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Road to Earth
Part 2



Page ducked down as the neon blue streaks of plasma shot over his head, splashing onto the titanium support column behind him, a near miss. Six Elites now stood in the room shooting and creating an uproar. Ten Marines remained, but they had been outgunned, and over powered. Page looked at Sarah, who had once more retreated to the fetal position crying for help as she put her hands over her head trying to protect herself as the table she was using for cover slowly melted away with every shot. At first he had been upset by her actions, but now he found them somewhat justified, he understood her fear, and now even he, a veteran of six major conflict, had to choke back the fear. Church and Kowalski on the other hand seemed to be amused by the current situation, hollering and laughing, as they would peek up fast enough to pop off a few rounds and duck in time to avoid the next volley of Plasma. Page was angrier with them than the others who saw the true gravity of the situation and were somewhat hesitant to act.
Taking a moment to load a new clip into his battle rifle and catch his breath, he rolled to the side of the table firing off several rounds into one animal, lowering it's shields as Thorne finished it of with a single 12mm round from his pistol. Several grunts entered with plasma cannons, but were quickly mowed down without a problem. The security systems emplaced on each weapon activated a glowing green orb lit up and detonated, causing a chain reaction of explosions from grenades which had been scattered on the floor. Another Elite had been eliminated along with one more Marine whose body was now scattered throughout the room. Blood sprayed onto Pages face, and blocked the sight from his goggles, which he quickly smeared off. Moments later several Jackals darted into the area, their shields protecting their frail bodies from the hot lead that ricocheted off their energy panel as their pistols fired a rapid stream of radiant plasma. Page began to feel that the situation was hopeless.
Kowalski stood, popping of round after round at the new intruders to the vicinity. Each one shrieked in their alien tongue, most likely death threats as they strafed across the room. Kowalski had served during the civil war that occurred within the colonies years before, but that seemed like a cakewalk in comparison to this new war. In the past, the UNSC decimated any thing that stood against them, their superior technology quickly crushing any head on military tactics, causing the enemy to rely on guerilla warfare. Until the war had begun the UNSC had never lost a large-scale conflict, but now they found that wherever they turned, another defeat war emanate. Kowalski knew that whenever an Elite was killed, it was one less that would fight on. So far in the war, he had tallied 6 Elites, 12 Grunts, 3 Jackals, and 1 Hunter. But now as the hot Plasma streaked around him he felt that this war was hopeless. Raising his rifle he charged.
Sarah was loading her weapon as Kowalski ran past, his rifle blazing as he approached the Covenant invaders. She looked up in horror; Kowalski dropped his weapon and careened his fist into an aliens face. The Elite dropped back surprised by the humans' tenacity. The others stopped firing and peered towards the man who now challenged the animal in hand on hand combat. Another slug from his fist nailed the Elite on its forehead, it's shield shimmering from the blow. The alien barked at him and raised its hands, exchanging another hit to the Marines face. Kowalski's head snapped back with a crunch and his body went limp. He gagged on the floor unable to move or feel the rest of his body; he saw the animal raise its leg before he slammed it down. Pain rushed through what areas of his body he could feel, it was the most powerful throbbing he could imagine, but after a moment he began to feel peaceful, tired even, he didn't care anymore, and as the animal pressed harder, he could hear the crunch of his skull right before the blackness set in.
Page had seen the entire ordeal from the rush to attack, to the imploded skull as a result. Sarah wept uncontrollably, and had to be held back by Bosko as she attempted to run forward.
"Now!" Thorne yelled, the remaining Marines jumped up and sent a wall of bullets heading towards the Covenant who had their backs turned. The three Jackals were annihilated their blue-purple blood and entrails splattering the insides of their shields. Two additional elites were destroyed by the utter quantity of hits from Marine weaponry. The lingering Elites quickly returned fire, Page ducked, a beam of hot plasma seared over the outer part of his leg, yet he avoided the rest of the incoming firestorm. However, several pink glass like shards from the alien needler struck Sarah which pierced through her armor burying deep into her chest. She shrieked and fell backwards, Bosko ran towards her and looked at the wound. Page stared back at him, waiting for some diagnosis as Sarah convulsed on the floor. Bosko looked back and shook his head. Page was positive of the outcome now, it was hopeless.
The Elevator in the outside hall way pinged; Mouldoon peered out into the dark abyss of the cabin, listening to the exchange of gunfire beyond the corner. Farrell nodded to the other men inside the lift before he stepped out; The Chief had already exited the cramped area, and was now scooping out the room ahead leaving the five Marines and one Navy pilot to set up A Defensive area, cutting off any covenant reinforcements. John was now camouflaged, the power cylinder had been left down stairs, allowing him to slip unnoticed into the center of the battle. For the most part the Marines were pinned down, or dead for all he knew no fire was being returned for their area, yet the Elites continued to fire towards back of the room. John took a position behind an Elite to the left, smacking him with the butt of his rifle the animal groaned as its spine snapped. The other two ignored the fallen comrade, the sound of their weapons drowning out the cries of pain from the critically injured creature. A shotgun shell to the back of the other aliens skull killed it instantly, but grabbed the others attention. The Elite watched, as the Chief appeared, the effectiveness of the camouflage wearing off. John smirked, the animal ran towards him in an attempt to hit him, but a shell from his shotgun slammed into the aliens' stomach, flattening it to the floor.
Off in the distance John watched as a Marine limped forward, followed by another and another. Four Marines now stood before him, tattered from the Covenant onslaught, still in the back of the room he listened to the groans of fallen Marines in need of help. John walked to the AI post and removed Cortana placing her back into the relative safety of his helmet. It had been a miracle that the post hadn't been destroyed along with the construct. Page limped towards John; a plasma scorch ran across his leg that was bleeding profusely. The look on his face was one of utter despair, as if he had lost all hope in the cause, yet his eyes, which were now uncovered by the goggles, leaving a white outline of them around his face, still burned with anger.
"We lost..." he coughed, trying to manage to choke out the words. "They're almost all dead, Kowalski, Johnson, the others, and Sarah is on her way out." He bent over as if he were going to pass out, only to remove an olive green canteen to pour fresh water onto his face. The dirt and grime rolled away, beaded up in tiny drops of water, which concealed the filth of the combat, mixed with blood from a deep gash on his forehead. The Chief nodded and patted him on the back, although he had seen thousands of men experiencing the same anguish if not worse, he felt sorry for the man who was now before him.
Church sat at one of the chairs in the cabin; a nonchalant look was plastered to his face in an attempt to hide the turmoil inside, as he carefully cleaned his shotgun.
"Look on the bright side, we won." He allowed a small laugh to escape. Although at a point of near exhaustion, Page took quite an offence to the off color remark, quickly he straightened himself up and hobbling over to young soldier.
"We won didn't we" he muttered.
"Sure did," Church replied joyfully. Page nodded his head, allowing a smirk to project onto his face. He sat for a moment than in a flash grabbed the Marine out of his chair, and pulled him over to the body of Sarah who gasped for air on the ground, while Bosko tried to comfort her.
"We won, you think!" Page yelled while Church tried to tug away. "Tell her that you bastard, tell her parents that we won," he sneered. Church stared at the figure of a young woman around 19 who was now dieing on the tile floor, a gaping hole had been torn through her chest and blood pooled from the contorted figure which lay before him. Her once blond hair war now a ragged red and brown, her previously bright peach face and glimmering green eyes, had now turned an ashen white, her eyes a cloudy gray.
"Sorry I just thought..." he whined, only to be punched by Page across the face, sending him to the floor with A THUD.
"No you didn't think damn it!" Page shouted, hitting Church once more, busting open his lip, which erupted with bright red blood.
"Do something Chief." Cortana pleaded, as she watched the ordeal through his visor. John agreed and stepped forward, only to be cut off by Captain Thorne.
"Enough!" He shouted, the Marines quitted and looked back, Page had stopped his fist in mid swing, as he went to deliver another hit to Church's head.
"We're your Marines Damn-it, perform like you have some decorum and admiration for the Cause you embrace." He said to the crowd. "We fight a common enemy not our selves, have we forgotten what this war is for?" he asked. "We're doing this for the Human race, to protect one an other, if we fight, what's the use?" Thorne stopped and walked away facing out the large bay windows that over looked the bow of the sleek oval ship.
Thorne stood straight, his back rigged as he clasped his hands behind his back. John turned away, and walked over to Sarah's body, she was gone. It was bad enough that for a family to loose a son, but a daughter, John couldn't fathom. The situation brought the war closer to home, the first major war in UNSC where women and children were slaughtered without remorse from a relentless enemy. The bridge had now fallen silent for the first time in 2 hours; only groans from an injured Marine could be heard as he struggled for life, Bosko tending to the soldiers every need. Farrell sat by Page; dealing out cards in haphazard pile for the next round of blackjack. For many of the Marines it was their first chance to rest, but most found it hard to, the blood of the deceased coated the floor making it slick and sticky at the same time. John had First watch, yet he remained in position for third and forth watch, compared to days prior, this had been relatively easy to him, on Halo 72 hours without sleep had only begun to were away at the Chief. After spending 2 days in sub space aboard the Long sword, he had plenty time to rest up, while he waited to arrive at the UNSC Lone Wolf.
The temperature inside the bridge had reached a sweltering 97 degrees Fahrenheit; Cortana had rerouted all coolant to the reactor to prevent a thermonuclear meltdown. Some of the Marines were down to their T-shirts sweating profusely; others had removed the sleeves from their combat uniforms, in an attempt to stay cool. Johns own coolant system prevented any discomfort from the heat, yet he watched as Marines pulled their shirts from their chests trying to have the fabric unstuck from their upper-bodies. The Chief walked to the Captains quarters as another Marine took watch. Removing his helmet, John set it beside the Captains bed and grabbed a glass of water from the shelf, which he quickly downed along with nutrient bar designed for the UNSC soldier on the go, the label read. He normally gagged on the awful taste, but for the first time eating in 2 days since he escaped the Pillar of Autumn on the Long Sword, he really didn't give damn. Running his hands through his short hair, he yawned and walked over to the sleeping quarters two rooms down from the captain's. Placing the helmet back over his head, the coolant system whirred and kicked in, just before he settled onto a cot and fell asleep.

Page watched the monitors in the small security room to the north of the bridge separated by a desolate hallway which extended for hundreds of yards in either direction, and a blast door which was on the North end of the bridge. Each monitor flicked on new images every three seconds cycling through decks that were chosen by the user of the system. Each camera was designed to pan back and forth across it's assigned area, yet it could also be activated by a motion detector, which in most cases was useless due to the near 7'000 inhabitants which populated the ship, but now proved quite useful in finding the enemy. Farrell watched closely as well, Page and he had been ordered by the Captain to establish a security perimeter to protect the bridge. Page knowing the layout of the area found it better to use the cameras than active patrols in which ambushes could be lead.
So far the Cameras had worked flawlessly, their night vision combined with a toned down thermal optics detected even the invisible enemies. A few cameras Page came across were very disturbing, Covenant forces taking injured Marines and ripping them apart as the men screamed begging for them to stop with no avail. Most of the enemies had been trapped below deck B but at least 25 to 30 still lingered in the confines of A Deck, floor 6 through 2. The Armory by now was over run, Page and Farrell both watched in disgust, The Enemies tortured and executed the injured Marines who pleaded for mercy, forced to watch the impending doom which was implemented upon their brothers in arms, eventually leading to their turn. Page slammed his fist onto the counter, a sharp pain raced through his hand but he ignored it, flipping the monitors to the landing bays, he saw six operable Launch areas, still pressurized and safe from the vacuum of space. Three Covenant landing ships each surrounded by at least 15 Enemies sat in landing bay 12, the soldiers standing at perfect attention. All of a sudden Farrell smiled,
"Can you blow the seal to that hatch?" he asked, Page looked at him abnormally as if Farrell were insane.
"Why the hell would do that you retard." He snarled, "That would depressurize the ship, we'd all die." A look of worry crossed his face signaling his disapproval to Farrell's idea, until he understood where Farrell was going. In the moment of Insight Page grinned and began to rapidly tap his hands over the control panel. The gloom of the room was transformed by a faint red light, which illuminated the men's faces.
"So you got it now?" Farrell asked, Page held up one hand furiously typing away with the other. Within a moment the collection of tiny screens turned into a visual rendering of the hangar. Page snapped his hands together and leaned back into the leather chair, his arms folded behind his head in delight. On the screen the warning lights had just begun to flash.
The Elite stepped forward; removing another crate of plasma rifles from the drop ship, while several Ghosts vehicles whirred around landing bay 12. It had always been a mystery to the creature why the humans continued to fight for a lost cause, but it knew, as did the others that this had been the will of the Gods, as for seen by the Prophets, victory had been assured, and now as it looked to the others under it's command he knew the end was in sight. The red flashing light and piercing sirens sent the creatures into a fury of activity, the elite with the weapons crate dropped it to the floor and roared.
"Lockdown in ten seconds." The automated voice blared over the intercom, frightening the collective group of creatures as they scurried about trying to escape the hangar.
"Nine seconds" The elite looked around at the commotion.
"Eight."
"Seven"
"Six seconds" The Elite bolted towards the exit nearly 100 yards
"Five"
"Four"
"Three seconds" The animal reached the door blocked by an abandoned Warthog, he snarled and pulled on it along with several others
"Two"
"One second" The 3 inch door crashed shut sealing all but a few creatures inside, who now looked back at the others to see what would become of them. The one Elite walked back to the drop ship and removed some tools hoping to somehow pry open or destroy the barricade, which separated them from safety.
"It's to late." A voice said over the intercom. It was different than the other automated voice, which regularly broadcasted messages through the ship, and it was the voice of a man. The Elite glanced around the room; firing at one of the loudspeakers he saw hanging from the sealing with the pistol that had been attached to his armor plating.
"Don't be mad, it will all be over soon." The intercom switched off leaving nothing but silence, and the hum of the hydraulics lifting the outer bay door. The area erupted into a panic, most creatures belting towards the door in a pointless attempt to escape. Slowly the air began to be sucked from the room, along with boxes and smaller creatures like grunts as they hopelessly clawed at the floor trying to stop the inevitable. The Elite Grabbed onto a pole and braced itself as others around it were torn from the hangar, a grunt slid by him towards the crack on the floor where the oxygen was departing. The creature screamed as it slammed onto the door, crushing its internal organs and diaphragm with a snap. Soon the drop ships began to shudder being forced towards the gate that continued to rise. The three crafts then lifted flying out of the cavernous hole into hyperspace, each was shredded into thousands of pieces within seconds. Continuing it's valiant struggle, the Elite watched as the last few allies were ripped from the room, being shredded within moments. Suddenly the elite looked back into the rear of the room, the abandoned warthog soared towards him, tumbling in mid air as it approached. The Elite closed it's eyes and prayed, just as the warthog slammed into the pole thrusting him into the vast reaches of space, within a flash it was over.
Page sat back and laughed as the outer bomb bay door to Hangar 12 closed shut, and pressure was restored to the area. He exchanged high fives with Farrell, who gave Page a quick pat on the back, as the screens returned to normal.
"Sucks to be them." Has said
"Sure does." Farrell replied, each monitor returned to its assigned location, the circulation of cameras beginning again. Something surprised Farrell and Page alike, a large amount of marines scanned the hallways of Deck F floor 6.
"Establish contact now damn it." Farrell yelled to him. Page activated the intercom to the floor that the marines were scanning as they progressed onward.
"Friendly units report to the bridge at once." Page made the statement as clear as possible. The men on the floor jumped, surprised by the message. It seemed that there was at least 15 Marines and 10 Navy pilots. The pilots stood in the middle of their armed escort, fully downed in combat flight uniforms, pistols tightly clenched in their hands, their only lifeline now. All pilots in the UNSC forces had been highly trained and weren't like pilots of years before who received minimal training in the art of hand to hand combat, a feature that had proved very effective in this campaign. The men seemed to talk to one another discussing their next move, before one finally nodded his head to the camera in agreement.
In the commotion of the event Page had neglected the other monitors, which tracked covenant movement. He briefly scanned the other screens until his eyes spotted something in dismay; the men and women on Deck F were being followed.
"Lookout!" He bellowed into the loud speaker, but he was not on time.

The first Vibro sword sliced through the Marine at the rear with little notice, the diagonal motion split the man in two sending his body to the ground in separate chunks. In one last breath he screamed in agony. The rest of the column turned in disbelief as the covenant raced forward, mowing through three more Marines before a shot was returned. A dark skinned pilot fired off an entire clip into one Alien blowing 12 great holes through it. He stepped back with the other pilots as the Marines faced the blitz with a torrent of heavy weapons as they returned fire. A machine gunner escorted six of the pilots to a Safe room before returning to pull an injured marine to shelter in the minuscule sleeping quarters of a Marine officer on the floor. The other pilots that remained were obliterated; the machine gunner rushed forward taking out two Elites before he reached the main line of combat. Twelve troops remained, four of whom were immediately leveled, another two fought on only to be hit by hot plasma as they engaged the enemy. Four Marines raced to the quarters yelling for the others to come. The female Marine continued to fire wildly, only to be stopped as the machine gunner pulled her to the room. A soldier lead out around the bend to fire, but his head was severed by several hits of plasma. The carcass went limp, and fell into the corridor, the machine Gunner tapped on the security pad, and the entry slid shut.
"How the hell didn't you see that?" Farrell said in anger
"I was watching the men." Page said defensively in return. Farrell shuddered, grabbing his weapon he disappeared around the corner. Page groaned, and followed in his footsteps, disappearing into the corridor. The hallway always got to Page, as his footsteps echoed on the tile floor and reverberated off the concrete walls he checked around in all directions. It was bad enough that this hallway was pitch black normally, it was now made worse by the fact that, enemies lurked everywhere and now he was alone. Somewhere up ahead Farrell had disappeared probably to warn the others, but now Page was left to his own devices, struggling to find his way around. He was the head of security forces, but it was only his third week on the new ship, which had been commissioned five months earlier.
"Shit." Page whispered to himself upon coming to a dead end, only two doors on either side. Page examined the area; he had always missed that turn. Spinning around, he swore once more, and began to backtrack. It was going to be a long day and he knew it.

John awoke nearly three hours after he fell asleep, the taps of Farrell bringing him back to consciousness. He yawned and pulled himself out of bed , the rest had been long enough and now he felt moderately relaxed. He tilted his head to Farrell who stood rigged, a worried look plastered to his face.
"What is it?" John asked.
"We lost contact with Page, and a cluster of Marines are trapped downstairs, with some fly boys." John thought over it.
"Ok." He said "Get Alan, Harrison, Church and Bosko together, and tell the others to lock down the bridge and stay there until we get back."
"Why?' Farrell inquired
"Because were going on a search and rescue mission." John responded "And were going to need all the help we can get."
Page had been alone for some time now, the dark hallway had time and time again lead him into areas where he had already been, he began to get frustrated. Pounding his fist against the wall, he swore.
Where the hell am I? He thought as he became increasingly frustrated, the aggravation lead to a physical throbbing in his forehead as he tried to figure a way out of the mess. The heat began to get to him, removing his canteen; he drenched his face with the contents only to find that the water was rather warm.
"Shit!" he growled, he was never good at problem solving when angry, and now it had hindered his ability to find a way out. In the background he heard a group of Covenant approaching, the volume of their growls and squeaks approaching steadily from all directions. He once more monitored the area, this time he managed to find a small silver glint in the obscurity, reaching down he touched it, finding it to be metal, which was quite cool and seemed to be a ventilation grate. Page squatted down and pried at the cover, which fortunately wasn't bolted down. He set his rifle on the ground and stuck both hand under the metal, struggling to pull it up. The metal cut into his hands causing warm blood to run from the wounds; eventually the grate gave way with a groan of rusted steel. Page looked down into the chasm, which filtered a cold wind onto his face. Brushing the blood from his hands onto his pants, hearing the howls nearing, he swung his weapon back around his neck and took a leap of faith.

John took point in the elevator; a six-minute ride separated him and the others from Deck F. Not a word was spoken among the men, but a pack of gum had been passed around the small enclosure as they descended into the depths of the UNSC Lone Wolf. Deck F was infamous among crew members for being the sixth level of hell as a Marine so eloquently put it. The officers on the ship would normally send new recruits there because seasoned veterans would normally refuse to work on the level. While it seemed to be a pointless and even a childish claim, many Marines thought different. The Centurion Class Destroyer that the Lone Wolf's was designed after had minimal defenses on the outer area, which lined Deck F. In prior engagements with Covenant Cruisers, Deck F always seemed to be the first hit due to the large size of the quadrant and the nature of UNSC evasion patterns which often put Deck F in harms way. When performing the maneuvers the ship would send frontal boosters into overdrive rapidly lifting the nose exposing the soft under belly, the largest bulge being Deck F.
The lift Came to rest with a clang as the floor systems locked into place. The doors slid open, No enemies were seen but the effects of there presence were. Torn scarred carcasses of marines were scattered around the room, their blood sticking to the bottom of John's feet as it started to dry. Only a few light fixtures remained, dimly illuminating the corridor. Other light fixtures hung form the sealing, their bulbs blown out, only the wires giving off light as they touched the blood, sending sporadic sparks showering onto the ocean of dark red blood. Bosko checked each body, John watched as the medic tried to find a live man, knowing well that none were to be found. The short man stood at attention and saluted the fallen soldiers before returning to the column. John moved forward, to the locked down door, which was sealed with several security levels. He turned and faced back at the Marines who's lights crisscrossed the hall. The Chief waved for Farrell to move forward. The Sergeant cautiously approached the Chief, a doorlock device held in his hand. Quickly he applied the device to the steel door and tapped a few buttons.
Jake curled around the corner evading the entrance, a series of beeps sounded and the door slid open.
"Whose there?" a worried Marine yelled
"Sergeant Farrell and a group of Marines to get your sorry asses out of here." he replied, he heard a faint conversation, before the dark skinned man and the machine gunner from earlier cautiously stepped out. The Machine gunner rested the weapon on one of his broad shouldered, he was a tall gangly fellow who wore a black bandanna, which hid his buzzed hair. He extended a hand pointing to the chief with a finger. He looked inquisitively at the chief and then looked to the shorter dark man who remained still, they exchanged glances and the young man frowned
"Should we show them?" The tall man asked
"Show us what?" John and Farrell responded simultaneously, The short black man smiled his bright white grin,
"You won't believe it." He said, the dark man turned and waved the others to follow him. "You'll just have to see."

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