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Misjudgment
Posted By: Bloodcider<duiguy117@hotmail.com>
Date: 27 December 2004, 8:25 AM
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Misjudgment
by Bloodcider
----
1210 Hours, July 20, 2552 (Military Calender) / In Orbit over Sigma Octanus IV
Nayap took a gulp of nothingness in a vain attempt to clear the lump of fear and excitment that had lodged itself in his throat. Long had he desired to combat the human menace, sacrifice his life to the Covenant, and take part in the Great Journey. But, as the Bandit came nearer and nearer to the surface, instinct was taking over, and he was becoming afraid of what was to follow. He showed no signs externally, of course, save nervous breaths through his methane breather. He did not want to appear a weakling. Especially in the eyes of his squad leader.
Raka Zomeil'li, the newly appointed head of the squad, sat just next to him. His Reddish armor seemed to glow a dull purple in the lighting of the dropship interior. Nayap looked the Elite up and down with envy, and respect. Though, he first percieved Raka to be somewhat uptight, perhaps even narcissistic. The man was undoubtably proud of his recent promotion. Nayap did not know much about him, but apparently he was a sniper, involved in the mission at Cote d'Azur. Extracted soon before the city had been destoryed by the humans, Raka had recieved a promotion, as well as his new armor, for his completion of a successful mission, among many he had accomplished before.
Though, Nayap was a little suspicious. Someone with a history such as Raka wouldn't be promoted to squad leader like that. Raka had been a sniper, not a field soldier. Perhaps strings had been pulled behind the scenes by this ambitious Elite. Then, perhaps Nayap was just being a little too paranoid. Raka seemed a decent enough leader, and he would not be so foolish as to question that ability. Only time would tell. A short amount of time at that, for the dropship was within the planets atmosphere.
Nayap looked back over at his squad leader, and let loose a huff of surpsise to see Raka staring back at him. Unless Nayap had been accidentally thinking aloud, which he was quite sure that he wasn't, he had nothing to be afraid of. He nodded to Raka, then proceeded to look around the rest of the cabin, pretending that was what he had been doing in the first place. It didn't quite sit well with him that Raka was watching him. He shot a glance back towards Raka. He was picking something off of his armor.
What a surprise... Nayap thought.
As mentioned, Raka had seemed to think very highly of himself. He often looked over his armor for any sort of clutter that could somehow ruin his appearance. Only in his perspective though, because Nayap, as well as the other two Grunts, and the Jackal, did not use their armor as a display. But as what it was meant to be; protection. Nayaps own redish orange armor was scratched, and scortched, and dinged up from the dozens of battles he'd lived through. He took a deep breath, easing himself back into the seat. The dropship turned, causing a falling sensation in his stomach. They were almost near their El-Zee.
He found a steady breathing rhythm through his methane mask, easing him into acceptance that he might not live to see the following day. In and out, in and out. The mechanical breathing of the life preserving methane calmed him.
"ETA: fifty seconds!" The pilot barked over the cabin speakers. The saftey harnesses were released, and Nayap slid forward in his seat.
Raka halfstood, one hand on the bulkhead to steady himself, the other holding the Carbine with an iron grip. Nayap himself was clutching a Plasma pistol. Though it was a decent weapon in its own right, it paled in comparison to the Carbine. He waited hesitantly.
"Ten seconds to drop! I'm sure I don't need to go over the objectives again. When we hit the ground, get to your tasks. Good luck, people." Raka said. His words of encouragment seemed false, somehow. Perhaps the only reason he hoped for them to fair well in the battle was so he would appear a more capable squad leader in the after mission debreifing. But, he was squad leader. Nayap couldn't be questioning that. Especially now, of all times.
He stood, clutching his pistol with a trembling claw. There was no turning back now. Then again, there never was. He glanced left to see Raka determined as ever. To his right, Magup, and Jayap stood at attention, pistols held up. Beyond them, the Jackal Iziz had his hand ready to active his shield. Undoubtably, the heaviest burden lay on the Jackals shoulders. For he was the major source of protection for Nayap and his grunts. Raka had the luxury of personal shielding, however. As before, all Nayap could do was envy.
The hatch began to open, and the warm air filled the cabin. The lights went out, and were soon replaced by the illumination of the midday sun. The yellow high grass stood before them, waving in the soft breeze. Merely ten meters or so ahead stood the human supply base. Medical, Ammunition, Weapons, Mechanical, Computer, and a number of other supplies lay stored in neatly stacked boxes, underneath a large white tent. Several vehicles, intelligence said the humans reffered to them as 'warthogs', lay motionless about the camp. But, unexpectedly, there also stood about twenty of the human soldiers. Each with a weapon pointed at Nayap and his squadmates. That was ten more than intelligence had indicated. How could they make such a mistake!? It would likely cost them their lives, and the mission.
He didn't spare the time to think about the sitiuation. Even as Raka shouted 'Fall out!", Nayap had thrown himself to the dirt and raised his pistol. He could not see anything with the grass before him, and fired randomly in the direction the humans. A stattaco of gunfire errupted, drowning out cries of pain, screams of fury, and Nayaps own plasma fire. Something fell next to him, hard. He glanced over to see Jayap laying face first on the ground, his lifeless head turned in Nayaps direction. Methane bubbled from his breather as a small cloud of dirt still rose from his death induced impact.
Nayap squeezed the trigger, holding it in place. Motes of green light formed at the tip of the pistol. The heating indicator flashed bright red. The ball of white hot plasma singed and burned the grass near where he held the weapon, and he let go. The huge ball of plasma streaked forward through the grass, burning away as it went. He did not wait to hear the result, and rolled to his left. The pistol stopped smoking as the coolants restored it to active status. So, he fired again. How many of the humans had died? How many of his own squad had died? When would he die?
Too many pointless questions. To come out of this alive would be a miracle he could never repay. Chancing a peak, he poked his head up long enough to see many of the humans were missing from their group. Dead. However, he could not see Iziz, Raka, nor Magup anywhere. Perhaps they were laying low to the ground. The humans were fanning out, searching the grass. Nayap found himself several meters away from where he had first dove to the ground. The Bandit dropship was already in the sky and leaving. Nayap was stuck there, most likely going to die.
"There's one!" A human voice called out. Nayaps blood ran cold. He'd stuck his head out for too long when he could've simply snuck away. Though he knew that would not have been better. Deserters found the same fate as heratics, and weaklings. The loud explosion of the gunshot sounded out, and Nayap barely registered the pain in his shoulder as he fell to the ground. His own blood painting his red armor. He took in huge gulps of methane through his breather, wishing the now searing pain away. The figures approached him. Surrounded him. Eight of them. All that was left of the original twenty. Nayap smiled in the acceptance that his squad of five had managed to kill so many of the hopeless humans as the gun was leveled at his skull, awaiting the gunshot that would sound out the last moment of his existance.
But it never came. What was heard instead was a rising growling noise, a noise of pure hatred sounding out from behind the humans. They all turned, and Nayap recognized the noise. The noise that soon turned into a war cry filled with lust for battle.
"Holy shit! It's still alive!"
Raka lifted the Carbine, squeezing the trigger twice. His training as a sniper gave him near perfect judgment, and he scored two headshots. Instantly bringing the battle down to six on one. He pulled the trigger again and the Carbine clicked empty. He threw it down, and it smacked off the dirt, errupting a plume of dust. Raka charged forward, reaching out and grabbing on of the human's rifles. He pulled it towards him, even as it fired, and brought his left forearm into the mans face. His nose was pulversized. He fell to the ground screaming as blood squirted onto his face. Without missing a beat, Raka rasied his right foot, and brought it down onto the knee of the human next to him. Nayap could see the bone protruding from the now bloody cloth. As the man screamed, Raka delivered a fatal blow to his windpipe.
Gunfire errupted from the remaining four humans. The metal projectiles skimmed over Raka's energy shields as he ducked, and hurled himself to the left. He rolled once, then was on his feet admidst the group. He raised his right elbow into the nearest soldiers chin, snapping his head back, and knocking him to the ground. Dropping down, Rake shot out his left leg. It connected with the shin of one of the remaining three, undoubtably breaking it. The human toppled over, and Raka stood up. uppercarting the forwardmost human as he did. The soldiers jaw broke, and blood burst out from between his lips. He was lifted clean off of his feet and impacted the ground hard enough to raise a fine dust.
Raka spun just in time as the last, disbelieving human, screamed and fired his weapon. Rakas sheilds took the blunt of the impacts, and he grabbed the weapon. The weak human stuggled for power as his own weapon was tilted backwards and pointed at his skull. He pleaded for mercy, by Nayap knew Raka had none to give. The trigger was pulled, and various amounts of gore began dripping out of the edges of his helmet, as well as the gaping hole in his face. Raka let the body crumble to the ground and proceeded to finish off those still struggling on the ground with fatal stompings to their heads. When finished, he approached Nayap.
"That...that was amazing, sir!" Nayap could only say. He felt wrong for doubting Raka earlier. He was very combat effective. Nayap knew that he could never dream of being as great as the Elite who stood before him, the Elite he was privlaged to have as a squad commander. He'd have stood and bowed had he not been in his wounded state. Raka didn't reply, though. He stared down at Nayap blankley. Nayap felt panic stricken. Had he done something to insult the warrior? Had he spoken out of line? He was scared to incur his wrath before. Now, he was terrified of it. But no, Raka was not angry. He was distant. Perhaps the adrenaline was fading away. Perhaps he was in some form of after-battle meditation. Perhaps-
"Oh no."
Nayap laid his eyes on a wound in Raka's chest. The center of his torso was a purple bloody pulp. The blood ran freely down Rakas chest and legs, gathing in pools at his feet, held within the shielding. Raka fell to his knees, gave a breif glance towards Nayap, then fell face first to the dirt. Nayap didn't want to think the worst. He forced himself through the pain and crawled up to Raka. He was unmoving. He couldn't bare to let the Elite die such an indignified death. He desperatly fumbled for the Elite's radio.
"Hello? Hello?" He barked into it.
Nothing. He cursed, then opened the encrypted Comm. Link.
"Hello?" He spoke again.
"Who is this?" An Elite's voice growled from the other side.
"Ah...Nayap. Assault Squad, Sabotage Mission, Sigma Octanus Four." He replied, hastly.
"Put your squad leader on the line." Came the reply.
"Negative...he's...he's down, injured. Requesting immediate medical evacuation." The grunt chittered.
"What is your mission status?"
"What?"
"The mission. Have you failed?" The Elite sounded irritated.
"What? Ah, No. No, mission accomplished. We- we secured the human's storage camp but-"
"Then proceed to designated extraction zone and await pickup at 1500 hours as planned." The Elite barked.
"No, wait. We're wounded and-" He stuttered.
It was no use. The other end of the line was silent.
Son of a bitch...
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