Halo: The Long Night (IC)

[Just-An-Illusion]

Pheron
Outskirts of Condor City
Covenant Camp

"The humans are determined to defend this city..." General Oko 'Musum said as the Sangheili stood on a cliffside that overlooked the largest city on this planet.

When Oko 'Musum first lead his soldiers to the planet surface he had expected that this city would be easy to take, just like the other cities he has taken on other human planets. But to his surprise, the humans have put up some resistance to his forces so far this has lasted for serval days and only some of his soldiers managed to get inside the city. While it was annoying that he couldn't push his troops further into the city, the Sangheili General still had respect for the humans being able to hold off his forces. In Oko 'Musum's mind, he thought it was a shame that the humans were his unholy enemies since it was his belief that the humans would've been a great addition to the Covenant. Oko 'Musum would then look up to the sky as Banshees flew overhead going towards the human city for bombing runs. The Sangheili General continued to stare at the city in silence as he listens to the sounds of battle from a distance, this silence was soon broken by one of his fellow Sangheili.

"General, our scouts have returned, and they might've found a weakness in the humans' defenses." A Sangheili soldier said walking up to Oko 'Musum.

"What have they found?" Oko 'Musum asked turning to face his comrade.

"They found an underground system on the east side of the city, it's possible that this system will lead us underneath the city." The Sangheili said.

"An underground system...? Good we could sneak attack the humans which would allow our frontal forces a chance to enter the city unopposed. But what of the holy artifacts? Have the scouts been able to find anything?" Oko 'Musum asked.

"No sir, our scouts are still looking." The Sangheili said.

"Tell them to focus on the artifacts... We need to get to them before the humans get away with them. Send someone to lead a small team through the underground system. We need to occupy the city if we're to have any luck in finding the artifacts.

"Yes sir." The Sangheili said before walking off to go form a small team to sneak behind enemy lines.

The General soon turned back to look upon the battle ridden city, Oko 'Musum was determined to capture this city and to obtain any artifacts that were found. Oko 'Musum knew that he couldn't fail the Hierarchs, for the Sangheili was devout to the Gods and he would do anything in his power to continue the Great Journey. Oko 'Musum feared that if he failed in retaking this city, he would be shamed by his fellow Sangheili brothers and he would be considered a heretic for failing to gather the holy artifacts. Oko 'Musum shook his fear away as he began walking away from the cliffside and back towards his war holographic war table. There was no use in worrying about the future, now was the time to plan for more attacks on the city.

[Ormata]

KAROL-013
DELTA-2-7
CONDOR CITY TUNNELS

Boots on the metal grating in the distance thumped down the way, shapes resolving themselves from silhouette to Marine, and in the further distance Karol could hear more boots amongst the clamor of artillery fire, the whine of Covenant aerial craft. Condor was a bastard of a city, all things considered, built as it was for the mining concerns. The streets were narrow, thus preventing large numbers of Covenant troops to advance or allow them to move in their tanks, there were few if any large courtyards to allow them to land troops from gunships, and the rooftops were either canted heavily to allow rainfall or cluttered so much that they couldn’t land troops there either. Combine that with large numbers of refinery stacks, each belching out so much superheated air that the town itself blew up on thermals, and a number of hunter-killer SAM teams, well...it was hard for any Covenant craft to get within range to drop off unwanted packages. Likewise, the walls themselves were relatively thick due to particularly annoying forms of native life during the colony’s first periods of existence, and the railgun artillery was relatively effective. What was less effective would be the tunnels.

He hated the idea of them.

Servos whirred as the titan moved down the long passage, lights flickering overhead. A motion of the shoulder adjusted the rifle slung there, while his other hand held a Vulcan up and back. His steps were methodical, slow, measured not out of any sense that the Spartan felt he had conserve his energy, but by his own concern that the metal grating might not hold up to such a pounding. The tunnels were old, rust about some of them, the steady whirr of compressed gas in the distance hinting at pipes failing. The number of men behind him were Marines, generally trustable with a variety of rifles, LMGs, and several M41 launchers. He moved past a line of pallet jacks, the last of the hints for what the tunnels had been used for. Some part of the Spartan hated the concept to its very core, the idea of storing supplies in a grid tunnel network, and doubtless it’d make for some rocks and hard places in terms of decisions if the Covenant pushed in far enough. Sacrificing supplies or men would never be an easy option, though then again most times the option wasn’t available. Glassings were never pretty, and the fact that it hadn’t yet occurred on Phaeton was proof that the bastards were looking for something. Then again, the fact that he was there was proof that something was present worth defending or killing.

They passed by a team of combat engineers, those men gradually rolling back lead wires for their explosives, while a few dozen feet forward they passed another team planting spike mines in the overhead. Orders to make the tunnels as inhospitable as possible had been taken seriously, especially considering how many opportunities the men had. They’d gone wild in the city, with preparations made to turn certain buildings into killing houses for Covenant advances. Of course, such ideas didn’t take into account enemy artillery or the Hunters, but it was something they had a bit of grim humor with, something a bit of fun with. The lights flickered again.

“Baba,” he said, not activating the speakers. It felt odd at the start to talk to someone who was just code, but felt...almost natural after a while. She almost reminded him of Déjà, though that was merely in demeanor. Baba was a good deal different, had a different job and different qualifications.

“Yes?”

“Status of uplink.”

“Signal status degraded by 30% with UNSC channels. Link with PSI degraded by 70%. Link with ARGUS network offline. Link with PSS offline.”

He grunted in response. He hadn’t expected links with the Planetary Security Intelligence to have survived through the tunnels, considering how deep underground they were, although the fact that the ARGUS and Phaeton Satellite System were offline was a given. The former was pretty short-ranged, all things considered, and the latter had been largely neutralized by Covenant EMPs by their normal operations as well as the destruction of the local Destroyer UNSC Cowabunga when the enemy arrived in-system.

“Notify me when link degradation with UNSC channels surpasses 50%.”

“Confirmed.”

The column kept moving through the tunnels, eventually taking a turn and finding a team of Marines with pallet jacks and large, long crates setting up a checkpoint. In the far distance, maybe half a kilometer of straight, unobstructed corridor, Karol could see the expected sight of an armored door. A rumble then far away, muffled by the twists and turns of the tunnels, and a rush of air as the shockwave traveled down the usual paths. They’d started clearing out the entrances, he thought, started to demolition certain portions to deny the Covenant chances to move in all at once. Of course, the possibility that they would clear out the rubble was present but the Marine commander had wisely set-up roving patrols to monitor those sites. Fireteams could rush in afterwards, especially since the enemy would be slowed down by the abundance of mines. He’d seen them set up anti-tank and anti-personnel, likely to account for heavier opponents, and while Karol hadn’t yet seen a Lotus do its magic on an Elite he had little doubt it’d be something interesting.

The Sergeant leading the team turned about, a grin erupting on his face as he nodded to the comparative giant. There were only a few things that’d make a fight with the Covenant even, one being air support, another artillery support, and the third being a Spartan.

“Sergeant,” he said, nodding in reply. The man looked to be older, wrinkles about his face and worn hands as well as a CMA patch taped on the side of his helmet. Marauders, it read, an old grenade with the pin out being the moniker. Karol had some dealings with CMA before, though he’d never encountered that organization. Curious.

“Don’t worry, we picked out a good bit of cover. Housing gelatin for insulation; it’s fireproof, bulletproof, and will absorb shrapnel like no-one’s business. Hopefully it’ll stay together when the box disintegrates, though.”

“Good as we’ll get, I suppose,” replied one of the Marines.

“Got another present for ya, son.” The Sergeant pointed to a nearby backpack half-opened, a detonator with a dozen switches on it and wires leading up to the overhead, up down the corridor’s length. “They’re labeled, too.”

A little chuckle out of Karol. The feeling that he hoped the man would survive the engagement flashed through the Spartan’s mind before it was unconsciously suppressed. It did little good to attach oneself to people, especially immediately before a Covenant ground assault. Too many people died during those times to become attached. “Much obliged.”

The crates finally got moved into position and the team moving back with their pallet jacks. They were a bit higher than waist-height with a small gap between them, and Karol shouldered down the M41 Vulcan for the Marines to set up between the gap. Others began to set down their kits, the missile teams organizing their rounds and sighting down the passage while the two LMGs set themselves up on either side of the crates. Another Marine settled down by the backpack as his buddy retrieved a pair of binoculars from a waist case, looking down to spot the mines on the overhead. The Spartan, though, he began the practiced motions of setting up his Model 99 for the long range work, settling down on one of the crates. It’d made a hell of a sound when he fired, though that was less concerning than what he’d doubtless be shooting at. The noise would cause bleeding, but the enemy would most certainly cause death.

[Tayner]

Lance Corporal Lana Sorokina
Condor City, Pheron

Lana had spent the better part of three hours setting up mines and moving pallet jacks around with the Marines of Delta 2-7. They only had one pallet jack and more than one box to move in their short amount of time, so many Marines found themselves carrying boxes around, Lana included. Eventually they were mostly situated, and had set up decent fighting positions, and Lana had placed demolition charges rigged to bring down the tunnel in the event that it would need to be, which was more likely than not.

Corporal Walker, a buddy of hers, offered her a smoke. Marlboro.Class A Cigarettes. Lana had run out a few days ago, but Walker, or Danny as he was known by his friends, who had been a habitual smoker since he was 12, always had plenty to share. It was a miracle he never ran out, either having stockpiled them or scrounged them up, perhaps both. She lit the tobacco, and turned around to see something, well, green. Upon examination, she noticed that it was indeed a person, a big one, speaking with Sergeant Hall.

After they finished their conversation, the jolly green giant made his way over, near Lana, and started setting up his weapon. "What the fuck are you" She asked, simply, more in her own confusion than an insult.

The SPARTAN didn't look over from his actions, sighting the rifle's optics before he began to manually dial-down the power on the 99's railings. There was a pause though in those actions, a second or so, before any reply was given. "Petty Officer Second Class, Lance Corporal. In accordance to Article 428-A, that's all you need to know." The click-click of the dial started again, slow and steady.

"Huh, mysterious type, eh?" She remarked before taking another drag of her cigarette.

"Never gotten that moniker before. ONI just dislikes when articles are broken." He paused, thinking things over again. Was Karol worried about the article itself being broken? Somewhat. They were in place for a reason and precautions had to always be taken in every circumstance there was. If one was there, it meant something to him. They were the rules that defined everything he'd known. That was a less than comforting thought. He mentally shrugged it off. "Might put you somewhere less comfortable than here."

"Heh," Lana chuckled, "I figure I'll live longer in a black site than I would here." She replied. So, it ONI, huh? What's with the armor? And why's he so fuckin' tall? Lana wondered to herself as she chambered a shell into her shotgun.

"Airlocks don't have five star service, Lance Corporal." Click-click, then a nod as one hand drew out a wire from the long rifle. He plugged it into his right gauntlet before looking down at the dimly lit PDA, tapping occasionally to calibrate it fully. Intimidation never was something Karol enjoyed, though in this case he considered it simply the honest truth. After all, she was just a Marine, just a loose end to them. She wasn't ODST, nor a specialist. It was an uncomfortable truth.

"Neither does the covenant, Petty Officer." Lana replied, half joking. In reality she'd been on planet for six months, she'd already had three Purple hearts and had lost more friends than she could count. "I never wanted to live forever anyways." She muttered, simply not phased by the tone of the Petty Officer's voice, part accepting that she would likely already die before ONI had a chance to kill her, half believing the man was bluffing or making a bad joke.

A small chuckle from the giant, then, shaking his head as he kept tapping away at the PDA. It was a good attitude, especially considering the city, and the conversation as a whole seemed to have ended. Maybe she would be good at a black site...but then again, he was basing that off of the tiniest dribble of mutual respect. You could get that from anyone and not everyone went to black sites. Another nod and the dim light went out, the man getting into a firing position with his rifle aimed squarely down the length of the corridor.

Lana checked over her own fighting position, she had fragmentation grenades ready and detonators within arms reach. Her shotgun, while using slugs, wouldn’t be effective at the full range of the tunnel, she instead opted preparing to detonate the mines once the covenant drew near. The anti-personnel mines would likely handle most of the lighter covenant targets, grunts and jackals alike, leaving the harder targets at the mercy of two LMGs, a HMG, and the mystery man’s hand held gauss rifle. Easy pickings.

A bang resonated down the corridor, followed by silence. “Well, that’s our cue.” Lana piped up, taking one last drag off her cigarette before crushing it out and tossing it aside. Without any more warning, the door detonated in a display of blue plasma, sending melting bits of armor all across the far end of the hall. Without hesitation jackals started pouring through the opening created by the explosion, followed by grunts and likely elites not far behind.

Closer… Lana thought as the covenant pushed towards them, both sides beginning to exchange fire. Closer... Lana thought as she watched the covenant approach even closer, beginning to enter the killzone of the anti-personnel mines. She looked back to Walker, who was watching with his binoculars before he glanced back at her. She held up her hand, signaling to wait. Then it happened, the entire front of the covenant formation found itself exposed to the mines. Lana signaled to Walker that it was time.

“Fire in the hole!” He yelled, before an array of shrapnel mines exploded, spraying the entrails of at least two dozen jackals and grunts all over the corridor. A handful of grunts remained, and an Elite Major and his two minors, who quickly gave up trying to control the panacking grunts and rushed the lines. Already another wave was entering the corridor from the far side, but the clear and present threat was the three split jaws bum rushing them.

Lana clicked the safety off of her shotgun and proceeded to pump a slug into the nearest minor, who’s shields were already weakened by gunfire and shrapnel. The slug hit true, tearing through the energy shields and armor the elite was wearing, burying itself deep into the elite’s chest as it roared in pain before unceremoniously collapsing. The Major, now enraged, drew a plasma sword with his off hand, still laying down fire with his plasma rifle, and charged, the remaining minor following him into the charge hesitantly. The second wave had already started laying down fire, believing their advance party to already be dead in their final attempts of an assault.

[Mifan]

Covenant Camp

"You are to scout out the system underground." Vora looked at his fellow Sangheili and nodded. He had been secretly hoping that something would happen to give him a reason to leave the camp. Outside of a few skirmishes that he's been a part of; there hasn't been much combat he actually took part in. He hated that they were sitting around. He hated that the Humans hadn't given up yet, but he knew better than to express those types of thoughts.

"Just to confirm; I will be leading a small team to scout out the area and see if it can be used by our forces?" The Sangheili nodded. "Then I shall do it." The Sangheili nodded once again before leaving. This is only a scouting mission. I shouldn't bring Mgalekgolos with me; they're too important. Granted, a pair of them would be nice if things went bad. I should take a few Kig-Yar. The Unggoy are of course going to come. If anything goes wrong, nothing of value would be lost. Bringing some of our own would be prudent...no, they have more important tasks. He gathered up his party and gave them some time to gather their equipment before leading them over to one of the Troop Carriers that were just starting to power up. I really wish I was able to do this on my own; if scouting was all that was needed, I'd be able to handle the task well enough on my own.

The Kig-Yars and Unggoys kept their distance from one another as they entered the ship. "Forgot, they still hate each other after the events of the past," he muttered under his breath. He was the last one to enter; wanting to make sure each member was accounted for before leaving.

He didn't pay much attention to the Unggoys as they chatted amongst themselves. They were annoying. There was a reason they were at the bottom of the hierarchy; they were undisciplined. They break formation quickly if a Sangheili isn't around to keep order. They still have a use, even if they can barely keep it together. Vora looked down at the two energy swords on his waist. The number of Humans that have died by his hand was something he lost track of. The Humans should just give up. All they're doing is delaying the inevitable. I do not wish to see my own die needlessly.

Underground System

The Troop Carrier landed at the entrance to the system, allowing for Vora and his party to exit. Did another group arrive before us? The entrance was already open, but there was no Covenant forces to be spotted. Something isn't right. He looked over at the Kig-Yars and pointed towards the entrance. They nodded their heads and went into the tunnels first. Vora took his swords and placed them within each hand, ready to activate them in a moment if need be. He turned and looked at the Unggoys who were ready to march in and motioned for them to follow.

The group marched forward, carefully. The Kig-Yars began to freak out, and Vora soon understood why. Bodies of Covenant troops laid scattered throughout the tunnel. There are Humans down here! His attention was soon shifted from the bodies to the sounds of gunfire and explosions further into the tunnels. "Go!" The group ran towards the noise as Vora walked behind them, activating his camouflage. These tunnels will make it difficult to approach anyone.

A group of Unggoys were running towards his group and he deactivated his camouflage in order to get their attention. "Where do you think you're going? Where is your leader?" The Unggoys were panicking. Vora didn't have the patience and activated one of his swords. The fear in their eyes was clear, and they all pointed in the direction of the gunfire.

"Down there! Humans are defending!" Vora didn't need to hear anything else and ordered them to follow his group. They were scared, but even they knew better than to disobey a superior. He deactivated his sword and turned his camouflage back on as they quickly caught up to the group who had begun to open fire, at a group of Humans, despite the fact that three Sangheilis were still alive and fighting. He saw the massive amounts of mangled bodies on the ground. He wanted to assist his fellow Sangheilis but knew his mission was to scout out the tunnels. Whether or not they live or die; the fact that there are Humans here means we'll have to fight hard for the tunnels. Vora watched the battle from his position, as his group continued to rain fire.

[Valentine Z]

Sabot - Chapter 1 - The First Strike

Seems like only yesterday when Sabot saw his fair share of fighting - the Marines, along with a few Spartans, fighting against the Covenant who were giving everything they have got. The descriptions and how the enemies looked like in the briefing made it clear that they were quite distinctive from the humans in terms of appearance, thus the term "aliens". It was a shame, because as Sabot always liked the idea of trying to befriend a few of them, but the plasma fires and explosions, along with seeing his comrades getting stabbed, changed that dramatically. One thing that the reports did not put up, at least in his opinion, were the intricate descriptions of the Covenant forces. Even the Unggoys, the Grunts as they were called, were taller than some of the people he knew. And they were the shortest. "All these big things were out to kill us. A whole cavalcade of species, huh," his remark, from the very first day of the invasion, when he was just about to join the UNSC.

As with many others, he has been holed up on his home planet for months, just graduated out of his officer academy. He was just like many others, trying to hit back the Covenant with everything they got, while also making sure that they have enough to live and fight the another day. Sabot remembered his first few weeks in the training - the idea of a marksman rifle, or even short bursts, didn't really excite him. He certainly did try, but he was in no way attuned to the idea of using one. He has always been one with an explosive personality, so to speak, with his superiors giving him quite a remark about how they could simply gave Sabot a grenade launcher with 20 rounds, and he could very well take out the whole Covenant armada, while not even needing to be a Spartan. In the battlefield following soon after, however, Sabot would find himself in quite a challenge.

The Covenant was no different than the humans in terms of being vulnerable to explosions, that one was certain. Sabot already got a lot of live demonstration when he lobbed one 40mm grenade after another at waves of Unggoy and Kig-yar. As they ran charging at the humans - which some of them underestimated, they flew from the impact of the grenade - some died instantly, some got severely wounded as they hit back the ground, while others remain unscathed. Sabot personally ensured that the latter group did not remain in that state for long. The Sangheili at the back, however, were a different breed to hurt, let alone kill. To date, Sabot has never killed one, not by himself. The idea of a Marine going against the Elite as they were called was laughable, and Sabot was not going to disprove that anytime soon. He lobbed a grenade at one of them, hoping that it would land near enough to kill him. "His shields are still up!" one of the Marines near him cried out, frantically reloading his own weapon as quickly as possible, mouth silently praying in order to not get a plasma grenade stuck onto him. Sabot shot another one to the same Elite, to no avail; the Sangheili dodged it perfectly, rolling to the side and only taking some damage onto his active shielding while the not-so-lucky Unggoy got a mouthful of dirt up its face before succumbing to a hail of gunfire. "What the hell-" Sabot exclaimed, reloading another quickly in time. This time, he would have to use a charged shot.

With all the tenacity and might of the world around him, Sabot pulled the trigger and never let go, the grenade launching out of the barrel and landing a few meters ahead of the Elite, who then did another dodge. The grenade rolled over slowly to him, with a drop of sweat forming on Sabot's forehead, "Come on... come on..." BOOM!, the grenade launcher gave a readout. The grenade exploded spectacularly with a wave of EMP, temporarily disabling the elite's shields. "FIREEE!" the commander of Sabot's team shouted, with the Marines firing and giving their best shots. The Elite roared not out of pain but rage, as it started charging towards one of Sabot's squadmat. Sabot quickly backslung his unloaded grenade launcher, taking out the akimbo SMGs and then started firing wildly towards the general direction of the Elite. A few more seconds of firing and dodging occurred and finally, the Elite let out its final roar before slumping down onto the ground. They did it, they thought to themselves.

They killed a single Elite, with many more coming towards their way, guns blazing. With Sabot and his squad out in the open, it was time for them to retreat and to listen for further orders. They were not going to make it out alive if they were firmly planted there, and thus they packed whatever they could and promptly ran off. Might be seen as cowardice, but in this time, it's better to survive to fight another day. Sabot was the last man to run off, along with 3 of his squadmates that were in front of him carrying the wounded. "Run, dammit! For goodness' sake, just run!" were the panicky but orderly screams heard around the battlefield. Sabot took out his guns and started shooting, running backwards in the meantime. Avoiding the hail of plasma fire was not a trivial task, as Sabot would learn. A jackal managed to shoot a plasma pistol bolt from his pistol, barely grazing by Sabot as he kept back one of his SMGs and covered the wound, while still wildly shooting with the other until it run out of its ammunition.

-----

The medic treated the burns on Sabot's cheek, breathing a sigh of relief that it was not as bad. "Well, congratulations, man. You got yourself a scar," he said with a deadpan, "On the upside, Sabot... don't worry, it's nothing too bad. You did what you could, and that is why my tent is relatively empty today, yeah? Those things are scary, I rather they arm me with a shotgun, or something of that sort."

Sabot laughed together with him and quipped a little bit more on his own, "Well, you know, I'm glad I am not discharged, haha. I mean, I like to think it is just starting. Scary bastards, though. I have never seen anything this big AND agile."

"Haha yeah, well, as long as I don't have to treat them. I know jack about alien biology."

-----

A few more days have passed - Sabot getting discharged from medical attention, re-familiarization with his weapons, and even going as far as to modifying his grenade launcher to accept non-standard ballistic rounds. "If it goes further, and if it is more impactful, it will surely kill better," he remarked. He did not exactly get a lot of downtime, for his wound was not as significant. On top of that, UNSC and humanity was already getting desperate to get these aliens off from their planet. It was only a matter of time before they either win or lose, but Sabot was definitely not going to miss it. For the time being, his "downtime" mostly involved more vigorous training ever so slightly away from the frontlines - not that far away from them, but he would not be blown up suddenly unless the Covenant knows how to teleport.

Just then, his superior asked him to report in. That could only mean a few things for him - either he was found messing with his weapons again, or he needed more training, or he was getting more men...

"2nd Lt. Sabot," his superior officer greeted him, exchanging salutes. The officer himself isn't that old, perhaps indicative of the war that was going on. Either that, or the highest of the high top brass were out there somewhere and planning the next move against the Covenant, while the low-levels were all here.

"Sir, so... what is happening," Sabot asked, trailing off. It could mean a few things, perhaps nothing more, he thought.

"At ease, Lt. Let's drop the formalities. Okay, our intel reported that we are short on men on well, I hate to say it, but almost everywhere else. You know how these bastards fight, right? Long story short, you and your men were going to be redeployed somewhere else. The orders were supposed to come in anytime soon, but there has been a bit of a delay with the uplink."

At least it wasn't a chewing for messing with his grenade launcher.