Pvt. Maple Rier
Unknown Landing Site, Installation 04 (Alpha Halo), Threshold, Soell System
September 19, 2552 -- Military Standard Time
Their escape of the doomed ship was again obstructed. A massive Elite had ambushed them, going toe-to-toe against Ingrid-045 and displaying such strength that even the Spartan was taken aback. A handful of soldiers retaliated in a panic. Private Rier, too, acted on terrified instinct, joining in on the short-lived assault against the cloaked alien, but in her daze she'd forgotten to reload her SMG, or more importantly the M363 she was currently holding. The pistol-like launcher clicked with no projectile to fire. Her one moment of bravado having faltered, she hurried off towards the damaged Albatross, stumbled on the slick flooring — a fresh coat of blood that was too red to be anything but human — and was practically dragged along by Ensign Bradley.
She can't say that she remembers much of the descent. It had happened so fast, and she'd lost consciousness on impact.
Private Rier was hanging limp in her harness, coming to with a shaky groan as the soldiers who had survived called out in affirmation that they, indeed, were alive and mostly well. Rier struggled to undo the fastener of her belt, but when she did she fell painfully to the floor of the Albatross. They had landed upside-down. The unusual change in orientation did little to help the battered trooper, her head swimming, unsteady as she tried to stand unassisted.
Not that she had the time to compose herself. Ensign Bradley was soon assigning her a new task, handing off a portable blowtorch and directing her to begin cutting through the stuck hatch. "Cut along this area here," he said, tracing the spot with his finger.
She did as she was told, using the momentary distraction to focus herself.
There was a subtle shift to the sunlight that filtered in from the viewport. The Pillar of Autumn on final descent, a splotch against an otherwise blue sky and trailed by kilometers of debris. A minor quake signaled its impact beyond the mountains "The Autumn just landed thataway," Bradley announced before directing their attention to a more pressing concern.
Covenant were on approach.
Rier hurried along with the cutting, burning through the hatch, down then across then up then across then down, connecting the line to separate the bit from the rest, all the while ignoring the shouts and yells of soldiers readying for combat. She handed the blowtorch back to Ensign Bradley and watched as Staff Sergeant Johnson kicked open the makeshift door. "Let's go ladies!" he barked. He was the first out; Rier was close to the last.
They hurried down to lower ground to fortify a position. Sharpshooters were the first to engage, picking off targets of opportunity, leaving the others to prepare a defensive against incoming foot-mobiles. The Covenant was unaware of their current position. A small advantage, and one that would be utilized to full extent.
"I can do this," Rier muttered. A quiet mantra to keep her sights focused. She reloaded the SMG.
Covenant Grunts were pushing up the hill. Oblivious. The ambush caught them unaware, and without mercy they were cut down in a storm of bullets. The Elites fared better initially, but overwhelming firepower proved to be highly effective against their shielding, and they, too, were forced to momentarily flee into cover. The Covenant returned fire. A barrage of superheated plasma tore into the foliage, followed thereafter by the ghostly tails of heavy ordnance. Ensign Bradley only just escaped the homing munitions of the enemy Plasma Launcher. The Covenant, despite taking casualties early on, were building momentum.
Private Rier assisted by providing suppressive fire. The short-ranged SMG was far too inaccurate to engage effectively, not that she was a marksman to begin with, but it proved useful enough to shield her allies as they relocated from cover to cover. The weapon's bolt clicked as the magazine ran dry. She fumbled to reload, dropping the fresh magazine as plasma exploded against the dirt nearby. Pressing herself to the tree that served as the only barrier between her and a burning death, she took a few moments to steel herself, and then quickly reached out to grab the magazine was more plasma chipped away at the smoldering bark. Reloaded, she fired off another burst. A Grunt yelled out in pain down-range.
A second Spirit appeared suddenly overhead with its unmistakable hum. The U-shaped dropship circled the battlefield like a predatory bird-of-prey before landing near a stack of ruins, deploying more foot-mobiles as well as a Revenant. Alien reinforcements were bad enough, but the vehicle would absolutely tear them apart.
The UNSC were pushed back as the Revenant engaged.
Private Rier retreated to a more defensible location. It was all she could do as the Covenant advanced. A fallen log offered some protection, better than nothing, but so long as the Revenant was operational the enemy maintained the offensive. The lightweight tank was more than capable of tearing apart infantry. A miniature Wraith, complete with an appropriately proportioned plasma mortar. Without anti-armor it might as well have been full-sized. The Revenant would kill them all the same.
Nearby, the ground erupted in a spray of dirt and rock and globules of vitrification. Rier screamed out in terror. A bit shaken — a lot shaken actually — but had no apparent injuries to report. A bit closer and she wouldn't have been so lucky.
Sergeant Lehkonen disabled the Revenant. A small but much needed victory. The UNSC held on, repelling the Covenant assault by the skin of their teeth, the pitiful stretch of ground between them rendered a no-man's-land scorched by plasma and lead. The firefight continued on with no end in sight. And then salvation. A friendly Pelican arrived on-scene, its chaingun cutting down whatever alien was unfortunate enough to be caught out in the open. Nothing was spared. Grunts and Jackals and Elites were killed with impunity. A justified massacre.
The soldiers shouted and cheered as the dust settled. Rier, too, joined in, lost to the moment.
A premature celebration.
Bravo-141 was shot down by a Covenant Banshee. (The Banshee was promptly shot down by PFC Dubbo.) Then, to make a dreadful situation all the worse, a Covenant Phantom entered the airspace. More troops, and with them a pair of tank-like Hunters. "We've got Hunters!" shouted Staff Sergeant Johnson. He opened up with his AR, looking right at home in the chaos of battle. A man hardened by a generation of war. "Hold your ground, people, this is it! Hit those weak spots! They're tough, but they ain't invincible!"
Private Rier ran towards cover but was forced to rethink her plan-of-action as plasma burned the air around her. Exposed, she hurried back to the fallen log, emptying the last of her clip and sliding into safety. She hunkered down. Shaking. A assault cannon shrieked as the nearest Hunter fired against the UNSC. The trooper was hyperventilating. A Grunt found her, Plasma Pistol raised in lethal intent, eyes wild, but before it could pull the trigger it was gunned down by Specialist Crawford, a victim of chance as the SAW punched into the horde of aliens. Another shriek of the assault cannon followed after by the yells of someone injured by a near miss. Private Rier unfathomably close to the Hunters. The log would not save her from even a glancing blow. Fear seeped into her veins, like ice, rooting her to the spot. Light-years from a home reduced to ash and this was how she died.
Cowering, like an insect crushed underneath the boot of giants.
She wanted to go home.
She wanted so desperately to see her family.
