Halo: Trojan Horse

1205 HOURS, MAY 16, 2530 (MILITARY CALENDAR) \ ETA ERIDANUS SYSTEM, OVER PLANET ERIDANUS II

Bryan didn't know how he had gotten here. He had joined the Corps in 2526 and been transferred to the Orbital Drop Shock Troopers shortly thereafter, something he liked to think Chris would have approved of. Chris’s was part of the Corps, and Chris used to dress himself up in his father’s fatigues when they played soldiers as boys. Bryan shook the thoughts from his head. There wasn't time for this. The Covenant had been detected at long range. The populous was the personification of utter chaos. His unit had been attached to the UNSC Socrates, part of a standard patrol of the outer colonies, when the long range scanners had picked up the Slipspace rupture. Their job was to land on the planet and maintain the peace, but it was a job for more than his little squad. Bryan was a Corporal. He had been since he was promoted in 2529, and probably would be for his entire military career. He had joined the Corps more to honor Chris's memory than for his own self, and he had never truly aspired to much. But what could he do? Now he was here, trying to calm his breathing as his Human Entry Vehicle shook violently and began to heat up; his destination: a more than likely doomed city on some God forsaken planet. He missed Earth, with its natural atmosphere, rather than these damned domes that controlled the weather. The heat as his HEV shot through Eridanus II’s atmosphere reminded him of his home in a region that had once been called Arizona.

“We hit dirt in thirty seconds,” Bryan’s superior, a Second Lieutenant he’d never really gotten to know, came over the little radio in each of the HEVs. “We’ll be landing one mile outside of Elysium City. When you’re on the ground, regroup at my pod and away further orders. That is all. Burkhard over and out.” The radio cut off. Bryan went over the layout of the city in his head again. He had been to Elysium City – the capital of Eridanus II – only once before, back while he was still in training, but he hadn’t really ventured out of the garrison where he’d been stationed. All he recalled about the city was the space elevator that dominated the skyline, which led to the planet’s only spaceport. That would be problematic, Bryan thought to himself. In all likelihood, all evacuations would go through that one spaceport. What a mess this was going to be. A few seconds later, Bryan’s HEV impacted with the surface, sending shooting pain up through Bryan’s whole body. He’d never gotten used to this. The door shot away from the pod like it was designed to and Bryan grabbed the M6C pistol and M7 submachine gun that had been held fast to his left and right, releasing from their fastenings automatically only just before the door shot out, and jumped out, ready for any hostility even though he doubted there would be any. He reached up and fiddled with his helmet a bit, finally giving it a harsh tap. The screen polarized and his heads-up display lit up with information, but he ignored most of it. All he was concerned with was the NAV marker, which was west of his location. That was where the lieutenant had landed, and that was where he was heading. He turned and grabbed a pack from the HEV filled with standard supplies, holstered both weapons, and then set out west.

It only took him a few minutes to reach the gathering platoon ahead: Fifth Platoon, Bravo Company, 802^nd Battalion. As far as Bryan knew, all of Bravo Company had been deployed to Elysium City by the UNSC Socrates. There were four platoons in Bravo Company, and each had been deployed to a different cardinal direction. If the city were, for some reason, already compromised, then it was surrounded and could be easily retaken before enemy defenses were set up. Of course, no one really thought the city would be compromised. It was just a precaution. Expect the best, but plan for the worst, and all that whatnot. Second Lieutenant Burkhard was already organizing the rest of the platoon when Bryan arrived.

“You sure took your time, Corporal,” she chided.

“Apologies, sir,” Bryan replied.

“Now that all of our squad leaders are here, let’s lay out the plan. We’re going to approach Elysium City from the north, establish contact with the local authorities, and help organize the evacuation. When we arrive at the city, I will give further orders. Understood?”

“Yes, sir!” the three sergeants and Bryan responded.

“Master Gunns,” Burkhard started, looking over at Master Gunnery Sergeant Wimbleton, “Accompany Corporal Hänkel.” Wimbleton grunted and nodded, and then the platoon set out south towards the city. Even from here, Bryan could make out the outline of the space elevator, rising above the rest of the city far into the sky, seeming unending.

As they arrived in the city, a siren could be heard blaring. Civilians ran about in the streets, some towards the space elevator that led to the spaceport, but most just in no general direction but away. They knew what was coming, and they knew there was no escape except off the planet. Still, hundreds of automobiles were backed up on nearly every street in an attempt to get out of the city. Some thought they could just hide in caves and let the enemy pass, but in their hearts, they knew that they were all doomed. Bravo Company’s job, for the moment at least, was to maintain order. Burkhard spent a few moments on her COM, presumably with command, and then came to address the others.

“Even after abandoning all cargo and turning the freighters into evacuation shuttles, there is only so much room. Our orders are to try and organize the evacuation, but not to prevent people from fleeing the city.” The order was a hard one. Anyone fleeing the city was surely going to die and all of the soldiers knew it, many having seen it firsthand as the various Outer Colonies fell. The Covenant would glass this planet. That was inevitable. The real question was how many civilians got off the planet before that happened. “Corporal, I want you to head towards the space elevator with your squad. Try and free up traffic heading towards the elevator as much as possible. You know how civilians can be.” Bryan nodded and set out with his squad and the platoon sergeant. As he left, he could faintly hear the orders to the other sergeants detailing other key locations around the city. Not too far ahead, they ran into their first bit of trouble.

“You two!” Bryan shouted. Two men, who had previously been fighting, turned to regard the squad of ODSTs.

“He started it!” one yelled, pointing accusingly at the other.

“Not uh! It was him!” the other cried.

“I don’t care if it was your mama, get moving,” Wimbleton yelled. Both men gave each other menacing looks. “I said get moving!” Both jumped at the threatening voice and took off running.

“Little crowd control never hurt anyone, right Master Gunns?” Bryan laughed.

“You ever heard of Arizona III?” Wimbleton questioned, his tone almost threatening.

“I was born there. Why?” Bryan replied. Wimbleton knew it, too, and Bryan knew exactly how he would respond.

“Well aint it a small world? I’m sure you’ve heard of the rebellion there in twenty-four ninety-nine. You think about that, and then tell me a little crowd control never hurt anyone.” Bryan smiled. “Don’t you be giving me that smile!” Wimbleton shouted.

“Yes, sir!” Hänkel wisely replied. “We know anything about the Covenant force inbound yet, sir?”

“Nothing yet. All I know is that the boys upstairs aren’t happy, and these sirens are blaring in my ears.” Wimbleton scanned the intersection they were standing by. Spying another fight, he began walking over to the brawlers, muttering to himself about this generation. Hänkel turned the other direction to see two cars collide. He keyed his COM.

“This is Corporal Bryan Hänkel, service number seven-niner-tree-two-zero dash niner-wun-zero-fife-ait dash bravo-hotel. I’m at grid golf-wun-wun dash alpha-tree-niner in Elysium City. There’s been an accident. I need medical personnel here as soon as possible. Over.”

“Roger that, Corporal. A Warthog has been dispatched from grid golf-zero-wun dash hotel-tree-ait. Estimated time of arrival is two minutes. Over and out.” The communications tech closed the channel. Bryan ran over to the wreck.

“You guys alright?” he asked, pulling one bleeding man from the twisted, burning wreckage of an Uberchassis.

“We’re fine,” called a man in the other vehicle, stepping down from his hardly dented ‘Hog. He helped a woman who appeared to be his wife down from the passenger side. “How’s he?” the man asked, pointing at the wounded driver of the Uberchassis.

“Wounds look superficial to me. I think he’ll survive,” Bryan replied, noting that the rest of his squad had moved on to deal with other issues.

“If we get off this planet,” the woman said nervously.

“Hush, now. We’re all going to be fine.” The man whispered, looked to Bryan for support.

“Where were you guys headed?” Bryan asked, avoiding the subject.

“We have relatives with an underground bunker out of the city. They’re going to lock themselves in, and we figured it’d be safe there,” the woman stated quickly, obviously worried and unsure of herself.

“You guys need to get to the space elevator. That’s your only ticket off this planet, and getting off this planet is your only ticket to safety,” Bryan corrected. The man nodded knowingly, but the woman still seemed worried or afraid.

“We’ve got to get my parents then!” she practically shouted.

“Honey, we don’t have time. They won’t get on starships anyway.” The man tried to calm his wife. She swatted his arm away angrily.

“We have got to get my parents!” she repeated. She stormed off to the ‘Hog. “Are you coming!?” she yelled to her husband. He just shook his head with resignation. “Give me the keys then!” He shook his head again. “GIVE ME THE KEYS!” He just continued shaking his head, looking down at the ground. She opened a small compartment and reached in to grab something. Bryan clicked the safety off his M6C as he drew it. The woman came back into view pointing an old M6B at Bryan. “THE KEYS!” she shouted at the top of her lungs, “OR I’LL BLOW HIS BRAINS OUT!”

“Put down the gun!” Bryan yelled at her, pointing his own more powerful pistol at her. “I will not hesitate to shoot you, and I’m wearing combat armor.” The husband gave Bryan a surprised look, but neither did nor said a thing.

“YOU SHUT UP!” she screamed, lowering the gun for a moment. Bryan shot her once in the shoulder before she could shift the gun back towards him. Her gun discharged, but the bullet flew harmlessly to the left. She spun around, dropping her weapon as she slumped down, face first into the driver’s seat. Bryan keyed his COM again.

“This is Corporal Bryan Hänkel, service number seven-niner-tree-two-zero dash niner-wun-zero-fife-ait dash bravo-hotel. I’m at grid golf-wun-wun dash bravo-tree-niner in Elysium City. We’ve got two injured.”

“Roger that, Corporal. The Warthog should be arriving any second now. Over and out.” As the channel closed, an M813 Warthog with a big red cross painted on it pulled up.

“Anyone call for a medic?” one man, a petty officer third class called.

“I did. He was injured in an automobile accident,” Bryan explained, pointing to the wounded man from the Uberchassis, “and I had to shoot her: she lost it and pulled a gun.” He then pointed to the woman in the ‘Hog.

“Roger that,” the petty officer, a Navy corpsman said. The other two medics, also petty officers third class, helped load the two wounded into the back of their Warthog.

“Now, you head to the space elevator like I said, alright?” Bryan instructed the man. He nodded and got back into the ‘Hog.

“What will happen to my wife?” he inquired.

“The wounded are going to be the first off this planet. She’ll be safe enough.” The man seemed to nod, and then got back into the vehicle and drove off towards the space elevator. Bryan keyed his COM to the other members of his squad. “Break up into six groups of two and start a march towards the space elevator. Break up fights, call in wounded, move wrecked vehicles off the road, etcetera. Master Gunns and I will take this street.” The others nodded and obliged, breaking each fire team in half and spreading out.

“Well, let’s get moving,” Wimbleton grumbled. The two set out, bantering about this and that, stories they’d each heard a hundred times over the course of the year they’d known each other.

I like it.

Agreed

CHAPTER ONE
TWELVTH CYCLE, 05 UNITS, 9TH AGE OF RECLAMATION (COVENANT BATTLE CALENDAR) \ ABOARD BATTLECRUISER ENLIGHTENED PATIENCE, FRINGE OF ETA ERIDANUS SYSTEM

Enne ‘Orfumee stood on the bridge of the Enlightened Patience, surveying the meager human defenses of the planet designated 054. Like any other Sangheili warrior, Enne stood at two and a half units, covered in rippled muscles. His newly shined golden armor added to his figure, marked with the symbol of courage on its back.

“What do preliminary Luminary scans show of the planet?” Enne asked a Minor Domo.

“Excellency, it is definitely a vermin-infested planet. There are five vermin ships in orbit around the planet, as well as one spaceport. All of them are filled with relics of the Ancients.” Enne nodded and then turned back to the viewscreen displaying the planet. He zoomed in, moving the camera across a field of tall grass.

“This will be our glory alone. I want to know more about the vermin ships,” Enne ordered.

“Excellency, should we not wait for the others to arrive?” one of the other Sangheili, a Major Domo asked.

“We will not share glory when it need not be shared! We will burn these ships, and then we will burn the scum from that planet until it is clean!” Enne shouted.

“But Excellency…”

“Halt thy mouth before I have your mandibles removes!” Enne threatened, his hand drifting towards the hilt of his energy sword. “I will have no such mutiny on my vessel.” The Major Domo stepped back.

“This is a mistake, Excellency,” he quietly stated. Without a second thought, Enne drew the sword and was swinging it even before the blade had activated. His expert cut took both of the Major Domo’s lower mandibles.

“I said I will have no such mutiny on my vessel!” he screamed, menacing the injured Major Domo with his sword. “Clean up this mess!” he shouted at a pair of nearby Unggoy who had watched the entire confrontation. They hesitated, clearly petrified in fear at their hostile commander. “CLEAN IT NOW!” he shrieked. The two Unggoy jumped and immediately rushed forward to wipe up the purple blood and remove the two mandibles. “Any other suggestions?” the deranged Ship Master asked, deactivating his sword. “Now, about the ships.”

“Excellency, there are two frigates, a cruiser, and two destroyers.”

“We will launch a strike and then pass around the planet to avoid being fired upon. Perhaps the vermin will hit their own planet with their primitive cannons. Have the plasma charged and ready to fire.” The Minor Domo nodded before relaying the order to weapons control. The Enlightened Patience loomed towards the enemy planet. The five ships turned to meet it. Enne was only slightly worried about the situation. Born and raised on Sanghelios, he had been taught that enemies without honor were unworthy of even holding a name, and during his training upon entry into the service of the Covenant’s military, he had been taught that these vermin had no honor, that they hoarded the relics of the ancients, and would even destroy them before allowing them to fall into the rightful hands of the Covenant. Therefore, by simple logic, five ships should be no match for a mighty Sangheili Ship Master. The Enlightened Patience rushed onward towards the planet. The five enemy ships all simultaneously launched barrages of missiles at the ship as it came in range.

“Excellency, we are counting six hundred five enemy missiles!” a Minor Domo at a terminal cried.

“Activate point defense! The pulse lasers should make short work of the missiles,” Enne coolly replied, wondering how such a coward had ended up on his bridge. Through brilliant tactics, he had gotten a break: he would be well behind the planet before the enemies could bring their main weapons online, and his ship, a battle cruiser, could easily withstand a two hundred or even four hundred missile barrage. Six hundred was a stretch, but point defense would probably eliminate half of them. “Spin up a plasma torpedo. Target one of the frigates,” Enne ordered. The Minor Domo awaited his command. “Burn it!” he called out. The soft purple lights that lit up the control room flickered as the torpedo fired. Enne watched the holo-display as one of the frigates tried to veer out of the way of the plasma torpedo. It suddenly and rather violently listed to port, narrowly escaping the guided ball of plasma. Rather than turning the shot around for another pass, the Minor Domo took the other frigate by surprise. It lit up in a giant ball of nuclear fallout as it took the shot through its fusion reactor.

“Excellency, we have managed to eliminate three hundred forty-two of the enemy missiles,” a Major Domo announced.

“Perfect.” The words had hardly left Enne’s mouth when the ship rocked under the impact of the other two hundred or so missiles. “Damage report?” Enne asked.

“Only eight of the missiles got through our shields, and of them, four failed to explode,” the Major Domo reported. Enne clicked his mandibles, the equivalent of a smirk or grin.

“Tell me when our shields are back up,” he ordered. “And order all Spirits to begin the invasion. Send everything we have. The vermin will be too busy awestruck by our supreme power to notice as we drive this blade into their back.” Ten seconds later, the entire ship was replaced by a giant nuclear fireball, and a few seconds after that, it ceased to exist altogether.

1224 HOURS (SHIP’S TIME), MAY 16, 2530 (MILITARY CALENDAR) \ ETA ERIDANUS SYSTEM, UNSC FRIGATE SOCRATES

Two smears of nuclear waste marked the TACMAP aboard the UNSC Socrates. Commander Michael Bartnett surveyed the carnage that had ensued. Both the enemy CCS-class battle cruiser and the frigate UNSC Plato had been utterly destroyed, the first by a handful of time-delayed Shiva missiles and the second by a giant ball of plasma commonly referred to as a plasma torpedo. What a waste of life. All things considered, however, this wasn’t as bad as normal. Normally, two ships were lost for every one Covenant ship destroyed. That the time-delayed nuke plan the commander of the UNSC Erwin Rommel had come up with had worked, truly surprising Bartnett. He hadn’t seen or spoken to its captain, Commander Brandon Rebuga, in almost a year, but he knew the man was sharp.

“Scan for lifepods around the Plato,” Bartnett ordered.

“No lifepods dete…sir! We’re picking up Slipspace exit vectors just outside the system,” Ensign Brando Zuniga, the operations officer, reported. A display was brought up on the main screen. Pinpoints of space turned electric green and then there was a flash as another Covenant battlecruiser came into existence as if from nowhere.

“How many are there?”

“I’m counting just one, sir: a CCS-class battlecruiser.” Another member of the scouting party, no doubt. When it rained, it poured.

“How close are those reinforcements?”

“It will take that prowler at least an hour to reach the nearest colony, and another hour for any ships to get back,” Lieutenant Michael Koncar, the communications officer, replied. “That is if the prowler is ignoring that new protocol...Cole Protocol I think it’s called. If he is, we’re in for some trouble.”

“Then get ready for a fight. If we’re all going to die, we’re going to die with our cold dead hands around our enemy’s throat.”

“Aye sir!” The usual bustle of the bridge became even more frantic as the Socrates prepared for battle. This would be a difficult battle indeed: four on one would have been what Bartnett called a fair fight. If Covenant reinforcements arrived…that would no longer be the case.

“Koncar, get me a COM link with the Gettysburg. I want to talk with Captain Eisenbise about our current situation. Luke, what is our MAC read out?”

“Sir, the MAC is now fully charged,” Lieutenant Ben Luke replied. “We also have twenty-two Archer pods remaining, sir.”

“Sir, I know this isn’t my duty, but aren’t those enemy drop ships?” Lieutenant Junior Grade Reid Purinton asked, pointing out the main viewport with the stub of his right index finger. He was the navigator, and was reported to have 20/6 vision, but couldn’t make it as a marksman because he had lost his right index, middle, and ring fingers up to the second knuckle in a freak accident during boot camp. After medical discharge, he’d been accepted into the Navy.

“Bring that up on the main screen now!” Bartnett commanded. Ensign Zuniga tapped a few commands at his terminal, and the area Purinton had indicated zoomed to eight hundred percent. It almost looked like it was raining purple tuning forks based on the sheer volume of Spirit dropships flying at the northern ice cap of Eridanus II. “Shit! Alert the Marines groundside immediately!”

“This is Captain Eisenbise. You rang? Over.” sounded over the COM.

“Sir, we have an emergency. Spirit dropships are preparing to land at the northern ice cap. Over,” Bartnett frantically yelled.

“We knew this day would come the moment we detected that battle cruiser. The invasion of Eridanus II has begun. Deploy any Marines still aboard your vessel. We need to hold the planet long enough for the shuttles to get out of dodge. Now calm down. That Rebuga kid’s idea with the Shivas worked, so we managed to take one of those bastards down. I’ll send orders when I’ve decided what to do about this new one. In the mean time, all vessels should initiate Cole Protocol. Over and out.” Bartnett feebly nodded his head. He’d faced the Covenant once before in combat, and it was not an experience he particularly wanted to relive. He paced the bridge impatiently, glancing nervously at the main screen.

“You heard him. Wipe our NAV database,” Bartnett ordered. “Now then, any sign of boarding parties?”

“None, sir. All Spirits are directed at the planet.”

“Good.” Bartnett offered no explanation. He only glanced nervously at the main screen. “What about the enemy ship. What is it doing?”

“Sir, I have no idea. It’s just…sitting there.”

“Alright, well, give the word for all remaining Marine forces to prepare to head groundside,” Bartnett ordered. “By the looks of that Covenant force, we’re going to need to hit them with everything we’ve got.”

Nice new chapter

I LIKEZ IT ALL!!!

lol @ "commander brandon rebuga". You like using your name in your stories?

Did you know that the entire bridge crew of the Socrates are all real people? And that the entire bridge crew of the Erwin Rommel, and everyone in the 802^nd with the exception of Master Gunnery Sergeant Wimbleton?

CHAPTER TWO
1337 HOURS, MAY 16, 2530 (MILITARY CALENDAR) \ ETA ERIDANUS SYSTEM, ERIDANUS II, ELYSIUM CITY

“This is Corporal Bryan Hänkel, service number seven-niner-tree-two-zero dash niner-wun-zero-fife-ait dash bravo-hotel. I’m at grid golf-zero-fower dash golf-zero-fife in Elysium City. Bravo Squad, Fifth Platoon has arrived at the space elevator. Requesting further orders. Over.”

“Roger that, Corporal. There is a Covenant force moving in from north of the city. E-T-A on their arrival is one zero forty hours. Fifth Platoon is going to head it off while Sixth Platoon guards key areas in the city and Seventh and Eighth Platoon guard the space elevator. Take your men to grid golf wun-wun dash alpha-zero-two. Fifth Platoon will be forming up in that area. Alpha Company is on its way to Elysium City. Charlie and Delta Company were both aboard the Plato, which was destroyed. Over and Out.”

“Men, we’ve got hostiles approaching from the north. They’ll be here by midnight. We’re to help set up the primary defenses until the rest of the battalion gets here. Move!” The squad set out at once north, back the way they’d come. However, rather than scattered lines of cars and unruly citizens, they marched past an organized line of vehicles. The civilians had really shaped up with a little military structure thrown in.

It took the squad five hours to traverse the thirty mile stretch of road from the space elevator to the outskirts of the city, but none complained about the long walk in the heat while wearing all black. They were Helljumpers, and Helljumpers didn’t complain. They were the second squad from Fifth Platoon to arrive, beaten only by Alpha Squad, which was being lead by Second Lieutenant Burkhard at the moment.

“Corporal. I see you didn’t stop to smell the roses this time. Glad you’re already here. Alpha Company will be coming in by way of Pelican. While they’re sipping wine, we’ll be setting up a line of defense down here. However, they will be bringing vehicles, Warthogs mostly, and for that, I am grateful. Now then, your men are going to set up on our eastern-most flank. Head to grid hotel-wun-three dash alpa zero-two and set up there. There should be a few abandoned office buildings in the area that you can commandeer. I want your marksmen up there. The Socrates sent some weapons down in HEVs about an hour ago, so go talk with the men over there about sniper rifles.” Burkhard indicated a group of ODST who were laboring to organize several tables with weapons. Bryan walked that way, his squad right behind him.

“Good afternoon, gentlemen. We’re setting up on the east flank. What have you got for us?” he inquired.

“Bravo Squad, Fifth Platoon? We’ve got two S-R-S ninety nine C sniper rifles, nine M-A five B assault rifles, one M ninety shotgun, one M nineteen jackhammer, and one M-A five K carbine.” The ODST swept out his hand to indicate the eastern-most table which had the aforementioned weapons on it. Bryan nodded and moved over to the table.

“I’ll take the carbine,” Wimbleton called. “You can put me on the roof with those snipers. I’m a helluva shot.”

“Alright, Wimbleton gets the carbine. Steller and Smitty take the snipers. Wagner takes the shotgun. The rest of you grab assault rifles,” Bryan ordered, taking the M19 Jakhammer surface to surface missile launcher himself. Turning back to the ODST in charge of logistics, he asked, “Do we have any maps of the city? Specifically of the northern outskirts?” The Helljumper shook his head. “Damn.” With that, Bryan and his squad set out east to their designated spot.

It was a half hour trek to get into position, and another half hour to set up, but at about eight o’clock in the evening, Bravo Squad was in position with three marksman and Bryan positioned in several office buildings on various floors and the rest set up in three other buildings in the vicinity. Bryan was with Wimbleton so that he could properly survey the area.

“This is Corporal Hänkel. What is the E-T-A on those hostile forces? Over,” he asked over his COM.

“They’ll get here when they get here, Corporal,” Burkhard responded. “Just be glad they aint here yet. Over and out.”

“Typical…” Bryan sighed. He turned to Wimbleton. “So, what do you carry that damned sword around for, anyway?” he asked for the fourth time since they’d hit dirt.

“Family heirloom. My great great great…great grandfather practically had it reforged so that it was actually feasible in combat. I added a few additions of my own. Diamond edge, sharpened by lasers; this thing is keen enough to cut through steel if I apply enough force behind a swing. The newest addition, though, is a little E-M-P field around the blade. Those swords the tall aliens like to wield are effectively plasma contained in an E-M-P field, according to some pencil-pushing techy I overhead at lunch a year ago on the Socrates, so by adding one to my sword, I can theoretically parry an energy blade, or deflect a shot of plasma from one of their other weapons, if I needed to. Haven’t tested it yet, though, so we’ll see.”

“You think you could deflect a regular bullet, much less a globule of plasma?” Lance Corporal Stellar asked over the private COM the marksman were all chatting on.

“I don’t just think I can, I have. Part of my training.”

“I never got trained in that sort of thing,” Private Smitty mumbled.

“Course you didn’t. You weren’t part of…” Wimbleton stopped himself.

“Part of what?” Bryan persisted. He knew Wimbleton wouldn’t say, had asked this same question scores of times before, but he asked anyway.

“Classified,” was all Wimbleton mumbled.

“Oh, you can’t keep it secret forever,” Bryan complained.

“Oh, I know. But I can and will keep it a secret until it’s declassified.” It was the same retort Bryan had heard plenty of times before.

“Sir,” Smitty started. “I think I’ve got movement on the horizon: a dust cloud. Looks like the hostiles are finally here.”

“Bout damned time,” Stellar commented almost happily. “I been itching to kill me some Covenant.”

“Yeah, I’m sure we’re all happy to see our enemy here on this planet,” Bryan deadpanned, bringing them all back to the bitter truth: the Covenant would win here in the end. Bryan reported the sighting over the SQUADCOM, and then all was silent. The two marksman and Wimbleton were sighted down scopes, eager to put a bullet between some Covenant bastard’s eyes.

“I’ve got eyes on three Spirits,” Smitty reported.

“Spirits? I thought you said there was a dust cloud?”

“They must be flying so low they’re kicking up dust,” Wimbleton interrupted. “Two are towing Spectres. One is towing a Wraith.”

“Great! They’re already bringing in vehicles. We’ve got sniper rifles, not anti-material rifles!” Stellar complained.

“This is Corporal Hänkel. What’s the status on Alpha Company? We’ve got heavy vehicles inbound. Are we going to have vehicle support? Over,” Bryan asked again over his COM with Burkhard.

“We’ve got two Scorpions and a Cobra on their way, Corporal. Stop your bellyaching. They should arrive in an hour. Over and out.”

“With all due respect, Second Lieutenant, we don’t have an hour. Over.”

“I said ‘over and out,’ Corporal. Discussion is over.” Bryan sighed and keyed off the COM with Burkhard and hefted the rocket launcher he’d brought.

“We’ve got friendly vehicles an hour away. Do you guys think we can hold out until then?” Stellar and Smitty keyed their COM once, the equivalent of a nod. “Good.”

So tell us who the real people really are!
-Etsharrin Hopsarrith