 |
About This Site
Daily Musings
News
News Archive
Site Resources
Concept Art
Halo Bulletins
Interviews
Movies
Music
Miscellaneous
Mailbag
HBO PAL
Game Fun
The Halo Story
Tips and Tricks
Fan Creations
Wallpaper
Misc. Art
Fan Fiction
Comics
Logos
Banners
Press Coverage
Halo Reviews
Halo 2 Previews
Press Scans
Community
HBO Forum
Clan HBO Forum
ARG Forum
Links
Admin
Submissions
Uploads
Contact
|
|
|
Skirmish at Sirius Alpha Part 5
Posted By: CINC-UNSCDF<drstantz@gmail.com>
Date: 8 May 2006, 3:27 pm
Read/Post Comments
|
Barrows had settled back down into a defensive position, he only had five men with him but it was the best he could hope for under the circumstances. Private Wayne had recovered and was manning his post but Kline had taken a bad hit to the head and was still out. Porter couldn't even give him an idea when he'd be back. That meant three men guarding the access doors and Barrows with one other covering the rear in case they had to fall back and provide cover fire. The sergeant checked in his ammo sack, but could find only three more BR-55 clips and a pair of frag grenades. Now with McLaughlin's recovered rifle he could still fight, but there wasn't much he could do with only three clips.
There had been no contacts at their position yet, and the enemies that had been trailing them must have slowed their pace or been redirected because there had been more then enough time for them to strike. Each of them were tense though. They had made it this far and certainly didn't want to go out at that point. Corporal Annatto was beside him at that point, a veteran of more than one campaign as well he knew how to handle himself in combat but the pressure was even getting to him. Annatto loosened his helmet and readjusted it on his head to get a better line of sight through the eye piece.
"It's one hell of a few days we've been having eh Sarge?"
"Things have been worse that's all I know. Once we mop up the rest of them from the deck plates we're going to be out of this system for good."
"I don't know about that, Covenant's all over the place out there. We're gonna be here for a while Sarge. How long do you figure it'll take to destroy a whole enemy fleet?"
"Well that depends how many badass marines are on the boarding party!" Barrows grinned; there was nothing that could raise a marine's spirits like good old fashioned overconfidence. That was then he got the call through his communications system. The ship's AI was calling every available squad to reinforce the bridge before it was overrun. The sergeant had to make a decision, could he afford to leave his position with his wounded and engage the enemy or simply wait and hope that the other marine fire teams could do the job without them.
"This is fire team Knife to any other forces, can you reach the bridge?" Barrows inquired, he needed a response and quick. But the channel was silent for a while until a few moments later a voice came through.
"Knife this is Alpha, over"
"Knife here I copy, what's your status?"
"We've taken a lot of casualties but stalled the enemy at our junction. We're two decks below the bridge, we can make it there in a few minutes but we're pretty shook up. I don't know what we can do ourselves. Can you assist?"
Barrows took a millisecond to contemplate but knew what his instincts told him to do. "Roger that, Alpha, we're on our way up to you now. Give us five."
"Copy, Knife, over and out."
The sergeant turned to Annatto and then surveyed their defenses. "All right ladies we're saddling up. Hudson, Wayne, use that plasma rifle to seal the access doors to this stairwell, and grab whatever metal plating you can find to weld onto them. Annatto give Porter a hand carrying Kline, we're going up to the bridge. Ramirez you've got point."
Barrows put his rifle down, and searched through the nearby rucksack for any plastic explosives but found none. He'd have to hope that sealing the doors would be enough to slow the enemy down long enough. A few meters away the blue light of the confiscated plasma rifle lit the shadows as the marines used it as a makeshift chemical torch to melt the two doors together. The sergeant could almost feel the Covenant approaching and wasn't surprised when the private declared it.
"Sarge I got movement," Hudson declared looking down to his handheld motion tracker. It was as large as a fragmentation grenade but thinner and rectangular in shape. It was identical in operation to the ones within a Spartan's armor on the HUD, but had a range of 20 meters. "18 meters and closing."
"Finish that weld on the double," Barrows barked, and then he turned to Annatto and urged him to get moving. There wasn't much time to spare.
The two privates at the door had sweat beading down their whole bodies and it wasn't just heat from the plasma, the motion tracker seemed to show a sea of red rather than individual dots approaching them. Barrows stood cover behind them with his battle rifle trained at the door while Porter and Annatto carried Kline up the stairs.
"Distance?" the sergeant demanded for an update.
"Ten meters," Hudson replied. "Eight now, they're moving fast."
"Drop that shit and pull back now." The sergeant didn't have to give that order twice, Wayne threw the almost uncharged plasma rifle away and unslung his shotgun, and Hudson backed away from the door just as quickly. "Let's move out marines!"
The privates turned around and ran past Barrows knowing all too well what was behind them but the sergeant held back to provide cover. It was then that he heard the first bang against the solid metal doors. He took a step back up the stairs but didn't flinch or even move his aim from a jackal's head height on the door. The raw metal didn't seem to be enough to contain the enemy, after only a handful of impacts the doors began to dent and warp. Something had infused the enemy with a fury; they weren't content to destroy the metal with weapons they wanted to beat it down with brute strength. Barrows wasn't a man to fear an enemy but he recognized danger, and an angry elite was dangerous. He didn't have the strength to defeat one, so he took another two steps back for insurance.
"Annatto what's your status?" he asked into the communications link.
"Two decks below the bridge, no resistance encountered."
Then a crash came, the top half of the doors literally folded down as if they were peeled off. Barrows fired two rapid bursts without a second guess, took three more steps back up the stairs and threw a frag grenade down before making a quick retreat. He couldn't afford the time to cover his retreat, instead Barrows turned completely around charged up the stairs. There was no looking back; he used all his energy to propel himself from one stair to the next. "Corporal report in."
"We're at the A deck doorway, about to go inside."
"All right, I'll be there in a second, watch your six for my approach. I've got Covies on my tail."
"Roger that, we've got their motion, they've slowed down a little."
The sergeant then changed the communications channel. "Fire team Knife to Alpha, respond."
"Roger Knife, this is Robertson, we're advancing on the bridge and are in section nine right now, the only thing we've come across yet is a handful of enemy stragglers."
"Received Alpha, we're inbound and will meet you enroute to the bridge, over."
At last he reached the top landing, and in one motion dropped to a knee and spun around to take aim behind him, but there was nothing there. He exhaled deeply, and checked the open doorway to his left. Below him in the distance he could hear the guttural noises of an elite and knew he had to keep moving.
On the corridor wall a red arrow indicated the direction of the bridge but Barrows quickly scanned the opposite direction first to make certain there was no one behind him. A marine clad in full armor and a Navy tech lay sprawled out on the floor covered in blood and gore but that was all. The sergeant turned and sped up his pace to get back to his squad as soon as possible. Running through the corridors wasn't different even in the heat of battle, each bulkhead resembled the last, and only the guidance markers on the walls made any impact. He was reunited at a four-way intersection with his squad, Porter and Ramirez stood on the opposite side of the junction then the others and a suppressing enemy fire prevented the other four from crossing as well. Barrows approached the scene to get a better idea passing by Wayne who stood guard over the group's rear. The sergeant went over to the corporal who held tightly not onto his weapon but his right shoulder.
"What happened here Annatto?"
"You wouldn't believe it Sarge, we were making our way through, when the enemy came out from behind the corner, and they must have seen us coming. Porter and Ramirez got through by the time they came out but one of them caught me with a carbine," the corporal removed his hand from the wound to reveal the burned flesh of a plasma burn wound. It struck in between the ballistics armor and meant that other than a magnum pistol in his odd hand Annatto couldn't fire a weapon.
"Hold tight, we're getting out of here," he encouraged, but could see the situation was grim. He looked up to see Ramirez turn the corner to fire a burst from his rifle only to be caught by a plasma bolt, it struck him in the chest knocking him back. On the ground a pair of others struck him in the legs, Porter reached down and tried to pull him back to safety but by the time the marine was entirely behind the corner again burns and blood covered his body and his uniform was in shatters. Porter looked to Barrows and shook his head negatively. The sergeant scratched his cap covered head in frustration and anger. Kline was still out cold and now only Porter and Hudson were there providing return fire against what seemed to be overwhelming force. Barrows approached the corner, standing above Private Hudson, and scanned around the corner. A plasma bolt burned away a chunk of the bulkhead only a meter in front of his face so he retreated back completely behind cover. There were four grunts, a pair of jackals with handheld shields and an elite commander blocking their path, and he knew an even larger force pursued them.
An idea struck the beleaguered NCO, one that was little better then suicide, but if he didn't do it they'd quickly be overrun and consumed by the combined enemy forces. He told all his marines to keep firing, and support him, which meant little to them before he actually did what he intended. Barrows turned around the corner and fired the rest of his clip at the elite in the other corridor. Its shield's lit up, but then died down once the rounds had impacted. He then tossed his last grenade down the corridor. The jackals were quick to bring their shields to the front to protect their commander and themselves but a pair of grunts were unfortunate enough not to be behind the protective barrier. Their bodies flew through the air and alien blood sprayed across the bulkheads. The elite was enraged and no longer could wait to see the humans dead. It ordered the soldiers forward. Barrows reloaded his clip and double checked that his magnum was still there in his right holster.
"Sarge I got movement on the tracker, enemies at 20 meters," Wayne declared. The sergeant had to ignore that for the moment and deal with the threat that was before him.
Hudson and Porter tried to stem the attack of the four Covenant soldiers but behind the cover of the enemy shields their weapons did little. Hudson fired a burst but quickly pulled back to avoid oncoming fire.
"How far away are they?" Barrows questioned.
"Maybe five, six meters," Hudson replied.
"Okay, then cover me." The sergeant swung out from the corner, fired a burst and then moved ahead in a crouched weaver stance reducing the enemy's target area. His actions caught Hudson and Porter by surprise almost as much as he did the enemy. For a split second they didn't even turn to fire at the approaching target. The two marines back behind the corner meanwhile laid down as best fire as they could without hitting their own NCO. The two jackals were first in line, and Barrows knew how he was going to handle them, at full speed ahead he aimed right at the gap in the leftmost jackal's shield and kept his finger on the trigger. The combined ammunition of Barrows' battle rifle and his supporting fire took down the first jackal but even as his rifle clicked empty he didn't halt. He met the second jackal face to face and used the butt of his rifle to strike down the enemy. The jackal raised its shield but too late, a full blow struck across the jackal's skull and without hesitation or a second thought Barrows dropped his rifle and policed the shield from the collapsing enemy. The one grunt had turned to flee the moment it had seen the first jackal fall only to be shot down by Porter at the end of the corridor. The other one stood its ground and shot at Barrows with his new shield. The sergeant slowed for the moment to get a full grip on the shield and pull out his pistol. The grunt fired a barrage from its plasma pistol but the sergeant blocked each bolt with the shield. Barrows moved into position to take the miniature soldier out but Hudson beat him to the punch by planting a burst right on target ripping the alien's head apart. It didn't end there however, the elite fired ever constantly, its plasma rifle near overheat but still it did not cease. The sergeant stood and with his pistol aimed through the side hole of the shield he charged. Every round made contact with the elite's shields flaring them to a silver-blue shimmer, just as its plasma bolts each hit the mark but only splashed against the handheld shield. With every round exchanged the elite grew more furious until finally its shield flared for the last time then died, and Barrows fired another two rounds hitting the elite square in the chest penetrating its armor. Still the enormous beast did not die instead summoned its strength and charged weaponless as its rifle laid on the floor spent of ammunition as well. As the gap closed between the two soldiers to only a meter the elite swung its powerful arms downward but it was too tall and didn't reach down enough. Barrows ducked down and once below the alien's arms he exploded upwards with his shield leading the way. The shear momentum was enough to knock the titanic warrior off its feet and it doubled over in pain. The sergeant using the moment of his enemy's confusion to his own advantage reached down to his left-hand holster pulled out his second pistol. The elite snarled and its mouth erupted into its four separate jaws as Barrows fired another four rounds into its body. It twitched momentarily then laid still with blood spilling from the wounds.
Breathless, Barrows waited a moment on top of the alien corpse until Hudson called from the intersection. The NCO ran back to the urgent call to see Porter sprawled on the deck holding to his stomach with his hands covered in blood.
"Oh shit," Barrows uttered silently at the sight. "You're going to pull through Porter."
"Yes sir," the wounded man said, but he knew wounds better then any of the others and could diagnose himself and it wasn't good. The plasma burned through the armor and the internal organs there were melted on contact with the super heated ions. Hudson pulled the biofoam from Porter's rucksack and applied it to the gaping wound just above the medic's waist. But the bleeding didn't cease entirely.
"Sarge, the enemy, their on our asses, ten meters and closing," Wayne ran over to inform his NCO.
His options were out but there was no leaving a man behind, Barrows lifted Porter up and carried the man's weight while Annatto carried Kline over his good shoulder as the battered squad made a quick escape from their pursuers leaving behind only blood stained deck plating and alien corpses. Behind them the high pitched voices of grunts could be heard, and with each one they seemed to be getting closer until a plasma bolts flew past the group and hit the light element just a few feet in front of the squad.
"Hit the deck!" Barrows exclaimed as he purposely dropped to the ground. Porter groaned with pain as he too fell to the hard deck plating. A few more shots of plasma quickly passed overhead, Private Wayne ducked down and threw a frag grenade back but it fell short of the target and the plasma continued to spray through the corridor.
"How many signals are back there Hudson?" the sergeant asked under fire.
The marine caught his breath and tried to read the tracker with all the adrenaline that was flowing. "Maybe a dozen Sarge," he finally said uncertainly just a shot of plasma burned the wall plate not three feet from his head.
There was no way that they could survive the enemy for much longer, but the bridge was only two sections away. If they could stall the enemy for only a moment they could make a break for it but the tags on the motion tracker only showed the red signals growing closer.
Barrows activated his radio in desperation, "Fire team Alpha, this is Knife, requesting reinforcements we're under heavy Covenant fire and have wounded." The sergeant then listened, almost entirely blocking the assault weapon fire from his mind, but there was nothing but silence. He turned back to begin firing on the enemy when he was struck by a green plasma bolt. It burned through the armor on his chest and then his uniform's below it. Barrows clinched his teeth in absolute pain, he could feel the sensation as his skin burned. He fell to the ground on his back and desperately used his hands searching for the straps that held the armor to his body. As soon as his hand gripped the polymer lock he tore it off with all his strength and threw the damaged body armor away. For a second Barrows didn't move and instead caught his breath and tried to overcome the pain in his chest. Annatto ran over to his superior carrying Porter's medical kit in one hand and a pistol in the other, he ignored the intense pain in his own shoulder.
"Sarge, hold on you took a shot right to your chest, you need to get that thing dressed," the corporal intervened as Barrows attempted to sit up.
"No," the sergeant protested. "Get Kline and Porter to the bridge, we'll stay her and cover your six."
Annatto however would have none of it, and removed a battlefield dressing from the pack and began to deal with the sergeant's wound when a scream came from behind him. "Needles!" The voice yelled. The corporal pushed Barrows down to the deck to cover him, then got down and covered his own head.
The NCO drifted for a moment until his was shaken abruptly. Annatto was trying to keep him conscious, at least that's what he believed at first until he saw only a blank stare on the corporal's face and he fell to the side. Barrows caught him right before he hit the deck, but on his back could feel the sticky wetness of fresh blood on his hands. The shock brought Barrows right back and he no longer even bothered to consider his own wound. He flipped Annatto over to reveal the wound. The needles embedded themselves not only in the corporal's armor but his spine as well, and completely obliterated both. Blood began to pool around the corpse, Barrows saw, but he couldn't do anything more for Annatto. The sergeant got to his knees and collected his assault weapon and Annatto's fallen pistol. To his right he saw Porter sitting motionless against the wall with his eyes shut, and Barrows began to realize the hopelessness of his situation.
Privates Wayne and Hudson continued to fire and had taken down a couple of the enemy troopers but they were outnumbered six to one and running short of ammunition. A blue armored elite charged to the forefront of the Covenant attack and fired its plasma rifle on the two marines who didn't flinch but stood their ground and returned fire. Wayne was hit immediately, he dropped his aim but didn't stop firing, and a second later he was struck again, this time the plasma struck the edge of his helmet melting it away. Wayne let go of his weapon and tore off his helmet before the plasma heated armor and polymer could reach his skull. The elite in the meantime still charged until Hudson exchanged his last burst for a kill shot as the elite's shields finally buckled and a pair of rounds struck it in square in the face.
Even with the elite gone though the enemy fire persisted; Barrows moved up to take Wayne's position while he helped move Kline back. In unison the remains of their squad began to pull back. Then suddenly a pair of explosions erupted in front of them, not from plasma grenades but a marine's. Barrows looked to Hudson but the private's hands still held his battle rifle, but behind them then rose with the roar of gunfire. Hundreds of rounds passed over their heads, as the marines of fire team Knife dropped to a prone position. The surprise combined with the sheer amount of return fire took the Covenant by surprise and in the first exchange over half of their force dropped permanently. Tiny grunts seeing their shielded elite commanders drop to a hail of gunfire turned to run, and while a few Covenant stood their ground two more frag grenades and six BR-55 clips worth of ammunition finished their resistance.
Barrows rolled onto his back and sat up to see a six person squad of marines, guns at the ready, scanning the corridor. They too appeared battle worn but one way or another they had saved their lives. He stood up and approached the officer at the front of the squad, and saluted.
"Are you all right sergeant?" the lieutenant asked seeing the wound on Barrows' chest.
"Yes sir, but my fire team is low on ammo and some need medical attention," the sergeant said directly.
"All right then, let's get you to the bridge, all our defenses are set up there," the marine officer declared. "The Covenant are going to make another assault any time now and it's better to be out of the corridors when that happens."
Barrows agreed and followed their rescuers through the two sections to the wide opening at the bridge. A male and female marine stood guard at the entrance behind a pair of barricades, they both wore stone cold stares on their faces as they scanned either direction that an enemy force could attack the bridge. The central command area, normal surrounded only by a brass railing was now fortified with barricades, armor and large chunks of bulkheads which had collapsed. Four more marines watched from behind the makeshift fortress in the bridge, but that was the entire marine compliment posted. Everyone else there wore colored tech jumpsuits and naval insignia, a few manned the odd station or console while others held pistols and guarded the area with the marines. The lieutenant he followed to the bridge went immediately over to the left side of the bridge and approached a pair of naval officers. One looked like he might as well have been a kid straight from the Academy at Luna. He was a kid born in North America who if there wasn't a war would have probably been in university without a care in the world. Instead he was tirelessly working at a console and reporting to the second officer who stood beside him. The other one carried a pistol in one hand and had obviously been wounded since he wore a blood stained dressing on his arm, he was a taller man, probably six foot two, African American, and commanded respect from appearance alone. Whatever the younger officer was telling him angered him though; when the marine lieutenant approached formal salutes were exchanged and they began to discuss something that Barrows couldn't hear.
The sergeant therefore looked back to his own squad. Hudson despite the earlier wound during the first fire fight was ready and able for combat and took up a defensive position with the other marines. Kline and Wayne were being cared for by a Navy corpsman off to the side of the bridge with another marine and a naval officer who'd been wounded as well. Two of the marines that had come to their aid back in the corridor had left the bridge to patrol the approaches to the command area, while the other three manned the defenses.
"Sergeant," a voice called from behind Barrows. He turned immediately although there very well could have been other NCOs in the bridge, but it turned out the voice was addressing him. The lieutenant had called him over.
Barrows gave a crisp salute as though they were on a parade ground rather then a battlefield as he approached the group of officers.
"Sergeant, I'm Lieutenant Hu, this is Captain Roland," the officer introduced. "I called you over because I need an NCO for the squad, half of these marines are coming from different squads and fire teams but I don't have a single sergeant among them."
"Yes, sir, I'll get them up to speed right away sir."
The lieutenant was a little surprised by the sergeant's cool under pressure attitude as was the captain. "You understand that internal sensors are on the fritz right now so we don't exactly when the enemy is going to come until the very last moment so we've sent out patrols to give us an early warning."
"To be entirely accurate Lieutenant sensors are inoperative," the digitized voice of Apollo declared over the bridge speakers.
"All we know sergeant is that at the moment other than the fire teams assigned to guard engineering the enemy haven't attacked any of our positions in almost ten minutes," Roland declared. "They're making a move and soon."
"We'll be ready sir," Barrows assured him.
"Good, then as you were sergeant."
Captain Roland still didn't know what to make of the situation, they'd lost contact with the Waterloo almost five minutes earlier and although the last word he'd heard reported situation normal the battle with the Covenant could have changed that quickly. He checked again the dressing on his wound, the bleeding had stopped but the burning feeling remained. His condition wasn't the one to be concerned about, Yakasora laid dying on the bridge, and no amount of biofoam could substitute for the facilities and equipment he needed in the medical bay.
Roland decided against thinking about his officer's mortality and instead watched the monitor of the external sensors and radar. Apollo's distinctive classical appearance rose from the holographic pedestal.
"What's happening Apollo?" Roland asked seeing the TAC display suddenly freeze, or so it seemed as though it had.
"Unusual Captain, it appears that both UNSC vessels have ceased fire, the enemy continues to engage," the AI declared.
"Did the enemy disable their weapons systems?"
"Negative sir, I detected no critical hits since last I reported," Apollo said. "Both vessels are coming about, at full speed en-route to our position."
What the hell was going on, Roland wondered silently to himself, it wasn't like Cynthia to turn away from the enemy. Did Zedillo order a retreat? Roland nearly erupted at the mere thought of it, his crew was fighting and dying to keep the battle going and he was going to throw in the towel. He couldn't stomach retreat, not now, not after so many lost, it had to be victory even at all costs, if they were going to beat the Covenant they had to begin to fight with the same fever that they did.
"Transmission from the Muhammad sir" Ensign Jordan declared.
"Put them through," the captain ordered.
"Prepare to abandon the Isaac Brock, we're inbound ETA five minutes. Get as many of your people off as possible and we'll retrieve the life pods," Captain Reece declared with utmost urgency in her voice.
"What about the survivors from the Huron?" Roland demanded as if to give a reason for why they could not retreat.
"The Confidence is going to get them, in the meantime you have to get to a life pod," she stressed.
"We can't leave!" Roland protested. "We can still beat them."
"Marcus, the CCS cruiser and the frigate that were disabled are powering up again, we're outnumbered and outgunned. We can't win. You have to get off the ship now." Reece was now ordering her superior, but Roland would not budge. He turned to Apollo looking for confirmation on the two Covenant vessels and got it.
"I refuse to give this ship up," Roland declared passionately. "I'm sorry Cynthia."
"Marcus, please don't do this-" she began to plead but Roland abruptly silenced her by switching the channel off.
"Captain, the Prophet Muhammad is continuing to hail," Jordan announced with a trembling voice.
"Ignore it Ensign." Then Roland opened a ship-wide channel. "All non-combat personnel report to the life pods and immediately abandon ship."
The men and women on the bridge looked at him with absent stares; they were as surprised as they were scared. He held their lives in his hands and to question whether or not he wielded them properly was only human, but had years of distinguished service finally climaxed to a stressful breakdown. Was the man commanding them driven and no longer concerned with their lives. To follow a man to their deaths was something most there were unable to accept, they had families, lovers, and lives ahead of them, and to give it all up in the middle of a void was too much.
Amazingly it was not the young ensigns and private with lives still left to live, nor the all-knowing artificial intelligence to question the command but a sergeant of the marine corps. A man who for the better part of his life followed the orders of those higher in the chain then himself without question and had too many battle scars to prove it.
"Captain, we can't win this fight," Barrows said simply without any sense of combat in his voice. "We're no good to any one dead, if we die here the Covenant win, but if we can save as many lives as we can then we have another chance to win this war, we can make a difference only if we're alive to make it."
The captain, consumed with anger, raised his pistol and aimed at Barrows. "I am the captain of this vessel sergeant, you don't command my crew, and nor do you command me."
Barrows raised his own pistol to address the threat instinctively, but as soon as he did the marines and crew throughout the bridge raised their weapons clearly showing their allegiance with a single motion. A standoff began with almost two dozen itchy trigger fingers and a lot of tension to add to the mix. Neither Barrows or Roland flinched, Private Hudson aiming at the vessel's captain could barely keep his weapon level. The stench of sweat and blood saturated the bridge almost as much as fear did. Both men didn't take their eyes of the other's and didn't move a muscle, they both stood frozen for twenty seconds. Like statues locked in a threatening position they each appeared to challenge the other to even attempt to move.
|
