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Hell's Curse
Posted By: Ben87R6<ben87r6@hotmail.com>
Date: 11 May 2003, 6:16 PM
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It would be a cold day in hell thought the Marine sergeant when the Covenant attacked THIS god-forsaken base! He wasn't far off in his logic... Echo4983 base was too far into the human's part of the galaxy to be infiltrated by those Covies... or was it? The new Spartans had been holding them back very effectively in the past few months, even ousting them from Earth!
The loud hum in the distance was a foreboding of evil and destruction. Pelicans don't make that noise, do they? Peering through the mist, Sergeant Major Thomas Billkovich saw a sight that caused a rather unsettling feeling in his stomach. How the heck did they break through our lines?? God help us... Four hundred Covenant dropships were approaching at top speed, escorted by nine hundred Banshees. Billkovich ran for the alarm button, smashing it so hard that it stuck in. The resounding wail of the alarm mixed with the sounds of boots on metal as Marine's reported to their battle stations mingled with the whine of their own fighters as they took off to intercept. "What the... give us a freaking chance!" exhasperated Thomas as he viewed the cargo of one hundred of the dropships. Each one was dropping Shadow tanks, and another hundred dropped Ghosts. While the Banshees charged headlong into the small force of Longswords(only fifty ships), the dropships landed their cargo. Thousands upon thousands of Elites, Grunts, Jackals, Hunters, and Brutes poured over the mountains after the Shadow tanks and Ghosts, all bent on one thing: the annhilation of every human on that plant. All that stood between them and their goal was Echo4983. The Marines knew of their impending destruction. Their only hope was to kill as many of the Covies with them before they felt their own bodies went limp.
The Longswords had fought valiantly, but all were destroyed two minutes into the battle. All that remained were the five hundred Marines on the ground, with only two Scorpion tanks and five Warthogs. A message had already been sent to HQ on the planet Julius in the next sector asking for reinforcements. But, the way the battle was going, it would be over in a matter of hours. It was possible, however, for the reinforcements to arrive in enough time to stop the glassing of the planet to save the civilians. If only it was possible to evac an entire planet of all life forms pondered Billkovich as he fired a three round burst from his MA5B Assault Rifle into a Grunt's skull, shattering the bone and spraying brains and blue blood into a Jackal's face. Temporarily blinded, the Jackal flailed its bird-like arms about as Thomas smashed the butt of his rifle on its head, breaking its neck in three places. Looking to his right, he saw an Elite charging a group of three marines. The plasma spewed from its rifle and burned away the faces of the friends he once knew. The sergeant emptied the remainder of his 60 round magazine at it as blue and white flared on its shields. The shields finally died, but so did his rifle as it melted in his hand from a random plasma bolt. Pulling out his M6D pistol with his charred hands, he whimpered in agony as he steadied the sites on the Elite's head and fired the powerful .50 round into its eye. The Elite began to scream as the back of its head was blown out to make a fist-sized hole, but it came out only as a release of breath from its lungs as it's soul plunged into the depths of hell. Turning around, Thomas fired away at a group of grunts with his last clip while he wondered why they hadn't been more prepared and properly supplied. He yanked his knife from its holster and charged an Elite God forgive me for my sins was his only thought as he slashed the Elite's throat with the five-inch steel blade, purple blood spewing out in a wicked torrent onto his brown armor. As he turned around, he saw the Brute as it ran towards him, discharging deadly plasma at him, hitting everything but him as he slipped on the Elite's blood to the floor. Billkovich stabbed into the Brute's leg, and as it screamed in agony and fell to one knee, Thomas rolled up-right and jabbed the knife with all his might into the creature's palate. As the warm blood dripped onto his hand, everything slowed down. The sounds of the surrounding mayhem seemed to stop. The world spun as he looked to his stomach, where the Brute had slashed its own rifle's blade. He watched as his own blood poured forth, and his vision began to fade. Disembowled, he stood to his feet and saw three Elite's charging him.. these were not normal Elites however, they were the Golden Generals that commanded the battles and instructed their troops on ways to cause more destruction. These Elites did not carry rifles, but instead plasma swords. Thomas smurked as he pulled the pins from the grenades on his jacket. The Elites struck simultaneously, the searing heat immediately cauterizing the wounds as his body fell into three sections of the floor. Looking down from heaven, Thomas saw the Elites look down at his corpse in suprise. They never thought that they also would die in this massacre. The M9-HEPD grenade fragmented, sending the Elites flying as burning pieces of metal plunged through their armor into their soft skin.
The Covenant had whiped the Marines out. None were left alive, no prisoners taken. Thomas knew that God would take out His Holy Vengeance on the Covies for that merciless act. They may have lost the battle, but they would surely win the war. If God be for us, who could be against us.
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