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Anathema - Two
Posted By: Bloodcider<duiguy117@hotmail.com>
Date: 12 January 2005, 10:44 PM
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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."
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