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Assualt on Edina
Posted By: Steele<hoffmansteele@hotmail.com>
Date: 2 March 2003, 3:39 am
Read/Post Comments
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0435 Hours, October 13, 2552 (Military Calendar)/
UNSC Agonizer, Seridnafer System, Planet Edina Orbit
"Alright Marines, you know what’s about to happen, so remember keep your head down and conserve your ammo, cause we’re gonna show those Covenant bastards a thing or two," Major Harland ordered his men. "Am I right Marines?"
"Sir, yes sir," they barked in unison.
"Damn right, I’m right."
Harland grabbed unto the Pelican’s handgrip and surveyed his twenty-four marines. They were all veterans and knew what to do, but he still felt the need to reassure them.
The pilot’s voice crackled over the intercom "Drop in twenty seconds, get ready Major."
"You heard him Marines, get ready," Harland snapped at his crew. He could feel the Pelican juking up and down to avoid incoming plasma fire; he barley heard the report of weapons fire striking the hull. The rear door opened and he could see the Warthog that was strapped unto the tail of the dropship.
The Pelican started to rotate and the Warthog dropped off and hit the ground, ten feet away. "Let’s hit it Marines, c’mon time to earn your pay," Harland shouted and dropped to the hood of the Warthog. He landed and rolled into the passenger seat. He got into a good firing position and took aim at hill where he expected to see Covenant forces charging down at him, but instead found a deserted green hill populated by sparse green shrubs.
The rest of the Marines were out and taking up firing positions. Private Walker, the Warthog’s designated driver, jumped in and started up the Warthog. Corporal Isen climbed unto the back and activated the Warthog’s 50mm chain gun. "Ready to kick some Covenant ass sir!" he cheered.
Harland turned to the rest of the Marines, "Point formation Delta, we’re going to secure the LZ. Get this beast moving, Private." The Warthog took off in the direction of the hill.
The Marines formed up behind the Warthog and double-timed after it. As they crested the hill, Harland saw what was waiting for them. There was a large grassy meadow big enough to land a hundred Pelicans. On the outskirts was a Covenant plasma turret, currently unoccupied. In the center of the meadow was an Elite. Standing around him in firing positions were thirty-six Grunts.
Harland’s Warthog jumped the hill and roared down upon the Covenant. They apparently took them by surprise; most of the Grunts squealed and took off running. Isen aimed the 50mm at the Elite and depressed the firing triggers. The chain gun vomited fire at the alien. The Elite didn’t stand a chance. His shields deflected the first two rounds, the rest ripped him open and threw him to the ground like a rag doll. His violet blood splattered the ground.
That was all Harland saw before he lifted his MA5B assault rifle and fired a three round burst at a fleeing Grunt. The bullets slammed into his environmental suit, pierced him all the way through and kept going. The Grunt collapsed in a puddle of his own blue blood.
Harland felt the Warthog fishtail around and saw three grunts crushed by the Warthog’s tail. They ran over a few more Grunts, their guttural barks drowned out by the Warthog’s engine. Harland saw a bunch of Grunts gather together and fire at him. Green plasma fire and needles flew by them, a few smacking into the door of the truck. He tossed them a fragmentation grenade and watched as they were launched into the air and ripped to pieces by shrapnel.
He felt the Warthog spin and saw another Grunt disappear under the Warthog’s hood. By now the rest of the Marines had came over the hill and were mopping up the remaining Grunts. The Warthog came to a stop and it’s 50mm fell silent. Harland leaped out and took a look at the jeep. It’s tires and shocks were covered in blue blood, the fifty was smoking, and Walker was grinning.
He jogged over to one of the Marines on the hill. "Sargeant Eversman, report?"
"Enemy is neutralized, no casualties other than Private Fincher catching a needle in the helmet. He’s fine other than a minor concussion, medic is seeing to him. We got one of their plasma turrets, we’re fitting wheels to it to see if we can pull it behind the Warthog sir," Eversman reported.
"Excellent, set up a perimeter and prep the LZ, I’ll be on the horn to the Agonizer."
"Yes sir," Eversman turned and raised his voice. "First and second squad set up a perimeter, third squad with me."
Harland turned and walked over to the Warthog. Isen was cleaning the chaingun and Walker was wiping the Grunt’s gooey blood off the suspension. He dropped into the side seat and activated the comms gear.
"Recon to Agonizer, we have secured the LZ, encountered minimal resistance; ready for Phase Two."
"Agonizer to Recon, we copy, Phase Two is on the way."
"Recon copies, out." Harland turned to his Marines "All right, ladies reinforcements are on the way. I want that plasma turret up along with the Jackhammer rocket crews ready to handle any Banshees."
Thirty minutes later they heard the distinctive sound of Pelican engines. Harland walked to the middle of the meadow and threw a green smoke canister. Seconds later a dozen Pelicans pierced the cloud cover and landed. They all carried a full armory and a full complement of Marines and Warthogs. Two even carried Scorpion tanks. The vehicles dropped and the Marines exited carrying crates of ammo and weapons. The empty Pelicans took off and accelerated skyward.
One Pelican stayed. It was going to be the Command Center. Harland went inside and took command since he was the ranking officer.
Corporal Mike Webb checked the safety on his MD6 pistol and eased it back into his holster. He then made sure his captured plasma rifle was securely strapped around his waist, rammed home the last shell into his shotgun, and then straightened the pins in his grenades, but taped the spoon to the primer so it wouldn’t go off involuntarily.
Looking up he surveyed the land in front of him before he hopped into the driver’s seat of his Warthog. He gunned the engine and looked over at his gunner, "You ready?"
"What kind of question is that-look here comes James with the Jackhammer," Private John O’Hara responded as PFC James Orrington hoped in the jeep and set up his SPNKr Jackhammer rocket launcher.
"Let’s hit it," Webb yelled as his foot slammed down on the accelerator. The Warthog’s front end seemed to jump in the air and the back tires kicked up gravel. Webb cut the wheel to follow the other Warthogs. His vehicle splashed through a streambed and up the other side.
As they rounded a bend in the river they were following, their radio came to life, "Covenant Wraiths ten o’clock-shit they got Hunters!" Then a new voice floated over the channels, "Marines, this is Major Harland attack repeat attack the infantry, we’re sending the Scorpions right behind you, they’ll be there in a few minutes-out."
Webb turned to the men in his Warthog, "Well, boys looks like we got our work cut out for us." He cut the wheel to the left and the Warthog fishtailed then turned smoothly as the wheels caught. They flew through a small dipping valley with a high hill on the other side.
As they bounced over the hill, Webb saw their opposition. There were two of the Covenant tanks, called Wraiths, around which there was nothing but Jackals, Elites, and four Hunters. Webb saw one Hunter fire the large Plasma cannon on his right arm. The Warthog he had been aiming at took the blast right in the bumper. It was flipped over on one side; crushing the Marines inside it.
James immediately fired his rocket at the Hunter and was rewarded by seeing it propelled into the air as the rocket blew at its feet. John fired the chain gun at the nearest Elite but he dove out of the line of fire, behind a tree.
Webb knew the best chance for survival was to get in close and hope they didn’t hit you with grenades. He held his foot down on the accelerator and shot between the two Covenant tanks, running over an Elite and three Jackals in the process. The Elite was actually thrown up and unto the hood of the Warthog, but he fell off as Webb whipped the Warthog around behind the Wraiths.
He roared up behind the last two Hunters and crushed one; the Warthog was rolled up on one side at the size of the Hunter. The other one dove out of the way. As he sped past the Wraiths again, he saw the last Hunter pointing his glowing cannon at him. Webb instinctively slammed the brakes and cut the wheel to the left. The plasma blast slammed into the left rear tire, doing nothing more than spinning his jeep all the way around. He felt the rear tire deflate, then immediately reinflate.
Looking around he realized everyone else was not so lucky; two of the eight Warthogs were flipped, another was right side up but devoid of life. He watched as John gunned down two Elites with expert shooting. The first didn’t have his shield and literally disintegrated in a shower of purple blood. The second’s shields where up but that didn’t help him any. His head was torn from his shoulders by the force of the bullets.
Webb saw one of the Covenant tanks fire its main plasma cannon. He turned to see what it was aiming at. A Scorpion had fired from long range and was now moving out of the path of the relatively slow moving plasma. The Wraith it had been aiming at was hit dead in the center of its body. It was thrown back in a hail of shrapnel and fire. When the smoke cleared Webb saw a large gaping hole where the tank’s cockpit should have been.
Looking over, Webb saw two Elites and nine Jackals’s charging his Warthog in a head-to-head rush. He drove right for them. Plasma fire bounced off the hood and windscreen; four Jackals and an Elite fell to a Jackhammer rocket and the 50mm. Expecting the Covenant to dive out of the way, he slung the Warthog’s tail around to crush them. His assumption proved correct. What he wasn’t expecting was the plasma grenade that arced unto James’s face.
"Get this thing off me man," James screamed at him.
Knowing that there was no way to get it off, Webb did the only thing he could do. He took one foot off the gas pedal and kicked James out of the Warthog. Unfortunately the grenade went off right beside the Warthog.
The next thing Webb knew was a sensation of being vaulted through the air. He hit the ground and rolled for a few feet. He looked up and saw an Elite standing above him. Once again the next thing he knew was a sensation of flying.
This time when he hit the ground he rolled into a crouch. The armor protecting his chest was burnt with plasma scoring. On his shoulder pad was a dent that looked suspiciously like it had came from the foot of an Elite.
Lifting his shotgun he saw the same Elite charging him, his plasma rifle kicking up dust at his feet. Webb dove out of the way, jumped up, and took cover behind a tree. He jutted his head out and took aim at the Elite now bringing up his plasma rifle to fire on him.
Webb waited until the Elite’s chest was centered in his sights and gently squeezed the trigger. The weapon slammed back into his shoulder and the blast was deafening. At this range the shotgun tore through the Covenants shields and left a large purple hole in his torso.
Webb jogged out and scanned the battle for his Warthog. He spotted it by the distinctive red stripes on the flank of the vehicle. It was flipped and he could see both of his men lying by the truck. There wasn’t much left of James, but John was leaned against the hood, his one remaining arm weakly, firing his pistol at passing enemies.
Webb dodged a plasma grenade and ran over to him. He took a position beside John and sent an exposed Jackal to meet his maker.
John looked up at him, his eyes full of fear, "I’m hit, I can’t feel my arm man, how bad is it."
Webb looked down and saw John’s arm lying behind him. He lifted it and held it in front of John.
"Oh, shit, my arm’s gone, well damn that sucks!" John groaned.
As Webb bent down to fix the wound, a charged up plasma blast hit John in the head, turning his face into a mass of brains and bone fragments; splattering Webb with blood. He whirled and spotted a Jackal, his pistol overheated from firing a charged plasma bolt.
Webb seized his chance and darted forward. When he was right on top of the short Jackal, he kicked his yellow arm shield aside and shoved his shotgun into its mouth. He pulled the trigger and watched as the Jackal’s head turned into a gory, string-like mess of violet and pink brains and facial matter.
As he turned around he noticed his shotgun had been jammed by the Jackal’s blood. He didn’t have time to clear the blockage so he slung it back around him and drew his plasma rifle. He looked up to see the last Hunter fire at him. Before he knew what he was doing, he had dove out of the way, escaping unscathed. Webb brought up his plasma rifle and fired.
Major Harland was in the seat adjacent to the driver of the Scorpion. He was currently trying to get a good shot on the remaining Wraith. The Scorpion tank itself, was designed to be driven by one person, but if there was another person handy, there was a gunner’s seat allowing smoother operation of the Scorpion.
He got his sights lined up and his targeting reticle went red. "Target, two o’clock. Firing." The 120mm armor-piercing round darted from the tank’s barrel and lanced itself into the Wraith. The Covenant tank exploded in a shower of fire, and shrapnel.
Looking around, Harland saw very little opposition. His marines were wiping up the rest of them. Casualties were less than five percent. Phase Two was complete.
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