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The Forerunner: Prologue
Posted By: Steele<hoffmansteele@hotmail.com>
Date: 19 November 2003, 3:46 AM


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                   The Forerunner: Prologue

       Corporal Timothy Ryan was having a bad day. And that was a serious understatement. It was the worst day of his entire twenty-year life, and it didn't seem to be getting any better. Here he was, stranded on some Godforsaken jungle planet in the middle of nowhere with the other surviving members of his squad. Not to mention the fact that they were surrounded by Covenant. Loads and loads of Covenant.

      The day had started out pretty good, with his platoon being sent down on an out of the way, inhospitable, no-decent-atmosphere planet to check out some sensor anomalies. Apparently, the Razor's Kiss, his ship, had picked up some traces of technology being used down here. It didn't match any known Covenant or human technology.

      The Captain of the Cruiser had ordered a platoon to go dirtside and check it out. Ordinary operating doctrine required that he send down at least a company, but Captain Harding had wanted to save operation cost, and had instead sent down a platoon with minor vehicular support.

      His platoon had landed in the middle of a swamp-like area, and Lieutenant Green had ordered them to proceed toward their objective on foot, leaving the protection of the Junglehogs behind. He would regret it.

      For the next hour they had trudged through the most-strange swamp, while cursing and fixing their rebreathers. It had been impossible to see anything beyond twenty feet, and most of the Marines had been extremely nervous. With reason.

      After another hour, the point, a PFC with the unlikely name of Richard Pritchard, had warned of multiple heat sources approaching. He had been about to say something else when something exploded out of the water next to him, grabbed him and then disappeared back under the water.

      A Marine next to Ryan had immediately brought up his rifle and fired a three round burst into the water, but Gunnery Sergeant Jack Hall had bellowed, "Stop firing, you idiot. You could hit Dick. Spread out and search in pairs. Shoot anything not wearing a Marine uniform."

      Ryan had gulped nervously and had made his way forward, searching for Dick. But it was another Marine who found him. When he did, he had screamed.

      The Marines had immediately made their way toward his position, Gunny in the lead. The Marine who had found Richard was leaned over, heaving his breakfast out. Dick was lying on his back in the dirty water floating. Gunny Hall had rolled Dick over with his foot and stepped back quickly.

      Dick's throat had been torn open all the way to the bone. Two small holes where in his chest and had exited all the way through his back, piercing the armor there, easily. He had looked drained, tired, and bloodless.

      Ryan had been about to say something when all hell had broke loose. A Marine to his left had suddenly lurched, blood spewing from his throat like a fountain. Around him Marines had started dying. Just dropping dead, with limbs, heads, or torsos holding gaping wounds. Ryan hadn't seen a thing, except for the occasional gray blur.

      Like any good Marine, he had ordered his squad (Sergeant Wicker had just been decapitated) to E and E out of there. Then he had followed his own orders. The next few hours had been hell. He'd run through the swamp, never stopping, never looking back. The number of Marines with him had steadily decreased, until they had exited the swamp into a more-forested area. There the attacks had stopped, and he was down to only twelve men. Twelve men. Out of fifty. That was when the lights started to appear in the sky.

      Silver lines and azure fireballs traced trajectories across the nighttime sky with random explosions intermixed. The show ended abruptly with a brilliant explosion, taking up the whole sky, followed by a meteor shower. After that, comets had begun to appear in the sky and one of his Marines, sporting their only spotting scope, identified one of the comets as a Covenant dropship, Phantom class.

      The dropships had landed in extreme numbers, causing Ryan to wonder why the Covenant would send so many ships down after his small group. How could they even know they were on the planet; the Marines' body signatures weren't large enough to pick up from space, even with the Covenant's advanced technology.

      The only plausible explanation he could come up with was that the Covenant had also picked up traces of the unidentified technology. And they were after it. And as many dropships as the Covenant was deploying, it was obviously important to them. Very important.

      "Corporal," a Marine named Peters called. "Incoming contact. Signature matches that of a Ghost."

      Ryan nodded, then started speaking into his rebreather. "Hide and let it go by. Hoffman, if it detects us, you be ready with a Jackhammer."

      The Marine he'd indicated nodded nervously and checked the safety on his SPNKr rocket launcher. The rest of the soldiers quickly dispersed, hiding behind trees and bushes, effectively concealing themselves and giving them a good line of fire.

      Ryan found himself beside Hoffman, whose face was getting paler by the second. Leaning over and trying to keep the fear out of his own voice, Ryan said, "Fire only if that Ghost detects us and fires. NOT before. We want to stay undetected for as long as possible."

      Hoffman nodded again and shifted the SPNKr to his other shoulder. A few seconds later Ryan heard the distinctive wail of the Ghost. Signaling his Marines to be quiet he ducked back down.

      After another few seconds the Ghost broke through the foliage and entered their little track of forest. Almost as soon as it came into view, he heard a whoosh from beside him and looked up to see a rocket slam into the ground ten feet away from the Ghost.

      Fuck, he thought. Hoffman got nervous and fired to early; now we're all screwed.

      The Ghost had already turned toward their position and started firing. Ryan rolled behind the tree to his left, as superheated plasma tore through the foliage and burnt long scars into the tree. Hoffman gave a shout of pain, followed by a series of helpless gurgles before becoming silent.

      Ryan looked over and saw plasma burns stitched from Hoffman's chest to his throat. His body was a smoking ruin. Ryan's gore rose, but he pushed it back down and, hazarding his hands, quickly reached out and plucked the still smoking Jackhammer launcher from Hoffman's sizzling corpse and rolled back behind the tree.

      Somewhere off to his left a Marine opened up, hoping to distract the Ghost from Ryan. It worked. The Covenant vehicle swiveled as bullets bounced harmlessly off the Elite pilot's shields, and fired again, scything plasma through the area where two Marines were hiding.

      Seizing his chance, Ryan rolled back out from behind the tree and peered trough the rocket launcher's scope. Realizing he had only one shot, he steadied his frenzied breathing and dropped the crosshair right on the Ghost's nose. He gently squeezed the trigger.

      The SPNKr rocket streaked across the distance and slammed into the Ghost's nose, punching all the way through and exploding on the other side, shredding the Ghost like tinfoil. Fire, smoke, and shrapnel rained outward and the ruined remains of the Ghost hit the ground like a rock.

      "Everyone okay?" he shouted.

      "We're fine," another Marine called back. "Barnes took a round to the chest, but his armor stopped it and we're okay. You?"

      Ryan sighed. "Hoffman got nervous and fired to early. The Ghost got him." Getting up and joining the other Marines, he formulated a plan. "There's nothing we can do about the body," he said to them, "so we'll just leave it here."

      "Be we can't just leave his body like that," Peters protested.

      Ryan shook his head. "We haven't got the time or recourses to take the body with us, nor bury it. Hoffman stays. I don't like it either, he was a Marine, but what can we do." He took a knee. "Here's the plan," he said, pulling out his digital map and outlining the route. "I think we should turn around and skirt the edges of the swamp until we get to where we left the 'hogs. They'll have food and supplies. If we move quickly we can make it by noon tomorrow. Any comments?"

      The Marines shook their heads. "Good. Let's move out. Peters you've got point."

      The Marines nodded and formed up. They still had a job to do.





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