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The Chronicles of Corporal Wilkens Parts 3 and 4
Posted By: Major Silva<majorsilva@aol.com>
Date: 2 October 2005, 9:50 pm
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Deployment +06 hours: 32 minutes: 48 seconds ( Corporal Wilkens Mission Clock )/
City Block Designation 003-009, New Mombasa, Earth
En Route to Sighted Pelican's Dropzone
Things had started to hit the fan from the instant Wilkens had gotten a few yards away from the building.
A small squad of Covenant soldiers, one squad of many rampaging through the city, managed to spot him as he ran by. They opened fire immediatly. Luckily, Wilkens was using the standard urban-environment maneuvers which he had learned during Basic. He dashed from building corner to building cover, always alert, always using cover. So, the plasma fire missed him just as he rounded a corner.
The group consisted of two Grunts, a Jackal, and an Elite that was running the show. He needed to take them out as quickly as possible. The sound of their energy weapons might alert other Covenant in the area of his presence. Wilkens slowly eased around the corner, and caught one Grunt off guard. He put three rounds into the sucker before the diminutive alien fell and started to spin like a top as his punctured methane tank leaked gas. It was rather comical, but Wilkens couldn't watch the spectacle, as more green and blue energy bolts hit his cover, and soon started to melt the duracrete-concrete residential building.
The remaining Grunt was right behind a street light, firing away, and the Jackal, to his left, was out in the open crouching behind his personal energy shield, while the Elite fired behind an electric car. That was his ticket. WIlkens would use the car to his advantage. He primed three grenades and chucked them underneath the car as best he could. The grenades exploded, and took the car with them. It detonated in a huge column of fire and smoke, taking out the Elite, Jackal and Grunt with it from the sheer amount of red hot metal that filled the air like a swarm of angry bees.
Richard eased his way in carefully, making sure they were dead, and managed to find both the Elite's plasma rifle operational, and a few plasma grenades off of the dead Grunt.
He figured that he needed to get out of the area quickly, as he heard an Elite's war cry from a ways away, followed by another, and then yet another.
The Corporal needed to find a faster means of transportation and find it fast. He blasted a few Grunt's to hell, crushed a Jackals skull with his boot, and finally headed down the long, narrow street lined with small stores and apartments, until he found what he needed. Was it operational? Were the keys in it?
None of these questions crossed his mind as Wilkens ripped the door open, and a dead body fell into his arms as he attempted to hop in. It was an older man, easily in his seventies, that evidently hadn't heard the distress call issued a few hours ago in time. The man was missing three forths of his face, and the hole through the windshield testified to him being shot as he tried to start the car.
Wilkens couldn't leave him on the ground, for if the Jackals found him, there would be nothing left. But he couldn't take the body with him, either.
He decided to put the body in a small allyway a few feet away, and covered it with trashbags. It wasn't necessarily a proper burial, but maybe the smell of rotting trash would disguise the man's smell from any hungry Jackals.
Wilkens headed back to the electric car. The keys were still in the ignition, which confirmed his theory that the man was killed as he attempted to flee. It only took a few tries before the car started with a whir and he was off through the streets of New Mombasa.
It was pretty hard to drive with one hand, especially since it was his bad hand, but he had to deal with it, as all ranks of Covenant warriors took potshots as Wilkens flew by them. He just drove and drove, and followed the integrated GPS/Road unit, that was standard on every car, to the spot where he had seen the Pelican take off. The Marines couldn't have gotten too far, it had only been about fifteen minutes since he had spotted the dropship from the rooftop and started on this half-ass adventure.
Wilkens thought up a rough estimate of where the Marines would be now, and adjusted his heading accordingly. He took a right, then a left, then another right, and then headed straight. That's when he came to a dead end. He cursed aloud. The street up ahead was too narrow for the electric car to pass. He zoomed out on the Road Unit and scoured it quickly for an alternate route. There was none. He cursed again.
The Corporal then checked the glove compartment for anything he could use, but the old man evidently didn't believe in putting any useful survival supplements in the compartment as all Wilkens could find was the manufacturer's papers and a few other papers concerning the car. Of course, the old man probably wasn't expecting a Covenant invasion, so no weapons, signal flares, or anything that pertained to defense or rescue.
So, the Corporal was left with nothing more than the stuff he had before, and the Covenant ordinance he had scooped up along the way.
He started to move down the narrow street ahead when he heard it. It wasn't too far off. Short bursts of gunfire could be heard up ahead, obviously from a squad of Marines. His heartbeat quickened, and his adrenaline spiked. Maybe he was closer to the Marines than he had estimated.
Of course, in order to get to the gunfire, he had to cap a medium contingent of Grunts, Jackals, and two Elites.
As the last alien body fell to the ground, Wilkens ejected his pistol's clip and checked his ammunition. Two bullets were left in the clip, and one in the chamber. This wasn't looking good. He holstered the M6C and unlimbered the captured plasma rifle. It was surprisingly quite light, even more so than a Battle Rifle. He reveled at the Covenant's mastery of plasma weaponry.
His thought was crushed as all of a sudden, two wooden doors up ahead parted outward in a shower of sparks and splinters. Four Marines, and one larger figure stepped through the smoke. At first Wilkens had thought it was an Elite, as it was easily seven feet tall, but as the smoke cleared and he dashed up to the group, he saw the green armor and the orange faceplate. The Corporal gasped at the man in front of him. The man resembled some ancient Greek war god in his full body armor. He was no god, but was fabled to be as powerful among the ONI press conferences and legends from the enlisted ranks. He was a SPARTAN super soldier; the last of his kind. It was the Master Chief, Spartan-117.
Deployment +00 hours: 23 minutes: 45 seconds ( Spartan-117 Mission Clock )/
City Block Designation 010-024, New Mombasa, Earth
En Route to Second Downed Pelican
Everything was going good so far. The Master Chief and his squad had taken a rough estimate of twenty minutes from the time they were deployed. They were advancing quite rapidly to their objective: finding the second downed Pelican. His squad consisted of three Marines, out of the five he was deployed with. Sergeant Johnson had just been dusted off by order of Commander Keyes. And a Marine, a certain Pvt. Herman, had been taken out by a Jackal sniper on a nearby rooftop. The energy beam had went straight through his head, and onto the pavement below.
John felt a large amount of regret for the large amount of Marines, and his own Spartans under his command that had died. But they would remain dead, and he couldn't change that.
His only choice was to focus on the mission ahead. The three remaining Marines under his command were battle hardened, and had served in atleast one other battle against the Covenant. The second in command, a First Lieutenant Roeder, was a hard faced, battle scarred individual. You couldn't picture a smile ever being on his face. The others were two Privates, a PFC. Marcus, and a Pvt. Trocardo. They were both fairly new, but new what they were doing nonetheless.
"Marine, set a charge on that door," the Chief said and pointed to the reinforced metal gate in front of them.
Private Marcus hurried up to the door, and set their only C-4 charges. He stuck the two charges onto the gate, and gave the signal to the Chief and the others to back away. They crouched behind a large piece of duracrete that had been blasted off the top of the building next to them by a Covenant Mortar Turret. These new turrets were quite large, and were deployed throughout the city.
Marcus backed away, and joined the rest of the squad. He squeezed the small detonator in his hand, and a shower of sparks and wood and metal burst outwards.
"Let's move!" the Master Chief shouted and they all moved as one, toward the opening. What met them on the other end was quite a surprise. There stood a lone Marine, clutching a Covenant Plasma Rifle one handed.
The squad leveled their BR-55's at the man's chest, but the Master Chief held up his hand.
"State your name, rank, and business Marine." the Chief demanded.
"I am Corporal Richard Delano Wilkens, sir" he replied, remembering the Spartan's rank, "I was in city block designation 003-012 told to stay there and hold that position. My squad was killed, and I was the only one to survive, but my arm was broken, sir." The Chief looked unsatisfied, so Wilkens continued, "I've been through hell and back, sir. I've had to dodge Covenant patrols, and suffer through my injuries while I was looking for a Pelican that I saw touch down in this area. I presume that it was you and your squad, sir?"
"Yes and no Marine. The Pelican you saw lifting off a while ago was undoubtedly the dust off of one of our men. We got here only when our Pelican was shot down. We were one of two Pelicans shot down in this region. We're headed to find the other one."
First Lieutenant Roeder stepped up, "I suggest you come with us, Corporal."
"I was planning on it, sir!" Wilkens said as he saw the Lieutenant's insignia, and saluted with his one good hand.
The Lieutenant did not return the salute. Wilkens was an idiot. He cursed in his mind. He forgot that it was against protocol to salute superiors in a designated battlefield, lest any officers be identified to enemy snipers.
"I'm sorry, sir, I wasn't thinking." Wilkens said and quickly put his hand down.
"Like hell you weren't. Let's move out people!" Roeder said and the group headed out, completely ignoring Wilkens.
He tagged along anyway, there was no way he could get out of here alone.
They stopped before a small abandoned building ahead, and decided to take a short rest. They had evidently been going longer than Wilkens. The Master Chief posted outside, not needing to rest. The Corporal unhooked the gauze wrap, and tightened it even more. It felt like a thousand bees were stinging him all over his arm again and again. He gulped his last pain pill that he had raided from the office, back before he had started this insane little trek. He chuged some water, there was plently left.
"Hey, you need help with your arm, Marine?" a small, slightly pudgy Pvt. Trocardo asked, and then Wilkens noticed the medical sign by the soldier's left shoulder. He was a medic.
"Yes, please," Wilkens said, with emphasis on the "please".
Trocardo took out his field medkit out of his backpack, he was the only one with a backpack, in fact, and fiddle with a needle, prepping it for injection. Wilkens cringed at the sight of the needle. He had never liked them, he hated them, in fact.
"Don't let the Lieutenant bust your chops, ok? He does that to everyone - he has his reasons. He's been through some serious shit." the medic said as he injected Wilkens.
"Acknoweledged," Wilkens joked and gave a short laugh as he let his head slide back to the wall he was leaning on.
It wasn't morphine, but it really took the pain away. His arm only hurt now when he touched it, as opposed to hurting all the time, with every step and every breath.
He figured that evac was a ways away, as the Lieutenant shouted that the break was over, and the squad got on their feet, and headed off with the blistering sun hitting their backs'.
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