1SGT. David Blackburn
105th Shock Troops Division, 7th Shock Troops Battalion, Ad-Hoc Unit Kilo 45
New Alexandria Starport
UNSC
August 23rd, 2552 - 1537 NST
Three layers of defence is all this cobbled together unit had. First had already collapsed, not from lack of trying but because being in the sight line of a Shade turret had forced them to move back, it was near the terminal's North entrance. Up a flight of stairs and to the second line of defence was where most of the battle hardened members of the unit had stacked up.
The third layer was where most of the meat was at. The Army troopers, a few Air Force goons, etcetera. That was the rear echelon and the last line before covies poured through and started shredding civies. It was past a T in the halls near Gate D.
Blackburn, Dubbo, and the rest of the ODSTs that had been shuffled in to this formation were currently walking through that T.
The CM officer, loathingly the only infantry officer present that wasn't an ODST, perked up from behind the series of sandbags and flipped tables, and was now staring attentively as the ODSTs approached.
Blackburn spoke up, as he approached, and mounted the obstacle, "A chieftain's arrived, we have to roll the perimeter back into the food court or we're gonna be slaughtered here. It's too enclosed."
The CM officer's face paled noticeably, "Is that smart? We already have cover here, we ca-"
"Cover, but no emplaced weapons, and a hallway only barely long enough for the time to kill a brute if it charges us. This isn't tenable."
The officer looked at the others, "We're pulling back to the food court! We're gonna rally at Bear's position."
A voice cut over the com net, <<This is Kilo Dispatch: all available teams not currently predisposed, advance to Traxus Tower. Evacuation will commence ASAP.>>
Another with a distinct southern twang, <<Copy, Dispatch. What's the status of the tower pad?>>
<<Tower pad is green. Let's move these civilians before it changes.>>
<<Copy, Dispatch. Four-Zero out.>>
Chips promptly called out, "Alright everyone this is the home stretch. When we get these people out we'll be sinking tinnies in no time. Just buckle down and she'll be right."
Striding through the rest of the hall, the unit would soon be in the food court. The glass roof having long since shattered with glass, some rubble, and a lot of garbage littering the floor, with a bust of Fujikawa resting on a now deactivated fountain. The World Cuisine 'stall' was the largest in the food court, and coincidentally the only one that was 2 stories tall, sitting between the halls that would lead to gate D and C, it gave a good view of what was going on outside and across the bay. The inside was what a fast food restaurant typically looked like, now flipped tables lined with scant sandbags, counter backed by access to the kitchen, a large seating area, some stairs leading to the second floor, a play place, and and the tinny sound of Bear's radio as he was conversing with someone on the other end.
Chips called out as he entered, "Rier, Chiao, Bear. This is it!"
The trio were the rear of the rear, guarding Bear with their lives. From what could be garnered on command nets, there were at best estimates 3 or so ATC qualified individuals left in the city, and Bear was one of them. They were on the second floor that had a decent view of the area, the best that could be given if Bear didn't want to risk being detected and glassed in an instant.
The southern twang broke over radio again, <<Kilo 26, this is Kilo 40. Covenant corvette is raining hell on us! Final protective fire - 1, danger close, on my command, over!>>
<<Copy, Kilo 40. Firing FPF-1 at your command.>>
<<Fire FPF-1, over.>>
<<Firing FPF-1... Shot.>>
<<Hold on to your helmets!>>
Blackburn yelled out, "Brace! Brace! Brace!", a moment later, the ground shook, and a few plates of glass still stuck to their frames fell from the roof, shattering on the ground as teeth chattered. Looking up, everyone could see a Corvette now looming over the city less than a kilometer away, it's shields giving off the tell tale glow of having been recently struck.
<<Kilo 40: request FPF sit-rep.>>
<<Negative, 26! Corvette still coming!>>
<<Copy, 40. Firing FPF-2... Shot.>>
Once again, teeth rattled, more glass fell, and this time it was close enough that Blackburn could feel the M260 missile's impact in his chest.
<<Damn! How do you stop that thing?>> The southern twang gave a pretty solid summation of everyone's current opinion on the Covenant menace right now.
A demonstrably inhuman voice yelled out from the hallway the team had just left, angled in such a way that it's owner couldn't be seen. In a language only recently having been translated, a Brute Minor and his squad of Grunts and jackals rounded the corner and began spreading out. They were followed by another squad and lead, and a Brute Major.
Blackburn didn't hesitate, God willing his team would be the only things walking out of this building alive.
His BR barked from the first floor, signaling the beginning of the firefight.
Above, the war was going differently. A lack of widespread channels meant that several air units were now sharing a single channel, and that meant communication was starting to break down slightly.
<<7 Delta 5, Yankee 9-1. NOBLE 2. You're required at Olympic Tower. Priority One. ONI VIP needs escort to their craft in orbit. Yankee 9-1, you'll be escorting 7 Delta 5. 7 Delta 5, proceed to landing pad Echo. Over.>>
A few moment later, a voice cut in, <<Yankee 9-1, it's Foxtrot Dispatch. Still no update on resupply and refuel. Camp Independence is gone, and the nearest resupply is near the Aszod Yard. If you head there you likely won't be able to make it back tonight. Only other option is the Pillar of Autumn in orbit, if that's where you're heading I'd recommend linking there and seeing what else you can do. Over.>> a pause, <<Covies are closing in on this position hard. This may be my last correspondence 9-1. Foxtrot Dispatch, over and out.>>