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The Chronicle of Squad Omega by Dark-NiTe
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The Chronicle of Squad Omega: Chapter I
Date: 9 March 2004, 1:08 AM
The deafening sounds of war relayed off of the frigid canyon walls as a band of marines ran through the snow, their heels kicking up white puffs. The conflict between squads Delta, Omega and the Covenant force had been raging for a half an hour now, and the marines didn't have time for their progress to be impeded in this manner, and for this duration...
"Captain!" Robert Smitty yelled over the blast of the Wraith. The boulbous plasma projectile ripped apart an evergreen tree, sending it smashing down over the stone embankment the squad took cover behind. Snow from its outline rained upon them as he continued, "More of those bastards are coming! What the hell are we gonna do!?" Smitty was getting frantic.
Captain Vincent Alexander pondered the situation closely. He hunkered down with his AR close to his chest in thought. He had gotten through more hopeless situations on the battle-field than he could count, and he remembered some of them quite clearly. His peircing blue-grey eyes looked up at Smitty then, and he declared his verdict. "We're gonna find Delta. That's the best chance we got." Even though chances of success were sparse, he didn't feel overly insecure. He got up, black hair swaying in the wind over a thinnly bearded face, and stood behind the newly fallen tree-barricade. It's convenience almost made him laugh. "Wait for my call," he said, peeking over the tree.
Smitty looked to the rest of the squad, Jett Amarillo, Jon South, and Skye Firenze. The men all shivered in the biting cold.
"Now!" Captain Alexander yelled. Without hesitation, the band leapt up and ran after their leader. Their rifles blazed relentlessly at the Covenant onslaught that rained upon them. Jon strafed after the group cutting down Grunts that feebly tried to intercept them. They all tried to keep a safe, clear space around them, never letting their enemies get closer. They made their way to an overturned Warthog, squad Delta scattered around it.
"Captain Stryfe, good to see you," Vincent greeted.
"Likewise," he said, surprised that Omega actually made it through the Covenant force. Unfortunately, their massive numbers were growing even more...the squads were getting impossibly surrounded at all sides. Vicent Alexander figured they only had one option.
"Captain Stryfe, we need to turn over this vehicle, and fast," Vincent said. The two squads of marines all listened intently. "Some men will have to cover us while the others turn this thing over."
"You heard him!" Captain Stryfe barked. "Do it!" Most all of the marines went to right the vehicle, and only Smitty, Amarillo, and South stood and shot into the stampede of death that raged toward them.
Jett Amarillo( a man of 17), however, was not the one to give up. He picked off the aliens furiously with staggering precision. Right now, the three were dealing with a wave of 6 Blue Elites, 10 Jackals, and maybe 10 to 15 Grunts coming up over a snowy ridge that hung over a frozen lake. The aliens climbed over the raise with the clear intent to kill. Jett pumped the rounds of his AR into an Elite, making that his second down. It twisted and fell into the snow, sloshing up the frost mixed with its own blood. "Damn," Jett muttered in exasperation, he knew more were still coming from the back...
Jon was clipping off Grunts in the front. He knew from past experience that even though the 'lil guys went down fast, they still were a threat. He glanced back to see how the others were doing.
The numerous soldiers gave it all they had in getting the Warthog up. They shoved it up partially, but it only fell back down every time. "Goddamn thing weighs a fucking ton," Skye Firenze panted. It was too heavy for them to lift.
Vincent got one of their rocket launchers in pure rage and frustration, and shot a shell into the Warthog.
"Holy shit!" three marines yelled all at slightly different times. The vehicle hurtled through the air spinning wildly, and landed with a blunt crash in the snow. Upright.
"Get in," Vincent said.
"Ten guys won't fuckin' fit on!" Skye protested.
"We'll make 'em fit," Captain Stryfe said. They all clambered onto the vehicle. Some resorting to hanging off the side with only one arm and their feet firmly achored on the side. Stryfe drove. Vincent Alexander was gunner. The car sped up to pick up Smitty, South, and Amarillo. In quick desperation, Smitty got on the hood, Jett holstered his AR and hung onto the drivers door with both arms, and South squeezed into the gunners area with three others. They were all jammed in as tight as they could be. Stryfe hit the acceleration.
They sped through the Covenant mowing them down in sprays of purple and blue blood. It showered the car, as did the plasma from the enemy's weapons. Smitty held onto the windshield for dear life, "Holy shit! I'm gonna die I'm gonna die! Help me sweet lord! Jesus! Jesus! Sweet mother of God have mercy on my pitiful soul!!!"
Vincent Alexander gunned down the pursuing Covenant swivling the mount in a blind rage. Spent shells fell like rain from the turret, scattering golden flecks into the white blanket of frost.
The Wraith fired.
All of them looked back. "Oh no. Not now...Not Now!" Vincent's voice swelled into panic. He was panicking...that hadn't happened since his starship almost combusted in slipspace on his way back to the Autumn.
They all looked forward.
A cliff.
Jett never expected to understand the course of his life, but why the hell did it have to end now? He knew there was no possible escape. They would either be incinerated by the Waith's blast, or careen off that cliff to their death.
He prayed for the first time in a while.
The blue plasma blast hit ground behind them, a huge blossom of white powder geysering into the air. The marines all cried out in fear at the realization of their impending doom as the car was flung into the air. They all hand that sickening feeling of weightlessness sweep over them as they spun in all directions into the sky like ragdolls. Jett was flung head over heels at a height that wasn't even comprehended by him yet. When he saw the icy plain nearly 100 feet below him, he gasped, "Oh my God." He was going to die. How...why? Being faced with his death...it was indescribable. Nothing like he had ever felt... He was surrealy sick. He watched Smitty hit the ice with a crack, his entire body went limp. Then, he saw Captain Alexander hurdle past him...
White hot pain. Jett screamed out as his head hit a branch jutting from a canyon wall. His legs caught a ledge, and he spun out of control through the air with added momentum. He twisted in the air with 30 more feet to go, and his chest banged against the branch of a tree this time. He couldn't breath or even think. He closed his eyes right before he landed on his back against the ice.
Captain Vincet Alexander saw Jett's entire fall. He really thought they could make it out of this one...but there was no hiding from it. It was over. He sucked in a sharp gasp as he hit a craig in the canyon wall while flying forward. His unconcious body then skittered face first down the wall, and landed in a snow bank with a mute thud.
Skye caught the ledge that Jett previously hit with his hands, and struggled in desperation to hang on. His face shook in strain. "Fuck...Fuck!" his grip slipped and he hit the same tree as Jett did on the way down, his back cracking loudly. He hit the ice and bounced off his back and turned in the air to land face down.
Jon South was the last to hit. He had watched almost every fall. That was almost enough to make him wish for death. But the last thing he really wanted was to die. He fell on his side into a huge bank of snow.
Silence.
TO BE CONTINUED...
The Chronicle of Squad Omega: Chapter II
Date: 9 March 2004, 10:48 PM
The first thing that Jett Amarillo thought was that he should be dead...
But then he realized he had a thought.
He was alive.
The term "alive" however, was used loosely due to the fact that his injuries were fatal. After the fall, he had a mid-level concussion, and nearly all his ribs were broken. It pained him severely even to breath, and his legs were numb, but he could still feel them. He tried to sit up, the hot blades of pain in his chest deeply frightening him. "Oh shit," he grunted, and fell back over, which caused him to scream. Everything hurt too much.
He looked around. He saw the Warthog on its side on the ice to his left, a spiderweb of fractured ice snaking out from the point of impact. He saw the other Captain...Styer...Stripe...Stryfe his name was; legs pinned under the vehicle. He was motionless. Another marine from Delta sprawled over the car. Smitty lay dead in front of the hood. Tilting his head back, he saw Skye behind him, face down. Straight ahead he saw Captain Alexander face down in a bank of snow. At his right, someone was in a massive snow drift...he couldn't see who. It was Jon South.
"Wort Wort," it was a soft and distant sound. Jett heard it clearly none-the-less.
"God," he moaned. Don't let them find me now.
At the top of the ravine, he saw a blue figure walk to the edge with slow, dignified strides, its tall body held straight. Its head looked left, right, straight...down. It bellowed a cry while pointing that remotely resembled "Hold 'em up!"
Jett thought why the hell the fall didn't kill him when this bastard was going to just then. He looked around frantically. Play dead, or fight? He could barely move, but an MA5B was right beside him. The Elite ran down the slope, now 10 feet away.
"Ah fuck it," Jett said aloud and scooped up the rifle. He unloaded into the Elite, muzzle flashing wildly. He held the kicking and bucking rifle in one arm feebly, but managed to keep his target. The clip was full, good. He yelled out as the pain in his arm and torso nearly physically overwhelmed him.
The Elite growled and grunted as the lead was pumped into its flesh, spraying the icy ground with its blood. It was 5 feet way. It shreiked as 2 shells peirced its skull, but it ran on, nearly braindead.
"Fuck youuahh!!" Jett's speech became slurred in desperation and agony. "Just die!" The screen read 25.
With a final burst of rebellion, the Covenant leapt at Jett, but was struck down in-air and thunked onto the ice, cracking it.
Jett fell back over, not even able to cry out as the pain shot up through his back when he landed. His breathing was erratic and ragged. He just lay there for about 5 minutes. He then rolled over and tried to crawl to the Warthog. Inch by inch, he dragged himself closer...hopefully, the com still worked. The one in his helmet was hissing annoyingly ever since he gained conciousness. It obviously didn't work: wrecked when he hit his head.
He reached onto the dashboard of the Warthog. He fumbled around blindly with one hand until he yanked out the small little speaker phone at its spiraled cord. He clicked in the button at the side. "Hello." Click. He winced in pain.
A click of static preceded the response, "Delta Squadron is this you?"
"They're dead...EVERYONE'S DEAD DAMMIT!" Jett's voice started toneless, but rose into a frantic cry of panic.
"Who is this?"
"Jett Amarillo, Omega Squadron."
"We're finding your coordinates, Amarillo, one moment," the woman said. She didn't have a stern military voice...it was calmer...more human.
"Get me some evac...please," Jett grunted. "PLEASE," his voice was beginning to shake.
Silence.
"Amarillo...you aren't in our duresdic--"
"Oh BALLS!" Jett screamed into the mic. "YOU WANNA TELL ME YOU CAN'T GET ME WHEN I'M DYIN' OUT HERE?! FUCK YOU! EVERYONE'S DEAD! YOU WON'T EVEN DO ANYTHING ABOUT IT?! GODAMMIT! God damn it all..." It was like a bad movie.
Author's Note: I'm not dissin Behind Enemy Lines, it was good.
"Sir, there's nothing we can do unless you get to the safezone that's located by the lake deeper beyond your position," she kept the calm, yet caring tone.
Jett sighed. He clicked the button in, "What's the estimated distance..."
A pause. "Less than a mile. About 2/3."
"Okay," Jett said. "I'm....I'm on my way."
"We'll be there, Amarillo. We'll get you home."
Somehow, he doubted her intensely.
He heard a stir. Captain Vincet Alexander rose to his feet on the butt of his M90. His face was extremely bloody; had knicks and deep cuts all over it. His left arm was broken. The right side of his pelvis was fractured as well. He managed to walk weakly, a sight that dumbfounded Jett. "Well, let's get going," he said in a gravely voice-almost like he had been drinking.
"Captain..." Jett said.
"I heard everything," Vincent said. He limped over to Jett and scooped him up, putting his arm over his shoulder. Supporting him, they both started to walk down deeper into the frozen ravine.
"Don't forget about me..." Skye Firenze said. He limped over to them. He had some fractured vertebrae, and his left leg dargged as he walked. It seemed he lost operation of the left side of his body from the mid-section down. But he was alive.
"Firenze, good to see you alive," the Captain said.
Jett thought, if he were to experience a miracle in his lifetime, this was it. They all should be dead right now, he thought. He even lived through an attack from an Elite in this state. After it all, he didn't want to give up. He couldn't. Maybe, they might get home. Who knew.
They proceeded to the safezone.
TO BE CONTINUED...
The Chronicle of Squad Omega: Chapter III
Date: 14 April 2004, 12:42 AM
The delay was massive, due to some screw-ups, but here's the closing chapter of the story.
The battered men proceeded further into the icy canyon, their only intent to reach the safezone. The only thing that fueled them was just to get out of this alive. Hell, they barely were alive as it was. The frigid stone walls around them adopted a watery blue glow as they trudged deeper.
"We should almost be there," Captain Alexander said, supporting his fellow soldier.
"It's about damn time," Jett said. His pain was excrutiating. But he decided that nothing would be painful neogh to detur his desire just to get home.
A light snow began to fall, blanketing the icy ground. Stalagmite formations of ice began to appear as well when the canyon leveled out. They peppered the landscape in all places; huge spikes jutting from the snow.
Then the thought hit him. Jett realized that it couldn't be long before Covenant patrols would find the Elite's corpse. It almost panicked him. They needed to move, and fast.
"Do you hear that?" Skye said, looking up. His eyes scanned the surroundings as his ears tensed. Everyone froze.
"Wort, Wort,"
"Oh shit." They all heard it. Just hearing the noise was almost the equivilant of hearing their death, rushing tword them. But, right now was the last time to die. Alexander didn't think of it as a posibility. If the hellish catastrophe they just had been through didn't kill them, he wasn't about to let some scum like the Covenant finish the act.
The sound of running strides was coming close, and they knew that meant one thing. It was time for one last fight.
Breaking unity, they all took cover behind a stalagmite. This was it. Through their pain, they readied their weapons.
It was then the Covenant band rounded the corner. 3 Elites, 2 Jackals, 2 Grunts. Skye just thanked God it wasn't more than that. They came with surprising caution, their varied alien forms looking every which way...looking for the threat.
And then Skye just thought, "The hell with it," and chucked a greneade into them while the crowd was still together. The lucky placement of the frag picked off an Elite right off the bat. It was probably the most integral action to them if they were to reach victory.
The Grunts scattered in fright, just as they always did. Jett managed to fell one of them in a blind spray from around his icy cover. It spun into the air leaving a blue trail across the ice, and landed with a thud.
Alexander elimated the remaining Grunt, and tossed another frag out into the open. A dead Jackal flew right past him a second later in a cloud of purple, clipping his arm and making him fall into the shallow snow. He yelled out in pain...and for the first time in his life...just decided not to get up.
He knew it was not something a captain should do in the line of fire, especially when his squad was relying on him, but it seemed as if nothing would come from his effort. His vision was blurry and trailing. His head throbbed in pain. Not this time...
Skye thought the Capatin was dead. He thought it was the only way that a man like Vincent Alexander wouldn't get up, if he was dead. "Damn," he said. There was nothing to lose now to him. The Captain was everything. The only part that held this machine of a squad together. Most of the others were already dead...
Yelling the whole way, he rushed into the fray firing in senseless rage.
"No!" Jett shouted at Skye seeing him run into the band of Covenant.
[indnet]Skye Firenze made his last stand. The muzzle flash of his MA5B shone even through the white snowfall, as Jett watched in grim acceptance. An Elite fell in a spray off blood as Skye's shells penetrated its skull. Jett couldn't believe it. Everything seemed to slow.
He spun around, killing a Jackal with a hail of bullets, but then his luck ended, if such a thing existed. The last Elite caught him with a brutal strike from its plasma rifle. Skye yelled out and fell forward, face hitting the ice and snow. The Elite laughed a sinister and outwardly insulting bellow, and put its rifle to Skye's head.
In one final rebuke, Skye spun up avoiding the plasma ball that would've ended his life. He put all his strength into a melee strike to the face of the Elite. It's neck snapped back from the force, but returned a glare; not hit hard enogh to be broken. Its growl rose into a gutteral yell of anger as it smashed its arm into Skye's ribcage, shattering nearly all his ribs on impact. Skye flew back hard into an icy wall, bounced off after impact, and died.
Jon South immeadiately ended the Elite with a shotgun blast. It fell, and so did he. Jon was still alive.
It was over. Jon did his best to save Skye, but arrived too late. Nothing could be taken back, but he knew he did what he could.
__________________________________________________________
The Pelican swooped in moments later. A crew of marines piled out to safeguard the area while Jett, Jon, and Captain Alexander were escorted out on stretchers. Jett had no regrets. He would've died trying to save Skye, and he knew it. The captain always regarded Skye's death to be, in part, his fault. Jon did what he could.
And in the end that was all it amounted to. Slipping away into unconciousness, Jett, the Captain, and Jon would all live another day to fight in Squadron Omega.
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