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SPARTAN Raden Mathews R127 by Corey hotten
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Evac
Date: 17 October 2007, 8:28 am
Africa, New Membosa.
UNSC hangar number B12. Near front line of Covenant excavation sight.
Year 2552 November 20 standard UNSC calendar.
Lieutenant Raden Mathews, Spartan III
Noncom Evac mission 32
Raden pulled his Assault Rifle steady as he strafed the enemy, it was substantial enough to get his eight Marines the few feet from their flimsy railing cover to a more adapt environment. They leapt and rolled behind large storage crates, they littered the large UNSC hangar. Raden watched the ammo count on his weapon trickle down, a full clip never lasted a full five seconds when on full fire. As soon as the weapon clicked Raden jumped forward off the medium arch walkway that lead to inner offices off to his right. Four spiker rounds crashed into his shield and drained it nearly to collapsing before he landed, he was to fast for the Brutes to pull their line of fire down and then catch his leaping to his Marines.
Before him all of storage crates were for vehicles and equipment, and the only way to them now was through the large opening they mowed down with fire. Four marines to the right, four to the left, Raden out of habit took the right side, a preferred side in a firefight for him. A force of habit that sometimes made his tactics somewhat predictable, always the right way, he was still alive so he was doing something right.
"Sir, Dallas is hit…bad." Raden spared the Marine a glance, his hub regarded him as Private Marshals, Dallas was below him holding a spiker round in his gut. Raden pulled up his Marine's stat board, their own little internal vital systems were programmed into a close range broadcast. A small layout of a basic human form appeared by his stat lights; the model's stomach was blinking critical red. Intestinal breach, internal hemorrhaging. Raden thought for a second, two brute shot rounds which came through their one way opening and crashed into the far wall.
"Biofoam the wound," it was a simple order it seemed after checking, but its all we can do for the man, he may not bleed out or not right now the covenant were baring down their throats. Dallis cried out in unimaginable pain as the spiker round was pulled free and a canister of biofoam injected into his gut. Raden reloaded his Assault Rifle, all the while; when he had been deciding what to do and his conclusion to treat it so simply that his man would suffer, the Covenant had not let up a single shot, tearing away at the storage crates. The metal bins groaned and warped, becoming torn visages of battle that Raden thought, with some humor, an artist could claim as the beauty or agony of war. Whatever was preferred by the aristocratic world.
Raden stepped around the corner a bit, him and four other Marine Assault Rifles opened up. The first to by targeted were the Grunts, they were weak cowards but in large numbers and in the presence of powerful warriors such as Brutes, they can be dangerous. Methane packs exploded, translucent blood spilled and high pitched whiney voices cried out with agony. Raden with a full clip managed four Grunts. He reloaded and repeated, never flinching as shrapnel slid over his shields and spiker rounds made designs al over the storage crates. "Frag out!" A Marine cried, letting a grenade tumble amongst a patch of step back Grunts, those attempting to regroup, all they got for their efforts was being literally torn apart, even a Brute stumbled and fell, face riddled with metal fragmented pieces.
"I'm out sir!' A Marine, Priv. Fargo, barked pulling away form the front and letting a Marine take his place, just as he had taught them too. Dallas wasn't moving but he had a near steady vitals, but one with battle injuries could be jumping and smiling and then fall dead the next. Den did not trust read outs more than his gut, and he new this was a very important tie for the soldier, these next moments would be if he lived or died, all of them in fact. "Me too sir!" Priv. Hallen yelped, he brandished a 00 Assault Rifle. Raden leant his Assault Rifle to Hallen with a quick flip of the weapon, and with two free hands he let three pulled grenades fly into the mass of covenant. A Jackal had one land at its feet, turning its large shield down nearly to the floor it had hopes of survival, at least until in its surprise it opened its head to Hallen's assault. The Jackal fell back as a purple fountain; and the grenade, align with the others, was free to take out anyone within the vicinity. Three brutes were killed and a handful of Grunts and jackals.
Raden pulled his M6G sidearm, leaning his head around the corner, his left hand firing and his right gripping the crate's edge. He made every shot, all twelve landing comfortably with in a Grunt's skull. With another clip he shot a Jackals hand that reached around a shield, when the alien flinched his second shot caught it in its vulture head.
"Ugh!" Raden watched through his peripheral vision as Hallen fell back, clutching a near six inch spike that was in his forehead, the ugh was all he could offer in his last moments of life and any vertical intelligence, he flat lined and lay still.
"Gail!" Raden snapped, ail leapt to Hallen's side, she said the obvious, "He's gone sir."
"Move him then, and secure his weapons." Scavenging the dead, even your own, was necessary in battle. Raden shuddered as a spike grenade came through the opening between the two creates, sending ricocheting bits all around, many hitting Marine armor and SPARTAN shielding. "Ah shit!" Marshall's cried, Raden looked too Marines opposite him to his stat board; Dallas was dead and Radon knew the grenade had finished it. Six Marine's left. Gail threw Raden the lent Assault Rifle of Hallen, he threw the M6G hard enough to topple the Grunt it hit.
'Come on you little bastards!' Raden hissed in his mind, he would be a rather bad commander if he spat obscenities and lost his temper, they could not see his face or hear his thoughts but he was all those things, he wanted blood and he wanted to kill. He moved to bigger game, Brutes were not easily taken despite their lack of true shielding. It seemed an odd trade from Eltie commandos to Brutes, but they were all the same to him in the end, more dead Covenant…with such thoughts he recognized his anger rising and his irrationality, recognition was not the same as dealing.
A Brute fell under his attack, and another to combined marine effort. Raden turned to the Marine below him, the one crouched and covering as he reloaded. "Aiken, take over for me." Raden pulled away and climbed the crates off towards the offices, making sure not to shake them too much. He reached the higher railing they had evaced more than a minuet ago. He came around slowly, slowly flanking the enemy, his motion tracker was willed with enemy movement, red blimps, nearly a wall of it. Raden secured two grenades as he was prepared to break cover, their was a catwalk with a thirty foot run, straight and unhindered but completely open to the enemy.
His hesitation was in the span of less than one full second, a SPARTAN never doubted, just tactically viewed a situation, death was always a possibility. Raden sprinted, full out, the grenades fell, active and well placed. Raden snapped a third grenade, a active plasma flying like a flare it burned and held to a Zealot Brute's shinning golden helmet, the creature had maybe three seconds of life left in him, enough to scream with anger. Raden lifted his Assault Rifle and began to fire, hardly a target in mind, he ran with all his strength even so enemy fire hit him, tarring off his shielding.
Something happened he did not expect, something not considered in his tactics, the catwalk collapsed hit by brute shots rounds, in the support cables and middle walkway, sending it to ripple and whip, added with Raden's near tonnage, it all came down with a great deal of ceiling grating. "Shit!" that he did say aloud. Raden's shield down completely, the electronic beeping that came with it echoed in his ear, Raden rolled, all the while aware of the thud thud from spikers and the concussion of brute shots. Raden threw off plastic and metal, as well shrugging off enemy fire. The brutes used strictly physical based weaponry but he found plasma as well mixed in there, he rolled and dodged, and hid but it all came hard like rain upon him.
Molten slabs of metal came and landed upon his armor like superheated slugs, he threw the burning material off before it could do damage or even harden. His shields didn't have a chance to come back,they were always beaten back down as the plasma splashed over him, adding static and yes even pain. Grenade belt empty, Assault Rifle 00, sidearm gone. A brute spike grenade flew into the wall opposite him, it was hardly far away, and it pointed forty to fifty spikes directly at the unshielded Raden. A quick sprint, a moment he flashed to the grenade and pulled it from the wall and let it fly out of reaction. A sick slap echoed as the brute who'd thrown it was suck in the groin plating, after that there was little left of the area or the brute in general.
Raden jumped back to his cover, a new idea came about though, as he dove for cover he literally dove into it, hard, bending and warping the metal with his strength. He was hidden behind a wall, stacked storage crates mainly emptied by the local populace to fight at the front lines. The three 30' by 60' stacked crates swayed, a little, but Raden kept slamming, kept building momentum and was never hindered despite the plasma washing all around him.
For one moment Raden thought he may have, not miscalculated but assumed falsely for the boxes arched towards him, groaned and threatened to take him instead. He sighed relief as it again began to lean, the opposite way and this was the give, the two top crates fell, spinning and crushing any below.
"Lieutenant!" Gail's voice barked over the comm.
"What!" Raden barked back, a little bit of contempt in his voice, he had done a great deal but a spiker tore into his shoulder plating, internal compensation jell bubbled up with his blood…he was not impaled luckily. Raden dropped low and tucked into a corner, waiting for his shield to come alive again…slowly it did.
"Sir, Hunters!" Raden cursed over the comm, again not a commanding officer thing to do. Raden looked back to the scene, the open hangar in which the Covenant stood was now slicked with blood and dead bodies, nine or eight brutes appeared all that remained, that and a five squad of jackals. That would be hardly a challenge for a SPARTAN and six Marines…the problem was the Hunter pair stalking forward, baring on Raden's position. Their shield arms guarded their front armor plated stomach, the stomach was hardly as thick as the giant arm that shielded it. Their small tile topped heads were tucked within their armor, their back quills shook with anticipation, fuel rod arms readied and waiting…charging. Raden dashed out in the open, unexpected…that was good.
The Hunters roared, unable to reach maximum charge in their fuel rods before Raden secured a brute shot. Raden fired it as he ran, the grenades flew with little arch, exploding against the Hunter's shield arms and tucked heads. Raden appeared to be heading for the opening his Marines controlled, that is until he changed direction. The brutes and jackals began to fire just as the Hunter's let out their whipping stream of Fuel Rod. The beams lashed out over the ground and through the bodies of the dead. Raden lept one stream and watched the radiation levels within his hub spike as the second glanced by.
Raden ditched the brute shot and rolled low beneath spiker rounds, using a large muscular brute body as cover. As his roll ended he brought up a pair of spikers, his initial target were the brutes. The weapons tore into them as expected, at the end of the clip two had fallen, the others spurred on by the presence of the Hunters. Six Marines poured out of the opening they had secured, like Raden they fired upon the Brutes, as well as a well placed grenade scattered and finished the last of the Jackals. Raden reloaded both Spikers in one smooth motion. The Last two Brutes died to his barrage…but the Hunters remained, not even hurt. A soldier, identified on Raden's hub as Private Quien broke the ranks and began to fire madly at the Hunters, gaining little results. Raden rushed the marine…but a SPARTAN was not faster than a fully charged fuel rod. The far left hunter sent a stream of pure gaseous energy that consumed Quien in a blink of an eye. What remained was carbonized bone and charred boots…it would have been almost comical if not so tragic.
"Spread out!" is al Raden could scream over the comm before the second fuel rod began to whip towards Raden. He fell back, sliding on his shield, raising its level and expansion so he slid on the metal and blood like ice, this trick allowed him to flow a good ways towards the Hunters. These creature's were titans, walking tanks of almost unimaginable power, but they were sluggish with their swings and their shots took more than a moment. Raden found it funny his best chance was so close. The creatures were combined sentient worms that in such a form made a nervous system of a complete creature capable of thought, pain and supposedly a personality. Parts of its body could move independently, but so long as the main system was destroyed they offered little threat, he'd need to get to the 'spine.'
Raden jumped up and equalized his shielding, he moved carefully as he ran, the Hunters gave a momentary charge, driving their shields out towards him, trying to bash him to crush him to death. Raden jumped to the right most Hunter, waiting for when it swung, and sure enough it did. Raden ducked beneath the massive shield and rounded both beast with a single leap. They tried to turn btut he kept at it, until at least he got close to the right Hunter, both spikers opened fire near point blank into the creature's exposed back, tarring it to pieces and pouring orange blood all around. When the rapid staccato of the spikers were done the massive giant fell, dead but still spasming, residual life Raden decided. Raden jumped as his motion center flared a warning of immediate activity behind him. He couldn't reload fast enough to deal with the raging Hunter
"Sir, get down!" Raden leapt aside, five streams of Assault Rifle blast fired uselessly against the creature's armor. But it was a distraction, the Hunter had lost its 'mate; or whatever is was, and it was raging as most did, forgetting the gun in its arm. The guns didn't let up, but Raden knew when they would were about done, and on the last few rounds he lept into his own allies fire, he jumped the Hunter which held into itself for protection. His feet caught the shield arm and sprung over the spinal spikes and landing neatly behind the creature, with no ammo he improvised. Both spikers came together, their dual bladed bayonet upon each weapon sliced through the many wormed spinal column of the creature, it fell not in half but close to it, the legs and arms trying to move without a torso to motivate it.
He stopped, feeling his breathing return to normal and for a moment he watched the blood drip from the spikers, thinking of how good that had felt. "Damn sir," Gail mumbled as she approached, touching a open slash on her cheek ever so lightly. "That was…brutal." Raden smiled beneath his helmet, of course it was brutal, it was war, it was his nature after all.
Scoring
Date: 23 November 2007, 8:51 am
The flag ship holograms shimmered, shocked slightly by the harassing corvette on their port side 'below' them in the blackness of the space. The Jiralhanae reflected their brutal nature in their tactics. The corvette, nearly one third the size of the capital ship it faced, fought with a thick headedness that Raike Falamoree mocked openly. He stood as shipmaster at the head of the holo board. The image of the corvette shuttered again, another contact on their port shields. It could do little to the flagship Desired Retribution, Raike gave the Jiralhanae one moment to consider their fate.
"Port batteries, combine targeting. Full salvo!" Raike commanded, his gunner warbled an acknowledgment, his hands danced over the holographic controls. Firing solutions appeared on the holo display. The plasma lanced out and at the whim of his coordinator the plasma danced in the vacuum, dodging counter fire with the grace and ferocity of the true warriors, the plasma carried the hellish furry of the Sangheili with it. Raike roared victory as the first concussions of the plasma splashed on the corvette's shields, those that had deliberately lagged behind flew forward and right through the collapsed shielding.
The holo showed vividly the first explosions starting at the midsection where the bridge was located. The near synthetic looking flesh of the smooth corvette bubbled like scorched hide, opening and popping as a pustule. Venting atmosphere and Jiralhanae into the cold of space. Raike, with much satisfaction, magnified nearly a thousand times upon a single Jiralhanae that was thrown into vacuum.
The near homo sapien creature's eyes bulged and it pawed at its throat. The creature's blood literally boiled within its veins and through its orifices, its lung decompressed and 'popped' in the soundless star speckled black. The creature's eyes expanded and popped as well, by then it was dead, blood boiled at the exact second its skin and fur was flash frozen, it shattered with the violence of it all.
"Serves those monkeys right." Dalre Garmadee spat acidly. The word monkey was human, a word the short sapient species often barked in insult towards the traitorous Jiralhanae, that and 'ape' 'bo-bo' and finally the classic 'brute' tittle the Jiralhanae had earned from the humans.
"Sector is clear ship master." Raike's system technician growled, a little disappointment Raike surmised, no more fur to burn, no more revenge to seek.
Raike had been at this for weeks now, at the borders of the covenant armada, picking on supply ships and any troop transports he could. He had destroyed three corvettes, four frigates, fifteen transports and finally one capital flag ship like his own. He was a shipmaster, with the command of his own and five frigates who were currently in waiting to ambush any threat, Raike had taken the front of this ambush. He longed, like all Sangheili , to bring the fight to the Covenant heart. To dive into the core systems and rip them apart, to tare out their hearts, crush their moral and burn their worlds.
Worlds Raike had once called sanctuary long ago were now enemy territory. The Covenant now a great foe he stood at the foot of, slashing away piece by piece. The worlds were afire in their own way, civil unrest, his kind was not taken in a coup deta so easily.
Those taken by surprise on normal militia worlds reacted as a warrior must, they fought back taking as much as they could before the Jiralhanae had finished them. He heard even way out here that within the core worlds his people still lived, fighting with gorilla tactics, striking from shadows with terrorism and bloody ambushes. It was not exactly honorable but it was necessary for survival.
Sangheili still inspired loyalty from many Unggoy and Kig-yar, Raike himself had a pair of sympathetic Lekgolo as his personal bridge guards. He glance to them, their thick shelled armor shimmering in the lights of the still active holo. Most of the lower ranks had stayed with the Jiralhae in the uprising, but loyalty to the old Sangheili commanders was hard to erase from some of them.
Raike had a loyalist Unggoy troop at his disposal, fifteen hundred to be exact, hard trained. It was a struggle to control forces, Raike's soldiers were more than a match for the unintelligent, under evolved Jiralhanae.
The thing is there was so little of them these days, they had taken it hard with the coup. Raike knew they could not be taken easily, but still they suffered. A large portion of their fleet was lost not to long ago by a bomb the humans had dubbed the N.O.V,A, a barbaric nuclear device. This was of course before their alliance, but the wounds were fresh, Raike had lost friends and loyal troops.
Raike waved the holos silent, their low glow dimmed and the bridge lit up again, washing them in pure light. The Ship Commander pressed a key on his left forearm gauntlet, a grav chair lowered from its seal upon the ceiling and came to allow him a seat.
It would have been considered lazy to shit upon such a thing, back when he was with the Covenant, Raike had always stood; a symbol to his men that he was strong and stout. But of late he had little to no sleep, his body was hunched with exhaustion from too much adrenaline, every battle wound him tighter than a battle stricken Unggoy…he missed sleep as much s he missed the old days of fighting.
He was lifted by the command chair and over looked the busying pit below the rise of the command platform he could observe the battles from. His men worked with him up there, side by side, sharing the responsibility of the ship. Yet now he was escalated, feeling steely muscles coming to a rest, unwrapping and aching. Coming to a rest was the worst part in the whole of things.
"Sir, the rest of the fleet request to rejoin us." His comm officer stated. 'Hardly a fleet,' Raike thought with a sour taste in his mandibles.
"Let us not waste their time, we will come to them." Raike sighed. He nodded to his officer Dalre who had the coordinates put in and they were off in moments. Raike redirected his grav chair to rest again at the command platform, his chair brought up a display of the battle results. There had been but one corvette and one frigate, frigate having been destroyed the second it slid out from slipspace; by the end it was not even enough for reinforcement. The Desired Retribution had burned them all, single salvo for each, the Covenant capital ship's shield's had not dropped into the orange warning category during the whole battle.
"Sir!' Dalre suddenly barked, nearly leaping from his station. "Something large is on a vector with us through Slipspace!"
"And?! Raike growled, he leapt from his chair and it fell clumsily aside, off set by the loss of weight. The pain was gone and conviction was in Raike again.
"Sir its…High Charity!" Dalre hissed, his mandibles clamped loudly and Raike leapt form the over view platform, taking the stout Sangheili by the neck with his right, his other at his sword!
"Liar! How is that, the Flood have taken High Charity, how can it be!"
Dalre did not fear the blade ready to snap into life and that lack of fear made Raike very nervous, he did not bluff with threats. "You speak the truth." Raike gasped with awe.
"Its on vector for Earth Sir." Raike let Dalre go with a shove and his legs sent him back to the command platform. He stopped and turned to his soldiers who waited in eager silence.
"Well then, it looks like the humans need our help! Time to burn some rotten flood, get thy swords ready and charge the plasma, we go to war!" Raike pulled his sword high, it snapped into life, hissing and rising with a roar form Raike. Battle was close and he forgot sleep and pain.
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