“I’m glad to hear it,” the Chief answered dryly, and felt the beam pull him upward. Someone else yelled, “Yeehaw!” and vanished into the belly of the ship. The Covenant didn’t realize it yet – but the Marines had landed.
None of the humans understood, much less had the ability to predict, the ring world’s weather. So, when big drops of blood-warm rain fell on the mesa, it came as a complete surprise. The Helljumpers grumbled as the water streamed off their faces, soaked their uniforms, and started to pool on the surface of the landing pad.
McKay saw things differently, however. She liked the wet stuff, not just because it felt good on her skin, but because bad weather would offer the insertion team that much more cover.
“Listen up, people!” Sergeant Lister bellowed. “You know the drill. Let’s shake, rattle, and roll.”
There weren’t many lights, just enough so that people could move around without running into one another, but the fact that Silva had been on such missions himself meant that he could visualize what his eyes couldn’t see.
The troopers carried a full combat load, which meant that their packs were festooned with weapons, ammo, grenades, flares, radios, and med packs – all of which would make noise unless properly secured. Noise would bring a world of trouble down on their heads during an op. That’s why Lister passed through the ranks and forced each Marine to jump up and down. Anything that clicked, squeaked, or rattled was identified and restowed, taped, or otherwise fastened into place.
Once all the troops had passed inspection, the Helljumpers would board the waiting dropships for a short flight to the point where the Pillar of Autumn had crashed. The Covenant had placed guards in and around the fallen cruiser, so McKay and her Marines would have to retake the ship long enough to fill the extensive shopping list that Silva had given her.
According to Wellsley, Napoleon I once said, “What makes the general’s task so difficult is the necessity of feeding so many men and animals.”
Silva didn’t have any animals to feed, but he did have a flock of Pelicans, and the essence of the problem was the same. With the exception of the ODST troopers, who carried extra supplies in their HEVs, the rest of the Navy and Marine personnel had bailed out of the Autumn with very little in the way of supplies. Obtaining more of everything, and doing it before the Covenant launched an all-out attack on Alpha Base, would be the key to survival. Later, assuming there was a later, the infantry officer would have to find a way to get his people the hell off the ring world.
Silva’s thoughts were interrupted as Echo 419 raced in over the mesa, flared nose up, and settled onto what had been designated as Pad 3.
The assault on the Truth and Reconciliation had gone well so far, which meant that Second Lieutenant Dalu, who had been assigned to follow along behind the rescue team and scoop up everything he could, was having a good evening. Each time Echo 419 dropped a load of troops she brought enemy arms and equipment back in. Plasma rifles, plasma pistols, needlers, power packs, hand tools, com equipment, and even food packs. Dalu loved them all.
Silva grinned as the Lieutenant waved a team of Naval techs in under the Pelican’s belly to take delivery of the Shade he and his team had lifted right out from under the Covenant’s collective noses. That was the third gun acquired since the beginning of the operation, and would soon take its place within the butte’s steadily growing air defense system.
Sergeant Lister shouted, “Ten-shun!”, did a smart about-face, and saluted Lieutenant McKay. She returned the salute, and said, “At ease.”
Silva walked out into the rain and felt it pelt his face. He turned to look at the ranks of black, brown, and white faces. All he saw were Marines.
“Most, if not all of you, are familiar with my office aboard the Pillar of Autumn. In the rush to leave it seems that I left a full bottle of Scotch in the lower left-hand drawer of my desk. If one or more of you would be so kind as to retrieve that bottle, not only would I be extremely grateful, I would show my gratitude by sharing it with the person or persons who manage to bring it in.”
There was a roar of approval. Lister shouted them down. “Silence! Corporal, take that man’s name.” The Corporal to whom the order was directed had no idea which name he was supposed to take down, but knew it didn’t matter.
Silva knew the Helljumpers had been briefed, and understood the true purpose of the mission, so he brought his remarks to a close.
“Good luck out there... I’ll see you in a couple of days.” Except that he wouldn’t see them, not all of them. Good commanding officers had to love their men – and still be willing to order their deaths if needed. It was the aspect of command he hated the most.
The formation was dismissed. The Marines jogged up into the back of the waiting Pelicans, and the dropships soon disappeared into the blackness of the night.
Silva remained on the pad until the sound of the engines could no longer be heard. Then, conscious of the fact that every war must be won on the equivalent of paper before it can be won on the ground, he turned back toward the low-lying structure that housed his command post. The night was still young – and there was plenty of work left to do.
The gravity lift deposited the rescue team three feet above the deck. They hung suspended for a moment, then fell. Parker gave a series of hand signals, and the ODSTs crept forward into the lift bay.
The Covenant equivalent of gear crates – tapered rectangular boxes made from the shimmering, striated purple metal the aliens favored – were stacked around the high compartment. A pair of Covenant tanks, “Wraiths,” were lined along the right side of the bay.
The Master Chief moved forward toward one of the high metal doors that were spaced along the perimeter of the compartment.
Parker gave the all clear signal and the Marines relaxed a bit. “There’s no Covenant here,” one of them whispered, “so where the hell are they?”
The door was proximity activated, and as he neared the portal, it slid open and revealed a surprised Elite. Without pause, the Spartan tackled the alien and slammed its armored head into the burnished deckplates. With luck, he’d finished the Elite quietly enough–
Another set of doors flashed open on the other side of the bay, and Covenant troops boiled into the compartment.
A second Marine turned to the Corporal who’d just spoken. “‘No Covenant,’” he snarled, mocking his fellow trooper. “You just had to open your mouth, didn’t you?”
Inside the Covenant ship, chaos reigned. The Master Chief charged ahead, and the rescue team fought their way through a maze of interlocking corridors, which eventually emerged into a large shuttle bay. A Covenant dropship passed through a bright blue force field as all hell broke loose. Fire stuttered down from a platform above. A Marine took a flurry of needles in the chest and was torn in half by the ensuing explosion.
A Grunt dropped from above and landed on a Corporal’s shoulders. The Marine reached up, got a grip on the alien’s methane rig, and jerked the device off. The Grunt started to wheeze, fell to the deck, and flopped around like a fish. Someone shot him.
Numerous hatches opened into the bay and additional Covenant troops poured in from every direction. Parker stood up and motioned his men forward. “It’s party time!” he bellowed.
He spun and opened fire, and was soon joined by all the rest. Within a matter of seconds what seemed like a dozen different firefights had broken out. Wounded and dead – humans and Covenant alike – littered the deck.