Pheonix War

Last post 01-08-2009, 3:59 PM by Delta0. 54 replies.
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  •  10-28-2008, 6:04 PM 395956 in reply to 394415

    Re: Pheonix War

    Okay, sorry it took awhile, but here is seven.  Also, eight should be out soon. 

    btw, thanks for the names Ablot, methinking 'Vengeance' or mabye 'Reclamation' are sounding good for prophet names.

     

    Chapter Seven

    22.05.2576

    Station ENIGMA

    System CLASSIFIED [SIERRA CLEARANCE REQUIRED]

     

                Subjects appear to be adapting well to the Mk.VIB MJOLNIR system.  Despite lowered levels of protection from the Mk.VI, subjects from Gamma Company and S-062 concur that the ‘B’ variant is superior, or at least equal, to the Mk.VI and SPI-III armor systems when used for advanced front-line engagements.  Combinations of the new color scheme, active camouflage, and captured Covenant powered armor technology create an ideal system for such units. Perhaps it should also be adapted for the S-IIIB reconnaissance squads? A change in designation is a recommended however, it is only aesthetically similar to the Mk.VI, we really should be calling it SPI-IV.

    Also, recommend an adjustment to the armor’s power output, G043 was injured by an overload in the energized armor system when he came under fire while running the [CLASSIFIED] scenario.

                                                                                        -Notes on MJOLNIR MK.VIB Armor

     

    10 December 2583; Military Calendar

    Twenty kilometers outside Saunders City, New Cyprus

                The M12’s engine slowly silenced as the squad of commandos dismounted and formed up a few meters ahead of the vehicle.  Anthony looked around making sure the small cluster of foliage in the relatively open lands around Saunders City was enough to provide concealment for their transport.  Satisfied he addressed his teammates, “Alright, we will be sticking with plan Bravo for now.  Charlie, I want you and Jack to break off and recon the airfield, if the Covenant missed something, it’s probably there.  Tom, you and I will head for Saunders and see if we can’t dig something up there.  You Spartans know the drill, get in, get out, and only make a crapload of noise if you absolutely have to.”

                It did not take a stretch of the imagination to visualize Charlie rolling his eyes at his commander’s order, “Sir, we were at the same briefing, we know what to do.”

                “Just making sure, remember what happened last time I didn’t give you a reminder about the mission details?” the leader said to the sergeant calmly.  Other squad commanders would have exploded at the man, but it was not Anthony’s style, and by now he was used to Charlie’s remarks.

                “Yada, yada, yada, I accidently alerted a few rebels to our position, but hey the explosion I had to make afterwards was pretty awesome,” Charlie said, in a way both acknowledging and undercutting his superior.

                Tom shook his head, “Yeah, and we only made it out of being part of that one by about fifty meters and three seconds.”

                “Whatever, we keep going over the same thing, drop it for once.  Now, let’s figure out what the hell happened here,” Jack added effectively ending the conversation.

                “Agreed,” Anthony shifted back to the mission, “We rendezvous here in eight hours. Sludge will be picking us up at the DZ in ten, so make *** sure you’re here.  Move out, Spartans.”

    .

                “See anything?” Charlie asked of his squadmate.

                Jack shook his head, “Nothing moving, looks like the Covies dropped a whole cruiser’s worth of munitions on the field.”  This was probably a showing of good luck, thought the Spartan.  Movement on the bombed-out base would mean Covenant infantry were or would be soon returning to finish the job of eradicating any survivors.  Even though he had spent the last fourteen years of his life training for combat, Jack hated combat ever since he had gotten his first taste of it in an impromptu hostage-rescue mission at a school near the team’s base of operations.  Now, the chance to escape the fury of battle and only view the aftermath appealed greatly to the armor-clad man.

                “Thermals clear, too?”

                “Yes, now let’s move out.  AC on as of now,” the pair all but disappeared as the active camouflage systems went active and rendered their forms nearly transparent.  The base was almost a kilometer away, but the commandos covered the distance quickly and stopped at the burned-out wreckage of an Army Pelican dropship. 

                Charlie turned on his internal radio and spoke first, “Them craters look pretty shallow, probably just standard plasma munitions methinks.  Lotta flash and bang, but not too much in the way of damage underground.”

                “Right,” Jack said, “and that means we might have survivors in the base’s lower regions.  Let’s move up to the control tower ruins and see if we can’t find a way in.”  They did just that, but the rubble had crushed or blocked any way in, becoming a severe annoyance to the commandos.

                Next they tried the pilot’s barracks, but again luck ran out.  “You know, we could just blast our way in, I have enough explosives…” Charlie said, his voice gaining a tone that would send shivers down the back of anyone who knew him.

                “No, stealth first. I would rather not be in a situation where it’s the two us versus a division or six of Covies,” Jack cut Charlie off.  He was becoming frustrated, the bombing, and apparently a follow-up infantry attack, had destroyed most of the easy access to the underground complex, but then something caught his eye.  A reinforced hanger stood largely intact a few hundred meters away, and the only major damage where something had crashed through its western wall.

                Charlie followed Jack’s gaze, “You thinking what I’m thinking?”

                “Oh, yes,” Jack started off towards the damaged structure.  Upon closer inspection, it had been a crippled Phantom that had ripped through the building, this being denoted by the scarred remains of one of the ships that lay inactive in the hanger.

                “Hmm, stop for a second, I want to check something,” Charlie trailed off as he slipped into the dropship through a hole in one ofits side hatches.  He reemerged a few seconds later carrying a Covenant ‘Mauler’ shotgun, “You have any idea how long I have wanted to get my hands on one of these?” 

                “Let me guess, since we first went over them in basic?” Jack replied, rolling his eyes.

                “Right on,” Charlie attached the weapon to a magnetic clamp on his right hip and a spare magazine for the weapon in an empty utility pouch.  “If you’re interested, there is a Fuel Rod cannon and a couple of plasma grenades lying in that thing, too.

                “Leave ‘em, we might want a backup stash of weapons later,” Jack turned and began heading to a blown-in door recessed into the ground at the rear of the hangar.  The door itself was big enough for a Warthog to fit through it, but the area it led to was not.  Entering the small room, Jack turned to another door on the left side of the space.  This door lead to a gently sloping tunnel that turned to the right a few meters down and continued back.  All along the walls, plasma scoring, chips from ricocheting bullets, and a few metal spikes adorned the tunnel.  Jack’s stomach tightened when he saw a fallen man in a mechanic’s uniform slumped against a charred door as he must have died attempting to open the barrier and survive, even if for just a few more minutes.

                The marker denoting Charlie on Jack’s visor passed him and pulled the body away from the door.  “Poor sod,” Charlie commented, “Now, let’s see if we can’t get this here door open.”

    The commando’s fingers danced on a keypad next to the door and a small screen flashed green above the pad, and the door slid open.  “Am I dead? If this is real I must have died and gone to heaven.”  Charlie asked as he stood in awe of what the door just unveiled.

                “We can only wish,” Jack answered as he saw Charlie’s object of admiration.  It was an ordinance storage bunker for the Air Force’s fighters and Pelicans.  Cases of 23-millimeter cannon shells, cluster bombs, missiles, and other munitions filled the room.  Essentially, it was Charlie’s dream, enough explosives in one area to level a small city and create a huge fireball in the process.  “Don’t get any ideas, now let’s move on.”

                Charlie all but cried, yet the two advanced into a second, wider hallway.  This section lacked the blast marks and the signs of battle, but a streak of dried blood continued for a few meters down the hall and eventually stopped.  Jack dropped to one knee at the end of the streak and examined the trail.  The blood was a few days old and a little had probably evaporated or dissipated in some other way, but to have an end like this was unusual.  A smile appeared under Jack’s faceplate as he realized what this meant. 

                Looking up, Jack saw a door off to the side of the hall about five meters down.  “Charlie, think you can open that?”

                “No problemo, muchacho,” Charlie quipped as he moved up to the door as did his magic on the keypad.

                Just before he could press the ‘open’ button, Jack stopped him, “Shut off your AC first.”

                Charlie did as he shook his head in compliance and then pressed the button.  With a hiss, the door slid open, “Well, lookie here.”

    .

                “I don’t like this,” the voice came over the COM set in Anthony’s helmet.

                “Tom, you never have a good feeling about anything,” Anthony responded to his squadmate.  The two were lying on a hill in the relatively open fields to the southwest of Saunders City and Tom was scanning the ruins of the city for any signs of a hostile presence.  Insofar, he had not seen much activity other than few large craft the pair had never seen before flying to some destination off to the northeast.

                “Hey, I don’t see anything moving in the city and there is that cruiser sitting what, three klicks away?  Maybe some kind of ambush is in there?”  Tom asked.

                “Yeah, and if you can’t see ‘em, it means they’re either concealed or have active camouflage, and even then they would show up on thermals.”

                Turning to look at his barely-visible leader, Tom sighed, “OK, you’re right.  Now let’s get this over with.”  Anthony nodded in agreement and clicked a signal switch that caused a green light to flash twice in Tom’s Heads Up Display.  Swiftly and silently, the two covered the distance to the city’s perimeter and stopped at the wreckage of where a Phantom had slammed into a small structure.

                Anthony signal Tom to check out the ruins, and the Spartan slipped in and out, and then with an all but invisible hand signal let the higher-ranking commando know what he had found.  Two humans lay dead in the rubble, but he could not get a count on any dead Covenant in the dropship.  Nodding in acknowledgement, Anthony gave the order to continue, and Tom took point.

                After five minutes, Tom stopped suddenly and motioned for the pair to find cover. Anthony did, and with a quick look down, made sure his camouflage system was working.  A shudder of slight relief washed over him as he confirmed it did, and then he looked up to see what the commotion was.  A lone Covenant Prowler light vehicle slipped by on the street ahead, both its two-creature crew, and a pair of Jackals, riding as passengers on two side pylons, were using some kind of spotlights to scan the dark, night streets.  The vehicle paused for a second at the intersection, and Anthony held his breath.  A Brute in the elevated gun turret motioned to its packmate driving the front-heavy vehicle to move on, and the transport drove off.

                The commando motioned for his squadmate to come to him, and then said in a low voice, “Well that confirms it, we have Covenant Loyalists in the city.”

                “Yeah, any change in plans?” Tom responded in the same tone.

                “No, but we’ll follow the Prowler down the street, and see if it leads us to something,” the senior Spartan ordered.

                Tom nodded once, “Roger, I’ll take point.”

                The commandos moved out, following the aliens.  Stress grew inside Anthony as the two advanced.  This was an unusual first, as the Spartan had felt anxious, but never been stressed before or during a mission previously.  Although it was his first encounter with the alien races, he could not use that to explain the sense of dread that built up inside him.

                As the two came to point where the transport had stopped, and had its Jackals dismount to briefly check a bombed-out structure, Tom froze and signaled for his comrade to stop.  Anthony could feel the fear radiate out of his subordinate as the Spartan went rigid and attempted to dive to the side.  It was too late however, a blue blast ripped out of the rubble and a wave of plasma enveloped Tom and threw Anthony back.  Stars exploded in front of the lieutenant’s eyes as he slammed into the broken pavement and heard something crack.

    .

     


    "Whoever said the pen is mightier than the sword never encountered automatic weapons."
    -General Douglas MacArthur

    The Pheonix War: Pheonix Rising:
    http://www.halowars.com/forums/thread/378844.aspx
  •  10-29-2008, 5:00 PM 396555 in reply to 395956

    Re: Pheonix War

    nice nice keep up the good work Delta.

    "When I give food to the poor they call me a Saint, when I ask why the poor have no food, they call me a Communist."
    -Dom Hélder Câmara

    Smexy fanfics that I've read on this site so far
    -Phoenix War
    -The Untold Tales
  •  11-08-2008, 9:51 AM 401503 in reply to 396555

    Re: Pheonix War

    Okay, I know it has been a while, but here's chapter ocho

    Chapter Eight

    10 December 2583; Military Calendar

    Jorgenson Air Force Base, New Cyprus

     

                Four men sat in a small storage closet in the underground of the air base, hiding, in hopes of evading detection at the hands of the marauding Brutes and surviving long enough for reinforcements to arrive and wrest control of the planet back.  Hope was beginning to die for the men as they had been underground for two days, and still no one had come looking for them, or had they even received so much as static on the radio set they had appropriated from Echo Company’s HQ.

                Corporal Lee Nguyen was among the four in hiding, and like the rest, he was relieved at their long reprieve from the fighting.  More than anything, the forty-eight hours underground gave him time to reflect on the brutal escape from Saunders.  He and Meyers had emerged from hiding to find a sniper team dashing down the street to flee from the battle they had heard earlier.  The snipers agreed to help Nguyen get back to a command post or any of the rudimentary casualty collection points that had been set up.  Unfortunately, the post they had moved to, Delta Company’s CP, was under heavy attack from Covenant ground forces upon the four’s arrival, and they had to flee after firing just a few shots in the fray. 

                They had managed to backtrack to the location of the WOLFPACK maneuver, and had to almost triple the distance by dodging through back alleys and buildings to evaded enemy patrols.  Along the way the two Marines and the Army snipers found a Corporal Burris who was with them for a few minutes, until he was killed by a Covenant marksman.  In the chaos that ensued, the team managed to appropriate a Warthog and make a mad dash from the city.  Nguyen shook his head, amazed at the thought that the four had made it out alive, even with two Banshee fliers and a Prowler infantry fighting vehicle hot on their tail.

                A moan came from one of the soldiers and Lee turned to face his comrade, “How are you doing, Vick?”  The other Marine’s face was gaunt and the cold sweat that covered his head was no small indicator of his condition.  Having been hit twice in the shoulder by a Type-51 carbine’s radioactive projectiles had left a serious would, but what was worse was the fact the injury was almost certainly infected by some bacteria that the other survivors could not identify.  Over the past twelve hours the effects of the infection seemed to accelerate at surreal speed.

                “Not well, it’s,” another moan, “starting to burn again.”  A flash of pain wiped over Meyers’ face.

                “Okay, hold in there, it will get better,” Lee then addressed one of the Army troops, “Olson, you want to grab some fresh bandages and morphine out of the kit?”

                Popping open the medical kit, the sniper replied, “Sure, here you go.  Just to warn you, we’re down our last two morphine packets.”

                Lee peeled off the old bandages and replaced them with the fresh wrappings.  Next, a syringe of morphine found its way into Meyer’s arm, and the wounded man shuttered as the chemical took away some of his pain.  “Thanks,” he replied weakly.

                “Anytime,” the corporal rolled back on his haunches and leaned against a wall.  He knew Meyers could not survive much longer without proper medical attention, and even if the soldiers found a way out of the underground base, he would probably die if they tried to move him.  That was something Lee could not allow, as Meyers was a friend and a fellow Marine.  It was one thing to be killed by some stray round on a battlefield, but some invisible pathogen taking a wounded life was almost an insult to Lee, as he could do little to stop it.

                The sniper team’s spotter, a Sergeant Michael Hannover, started to rummage through a rucksack lying in the storage space’s corner.  “Come on, we have to have something… YES!” the Army man pulled out a can of military rations.  “K-rations, got to love ‘em.”

                Nguyen could not help but laugh as the spotter used his knife to cut open one of the impromptu squad’s remaining food containers, “That has to be the first time I have seen someone happy about eating that ***-in-a-can.”

                “Hey, take sniper training sometime,” it was First Sergeant Tom Olson, the sniper, “after two weeks of nothing but crackers, pseudo-cheese, and meat-flavored rubber, you get a new appreciation of just about any food that even looks real.”

                “I believe you, but I think I’ll…” Lee paused in mid sentence as an all but inaudible beeping from a keypad reached his ear. “Rifles up!” he hissed as he picked up his MA5D rifle and trained it on the door.  Hannover doused the small electric lantern they had used to light the room and followed the Marine’s action.

                A lump tensed in the corporal’s throat.  Since the door was opening, someone had come either to the rescue, or an alien had come to finish the job started over two days ago.  The door began to slide open and Lee’s finger tensed on the trigger, ready to end a life.  Not even a second from now, and the card of his life could be punched.

                Then a gasp escaped his throat and a loud whoop tore out of Olson.  A tall, lone figure, clad in dull grey armor from head to toe, stood highlighted by the red emergency lights in the doorway of the glorified closet.  Lee recognized the form instantly, it was a Spartan.

                “Well, lookie here,” the super-soldier said as the three armed men in the room lowered their weapons.  “This trip might have been worth it after all.”

                The Spartan then stepped to the side, as if to make room for a second, and then a second appeared, its form changing colors to continuously meet the changing light, as it moved into the slot next to the first.  Suddenly, the figure shifted to the matte color of its companion, attached its weapon to its hip, and raised its arms to remove its helmet.  As the dark visor and jaw piece came up, a pale face with green eyes and dark fuzz for hair was revealed.  “Good to see a few of you boys survived,” the commando said in a deep voice.  Then tucking his helmet under his left arm, the Spartan stepped forward and put out his hand, “I am Sergeant John-3B-009, and you?”

                Still grinning, the sniper moved to the commando, “First Sergeant Tim Olson, 437th Infantry, sniper platoon.  ***, I didn’t think anyone was going to come, let alone a Spartan!”  The two shook hands and Olson continued, “These here are my spotter, Sergeant Hannover, and two Marines, Corporal Nguyen and Private Meyers.  I wouldn’t suppose you have any medical training?”

                “Huh?” Jack shifted his stance and saw the wounded Marine lying in the back of the room.  “Charlie, see if there’s anything you can do,” the first Spartan nodded and slipped by the standing soldiers.  “What happened here?”

                Lee took this one, “Meyers got hit about two and a half days ago, and we think it’s infected.”

                “Then there isn’t much I can do,” the first Spartan, Charlie, said, “but we might be able to make it back to our dropship and get him out of here.”

                Olson nodded, “Okay, then let’s move.”

                “Agreed, but are there any other survivors in the base?” Jack asked.

                “No, none that we’ve seen or heard.”

                “Alright, then you, Nguyen, help him up and let’s get back up to the surface.  Charlie, take second, I have point. AC up,” the senior Spartan ordered as he donned his helmet and almost disappeared as the camouflage system in his armor activated.

     


    "Whoever said the pen is mightier than the sword never encountered automatic weapons."
    -General Douglas MacArthur

    The Pheonix War: Pheonix Rising:
    http://www.halowars.com/forums/thread/378844.aspx
  •  11-09-2008, 11:06 AM 402025 in reply to 401503

    Re: Pheonix War

    Good stuff good stuff, just a few small things i got a bit confused over.

    I thought that the Spartans almost never removed any of their armor, i seem to recall John feeling "uncomfortable" being out of his suit, so just wondering why the S-III-b would remove his helmet...

     Spartans shaking hands, another rarity. Several times it was mentioned in the books that people generally didn't like to shake hands with the Spartans, since they could quite easily get their hands crushed (if the Spartans felt like it). I believe Master Chief was surprised in book 2 (the Flood) when Cptn Keyes shook his hand, and mentioned all that stuff i said above.

      ...and the wounded man shuttered as the chemical took away some of his pain. 
    should be "shuddered", hehe lol it happens.

    Good stuff though keep it coming!


    "When I give food to the poor they call me a Saint, when I ask why the poor have no food, they call me a Communist."
    -Dom Hélder Câmara

    Smexy fanfics that I've read on this site so far
    -Phoenix War
    -The Untold Tales
  •  11-09-2008, 12:56 PM 402075 in reply to 402025

    Re: Pheonix War

    True Ablot, but my thoughts on the Spartans were this:

    1.) Perhaps John-117 felt uncomfortable out of his armor, but who is to say that goes for all Spartans? After all, when I first introduced the squad they were in normal Marine fatigues.

    2.) The Spartans are now a much more common special operations force, and it would be reasonable to say the military personnel are a little more comfortable around them or that the Spartan sub-culture has changed a little from the S-II program.


    "Whoever said the pen is mightier than the sword never encountered automatic weapons."
    -General Douglas MacArthur

    The Pheonix War: Pheonix Rising:
    http://www.halowars.com/forums/thread/378844.aspx
  •  11-10-2008, 2:58 PM 402493 in reply to 402075

    Re: Pheonix War

    kk fine, i see your point about them being a bit more common, but a salute would be smexier no? XD just kidding.

    I guess its your view versus mine but from what I remember of the S-II's they were almost never out of armor (hehe out of character lol). i guess its just what you think is right to write about (lots of guessing here eh?).

     

     


    "When I give food to the poor they call me a Saint, when I ask why the poor have no food, they call me a Communist."
    -Dom Hélder Câmara

    Smexy fanfics that I've read on this site so far
    -Phoenix War
    -The Untold Tales
  •  11-16-2008, 6:00 PM 404896 in reply to 401503

    Re: Pheonix War

      Here's nine,

    Chapter Nine

    10 December 2583; Military Calendar

    On board UNSC Vigilant, Orbit over New Cyprus

                One hundred-sixty-three. The number rang in Commander Wyatt’s skull, having gained much significance over the past hour.  It was a number that chilled his being, it was the number of Covenant ships in orbit over New Cyprus.  As he stood at the viewport in the bridge, he gazed out upon many of the enemy vessels, their white specks feeling as numerous as the stars decorating the void, and in turn leaving a scar of sorts.   He had admired the beauty of space since his first day as a pilot trainee on a frigate almost forty years previously.  Back then the darkness was a symbol of battle and fear and annihilation, but it had changed to a peaceful gem at the end of the war, a calming emptiness that the commander had almost become dependent upon.  Now, the days of hell that the void had first represented had returned, and for the second time the icy grip they had had on him was wrapping its fingers around his soul.

                “It’s all happening again, why?” the captain of the Vigilant muttered under his breath as he bowed his head in remorse.

                “What was that, sir?” the pilot seated just in front of Wyatt asked of his commander as he glanced back over his shoulder.

                Wyatt looked up at the crewman, “Nothing, Lehrer, just a few memories coming back.”

                “Alright, sir,” the pilot turned back to face forward.  Such a young kid, thought the commanding officer, it is a pity his generation has to stare into the maw of war like mine had to so many years ago.  Humanity just could never keep peace long enough to spare neither its youngest lives, nor the sanity of their fathers who had to send them into the meat grinder that was combat.  It was difficult for Wyatt to keep the sorrow and despair from showing on his face, but he had to, he just could not break his image of staunch courage that his crew held of him.

                And neither could he dwell on the ghosts of horrors past and future, he had a mission and at least eight men on the planet relying on him to maintain his composure and get his job done.   “Snake, sitrep now,” the commander did an about-face to face the holotank that the Vigilant’s AI occupied.

                An image of a late twentieth-century commando glowed to life atop the pedestal and spoke in a low, gruff voice, “Not much to report, sir.  A Covenant cruiser might have gotten a whiff of us, but I seriously doubt they have any idea we’re here, at least not yet anyway.” 

                “Good.  Keep me informed if anything comes close, I don’t want to get caught with our pants down.”

                “Affirmative, sir,” the AI cracked a smile and dissolved into the air.

    10 December 2583; Military Calendar

    Saunders City, New Cyprus

                Tracking Covenant was no easy task, especially alone, at night, in hostile territory, and to top it off, after having been in combat situations for the past three days.  Captain Richard Gabriel was truly feeling the effects of the strain on his body after having been put through the rigors of war, but he was a Helljumper, trained for this since day one of his Marine Corps career.  Training and chance had left him with his current task, hunting a lone Covenant Prowler vehicle sweeping the ruins of New Saunders for survivors of the aliens’ attack.  This particular crew was doing a decent job of eyeballing everything, but the human doubted they were giving anything a serious checkup.  Only twice had the Jackals riding on the vehicle dismounted, and each time for only a couple of seconds to duck into a building.

                Gabriel was about one hundred and fifty meters behind the vehicle when the infantry dismounted for the second time.  The creatures had repeated exactly what they had done thirty minutes prior, yet something seemed odd when they had returned to their ride.  Hairs raised on the back of the Marine’s neck as he slipped, invisible in the night’s shadows, down the street pursuing his quarry.  Eighty meters from the last stop, he dropped prone and deployed the bipod attached on his MA5D rifle.  Taking careful aim, he prepared to add a little chaos to the night, and begin his own guerilla war against the invaders.

                Wump.

                A blue ball of plasma gushed out the building on the right side of the street.  What the hell? thought the captain.  Then two more flashes of some static display interrupted the night.  He was not alone in his hunt, and with this realization, he tightened his finger on the rifle’s trigger.

    .

                Anthony’s consciousness ate through the blackness that had overtaken him.  Almost a full second had passed by the time the entirety of his situation returned to his mind, and before he could even think upon the matter, he instinctively rolled his body to his right.  Plasma bolts seared the pavement where he had lain only a second before.  Battle, he was in a battle, the though cascaded through his mind and training completely took over from there.  Using the momentum from his roll his forced himself up into a crouch.  In a fraction of a second, he assessed the situation and propelled himself forward, over a freshly destroyed wall and into cover as more blue streaks attempted to connect with his body.

                His back pulled itself to the remains of the wall, using it to shield him from the hail of plasma.  Suddenly, the weapon fell silent as three shots rang out in quick succession.  A second thought crashed into his mind, there is a friendly out there, I am not alone.  “Who though?” he asked himself aloud, “Tom? Tom!  The Spartan turned, barely allowing himself to see out into the street and view the single charred form that laid exposed and immobile. 

                I need to help him, Anthony thought as his body became calm, and to do that, I need a weapon.  His rifle was still back in the street, and attempting to get to it would be suicide, as his armor would only stop a few plasma bolts before it failed and his flesh would burn.  Without thinking, his right had slipped to his hip, finding the grips of his sidearm.  A smile crawled across his concealed face and then in a swift and fluid motion, the firearm came up and he leaned just enough to create a lane of fire out into the occupied boulevard.  The sights slipped up to bracket a Jackal firing off towards a target farther down on the left side of the street, and his gloved finger squeezed the trigger.  One round missed left and glanced off the inside of the blue disk of energy that was the alien’s personal shield, but the second found its mark dead-center on the creature’s chest.  A squawk pierced the night as the round collapsed the flimsy metal plate that armored the alien and destroyed its chest cavity.

                The commando shifted the weapon to aim at the Brute that had just dismounted the Prowler it was driving.  Before Anthony could fully depress the trigger, the simian alien unleashed a flurry of hot metal from the Spike rifle it was carrying.  One shard caught the Spartan in his chest and knocked him down as three rounds from his pistol roared off into the night.  Adrenaline was pumping through his veins at such a level that Anthony barely noticed the hit and was fully aware of the staccato of fire from his unseen ally that denoted the Brute’s death.

                Sitting up, Anthony looked at the metal spike sticking out of his chest plate.  Touching it, he confirmed the shard had not breached his armor and then gripped it and ripped it out.  He then got up and tucked the spike into an empty utility pouch for later examination. 

    Now, a greater task pressed, getting Tom to cover and delivering medical aid.  Anthony move out into the street and saw that his unseen aide had already reached his fallen comrade.  The Marine, clad in a grey and black special operations uniform, was kneeling by the downed Spartan and was attempting to get the commando’s helmet off and check the man’s vitals.  Reaching the pair, Anthony hit a release latch and removed his friend’s helmet without saying a word. 

    Blood seeped from Tom’s nose, ears, and mouth, all evidence of the severe trauma that the blast had caused.  Anthony reached down and touched two fingers to Tom neck trying to find a pulse, but his search gave him nothing.  Fear for his friend slipped into Anthony’s mind as he used his armor’s internal computer and squad monitoring systems to bring up Tom’s data.  3B-019 flashed on the lower right hand side of his visor, and under it…

    Realizing what happened, the unknown Marine spoke softly, “I’m sorry.”

    The shock on Anthony’s face was hidden by his faceplate, but it was conveyed in his words.  “He’s dead, he’s dead…”


    "Whoever said the pen is mightier than the sword never encountered automatic weapons."
    -General Douglas MacArthur

    The Pheonix War: Pheonix Rising:
    http://www.halowars.com/forums/thread/378844.aspx
  •  11-16-2008, 6:04 PM 404903 in reply to 404896

    Re: Pheonix War

    Very good.  I like to see that your keeping up with this. 

    Thanks Ryzza & Mr. Bacon for teaching me how to make these
  •  11-16-2008, 6:19 PM 404918 in reply to 387285

    Re: Pheonix War

    yup amen to this ff my friend

    it s  gud



    Click me!
    LFF!!
  •  11-18-2008, 6:55 PM 406510 in reply to 404918

    Re: Pheonix War

    yay another chapter, awesomeness.

    Just to clarify the two Spartans in the prev. chapter are green, or have they seen prior combat before? Just wondering.   


    "When I give food to the poor they call me a Saint, when I ask why the poor have no food, they call me a Communist."
    -Dom Hélder Câmara

    Smexy fanfics that I've read on this site so far
    -Phoenix War
    -The Untold Tales
  •  11-19-2008, 3:57 PM 406853 in reply to 406510

    Re: Pheonix War

    Jack and Charlie are not really all that experienced as soldiers, I only mentioned it briefly, but they did participate in a impromtu hostage-rescue mission very ealry on in their careers and right away at the beginning of Chapter 1, it was mentioned that there was a 'fracas' on a world called Victor II, which implies they had seen some combat as a full squad.  I am not going to elaborate on this subject, but I think I might use it for a spin-off later.


    "Whoever said the pen is mightier than the sword never encountered automatic weapons."
    -General Douglas MacArthur

    The Pheonix War: Pheonix Rising:
    http://www.halowars.com/forums/thread/378844.aspx
  •  11-19-2008, 10:03 PM 407289 in reply to 406853

    Re: Pheonix War

    kk good to know, keep it up holmes.

    "When I give food to the poor they call me a Saint, when I ask why the poor have no food, they call me a Communist."
    -Dom Hélder Câmara

    Smexy fanfics that I've read on this site so far
    -Phoenix War
    -The Untold Tales
  •  11-19-2008, 10:08 PM 407292 in reply to 407289

    Re: Pheonix War

    Not bad Delta. Keep up the good work.
    I stand proud and dominant in the heat of a battle.



  •  12-01-2008, 4:56 PM 415381 in reply to 407292

    Re: Pheonix War

    I know it has been a while, but here's the next chapter

     

    Chapter Ten

    10 December 2583; Military Calendar

    On board UNSC Vigilant, Orbit over New Cyprus

    “Sir?”  the holotank flashed to life in the Vigilant’s bridge, the martial avatar wearing a grim expression.

    Wyatt turned from the display screen to face his vessel’s AI, “What is it, Snake?”  The question did not really need an answer, as the program’s image told the commander all he needed to know.

    Despite this, Snake answered.  “Bad news, contact Charlie-oh-seven just deployed fighters and preliminary scans indicate a search pattern.  Worse yet, Foxtrot-oh-two and –oh-five appear to be moving as if to assist.”

    “What are the chances we’ve been detected?”  Commander Ely Wyatt’s face turned dark and grim.  If the Vigilant was discovered by any Covenant forces, the vessel and its crew would be destroyed in seconds.  After all, the craft was a Prowler-type vessel, not a fighting ship, as it traded armor and weapons in favor of stealth and speed. 

    “Detected? I would think that apparent,” the AI turned on its pedestal and pointed at the markers denoting the Covenant ships in question.  “They know we are here, but not where, or what we are for that matter.  The fact they’re even bothering to bring in more ships for the hunt suggests their sensors only caught a hint of our scent and couldn’t peg us, or they think we might be something we’re not, like a full-bull warship.”

    Nodding, Wyatt gazed out into the void.  If the Covenant didn’t quite know where his vessel was, then he still had quite a bit of room to play with and a few tricks up his sleeve.  A plan began to formulate in his mind, and the more he thought about it, the more he liked it.  He gave the order, and now the only variable was reliant completely upon the eight men on the ground.

    10 December 2583; Military Calendar

    Jorgenson Air Force Base, New Cyprus

    Figures, Jack griped to himself, whenever I get lucky some SOB has to show up and rain all over my parade.  Between the time the Spartans had entered the underground hangar area and the time of their exit, a pair of Phantoms had landed and dropped off troops for a ground search of the base.  To worsen matters, four skeletal Banshee fighters had taken up a patrol pattern over the base. 

    “Call it what, five hundred meters?” the Army spotter said as he crouched behind the rubble from the hangar’s wall.

    “Sounds right,” Charlie confirmed a stood looking around the wall at the other side of the hole.

    “Potshot,” declared Hannover, “Sniper time, Olson.  Time to see if you can bring yourself back to even.”

    The two Spartans exchanged looks and Olson answered their unspoken question, “Running bet, he calls the shots, I make ‘em.”  Then the sharpshooter addressed his partner, “And for your information, I’m still a week ahead.”

    “Whatever,” replied Hannover as he checked the scope on his MA5D and Olson began assembling his oversized weapon.

    Charlie was lying prone in the hole’s center and decided to add in his thoughts.  “I dunno, that’s what, four Banshees plus the dropships?  Even if we nail all the infantry, the air support can easily waste us or just call a cruiser and have a few Seraphs come and glass our ass. It might be better if we just sit tight and wait till they leave.”

    “Our ride’s picking us up in five hours, not sure if we can sit tight, especially if the Bravo-Kilos take their time.”  Jack glanced back at Meyers and Nguyen, “Hell, Meyers might not last five more hours.  We need to get out of here soon.”

    “Why don’t they make these hangars with back doors?  It would make everything so much easier,” Charlie grunted. 

    “Air Force pukes, that’s all you have to say,” Sergeant Olson answered as he locked the barrel in place on his rifle.  “Now, who dies first?”

    “If you’re referring to the Covenant, how good are you at hitting a fast moving target?”  Jack asked of the soldier.

    “Very.  Which Banshee do you want me to kill?” the sniper responded, inferring the commando’s next request.

    Jack looked out upon the enemy, “Far one, see if we can’t make them look the wrong way.”   If the aliens were distracted, even for a second, the chances were the ragged humans could level the playing field much quicker.  Fortunately, the invaders also left a means for expediting that process in the possession of the men.  “Charlie, I want you to grab the spitter out of the Phantom.”

    “Got it,” the second Spartan slipped into the wreck and retrieved the fuel rod cannon.  Emerging, he reported, “Full magazine, plus a spare.  Take it I’m doing in a dropship or two?”

    “Right,” Jack then signaled the healthy Marine to come forward, “Nguyen, I want you on the line, but hold fire until we start taking fire.  You’re weapon…”

    Lee cut the commando off, “…doesn’t have a flash suppressor, I know.  Just make sure I don’t have to clean up all of them after you boys are done.”

    “Okay then, everyone else, hold fire until I give the signal.  On the line now!”  All five of the soldiers took up positions on the rubble piled at the base of the gap in the hangar’s wall.  Jack’s nerves tensed as they had in each of his two prior engagements, but this time a feeling of real dread surfaced.  Never before had he faced Covenant in combat, and deep down he knew they were really no different than the rebels he had faced before, but these were far more advanced and wielded weapons that brought barbarism to a new level.  He was actually scared, a feeling he had never known before, or least he could not remember, and as the cold sweat of fear broke out on his face, he said a silent prayer of thanks for the masked helmet he wore so that the others could not see the emotion on his ‘invincible’ Spartan face.

    Alright, keep it together Jack, you will be fine if you just remember you’re training, the commando thought to himself, trying to calm himself.  There are only what, forty of them? You neutralized more rebels than that on Victor II.  It was futile, Jack could feel the trembling beginning in his hands, and every part of his mind began screaming to run, to flee.  But he could not, he could not abandoned his friend and these survivors.  He had to stay, he had to fight, he had to…

    Die?

    .

    10 December 2583; Military Calendar

    Saunders City, New Cyprus

                “Sir,” the ODST said slowly to the Spartan who was slumped on one knee next to his fallen comrade, “Sir, we have to go now.  There will be another patrol coming to find out what happened, and we cannot be here when they arrive.” 

                The armored form nodded slightly, still in shock, “Yeah, move, evade, just like training, got it.”

                And this is supposed to be an elite commando? Captain Gabriel asked himself, The blasted Army troops held together better than this.  The Marine was disappointed with what saw in the man within the carapace, supposedly this shock of loss was trained out of there kind, but this Spartan was reacting almost like a civilian would to the death of a close family member.  What would cause a Spartan to act like this?

                Yet, now was not the time for such questions.  Gabriel reached out to nudge his comrade to get up, but the man brought himself to his full seven foot height and walked a short ways down the street.  The Helljumper was about to protest when the Spartan bent down and picked up a rifle.  Good, so he at least has a little of his mind still together.

                Then the masked commando turned, “Let’s go.”

                “I set up a safe house, or at least something similar to one, near here. Follow me,” the captain slipped off and the Spartan trailed him just a few meters back. 

     


    "Whoever said the pen is mightier than the sword never encountered automatic weapons."
    -General Douglas MacArthur

    The Pheonix War: Pheonix Rising:
    http://www.halowars.com/forums/thread/378844.aspx
  •  12-02-2008, 7:20 PM 416179 in reply to 415381

    Re: Pheonix War

    III-B series seem alot more "human" than their predecessors, im guessing theres some sort of story behind it right? Hopefully well see it unfold in the next few chapters, keep it up!

    "When I give food to the poor they call me a Saint, when I ask why the poor have no food, they call me a Communist."
    -Dom Hélder Câmara

    Smexy fanfics that I've read on this site so far
    -Phoenix War
    -The Untold Tales
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