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CTF at Zanzibar by The Meep
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CTF at Zanzibar, Part 1
Date: 17 September 2005, 3:01 am
CTF at Zanzibar
Spartan Eric had been driving a LAAV with Spartan Greg on the Gauss,
well known as the Mini-Mac by his team, and with Elite Erau 'Orbudee in
the passenger seat. They were playing the famous Capture the Flag game.
They were the capturers. They had never lost. They were known as the
feared Co-op Killas, or COK, because they were the only team to have a
mix of Elites and Spartans on their team. As soon as they had driven
through the sea-wall gate, the lock-on warning shrilled. "We're being
painted." Eric calmly said and chinned the alarm. The trilling died
immediately. The COK was used to this kind of stress. Greg said into the
SECCOM "Erau, stick that rocket." Erau warbled something in his
strange elite language. The TRANCOM whispered in Era's deep gruff voice
"Gladly." Erau half stood, half crouched in the passenger side and, using
his multiple leg joints for support, drew and primed a plasma grenade.
Everything that happened since Eric's comment happened in about 2
seconds. Suddenly two things happened at once. The Blue Team Spartan
locked on and immediately fired the rocket and Erau threw the plasma
grenade at the enemy. By some freak wind, the plasma grenade collided
with the rocket. It's heat and EMP waves emanating from it scrambled the
rockets lock-on and the rocket, with plasma grenade still attached,
blew up over and a little to the right of the warthog. At this point, the
warthog was parallel with the lump of curved rock next to the wall and
the giant wheel. The combined explosion of the grenade and the rocket
less than 5 feet away immediately blew out the windows and explosively
popped the tires with a sound similar to grenades exploding. The EMP
fried the warthog's circuitry and it exploded in a ball of shrapnel and
fire. The warthog flew 4 meters feet straight up in the air, flipped
upside down at its apex, and came crushing down on Eric who had been
trapped inside the driver's seat. Greg and Erau had been flown from the
warthog by the explosion, with Erau hitting the rounded rock on his
back. Greg was propelled by the flying warthog and the explosion and
sailed over the wall. Everybody's shields were drained instantly and
their armor took the crushing blow of the impacts.
Greg landed face down in the sand, his 5 team members who had been
waiting for covering fire immediately rushed to the smoking form of Greg
lying prostrate on the ground.
"Elijah! Get that MEDPAC, NOW!"
"Greg! Greg! Get that needle in there, GET HIS PULSE NOW!"
"Give me that MEDPAC! Inject some of those stims … slot.
"He's conscious, but … fast!"
"Come on … losing him!" His vision swam with black dots and he blacked
out.
Greg came about a few minutes later. Nothing could hold a Spartan down
for long. "Where's Erau? Is he dead? Where's Eric?" After this
spout, he calmed himself down. The last thing to do at a time like this
was panic. He quickly assessed the situation. There was the rocket, and
Erau's grenade. His nanosecond quick reflexes had picked up the
grenade sticking to the rocket launcher. Then there was the explosion, then
getting struck by the warthog like a ball by a bat and Erau's body
slapping the rock. He was surrounded by his teammates and then he blacked
out.
Right now he propped up against the rock near the water, the big
jutting affair. He could see Lisa, could tell through the armor by her fluid
movements. She was scanning the ground with a battle rifle, jutting
between arches to seek cover every few seconds. Then there was Elijah
with the sniper rifle, silently scanning the enemy base. CRACK! He took
a shot at someone. Chris and Ralph were looking at a stream of smoke
rising from the other side of the wall, probably his warthog. Ashley
was leaning over him. There was no sign of Erau or Eric.
Ashley leaned closer. "Greg, can you hear me?"
"Yes, I can hear you fine. How long have I been out?"
"About 5 minutes."
"Where's Erau 'Orbudee?" Greg asked. "Where's Eric?"
Ashley's head bowed and shook slowly. "Erau's dead. Eric is still
alive, but dying. He's trapped underneath the Warthog. His shields were
down when it landed on him."
Greg's mind processed the bad news. The slap against the rock must
have crushed his body at the speed he was going. Especially if his
shields were down. What about Eric? Could he be rescued? Depends on where
the Warthog is. Maybe, just maybe, if it landed behind--CRACK!
Greg's thoughts were interrupted by the sharp report of the sniper
rifle carried by Elijah.
Elijah's voice crackled over the SECCOM. "Someone stuck a foot out.
He's not going to be running anytime soon."
Ashley, as if she had read his previous thoughts, said "Don't even
think about trying to rescue him right now. He's out in the open, right
next to the wheel. They got a rocket launcher and their sniper watching
it very closely."
"Anyone else hurt? Status report. NOW!" The death and the almost
sure death of two of his friends made him feel very useless and worthless.
He felt is ire rising. He immediately squelched the dangerous emotion.
Ashley, slightly taken aback, hesitated with the report. "Everyone's
fine, 'cept me. When the warthog blew, it created some fierce
fireworks, and I got hit by one of them." She held up her arm and showed him a
small hole, about 3 centimeters wide, and almost a perfect circle.
"Small molten ball of metal hit me. Felt like taking a round from a
sniper rifle, went right through me."
Greg nodded gravely. He knew how it felt. He had taken one right in
the kneecap in a Team Slayer game on Relic.
Greg stopped reminiscing and called a meeting on his SECCOM. The other
Spartans didn't have to go anywhere, just talk over the COM. Greg
waited a second and then said "Well, we can't just sit here like a bunch of
Grunts without any elites around. We have to find first how to rescue
Eric. We need every man we can get. Second, we have to figure out our
strategy. Obviously, our rush in with the Warthog with our own troops
covering our backs didn't work to well."
Chris's voice came on. "I say we just rush em. We have more men.
Remember, we took out 3 of them in a Warthog when Erau threw that grenade.
Landed on the back tire. Blew the Warthog clean over the wall."
Greg wanted to yell at Chris for the hotheaded idea. Once again, he
quelled his rising ire. His injuries, whatever they were, were
definitely making him grumpy. Finally, he said "We would lose too many men and
women. If we failed, we would have no force for a counter-attack. We
have one more man than they do, but they have the rocket launcher, plus
several gun turrets, PLUS a very easily-defended fort. Now, before I
get any more ideas, we have to know what resources we have. Sound off
inventories!"
Chris yelled over his SECCOM so loud, it made Greg wince. This one had
passion, but like most greenhorns, little if, no experience. "SIR, ONE
BATTLE RIFLE WITH 24 BULLETS AND 3 SPARE CLIPS. MY SIDEARM PISTOL HAS
12 BULLETS AND 4 SPARE CLIPS, SIR!"
Some muttering at Chris about turning down the volume, or that someone
could hear him through the sound-proofed helmet ensued.
Ashley was next to report. "Sir, one shotgun with 12 shells loaded and
fire-ready and 12 more in the packet. My sidearm pistol has 12 bullets
in the clip and has 2 more clips ready to go. Plenty of C10 left to
knock on their door, SIR!
And so it went down the line. Several battle rifles, plentiful
ammunition, and 2 ghosts ready for combat duty. Now that Greg knew his
resources, he could start a rescue plan.
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