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Present Darkness, Chapter Six: Part II
Posted By: russ687<russ687@hotmail.com>
Date: 3 January 2005, 2:55 AM
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0755 hours, November 21, 2552 (Military Calendar)
ODST AO, Hill 203 (Location of a known Surface Entrance)
Planet Red Dawn (Codename), Theta 1440+90 System
"Something must have gotten pretty fowled up," Sherman said, looking cautiously around them. "I was under the impression, from my commander at least, that this quick check was possibly more important then the actual operation on the surface. He didn't know what it was, of course, but apparently what he had heard from his superiors indicated this to be a high-profile mission."
Foster nodded at the Lieutenant's observation. Not until after they were already inbound had he told them what they were doing, for obvious security concerns. Nobody knew the potential in this mission more then he did, but Sherman and his Squad quickly recognized the seriousness of this search after hearing the short version of the events leading up to their insertion.
Sherman had hit home. Something had to have gone horribly wrong for them to be extracted only minutes after being inserted. He didn't want to think about all the possibilities, but the feeling inside was strangely similar to the one he had aboard the Stanton Bay, and it was no encouragement to their predicament.
"Hell, the Covenant are probably arriving in the system right now," the Squad Leader said from a few feet away, scanning the area with his rifle "That's why they're pulling us out."
Foster nearly laughed at the man's comment; this Squad Leader seemed far too prideful and arrogant for his taste, and not someone he would have necessarily brought along on such a mission. He was used to working with some of the finest men in the UNSC prior to become an Intelligence Analysis. Of course, he had come across his fair share of dislikable people, but in the level of operation the ODSTs occupied, that kind of personality seemed to fit in. Here, this Squad Leader seemed nothing more then an idiot.
"If the Covenant were in system, the Fleet would be long gone." Foster said, trying to keep his voice indifferent. "They wouldn't come back for us."
The Marines fell silent at that comment, but Foster knew all of them took comfort in the fact that he was right, and the Covenant had not entered the system. It didn't shake the concern, though, about how the tables had turned and left them waiting for evac atop a hill in this forest.
Consider yourself lucky, Foster thought. None of them had fired a shot since setting foot on this planet, which was a far better position to be in then the hundreds of dead Marines who never survived more then five minutes after landing in this war zone. He was glad his barrel was still cold, and that the only thing they had done was blow up a door. How much longer this would last, however, topped his list.
Regardless, they were being picked up any moment now. They wouldn't have to worry about the Covenant, or this mysterious enemy, much longer.
The Marines turned at the sound of the Pelican descending towards their position. Most broke into slight grins at the sight, which partly disgusted Foster; these men should be the last ones of this rock, not the ODSTs who were fighting through hell at this very moment.
"Keep on your field of fire!" Sherman yelled above the downwash from the Pelican as it settled overhead. The Marines partly obeyed the order, but got excited again as two ropes dropped from the open rear hatch of the Pelican above.
Foster put his goggles back down as debris and dirt flew outward. He looked up in question as figures began mounting the ropes. That was odd; during extraction operations, the Pelican settled down much lower so they could board directly.
He took a step back as the first two men set foot on the ground. The feeling about them was different, Foster thought as the first began walking towards him. He could partly see it in the other man's eyes. Something didn't feel quite right about him, or what was going on around here.
"Major Jody Foster?" The man yelled as more slid down the rope behind him from the Pelican overhead.
"Yes, and you are?" Foster replied, keeping a firm grip on his rifle, but keeping it pointed safely at the ground.
"My name is Anderson, from the Office of Naval Intelligence."
Oh shit.
Foster watched as ten others from the Pelican fan out around him and his Squad of Marines. He squinted as they took up rather offensive positions, covering all of the Marines in field of fires, but keeping their weapons down. He could feel the intention of these men, and he tensed.
"What do you need?" Foster asked.
The man turned as the Pelican overhead flew away, then turned back to face Foster. The dust began to settle as the silence washed over them all. "I need to know what you've seen here on this planet."
Foster began contemplating his options. Anger rose up from deep inside him as he figured out he had no options. The way these ONI personnel positioned themselves were obvious signs of the direction this was going. He hated the fact that there was nothing he could do about it; none of these Marines would react to overcome such a situation, possibly only Lieutenant Sherman, but that left them far outnumbered. He was in the worst situation of his life.
"Nothing, we were recalled before able to proceed with the mission." Foster said, hiding the anger from his voice.
Anderson nodded, his face straight and his voice flat. "Tell me what you know about the circumstances of this planet."
Foster looked him in the eye. This man was trying to feel him out. "The operation against the Covenant supply caches are supposedly going close to planned despite significant losses."
The man stiffened, his voice turning very threatening. "Don't fool around with me, tell me what you know about the Covenant and their little problem."
Foster wished he could pull his rifle up. He wanted to turn the tides of this situation, but it would mean instant death. "We know about the Covenant and their biological alterations."
"There, was that so hard?" the man's voice was cold. "Next time, don't miss out on important meetings."
Foster looked back in question, to Anderson's slight amusement.
"Regardless, you will join your comrades in their 'meeting' shortly."
Foster twitched uncharacteristically.
"My duty in the Office of Naval Intelligence requires me to protect certain information for the greater good of the UNSC. I do not, nor does any of my team, find pleasure or satisfaction in our duties, but we must accomplish them to the full, and sometimes painful extent.
"For years we have been securing and protecting the UNSC, and the general public, from knowing and encountering certain...what's the word?...aspects of the war. When we first encountered this dilemma with the Covenant and the biological enhancements, silencing the information was an easy one time event. But now, we have seen this twice, and yet again we come across the same situation."
"Killing the soldiers who encounter this, or any threatening information, is your supposed 'solution'?" Foster asked pointedly.
Anderson did not even flinch. "Solution? No. We do this for the greater good of the UNSC. While I understand it seems wrong now, in the long run my actions will make a difference in winning this war."
Foster held his gaze into the other man's eyes. A small voice inside told him that he would not see the "greater good" in the long run.
"I never do this," Anderson said. "I always make it quick without a conversation, but this time around I felt the need to tell you why we do this. Is it my own conscience? Possibly so. In my line of work, however, duty rides above my conscience."
Foster didn't try to hide the anger in his voice this time. "You're no different then our enemies."
Anderson remained motionless. "Fight fire with fire."
Foster shouldered his rifle the same instance as the pistol in Anderson's hand came up. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw the ONI men raise their weapons upon the unprepared Marines standing atop this hill peak. The Marines responded late by trying to bring their own weapons up.
The scene was terrifying as fire broke out. Foster blinked as a hot projectile entered his shoulder, and pulled down the trigger of his BR55. Pain shot through his body as he opened his eyes to see the man in front flinch from three rounds that grazed the man's upper shoulder, missing the neck by a mere inch.
The screams of death were subdued by the firing as the Marines around him fell to the ground, blood spurting into the air as the rounds from these ONI men relentlessly tore into their bodies. Foster could hardly believe what was happening around him as the once calm, relaxed feeling before this Pelican arrived turned into this death trap that was taking the lives of his comrades. He focused back on Anderson and rolled to the ground as the pistol came back up again and fired.
The pain was coursing through his veins, but the adrenaline was overpowering that feeling as he sent his leading leg around, kicking Anderson to the ground. He struggled to his feet and tackled the ONI man, losing grip of his rifle in the process.
The shooting continued as Foster sent a hard blow into the mans forehead, but the advantageous position was quickly lost as Anderson kicked him off, sending him head over heels.
Both men regained their bearings and got to their feet. Foster reacted and brought his M6C sidearm up just as Anderson settled his sights on him. The two men stared down each other's barrels as the fighting in the background ceased. Foster didn't take his eyes off the three point sight he was looking through as his finger lightly danced over the trigger.
Neither man fired, but both knew who would surely die. The area around them was littered with seven Marine bodies, with only three ONI spooks lying motionless on the ground. They had won the firefight, and he was the only one left.
"It's over for you, Foster." Anderson said coldly. "Regardless of which one of us survives, my orders will be fulfilled."
Foster was breathing hard, and his wound was slowing sapping his strength. The two men kept their pistols aimed and ready to fire.
"What I said before wasn't a lie," the ONI man said. "This is for the greater good of the UNSC. Think about the demoralizing problems this could create, think of the setbacks. You, me, my team; we're all worthless in the wake of this war. All we can do is fulfill our duties until our number runs up, then hope we had a nice life. Your duties are clear to you, and my duties are clear to me. This is what I must do."
Foster shook his head and spit up a coppery taste from his mouth. "Every man counts in this war. To say everyone is expendable is to admit we've lost the war. What's the point in fighting to save humanity if no one is worth it?"
Anderson remained silent for a moment, his comrades in a circle around them, their rifles trained on Foster. "Then maybe this war isn't worth fighting."
Foster spat up blood again but kept his weapon expertly aimed at Anderson's forehead. "You sick bastard..."
Lynn stepped up onto the clearing of Hill 203, his rifle shouldered and steady on one target. The scene before him was completely foreign to him, as seven men stood with their weapons pointed at one man. What the hell was going on?
"Freeze!"
He recognized the one man in the middle; the one they were pointing their weapons at. It was his Battalion's senior Intelligence Officer; Major Foster.
The men in the circle quickly turned to face the newly appeared Squad of Marines that had come from nowhere.
"Drop your weapons!" Westfield yelled, his large M271 boring down on the entire group of men before him.
The ODSTs skillfully kept their weapons trained on each men present, and the other's aimed their weapons right back at them, except for Major Foster and another in the center; those two kept their pistols pointed at each other.
"I will not say this again: Drop your weapons!" Lynn shouted.
"Drop your weapons!" The single man in the center unknown to Lynn shouted, still keeping his pistol trained on Foster. "We are from the Office of Naval Intelligence and have encountered defectors."
Lynn looked at Foster, who remained silent. The situation was very delicate, since they were even in numbers. Each man had one threat, who was pointing a weapon back at them.
He looked around and noticed the bodies laying bloodied on the ground; two were twitching. Defectors? He had never met Foster personally, but he had been on the Battalion's Executive Staff for years, and never once had the man been questionable in his intentions or motives.
This man was an ODST. Was he going to take some ONI man's word above a fellow soldier? Could that even be true, could Foster be a traitor? And what had he even done?
"Final warning: Drop your weapons now!" Lynn yelled.
He kept his rifle trained on his target and looked at Major Foster, who for the first time looked over at him. Lynn made eye contact with the officer. Was this man really at fault?
One of the ONI men fired.
"Fuckit!" Westfield yelled as Wilson screamed in pain as a single round entered the Marine's chest.
The thunderous fire from the M271B exploded and tore through the man who had shot Wilson.
Keeton softly, but quickly, pulled the trigger on his sniper rifle, the crosshairs centered at the forehead of his target. The rifle recoiled and the loud explosion erupted from the muzzle as a single, 14.5-millimeter round left the barrel and erased the man's head from existence.
Johnson fired his BR55, his three round burst impacting his target in the chest. The target fell back, neutralized. He turned to a second just as the muzzle flash caught his eye. Three piercing objects tore into his leg.
He fell to a knee and screamed in pain, firing another burst on the way. He looked down at the blood running form his leg, then back up as three more rounds caught him in the chest, sending him to the ground.
Tanner felt the hot shard bite into his arm, and fired an instant later, sending a round into his target's leg, nearly blowing it off completely. He dropped his rifle as the pain overcame him and stumbled, trying to get oriented.
He didn't even look at the wound before pulling out his M6C, forcing the weapon into the air and firing repeatedly at the target who was now on the ground, screaming in pain after receiving a round capable of dismantling a small vehicle.
Lynn's first burst went low, but his second was on target, killing the man before he hit the ground with three 9.5-millimeter rounds to the head. The second came into view, and he quickly pivoted and put the man in his crosshairs.
Three bursts hit the man before sending him to the ground; the finger depressing on the trigger and sending rounds harmlessly into the air as he fell to the ground, blood mists following him down.
Lynn then looked to see Foster and the last standing target fire, their pistols' muzzle flashes lighting up their faces.
Foster didn't blink at the flash from his M6C as Anderson fired at the same time. He did blink when a second bullet hit him, this time in a far more fragile spot.
He fell back, hitting the ground and losing grip of his pistol. He couldn't tell where it had hit, but the pain consumed his body. The sight of blue sky above began to fade and narrow, and the pain began to subside quickly. In his experience, he knew what was happening.
Shock.
Lynn watched as both men fell. He kept his rifle shouldered and scanned the area, then looked over to see who was still standing.
They were so close to getting out, all of them, alive. All they had to do was extract with this other team on the Pelican and get the hell of this planet. But their luck, or fate, wasn't as cooperative with their hopes. Before him lay over a dozen bodies, and none of the were Covenant.
He had just participated in his first firefight against humans. His mind was still beginning to comprehend what had happened, but the outcome was clear. Never had he thought something like this would happen. Friendly fire accidents were one thing, but killing soldiers, people, humans was something no one ever dreamed about.
They were in a war to save humanity. Fighting among it was seemingly impossible in the wake of such an enemy.
"Stay down!" Westfield yelled as a body moved.
Lynn looked around. Obviously, despite the barrage of bullets between them, not everyone was killed. "Keeton, check our guys!"
The sniper nodded, already checking over the ODSTs from their Squad.
Lynn ran over to Foster and knelt over the officer. Blood ran from the man's lower neck. He looked into the half open eyes, then back at the wound. It had passed over the body armor by only an inch.
Foster reached up and grabbed Lynn, coughing up blood. The officer was not going to survive from his wounds, but there was still some strength coursing through this man's body. The eyes widened as the man looked up, blood running from the wound.
Lynn stayed still as the man tried to speak. There was nothing he could do to save him.
"Make sure," Foster said, coughing up more blood. "Make sure they know."
Lynn grabbed the officer's hand and held it as the man began shaking. Foster squeezed his hand back hard, then it slowly began to go limp. The eyes stopped blinking and remained open, focused on nothing; the blood stopped rushing from the wound.
He let go of the officer's hand, then swept across his face, closing the open eyes.
0800 hours, November 21, 2552 (Military Calendar)
UNSC Capitol Ship Chesapeake
In orbit above Planet Red Dawn (Codename), Theta 1440+90 System
"Captain, it's time to call in the evacuation of our troops."
Sean Warren nodded. "Very well then, pass the order to the Ground Forces Combat Information Center, and contact Admiral McCrea that we are beginning the extraction phase."
His Executive Officer nodded and went to work, delegating out the tasks. Warren sat on the bridge of his cruiser, idly watching his crew, and AI, scan continuously for any sign of the Covenant entering the system. They were now at the thirty-minute mark, which meant they were be out of this system in a half-hour.
By the accounts and predictions of his own Intelligence staff, this would give them enough time to leave the system, without a trace, before the Covenant could arrive to engage them or follow them. If this all went as planned, he would have a successful mission to report.
Of course it wasn't the men who got the glory, the ones who actually completed the objectives, it was the highest ranking person in charge; McCrea. Warren didn't despise the man; in fact, he had a unusual amount of respect for him, but he didn't like him. While a good tactician that had won his fair share of battles, the man rubbed him the wrong way. Regardless, a successful operation, no matter who was in charge, was a good one.
Warren turned to his XO. "And what became of Colonel Nodern and a briefing he had for us? I believe we are already overdue for that."
Commander Scotts looked back at him and shook his head. "No clue, sir. I will have someone track him down as soon as possible. But reports are that his Pelican never left the Stanton Bay; perhaps there was a hold up there."
Warren nodded. They would have time for briefings later. Right now they needed to extract.
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