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Sol system, Nov. 10, 2552, Kenya, 0600 hours

The Pelican flew low over the trees, leaving them rustling and swaying in its wake. It cruised slowly, without much manuevering. From a high altitude, it just appeared to be an unshaded patch of forest, though moving somewhat quickly—it wasn’t likely it would be noticed.

That was the intention, certainly. The passengers were far too important to be exposed by flashy manuevers that drew the eye. Attention was something that was very unwelcome.

Inside the dropship, four marines privates joked with each other, making wisecracks and more or less a lot of noise, while still holding their weapons, ready to disembark. The other seats in the Pelican were taken up by two ODST corporals and Colonel Stan Novak of the Marine Corps.

Marine Corps Pilot Aidan Guinness sat behind the controls of the dropship, dividing his attention between his sensor screen, the controls, and the view out of the cockpit. Lurking back there, somewhere, was a Covenant Phantom, which was why he was flying low and close to the trees—the Colonel needed to get to Base Alpha Six-Four, to replace the commander who had been confirmed KIA earlier.

His HUD, linked to the ship, showed him information about its flight, but it didn’t display the radar, which was why he kept having to turn his head. It was the one drawback of the newer model of Pelican—with only one pilot, you couldn’t rely on your copilot to monitor enemy movements in the vicinty.

The red dot denoting the enemy Phantom suddenly appeared at the edge of his screen, coming up fast from where it had been—he had known it was there because of visuals, but now that it was behind him he had to rely on the less-observant sensors.

He flipped the intercom on, which was just wired to speakers in the main area of the dropship, and spoke.

“Colonel, we’ve got one Type-52 Troop Carrier coming up at 5:00 and gaining,” he said.
“Acknowledged. Do they look like they’ve noticed us?” the Colonel asked.
Aidan checked his readouts, then winced.
“I’d say not yet, but we can’t just open up the throttle, sir—they’re faster, and we’ve still got another two hours or so of flight.” If they were noticed, there wasn’t much likelihood that they could outmanuever the Phantom for that long—the Phantom was still a more powerful ship than the rugged UNSC vehicle.

It had been a week ago that Covenant ships had exited slipspace around Earth and begun disgorging troops. It felt more like a lifetime. Aidan had logged almost one hundred and twenty hours of flight time since then, with only thirty-some hours of sleep to cover it. The Covenant had flooded Kenya, and UNSC forces were being driven back. The ‘new’ species, the Brutes, were extremely hard to stop once they got momentum, according to some of the troops that Aidan had airlifted out. Having been on some of the other planets that had been invaded by the Covenant, Aidan did not hold much hope for Earth unless a miracle occurred. Like the rest of the UNSC forces, though, he wasn’t ready to give up. With the Covenant, it was a fight to the death.

Sol system, Nov. 10, 2552, Kenya, 0625 hours

The red dot suddenly began decreasing the distance between itself and the Pelican at a faster rate than before. Confirming it with the data that was displayed on his sensors showing the Phantom’s speed, Aidan winced.

“Colonel, they’ve spotted us. Beginning evasive manuevers.”

With attempts at stealth now futile, Aidan put all power to the Pelicans engines, and the craft lurched ahead with the sudden increase in speed, its engines roaring. It wasn’t enough, though—the Phantom was still gaining on them.

As it slowly pulled into range, Aidan started evasive manuevers, dodging the purple blasts of plasma from its main gun and its two turrets. Then the Pelican jolted with with a hit that connected, and as it jerked against the controls, Aidan felt several more blasts slap against the back of the Pelican. Then the starboard engines died.

“Colonel, we’re going down. Brace yourself!” he said on the intercom, fighting for a degree of control in their crash. He almost managed to level the Pelican out before they crashed through the canopy of trees into the jungle. Then came the impact—Aidan’s eyes widened as he had a split second where he could see the ground in front of the cockpit, then they hit, the nose crumpled, and Aidan was hurled against his safety harness, his breath knocked out.

His vision returned suddenly, and Aidan realized that he had had his eyes closed. Unbuckling his harness with somewhat shaky fingers, he managed to reach under the crumpled control panel and pull out his BR55. When he turned around, he realized that the Pelican had actually stuck in the ground at a slight angle, so he had to go uphill to reach the door that led from the cockpit.

In the back, he found his passengers already recovering, though Private Cristofez seemed to be favouring his left side. The ODSTs were already throwing some packs out of the open back of the dropship, and the marines were priming their weapons. Aidan stopped in front of Colonel Novak.

“I’m sorry, sir, but there was nothing I could do. Now it’ll be quite some time before we can get you to base.”

“Don’t worry about it, soldier—you were the only one of us who could do even as much as you did. None of the rest of us can even fly this bucket,” the colonel replied, giving him a quick pat on the shoulder.

“We’re ready to go, Colonel,” Corporal Douglas said, one of the ODSTs. The colonel nodded, then gestured for Aidan to go out before him. The humans wasted no time once they were out of the Pelican, running for cover as soon as their feet hit the churned mud. Aidan did stare slightly at the long furrow that the Pelican had made through the jungle, a swathe where no trees remained upright.

“Colonel, sir, the Phantom’s coming in,” Private Krömpel said, his germanic accent another sign of how many different cultures were represented in the UNSC. What the private said was true—the Phantom was visible in the near distance, coming to finish what it had started.

“Head for the trees, now,” the colonel said, and pain flickered on his face for an instant as he continued. “I need a volunteer, and I’m afraid there’s not much chance for the volunteer to survive if the rest of us are meant to. Someone needs to find a way to lead the Covenant in roughly the opposite direction as the rest of us, by whatever means possible.”

There was a moment of silence among the troops as they realized what the colonel was asking, and then Corporal Douglas spun on his heel. “I’ll do it, sir,” he said, giving the colonel a quick salute, his expression hidden behind the faceplate of his helmet. “Martinez, I’ll need your baby,” he said to the private who was carrying the impromptu platoon’s only SPNKR rocket launcher. With a reluctance that was diminshed by the knowledge of what the rocket launcher was to be used for, she handed it over, and unslung her assault rifle from her back to use instead.

“Good luck, Corporal,” the colonel said, as Douglas sprinted in the other direction. “All right, marines, we can’t stand here dawdling. Let’s move.” The platoon ran under the cover of the trees, moving as fast as they could for the first little while. Within a few minutes, they topped a low rise, and Aidan looked back. The angle was just right for him to see the crash site. Above it hovered the Phantom, and even as he watched, it disgorged Brutes. Just before he turned away, though, a rocket flashed into the the Phantom through the open side doors, and impacted on the inside. The Phantom didn’t even fall first. It just exploded where it was, a ball of blue fire and shards of debris.

“Colonel, Douglas just blew up the Phantom,” Aidan said in awe. That had been a beautiful shot. Unfortunately, it was also one that gave away his position. The colonel smiled. “He’s a good soldier. How many covies got on the ground, and what?”

“I counted five Brute privates, two captains, and,” his voice wavered a bit as he realized just what he had seen last. “and a Chieftan, sir. It looks like he’s got one of those hammers, too.”

The marines muttered various curses, and Aidan had to agree. The Brutes were presumably natural hunters, so they wouldn’t have too much trouble tracking them, and they also were faster, and stronger, and their armour would take time to get through. If there was a Chieftain, it reduced their own chances of survival by a lot.

As the humans trekked through the rainforest, they twice heard the distinctive sound of a rocket launcher being fired, and both times it brought winces and grimaces to their faces. It seemed that their ploy had worked. Corporal Douglas, though, would be in dire straights as a result.

Sol system, Nov. 10, 2552, Kenya, 0700 hours

Gargantus gave a toothy smile as he stepped away from the body of the human. Clothed in black armour, the soldier had caused them quite a bit of harm before they killed him, but now he himself was dead.

“Dispose of him,” he growled to his underlings, who gave smiles of their own as they obeyed. The one thing that this planet need never fear, so long as the Loyalists won, was decaying bodies. The Jiralhanae would make certain of it.

There weren’t any other tracks around the human, though. Just an empty rocket launcher. “He was a diversion. We were led away from our prey,” Gargantus said, anger bubbling to the forefront of his mind. To be tricked like that was humiliating, especially by a human, who were all destined to be exterminated for resisting the will of the gods.

“Come.” He set off back the way that they had come without any stealth whatsoever, running through the forest with great crashing strides. His underlings kept pace.

Sol system, Nov. 10, 2552, Kenya, 0750 hours

Aidan panted as he walked, trying to keep up with the others while still keeping a sharp eye on their surroundings. He wasn’t used to long walks—he had done hardly any hiking since boot camp several years earlier, and was much more comfortable in a cockpit. He managed to stay in more or less the middle of the group, though, splitting his concentration between their surroundings, maintaining steady breaths, and keeping track of the positions of the other humans relative to him on his HUD.

“Private Adams, set up on that peak over there,” Colonel Novak said suddenly, pointing off to the side, where a low peak could be seen above the trees, and presumably also dominated the surrounding landscape. “The rest of us will keep moving, so we should remain as their target.”

Adams saluted, then took his sniper rifle and cut through the forest toward the peak. Aidan crossed his fingers mentally—if the Brutes took the time to go kill him, it would take them off of the trail of the rest of the humans, but it would be another casualty, whereas this way, they might avoid losing any more than Douglas.
Some twenty minutes later, they heard the distinctive crack of a sniper rifle firing. Then they heard howls of rage. Aidan nervously looked behind them, to see where the Brutes might be—those howls were close enough that they had to be less than a kilometer away.

“Our turn, sir,” Corporal Landon said, her dark faceplate obscuring her expression. “You go on with Guinness, and we’ll hold them back.” The remaining three privates nodded in agreement.

“What?” the colonel asked in disbelief. “The four of you, holding back a larger force of Brutes in an environment where they’re almost on top of you before you have a clear shot?”

“Yes, sir. If we can hold them off long enough, Adams can give us some assistance from where he is, and you and Guinness can get to the base, where you both are needed.”

The colonel didn’t answer, and Aidan glanced towards him. Novak’s face was straight, but there was a tightness around his eyes as he answered.

“Very well, Corporal, but be sure to do it in a defensible position.”
Landon gave him the age-old sign for “no worries”—also known as “thumbs up.”
“Let’s go, Guinness,” the colonel said, moving ahead, his assault rifle half-raised. “Let’s make their stand worth it.”

Aidan followed, casting one last glance back at the quartet of soldiers who were about to give their life to protect the colonel. They were spreading out into various firepoints, all watching the forest in the direction they had come from, and all with grim acceptance on their faces. Aidan sighed.

Crack, crack, went the sniper rifle two more times. A moment later, a fusillade of fire broke out behind them. Aidan and the colonel were out of sight, but not out of hearing range—the roars of Brutes and the battle cries of the humans were distinct in their ears. Then Aidan saw something at the crest of the next hill.
“Colonel, is that—is that what I think it is, sir?” he asked in disbelief. There, under a camouflage net, sat a Sparrowhawk. The colonel’s mouth dropped open.
“Can you fly it?” he asked Aidan.

“Already on my way, sir,” he answered, running up the slope. It was the work of a moment to pull the camouflage net off, and climbing inside, he found all systems operational. With a whoop, he initiated the power-up sequence and buckled in.

“I’ll be right back, sir,” he said over the COM as he lifted off. It handled smoothly—more easily manuevered than the Pelican, but less sturdy, and he flew just a short way, to where he saw muzzle flashes and explosions in the trees. There were still four COM markers active, showing that all of the humans were still alive down there, and better yet, let him figure out where the Brutes were.

He flipped the switch that toggled from missiles to cannon, and squeezed the trigger. The trees visibly shook when the rounds hit them, and some of the smaller ones literally shattered. The effect on the Brutes was, of course, more dramatic, as they lost limbs to the rounds or gaping holes appeared in their chests, even through their armour.

The Brute Chieftain was visible as he opened his mouth in a roar that Aidan couldn’t hear above the sound of his weapons, and as he went berserk and leapt at the marines, a round caught him in the head.

Aidan smiled in satisfaction as the body that suddenly ended at the neck slumped to the ground, then ceased fire.
“Colonel,” he said over the COM, “there’s room for one more in this thing, so I can fly you to the base and then come back for the others.”

“Acknowledged—we’ll do it that way,” the colonel replied. “And we found the bodies of the former pilots—apparenty, they needed a restroom break, and set down near some Covenant. The Covenant are gone, and so are most of the pilots’ remains.”

Aidan swallowed hard. It seemed that whenever they beat a group of the Covenant, they got a reminder as to why the Covenant needed to be beaten.
“Roger that, sir, I’m coming down.”

These Brutes were dead, but this was only today, and tomorrow, Aidan might end up in the same situation. The war didn’t stop for tired soldiers.