you to have it through your heart."
Suddenly, the chancellor's appearance shifted. Too late, the corporal realized what he saw was a hologram. Before him stood an elite, tall and strong, in shimmering armor.
"If we cannot exterminate your race, we will enslave it the way Communism did." The elite's speech was gutteral. The corporal only looked on it terror as the warrior leaped over the desk and brought the sword through his body. The corporal lay dead. Once more, the elite's appearance shifted, and he looked like a man again.
Steven looked out of his dropship's hatch. He saw mountains flash by, rivers, and lakes. This was a beautiful world. And it was time to take it back for the UNSC. They were going to attack the capitol city of Empire. A voice crackled over the speaker system.
"Five minutes till drop off, gentlemen. I suggest you lock and load your weapons."
The Spartan was glad the pilot gave them the warning. Just enough time. He had Mike and Stephan put on his team, along with nine other marines. The vehicles would be dropped off later, whenever they were called for. Steven reviewed the intelligence briefing in his mind. Chancellor Valorum. Head of the USSSR on this planet, and a key figure in their political system. He was the last one left, really. Besides his officers, most of the other figureheads were gone. Just a few more.
As the dropship zipped closer to the objective, Mike rolled his head from side to side. He was still a little stiff, and his Spartan armor didn't help that too much. He took a few deep breaths, then loaded his assault rifle. He cocked it, and the display screen came to life. He put ten more clips in his pack, then sat back. Might as well enjoy what was left of the ride. He scanned the faces of his team members, trying to read their emotions. Fear, anxiety, excitement, they were all there. The only one he couldn't read was Steve's. If only a Spartan could see through his friend's helmets. That might help them to sympathize with them a little bit more. But there is not to be any sympathy in war, really, he thought, just the spilling of blood. He thought, not for the first time, how simple his life had been before this conflict. He just did what he was told, no questions asked. Now, he was tired of war. Tired of orders. Tired of conflict. Soon, he told himself, it will all be over.
Kr' Nelka arose from his chair. He hated his job. He hated being with these humans. He wanted to enslave them, not just order them around. But that was his assignment, and he could not deviate from it. His alter-ego, Chancellor Valorum, had been killed earlier so the elite could take his place. Surprisingly, the Chancellor had put up a pretty good fight. That was what Kr' Nelka longed for. To once again be at war with humans, not stuck behind some desk ordering them. He exhaled deeply, then exited his office, his peripheral vision contorting because of the hologram around him. He went out into the street, a cigar in his mouth. If these humans did one thing right, it was the cigars. Most Covenant scorned anything to do with human culture, but Kr' Nelka enjoyed the occasional cigar. It was quite challenging to blow smoke rings, and he tried often. He puffed away, making his way leisurely down the street. He finally found the place. He went down a dark alleyway, then opened a manhole. He descended down into the muck. He powered down his shield, turned on his beamsword, and turned the shield back on. The hologram's power was getting low, so he turned it off. The sword illumitated the walls with an eeire blue glow. His path twisted and turned until he finally found the place he was looking for. It was a humongous barracks, filled with grunts, elites, jackals, and brutes. Most were sleeping, but a few saluted the elite admiral as he went by. He went to the far end of the barracks, and walked through a shroud. A priest sat in his hoverchair, looking down on the admiral.
"Well, Kr' Nelka. You have come as I requested."
"Yes, Shrnek. What was this you needed to see me about? I do have a race to enslave, you know."
The alien priest only smiled. "Yes, my friend. I know. I was wondering, have you heard from the high council as of late?"
Kr' Nelka frowned. "No. What is it that you have hidden from me, you brencha?"
Shrnek's face contorted with rage. "You are to respect your religious leaders. Even admirals have a duty to our gods, you know."
"Yes, I know. So, what is this thing you have called me for?" The admiral continued without apologizing.
"The High Council has deemed fit that these humans most probably will not be able to serve us for long, seeing as they have short life spans. They have deemed fit that we should destroy them."
Kr' Nelka smiled. "I will do it." He turned and left the priest's presence. Out in the barracks, he called, "Arise, my brothers! It is time to bring swift wrath upon these puny, pitiful humans! Let us strike with all vengance! Arm yourselves! Let none survive!"
"Go, go, go!"
Steven jumped out of the dropship as it landed outside of the city. All of the forces moved up, and infiltrated quickly. But something was wrong.
"It's too quiet," Mike said, "Where is everyone?"
"Hold on a second," Stephan said, "Do you smell something burning?"
"Move up," Steve said, shotgun searching for targets, "But stay alert. This could be a trap."
They moved through the streets cautiously, jumping at noises. It was completely desolate.
"Maybe they evacuated," a soldier suggested.
"But they didn't know we were coming," another said.
"Something is burning," Stephan said, "And it smells like a barbecue gone wrong." There was a few moment's silence, then there was a call from a marine in the center of the town square.
"Bodies! Bodies everywhere! All human, burning in a pile! Let's get outta here!"
Just then, everything went wrong that could have. Doors flew open, and plasma shots and superheated needles ejected from alien barrels. This wasn't the work of Communists. This was the work of the Covenant. They had survived.
"Fall back to extraction point Beta! We'll hold these Covenant bums off from there!"
Shots flew back and forth, grenades were thrown, and bodies hit the turf, never to stir again. Profanities were uttered, and laughter came from the alien's sick mouths. It was brutal. Steven had never been so enraged or scared at the same time. He fired his shotgun into any enemy who came within range, and he blasted off grunt's heads, and jammed the butt of his weapon down on jackals. He spun, and caught a brute in the head, and fired twice into its throat. While the alien was gasping for breath, Steve continued to fight. He took down alien after alien, killing elites, grunts, brutes and jackals. He blasted into a hunter's gullet, and it fell to the pavement, its orange blood seeping everywhere. Steve looked back at his men, scrambling into vehicles that pelicans had dropped off. Now the tide of the battle was turned. A scorpion blasted into the throng of aliens, and their bodies were scattered. Men fell, and blood stained the grass black. Finally, after two hours, it was over. To be Continued.
The New Reach Campaigns Final Chapter
Date: 4 November 2002, 10:04 pm
Steven clutched his bleeding side. They had won. Against impossible odds, they had won. But it had been brutal. Medic checked out wounded and dead soldiers, and those not badly hurt still patrolled, looking for enemies. Steven walked over to Mike.
"What've we got, Mike?"
"64% casualties. Bad situation, sir."
Steve nodded. They had never seen such a severe battle. The stench of blood emanated all around the battle field, and polls of human and alien blood mixed. He sighed heavily.
"So, what's the good news?"
"We got one of their admirals, and our techs will begin working on cracking the code on their computer net. Could have some good info."
"Good job. Let's start cleaning this place up. Then, we'll contact fleet com. Hopefully, we'll be able to head off the Covenant before the get to Earth again."
Kr' Nelka bleed freely. He had been shot point blank through the chest by a sniper. He had sent his sword through the humans body quickly after. He vaguely remembered collapsing from a shotgun blast, held by a Spartan. The Spartan. Yes, that was it. He would kill the Spartan. He crept forward slowly, and grabbed the fallen sniper rifle. He looked down the scope, and zoomed in on the chief Spartan's head. He would kill him and avenge his own death. All he had to do was pull the trigger. He slowly kicked the safety off, steadied his aim, and pulled the trigger.
It all happened in a split second. There was a shot fired, and the sound of a body hitting the ground. Steven spun, and saw Stephan fall to the ground dead, a bullet sent through his cranium. Steve looked on in horror as the soldier's brains oozed out of his head. He look up, and saw the "dead" Covenant admiral attempt to reload the human sniper rifle. In a fit of blind rage, Steve ran up to the elite, aimed his 8 gauge at his head, and pull the trigger. Once, twice, three times he pumped lead into the beast. The elite didn't stir.
"Get up, ******. Get up, you slimy *** ** * *****." Still the elite did not stir. Steve took out a combat knife and cut of the alien's head. He held it high, then jammed it on an iron fencepost nearby.
"Come see!" he yelled. "Come see the one who would destroy us and all our kind! Come see his shame!"
All the soldiers crowded around and spat at the alien skull.
"Mike, notify Fleet COM about the situation. Tell them that we have won. The colony of New Reach has been liberated." Mike did as he was bade.
An hour later, in the center square, the UNSC flag was raised to its highest possible point. Mike and Steve stood erect at the pole.
"Ten shun!" Steve yelled. All shoulders went back. "Present Arms!" again, the soldiers did as asked.
"Ready! Fire!" A volley of assault rifle bullets ejected from fourteen barrels. Again, and again, and again. Finally, the procession was over. They had truly won. Epilogue Fleet COM received the message about the Covenant invasion, and squelched it. Steve and Mike went on to other colonies to see what good they could do. They ended up releasing all the colonies under the Covenant Communist's rule. Mike died gloriously in battle, sacrificing his life for the rest of his squad's. Steven went on to receive every conceivable medal in the UNSC, and was hailed as a hero. A statue of him was made in his honor, one of him and the original Master Chief Fighting side by side, the Chief armed with an AR, and Steve armed with his beloved shotgun. The statue was placed outside of Fort Strom on the colony of New Reach. The Covenant had once again been repelled, and sent a message to every human colony that they would never again make war against the humans. A race that so valiantly fought them did not deserve to be enslaved or destroyed. Thus ended the war between Man and Covenant for good. The End Thank you for reading my stories, and being patiently with me when I didn't put them out as fast as you would have liked. The main issue with all my writings is customer satisfaction, and I hope you enjoyed reading these as much as I enjoyed making them. Stewart Screpetis
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