 |
About This Site
Daily Musings
News
News Archive
Site Resources
Concept Art
Halo Bulletins
Interviews
Movies
Music
Miscellaneous
Mailbag
HBO PAL
Game Fun
The Halo Story
Tips and Tricks
Fan Creations
Wallpaper
Misc. Art
Fan Fiction
Comics
Logos
Banners
Press Coverage
Halo Reviews
Halo 2 Previews
Press Scans
Community
HBO Forum
Clan HBO Forum
ARG Forum
Links
Admin
Submissions
Uploads
Contact
|
|
|
Knossos: The Sigma Draconis Star
Posted By: Matt Anderson<matt@mattcity.com>
Date: 13 December 2005, 3:52 am
Read/Post Comments
|
From: Blake.Encrypted@centralhall.gov
To: Amari@UNSCknossos.mil
Subject: Re: Change of Plans
My friend,
Your efforts in preserving this planet have been exemplary and I have no doubt that we all have you to thank for our lives. Countless times you have proven yourself as a commander, and the people look upon you as a hero. But as an ally, I must tell you that we have reservations concerning your new strategy.
Your new position has placed the 203rd very close to Carthage, and while I understand your reasoning for the decision I do not see why such a risky gambit is in order. Should you fail in the valley, Carthage will almost certainly be sacked. We cannot afford to lose the capital.
Captains William Dean and Richard Gideon are tied up in their regions so you will have no reinforcements. I sincerely hope you will reconsider this maneuver.
Respectfully,
Robert C. Blake
Acting Governor of Knossos
1006 hours, September 26, 2552 (Military Calendar)
Sigma Draconis system, UNSC Camp on Carthage outskirts, planet Knossos
"I think the man doubts my ability," Amari mused, leaning back in his chair. "Wouldn't you say so?"
Madison grunted from the filing cabinet he was sitting on. "As I've said, politicians have no mind for warfare. They squabble for votes and support and let our type protect their facade of order." He rapped his knuckles on the cabinet. "No offense, Dean."
The young Captain glanced up from where he was standing, as if he had just been pulled back into reality. "What? Oh. I'm no politician really, it's boring stuff. Of course, family tradition has it that I join in. I suppose the upside of this war is it's saved me from wasting away in a cold senate chair, eh?"
"Heritage is an unsightly thing," Amari said, rising from his seat. "I'm sorry to see you leave so soon, my friend."
"I as well. Unusual circumstances in my neck of the woods, though—I wish I could stay and help."
"Victory is assured, don't you worry about that."
"Are you really so certain?"
"I'm an old man, true, but a tricky one. Have a safe journey home."
Dean nodded. The two men clapped each other on the back, and after a moment of gathering his will, Dean walked briskly from the tent.
"Touching," Madison commented. "Would you like to kiss him on the cheek, as well?"
"Taking his armies outright wouldn't look proper, this is the cleanest way to do it."
"Treachery is a fine game to play, but I prefer open combat."
"Dean and Gideon are both loyal to the Governor and what remains of the Knossos Republic and I cannot defeat them outright."
"So you plan to have the Governor move first? Have him do something outrageous, and declare martial law?"
"You speak as though I haven't had this planned for ages."
Madison shrugged in apathy, and slid off the cabinet. He stood staring at Amari, evaluating him coolly as if to search his mind.
"I've one worry," He said with a solemn expression.
"What's that?"
"Suppose we lose the Valley."
1024 hours, September 26, 2552 (Military Calendar)
Sigma Draconis system, River Valley, planet Knossos
The Valley was blisteringly hot. It was the kind of miserable heat that seemed to absorb all moisture and left your moth feeling like it was full of cotton. The canyon-esque walls of the valley and it's dry riverbed floor offered little in the way of shade. Everything seemed to be drenched in the yellow-orange light of Sigma Draconis' star. Through these conditions hundreds of men raced against time, setting up pre-fabricated bunkers, laying mines and digging trenches into the walls for rocket attacks and snipers. Understandably, nobody was in the best of spirits.
"Faster!" Lieutenant Anthony yelled from his perch on top of a warthog. "You'll need to work faster if you want to be ready before the heat!"
The valley, hot as it was, got hotter throughout the day, reaching upwards of 120f regularly by mid afternoon. Miserable conditions for any soldier, and dangerous to fight in.
"Sweet Lord, Alsafi burns bright today," Heller complained as he leaned against the warthog, referring to the Sigma Draconis star. Anthony turned to look down at him, and then returned to shouting orders.
"You know what Alsafi means, Anthony? Do you?"
"No, Heller, I do not."
"It's Arabic, taken from something or other, for those damned cooking tripods. Ironic, actually."
"Can't you go make yourself useful?"
Heller shrugged, and slid to a crouch, trying to hide in the warthog's small shadow.
"Suicide, this is," Heller noted loudly after a moment.
Anthony turned again, and looked down at the man.
"What is? This?"
"Well, this whole thing is suicide. The valley is too narrow, its walls too steep and if anyone is caught in those trenches they'll be sitting ducks. Easily. Unless the surprise is pulled off as planned, we're all lost."
Anthony couldn't argue. For once, Heller had a point. Amari had taken risks before but this was asking for disaster. To make matters worse, neither Amari or Captain Madison were present. To say moral was grim wouldn't be untrue.
"It is a lovely day though, isn't it?" Heller began again. "Not a damn cloud in the sky. Not a one."
"The heat is bad enough, don't remind me."
"The only explanation, of course, is that God hates us."
"God does not hate us, Corporal, "Anthony said with a bit of a smile. "He just hates you."
"Thank you, Sir."
Anthony broke out into a grin, and stared off down the valley. A speck in the distance caught his eye, something in the air. Even before the speck started to take shape, his stomach sank with dread.
Banshee.
A few moments later the howl of its engines echoed through the valley and alerted the other soldiers to it's presence. Three hundred heads stopped and stared uncertainly. So much for the ambush.
Anthony began yelling again, trying to usher the soldiers into movement, and it didn't take much. Soon everyone was rushing around madly, trying to make last minute preparations and find some cover. Heller scrambled to his feet, and shouldered the rocket launcher he had put against the warthog. He leaned on the vehicle, and took careful aim.
The Banshee came closer and closer at high speeds, and appeared to be dropping in altitude. It wasn't firing, but it was clear it intended to do a flyby. Heller waited patiently as it dropped from the sky, engines screaming. He ignored the shouts from the other soldiers.
Just a bit closer. Just a little bit closer and it would be scrap.
Heller moved his finger to the trigger, and pulled.
"Heller, don't!" Anthony yelled.
The man jerked the launcher upward in surprise and the rocket fired, passing cleanly over the path of the Banshee. The Covenant ship raced overhead, pulling a gust of wind with it, and pulled up out of the valley, circling wide and flying back to wherever it had come from.
Heller stood in shock.
"Give me that," Anthony said in annoyance, grabbing the launcher from him.
"What the hell did you do that for!" Heller yelled angrily. "I had him, I had a perfect shot! He'll go back and tell everyone now!"
"And what if you had succeeded? What then? The damn thing would have crashed into our soldiers and our defenses!"
Heller clenched his teeth angrily, and leaned in close to Anthony. He looked for a moment as if he would say something, or even hit the Lieutenant, but he never did—he stomped off instead. Anthony sighed, and leaned the launcher against the warthog.
"Lieutenant!"
Anthony turned to look for whoever had called. A man was running toward him.
"Lieutenant!"
"Yes? What is it?"
"Look, sir!" The man pointed frantically down the valley. Anthony climbed back on top of the warthog to get another look. There was a large cloud of dirt and sand in the distance. Snapping his fingers at the other man, he took his binoculars and searched the distance.
He lowered them again slowly after a moment, and looked back down. "Get everyone ready."
1045 hours, September 26, 2552 (Military Calendar)
Channel 49 News Cast, "Defending Humanity", Knossos
For those of you just joining us, analysts are discussing the repositioning of the 203rd Marine battalion to a location just a few miles outside of our planet's capital, Carthage. Lieutenant Colonel Amari ordered this movement late last night on unknown grounds, and the troops are still getting resettled. This new position has many officials concerned, not to mention the citizens of the city who are absolutely abject to having the fight for Knossos right on their doorstep. This new position for the famed 203rd is, experts are saying, a risky effort to in fact protect Carthage and discourage any direct attack against it, but the exact reasoning behind the movement is still unconfirmed. At this time neither Lieutenant Colonel Amari or Acting Governor Blake are available for comment, we will continue giving you updates as the situation develops. We go now to our senior war correspondent—
Governor Robert Blake turned off the news feed in annoyance. He sat in a plush leather chair in his office-- his for the last few years, ever since his predecessor had been killed. Elections had been postponed due to the Covenant threat, and nobody seemed to be in a hurry to restart them. War was much more interesting. He sipped his class of whiskey, swirled it around a bit in his hand as he thought. The situation was becoming less stable every day. The only person who seemed assured of victory was Amari himself, the crazy old fool.
There was a light knock on the door. "Come in," Blake called.
The door cracked open slightly, and a young man poked his head in. Blake didn't recognize him- it must've been one of the different aides. "Mr. Governor, Sir? There's a large collection of the press outside, they would like an official comment."
"Tell them to go away."
"I tried, sir, but-"
"Tell them to go away again nicely, and if they refuse, tell them to procreate with themselves."
The man snickered a little. "Yes, Sir."
Bloody press, Blake thought.
There was a loud bang, it sounded like an explosion—the entire room rattled and shook with it. Blake sat up in his chair. Boom, again. Boom. The Governor stood and hurried to the window, pulling back the blinds in a rush. He peered out, past the city walls and into the distant UNSC base. Flashes of light came intermittently, shooting up from the ground.
The door burst open. Another nameless aide. "Sir, they're firing artillery into the valley!"
1051 hours, September 26, 2552 (Military Calendar)
Sigma Draconis system, River Valley, planet Knossos
"INCOMING!"
Explosions rocked the earth and sent plumes of dirt and smoke high into the air. Anthony dove for cover behind a concrete bunker as a hail of debris and plasma rained down from the exploding Wraith tank.
"What the hell!" Heller yelled, looking at his partner. "What the hell is going on!"
"Artillary!" Anthony yelled back over the deafening roar of combat. "They're shelling us!"
"Who is? The Covenant?"
"No! Command!"
Anthony looked to his right and shrunk into the bunker as he saw two more Wraith tanks float over the carnage of destroyed vehicles and bodies. Rockets flew down from trenches in the valley walls, destroying one and passing harmlessly by the other. The Wraith launched a mortar of plasma and plowed on its way, Ghosts and Covenant infantry following in it's wake. Heller popped up long enough to quickly shoot a pair of jackals in the head. He came back down to see Anthony shooting in the direction of the troops. Before he could ask what he was doing, he saw-- they were now behind the line of fire.
"Shit," Heller said, reloading his rifle. "Shit."
A Grunt poked it's head over the top of the bunker and yelled out a screech, waving it's plasma pistol at Anthony. The Lieutenant didn't waste time in pulling a knife and stabbing the creature in the throat. The Grunt slumped back over the slab of concrete.
"You have a plan?" Heller asked, shooting at Covenant as they pushed pass them further into the UNSC ranks.
"Me? I was hoping you would have one."
"Okay," Heller said, fumbling around for his own combat knife, "Okay, I'm out of ideas."
"It won't take them long to notice we're back here- Cover!!" A plasma mortar slammed into the rock wall a few feet down the line, throwing bits of debris everywhere. Anthony thought he saw a few bodies fall with the rock as well. This was followed up with another earth shattering barrage of artillery fire. The large shells landed everywhere, decimating Covenant and Human alike and blotting out the sky with thick black smoke. Soon all light was engulfed in that dark mix, and nothing but the screams and explosions of war were discernable.
For a few blissful moments, Anthony thought he was in Hell.
1123 hours, September 26, 2552 (Military Calendar)
Sigma Draconis system, UNSC Camp on Carthage outskirts, planet Knossos
"Beautiful," Amari said happily, peering with binoculars as thick clouds of smoke started pouring from the distant mountains. "We have victory."
"I'm not positive," Madison said, also searching the horizon. "It doesn't sit right with me. I think we could have done this without the loss of life."
"Nonsense. The Covenant wouldn't expect that we would shell our own defenses, and this gave us the advantage. Furthermore, the troops there held them in one place as we destroyed them. Three hundred soldiers is an acceptable price for this victory."
"I suppose. If anything other than a Human leaves that Valley, we'll send the reserves in."
"Tell them they can stop the shelling now. Time to assess the damage."
"Yes, Sir. I do have a terrible hunger for lunch, would you like something from the kitchen?"
"I think I'll accompany you."
1132 hours, September 26, 2552 (Military Calendar)
Sigma Draconis system, Northern Trail through the Holt Forest, planet Knossos
"The thing is, with those Covenant brutes, I have the suspicion that they're not all as barbaric as they seem, you understand? Through personal observation, and what we've gathered from torture and the limited UNSC files we downloaded before, you know, we were cut off—there's evidence that their culture may be much richer than we thought. I think, then, if someone could find a way to reason with them, maybe we would be better off than duking it out."
Dean chuckled, and looked over at the soldier driving the warthog. The man had been miserably silent the entire trip, only entering the conversation to add bits like, "You don't say?" or "Interesting, really." He did claim, once, to know how Dean felt, but the Captain doubted it. The soldier didn't seem the sharpest knife in the drawer.
Dean sighed, and settled into his seat. Doing so, he noticed someone up ahead, someone in military uniform waving his arms for them to stop. It looked like a checkpoint.
"Odd, one out here," he muttered.
The warthog slowed to a stop, and the soldier walked around to the drivers door. "Where are you off too?" He said, leaning against the door.
"We're driving up to the northern front. This here is Captain Dean, I've been told to escort him through to his base—"
Dean ignored the conversation as they talked on, pulling out different identification. The entire thing didn't seem right. They were in the middle of the forest, without a base for miles. A movement caught his eye in the bushes; he tilted his head to peer out the window. Another rustling. At first, it looked like just a bush. Then he saw the pair of eyes behind the camouflage.
"Oh my God-" Dean started to mutter, but he was cut off suddenly by a loud gunshot. The drivers head exploded, sending bits of bone and gore splattering across Dean's face. The soldier who had stopped them was holding a smoking pistol. Before the soldier could aim again, dean pulled out his own gun and shot the man twice in the throat.
Whoever was camouflaged in the bushes leaped out, firing his rifle at the warthog. Dean moved his foot quickly over the dead driver's and pushed down on the gas, sending the car shooting forward. He grabbed the wheel and tried to steer, mind racing. What was going on?
Bullets pinged off the warthog, one lucky enough to puncture the tire. The Warthog swerved, and crashed into the woods.
1200 hours, September 26, 2552 (Military Calendar)
Sigma Draconis system, River Valley, planet Knossos
Lieutenant Anthony and Corporal Heller stood emotionlessly in a field of dead covenant and human soldiers. Wreckage still smoldered around them, and every once in a while a vehicle or pack of ammunition would explode. The sky had cleared up enough to see, but the smoke and smell of charred flesh still hung in the air.
They walked around soundlessly, nudging corpses as they passed to check for any survivors. About twenty other soldiers did the same.
None of them said anything. There was nothing to say, they all understood their situation, what had happened to them. They all knew against hope that the artillery strikes had been on purpose, but they didn't want to think of the implications. For now they were just grateful to be alive.
Once they had made their rounds, and made sure there were no wounded who couldn't move, they began a long march back across the plains towards the camp. It was noon; the sun was just starting to reach its peak.
"Alsafi burns bright today," Heller noted quietly, carefully stepping over bodies and spent bullet casings.
"A cooking tripod, you said," Anthony remembered.
"That's right."
They trudged along in silence for a few more minutes. Anthony pulled off his helmet, and let it fall to the ground; it was hot.
"Ironic."
|
