M5: Rumble in the Jungle

[Cabel]

[51st Marine Assault Regiment: 1st Battalion, Alpha Company, Alpha Platoon, First Lieutenant Mark Seamus “Spade” Sorelson: Tropical Planet: Groundside: F.O.B. Medical and Triage Tent: 2547: Dream-state: July 2521: Planet Charon‘s second moon: Erebus: Pelican Golf Four-Six Crash-site: 1300 Hours Military Standard: 37 Hours after the Initial Crash]

“Sarge, we’ve got incoming. It’s one of ours,” Corporal Keith “Doberman” Dennis said nudging one of Mark’s boots. Mark had climbed into the back of Golf Four-Six’s bloodtray to get some rest after his turn to get some sleep had rolled around, and the Sergeant had left a Corporal by the name of Lister of the second fireteam to keep watch with some of his men while Mark with a few others grabbed some rack time. They had been forced to be prepared in the case the Insurrectionists had planned another attempt to overrun the marines defense around the crash-site of the downed Pelican Golf Four-Six and had to be prepared to destroy the site in the event a retrieval dust-off arrived. He’d make sure each of the marines including the bodies of the flight crew and second Fireteam’s Sergeant they’d lost on impact made it back to the marine base or at least the UNSCS Jabberwocky, a Halcyon Class Light Cruiser that had undergone the extensive refit of 2510 most of its class had undergone. The Jabberwocky had been one of four ships dispatched to cement a UNSC presence on the moon of Erebus, and to quell reports of Insurrectionist activity on the partially industrialized moon. The Platoon his Fireteam’s parent squad had been assigned to had deployed from the Jabberwocky as had the ill-fated pelican Golf Four-Six, and he’d shared the same thoughts about returning to the Halcyon Class Light Cruiser. “Shades spotted the bird coming down with a second Pelican and a few Longswords as escorts,”

“It seems the pilot’s distress call before the nose hit has finally been answered. It took the fly-boys long enough to notice we weren’t sitting in a hanger refueling,” Mark replied waking up from a rather nice dream before sitting up against the bulkhead of the bloodtray. “Spread the word if the boys haven’t already taken notice, and pack whatever we can take with us. We’ll destroy Golf Four-Six after everyone’s aboard the retrieval dust-offs along with the Warthog’s gun. I’d rather not leave anything behind for the Insurrectionists. You should have woken me earlier, Keith. You let me sleep too long,”

“You needed it, Mark. You pulled more watches on duty than anyone else,” Keith said. “The Insurrectionists didn’t probe the perimeter while you were asleep either,”

* * * * * *

[Present]

“Lieutenant? Can you hear me?” he heard a surgeon’s voice bring him back to the present. Mark had been dreaming, a gift from his unconscious mind while the F.O.B.’s surgeons had tended to the Lieutenant’s injuries including having repaired his shattered leg after having carefully removed the brute spike that had punched through the shin bone and had mended the mild concussion he’d suffered. Slowly, Mark’s eyes opened having to readjust to the surgical bright light above him and for the face of one of the Surgeons to come into view. “How do you feel?”

“Annoyed. You woke me up from a rather nice dream,” Mark replied. “My throat feels a bit raw, and my head’s sore,”

“It’s an improvement. You’re going to be alright, but when they brought you in you were pretty banged up. You were unconscious, in some of the latter stages of heat exhaustion combined with the amount of blood you’d lost. We deemed it safe to only give you a light dose of anesthesia, enough to keep you under without complicating matters. We were able to remove the brute spike from your leg, mended your shattered leg and we were able to treat that mild concussion. The third degree plasma burns were a bit more difficult, but with a few cloned skin grafts they shouldn’t pose a problem in the future. Your tenth and eleventh ribs on your left side were bruised, and we opted to inject some muscle relaxant to alleviate the pressure in hopes that the ribs will heal on their own. We even managed to snap your shoulder back into place without waking you,” the Surgeon with the naval rank of Lieutenant Commander explained. “We even served a nice martini with a side of plasma for you in an I.V. drip. You’ll walk out of here with a nice buzz once we’ve cleared you for duty,”

“You sound familiar. Have you ever served aboard a cruiser called Jabberwocky?” Marked asked, wondering if the same medical officer sitting at his bedside had been the one to treat him and his men following their thirty-seven hour ordeal on the moon of Erebus twenty-six years earlier.

“I knew I’d recognized you. I served as a Lieutenant Junior Grade aboard the Jabberwocky from the summer of twenty-five twenty to twenty-five twenty-two. I was one of the ones in Sickbay to help check out you and your men after the Golf Four-Six crash. I’d wondered what had happened to you, and I’m glad you’ve survived this long,” the Lieutenant Commander replied.

“I’ve survived, but many of the marines from that ordeal haven’t. I tried to save the survivors from Oblivion One-One after she went down, but the situation spiraled out of control. We ran into a few Jackals, who helped us out followed by a fire-fight with a couple of brutes including a Chieftain. I can’t say I’m able to remember anything past being dragged aboard a retrieval dust-off,” Mark explained. “How have you been, Doc? I have to say I’m grateful you survived this long too, and that you've leaped up the promotion ladder,”

“The promotion came with a lot of work, a lot of martinis, and patching up marines like you that come in off the field,” the Lieutenant Commander said, with a smirk.

“I hope you only drink off-duty,” Mark replied.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” the Surgeon remarked.

“Hey, Doc, on the CASEVAC a Jackal sat next to me. I named him Big Bird due to the language barrier, and I’m wondering where is he? He helped us out. He helped drag some of our injured from around the wreck,” Spade asked.

“The Jackal came with you on the dust-off? I think some of the marines put him in binders and escorted him to a security tent,” the Lieutenant Commander replied.

“I hate to ask a favor, but I did give him my word. Could you check to see if he‘s being treated well? He was injured in the blast. Don‘t let them kill him, Doc. Every marine from the crash-site owes him their life, me included,” Spade asked.

“I don‘t know if the brass will too pleased, but I‘ll do my best if he means that much. It‘s not often you hear of a Jackal helping out marines,” the Lieutenant Commander said. “In the meantime, rest and relax. The word has it we‘re being evacuated,”

[David]

Admiral David Vardy
Bridge - UNSCS KILLIMANJARO
Engaging Covenant Fleet

"Admiral!" reported Kim. "UNSC fleet is awaiting our orders."

Nodding, David gave himself a mental kick for hesitating. The fleet needed him at his optimum efficiency. Nodding to Kim, David took a breath. "Open a channel to the fleet."

"Channel Open." replied Kim, pressing a few buttons.

"All ships. This is Admiral Vardy. As you can see, we have a big fleet inbound as well as Covenant stragglers. My AI will send you coordinates. Form up and divert engine power to MAC guns." Then, consulting with Lambert, David then finished with "Good luck everyone. Vardy out."

"Lambert get those coordinates out. Form up a classic diamond formation." Then, looking at the tactical board, saw that Admiral Klix had re-entered the fray. "Send the Adniral my compliments."

Looking at the board, He saw as the ships got into position. He just prayed that it would be enough.

[Deleted]

Captain Brad McCauley
Temporary Commanding Officer, UNSCS Kong
Bridge

Brad continued leaning against the edge of the holotable. The admiral was giving him the choice of either escorting the Iowa, or join the rest of the fleet and attack the Kig-Yar fleet. If he were young still, he would have joined the fleet in an instand, but by now he had learned that it may be just as good, or even better to stay behind. This was true especially since the odss were slim, and even that would be too great to describe their situation. Brad thought for a moment before looking to the comms officer. The lad immediately unmuted their microphone and Brad said ""Admiral, the Kong will stay behind and cover that brick of yours... Sir." No offense to you, my dear, dear cabin. he thought. The XO's cabin aboard the Iowa was actually about the same size of the Kong's captain's quarters. Brad had decorated it to his liking and it was now his home, seeing as he didn't have a house anywhere.

After muting the microphone again, Brad walked towards his chair and said to the helmsman "Lieutenant, bring us about, and move us to the port bow of the Sra... I mean, the Iowa." He forgot for a moment that the ship was now named Iowa, and not Sratoga anymore. He would have a hard time remembering that since he had spent almost half his life aboard it. When he sat down in his chair, he pulled up a picture of him and his family the last time he saw them. He saw his father in his Marine Corps dress uniform, and his mother in her Navy dress uniform, the rear-admiral star on her shoulders. Himself had just been promoted to commander, and was wearing his own dress uniform as well with the three stripes on his shoulders.

Then one of the officers, a blonde, female ensign, disturbed his thoughts by asking for orders. She was in charge of flight ops, and Brad had totally forgotten to give her orders. He thought for a moment and then said "Alright, ensign, keep the pelicans ready to scramble. The battle is sure to result in enough escape pods, and I want to make sure they'll be saved. I also want them to coordinate with the longswords from our carriers." He said before looking around the bridge. They were getting ready for a fight.

[MrKill]

Colonel Killinger
Marine Forward Operating Base
Heading towards the security tent

Colonel Killinger had left the Regiment Head-Quarters after yelling at the Lieutenant Colonel for making a bad judgement call that cost the UNSC this mission. They had failed to acquire the Imperial Admiral - but apparently some Spartan Three's were engaging the Covenant by or on the Corvette. What was true the Colonel couldn't be to sure as reports were inconsistent. He left he Lieutenant Colonel to investigate more, a job he should do relatively easier... Hopefully.

"UNSCS Hibernian this is Colonel Killinger," Killinger started. The UNSC Frigate was hovering nearby. Killinger needed to start getting Marines towards the vessels in orbit and his target was the UNSCS Iowa, which had previously been the UNSCS Sratoga. "As an asset to this Marine FOB I need you to start ferrying Marines from here to the UNSCS Iowa. You'll help us by speeding up evacuation time. Thanks for the assist, Killinger out."

Killinger was heading towards the Security Tent to talk to their new prisoner. He wanted to know why the Kig-Yar fleet in orbit was engaging the UNSC fleet after a successful trading mission. Perhaps they didn't want an alliance, or perhaps they lacked morale judgement and simply didn't care for an alliance - but Killinger wanted to get his answers directly from the Kig-Yar people had begun to call 'Spike'.

"Colonel, sir?" A Marine Sergeant standing next to the captured bird said, his weapons barrel brushing against the jackals skull. John waived the Colonel aside with waive of his hand and a nod. The Sergeant stepped back reluctantly and two other Marines raised their rifles as the Colonel drew closer.

"Translation software active?" The Colonel asked. A portable computer had been set up next to the creature with the latest translation programs the UNSC had. They could decode Sangheili talking, along with some words from the jackals, grunts and brutes. The Sergeant nodded.

He looked at the jackal and crouched next to it, grabbing his lit cigar with his pointer and index finger and pulled it away, breathing the smoke close to the jackals face. He returned the cigar to his mouth and took a drag.

"You're going to tell me who you are allied with and you're going to tell me now," Killinger said, smoke exiting his mouth as he spoke. "I don't give a damn if you're Covenant or a Kig-Yar 'Mercenary', but if you don't tell me you'll become a toy to our intelligence branch." Killinger added.

ONI had received word already that the Marines had captured a jackal, but no one was aware if it was Covenant or one of there Mercenaries. They had issued an order to keep it alive - for now. Killinger's job was to find out the truth and if it was Mercenary ONI had to consider releasing the Jackal, despite them engaging the fleet above, or risk a potential alliance.

"And then you're going to tell me what I want to know."

Sergeant Pain
Marine Forward Operating Base
Medical Tent

"Doc, if I don't get up and move how the hell am I supposed to be evacuated? I'm certainly not going home on a stretcher and I don't baby wounds." Pain retorted. Ironically, he was also in extreme pain as well. The Lieutenant Junior Grade, who was patching the Sergeant up, shook his head.

"You've got a fractured skull, four broken ribs, three deep cuts and a first degree burn, Sergeant. You're lucky you're not going home in a bloody box!" The Lieutenant Junior Grade said. Yes, the injuries were severe and bad but the Sergeant would tolerate it. "Not to mention a concussion." The man added.

Pain rolled his eyes. "I'm not asking to be redeployed, I just want to walk around."

"No, Sergeant. Stay still and rest. Don't make me make it an order. I will, Marine." The Navy Doctor replied.

Pain nodded when a burst transmission came through his radio and listened to the transmission that came through. He winched as he touched the base of his skull to examine the swelling that had started to occur. He used his neural lace to enable his radio so he could reply to the Private. He looked at the Lieutenant Junior Grade through squinted eyes.

"You're not going anywhere." The man said and walked away.

"Yes sir." Pain replied, before addressing the Private. "Upload your NAV marker to CENTCOMM, Private. Someone will dispatch a fire-team to assist." The Sergeant said.

[NinjaBoss]

Zahn 'Vignarlee, Major Domo

    Zahn turned his head as his shields recharged, startled by a small voice directly behind him. It was Yaddap and his lance, the sole survivors of his lance. He was suddenly overcome with rage, and roared at the ultra. "Where have you been? I've been trying to reach you the whole battle, Pran and the kig-yar were killed by the hum-" He was suddenly cut off as a bullet arced into his shoulder, lowering his shield charge to around 3/4 full capacity. He ducked behind the tree once again, his rage for the Unggoy suddenly gone. "Nevermind Unggoy, take cover and prepare to fight the nishum!" He ordered, then leaned out from behind the tree and take two shots at the human who had shot him, hitting him in his shoulder and chest, permanently removing the disease to the galaxy from the battle.

[Faclan]

Bep Spike, Jackal Prisoner.
Awaiting whatever is going to happen to him, and being impressed at a computer.

Grunting as he was moved off to a tent Spike tried to just walk with them so he didn't have to be dragged. By now the adrenaline of the crash site had worn off and his body was telling him it was time to just lay down and stop, his dull purple undershirt a bit wet from sweat and a bit of his own blood. Breathing out sharply as he was shoved back on his knees again he squinted his eyes a little as his ribs we're jarred suddenly. After painfully squatting there for a few more seconds he glanced around at the three humans and slowly started to move his legs. Folding them under himself in such a way that his Digitigrade legs were in a better position to support him, as he suspected he would be here for awhile. Offing as he was prodded hard in the back of the head with the gun barrel he nodded a little at the humans quick command - which he correctly guessed was to stop moving so much.

Doing his best to keep himself awake he thankfully soon had some good stimulation as what looked like a computer station was rolled into the tent with him, followed by the important looking human from the crash site. He quickly straightened up a little, he knew this human likely had some control over the others so he would have to make a good impression if he wanted to live. He watched as the human quickly spoke to the soldiers behind him who removed their guns as the important human crouched down to get to his level. Closing his eyes a little and turning to the side to cough a few times as the foul smelling smoke was blown in his face Spike hoped this didn't mean the horrible torture was about to start...But then the human started to speak, though as normal it was all gibberish. Spike started to look and get a little panicky, if he didn't respond he was sure he would be killed, but he couldn't understand any of his questions or demands. He was about to squeak out a plea that he couldn't understand before the computer beside him started to chirp up quickly in his own language.

Spike was visibly stunned by this computer as he roughly translated what the important human had said, the voice was very monotone and some bits were audibly missing, but it mostly got its point across;

"You tell me, who ally, you tell me, now." Spike held his breath as more smoke was blown toward his sensitive beak. "I no care...Covennnnnt or Kig-Yar workfighter." Thank the gods... "You no tell me, you go to smart tree as toy." That certainly didn't sound good, and Spikes mind immediately filled in the weird language with gruesome experiments and torture - seems he's good at guessing games.

"Then, you tell me, what I want." Seems reasonable, but Spike still looked worried as he knelt there as there wasn't any part of him living in that little exchange, just ways that he would be executed if he didn't follow. Coughing again quietly to make sure he could speak as clearly as he could he replied, glad his chest armor had been left back at the crash site so the fact that he was a Covenant soldier wasn't held against him...well until right now. It may have taken him a little while to respond, but there was no hesitation in his reply, seemed the chicken was being very cooperative.

"My name is Bep, Covenant Spotter. I wasn't even aware there were my breatheren in orbit...What else did you want to know sir?...Please don't kill me." He added quietly at the end, managing to stay where he was and not shrink back as he tried to take as deep breaths as he could with all the smoke.

However the computer could only decode so much of that for the humans;

"Me Beep, Covenant Seer. I not know Kig-Yar orbit. What else want know Excellency? Plead no kill I."

[MrKill]

Colonel Killinger
Marine Forward Operating Base
Security Tent

"Sir, Covenant Seer?" The Sergeant said. John stood up and took a step back to muse the response over for a minute. In human terms, a Seer was also a synonym for Prophet. It's definition, John thought for a moment, was someone with insight about the future. This could be an extremely important asset for the UNSC, despite it being Covenant... The Colonel thought for a moment.

"According to the computer, yes. Perhaps he can see in the future, I doubt this is a prophet." John replied, aware that the computer could mistaken words, translate them wrong or something along the lines. The Covenant 'Seer' could also be lying, too. The Colonel had to take the risks higher than the rewards, and the only reward the Colonel could see was the UNSC gathering information they probably already had.

A Corporal tightened his grip on his gun.

"Fucker can't see the future, and if he can why would anyone want to be captured?" The man said off-highhandedly, likely commenting to himself or just voicing his opinion. The NCO wasn't addressing John, either. Sighing the Colonel took a drag of his cigar and blew the smoke towards the side, before returning to the Jackal - who wasn't confirmed Covenant either.

"You say you're Covenant, but yet you lack basic armor of their ranking system. What are your responsibilities within the Covenant Military?" The Colonel asked, narrowing his eyes slightly. He wanted tactical information that could lead to strategical intelligence, but they had to start somewhere.

[Arbiter124]

Drake A124

UNSC SPARTAN-III

Drake lifted up one arm to cover his face from the sparks, regardless of the fact that they wouldn't damage him. His eyes drifted from the display of lights to the taloned boot sailing towards his waist. Drake leaped to the right to avoid the kick, but it was not perfectly timed, and Drake felt the edge of the heel slam into his left leg, a glancing blow. 

Sadly, that glancing blow was enough to send him flying towards the ground. The SPARTAN shot his foot out ahead of him, planting it on the ground and spinning with his heel, landing in a kneeling position. 

Drake took little time to shoot back up and swing with his machete towards the Zealot's chest, the knife quickly after making a slash at the Zealot's neck.

[Faclan]

(Oh this is great XD.)

Bep Spike, Jackal Prisoner Prophet?
Back to being very confused.

"Excellency, Covennnnnt Prophet?"

Wait what? Now looking extremely confused Spike looked around all the humans then back at himself. Am I hallucinating? I don't think I got hit in the heard that hard? I still seem to be a Kig-Yar and the pain in my side is still very real. Maybe the translation software is buggy for them too? Must be if what it told me was like that...Ok relax relax, they just want information, he said if I cooperate I won't get to that tree....thing - relax.
 
"Screen say so, yes. May see future, I doubt this prophet." So it was the computer being buggy...he glanced back as he heard a grip tightening and gulped a little before his beak was pushed back to face the important human by a gun barrel. But the gun grippers voice behind him spoke up and was then roughly translated.

"Mate maker no see future, if do why want catch?" Why want catch...Oh, they are confused why I went on their transport rather than run like the other Kig-Yar...I wonder if they got out? He tried to look back to reply but was greeted by the gun barrel again as he was pushed to look forward again. He opened his beak to reply to the question, that death awaited him back at the corvette, before the important human spoke again and he quickly shut his mouth.

"You say you Covennnnnt, no have outfit of station, what responsible in Covennnnnt for?" It seemed like the computer was getting a better handle on the language, impressive. But Spike was still the picture of panic as he thought of a reply. When they thought he was a prophet they didn't seem like they wanted to kill him, if he said he was just a soldier would they think he wasn't worth anything and just kill him? The important one looked expectant, so he sighed a little and gave a reply.

"I'm a spotter for a sniper as well as a scout for the Sect. I went willingly onto your transport because I knew the Sangheili would kill me if I went back after helping your troops." He replied, trying to keep his voice steady as he choose not to ask to live again, he didn't want to become annoying and in need of shutting up. He glances to the side after he finished speaking as well, it sounded like more of their transports were landing, seemed like they were really leaving. Gulping again Spike looked back at the human, hoping they wouldn't put a bullet in him, leave or, or put a bullet him and then leave him to die slowly on the planet.

"I see for sniper and travel ahead for force. I go to transport, Elite death after help you force."

[BasedGoody]

Gary A319

Gary's eyes widened as the bullets were absorbed in the Elite's shields. This one was real. Suddenly it roared into the air and swept diagonally with his sword. The SPARTAN sidestepped to the left, dodging the attack. The second attack came horizontally, so he leaped back a foot, pulling his DMR back up. He attempted to fire close range, but the weapon was never good at that type of combat, plus Gary's nervousness might have cause the shots to fly off randomly. To follow up Gary pulled out his knife and swung it vertically at the Elite's head.

[Frazer]

Captain Frazer York
UNSCS Preston
Virtue Class Attack Carrier

Frazer sat there in his chair watching the time fly right by him. He then looked towards the holo table to see the evacuation was going better then expected. Frazer then was awoken from his daydreaming by his comm officer Dean Wilson. "Sir we have new orders from Admiral Vardy himself. Do you wish me to play this message out load?" Frazer nodded and as soon as he did so Wilson pressed a few buttons and the bridge speaker came to life.

"All ships. This is Admiral Vardy. As you can see, we have a big fleet inbound as well as Covenant stragglers. My AI will send you coordinates. Form up and divert engine power to MAC guns." The Comm paused. "Good luck everyone. Vardy out." Then comm went silent again.

"That's it sir." Frazer nodded and walked over to the holo table where his first Lieutenant stood.

"Look I know this looks bad everyone, this mission is not what we expected but we cant stay in orbit and let the fleet have fun without us." Frazer chuckled and the rest of the crew did even Tiffany the A.I. "Ill make this short, drinks are on me if we do make it but if we don't make it you all owe me a drink! Even if we are dead. All off you." Frazer looked to his XO. "Even you." The XO and Frazer laughed. "Lets do this for mankind eh? As a true British man once said. Who dares wins! Now whos with me?"

The crew shouted. "YEAHHHH!" Frazer smiled as his crew shouted that he then looked towards Trayner. 

"Right lets do this, Trayner set a course near the fleet, full ahead, make sure we get into the correct position. Tiffany help along with that. Once we are in position put all power to the MAC's please."

Both girls replied. "Yes sir." They then went off to their duties Tiffany helping Trayner with directions and then Trayner's ensigns doing work.

"All crew to your duties! Tiffany put the ship on red alert." Tiffany turned and nodded. A few moments went by and the ship siren echoed around the ship. "Wilson open me a channel with both Admiral Vardy and Klix." Wilson nodded and pressed a few buttons and then turned back to Frazer.

"Your live sir." Frazer moved over to the comm and pressed the button. 

"UNSCS Iowa and UNSCS Kilimanjaro, this is UNSCS Preston actual. I am heading into formation with the fleet. All pelicans have been deployed and are evacuating the marines and the longswords are now in position. We will be in position in five and will be awaiting orders. Preston out." Frazer then turned to his chair and walked up to it and sat in it. Five minutes went by and the Preston moved into position by the fleet and stopped at a halt.

"Sir power has been directed to the MAC cannons and the ship is ready for action."

"Thanks Tiff, right this is it people lets give these Fuc***s hell." Frazer turned towards Tiff and smiled then Tiffany smiled back and the crew got ready for what would be one hell of a day.  

[Spartan 999]

Field Master Sorsa Ra'ha Je'at 'Xirsasai
Landing Pad
Engaged in combat with Raptor

Sorsa felt a couple of the Demon's rounds scrape his shoulder's energy shields as he drew back his left sword for a thrust. He'd noticed the Demon was somewhat...slower than those he'd fought in the past. Still very much faster than a normal human, but it might not be enough against Sorsa. It was also smaller, and presumably less strong, but he didn't know if it was or not. When the Demon attempted to strike at his neck with a small knife, his thrust curved up and tilted slightly so as to best block or destroy the weapon--or even the Demon's hand--with the superheated plasma.

He used the momentum to spin and go low, right blade swinging around rapidly to slice horizontally at the Demon's knee-height. If the Demon jumped over the swing or backed up, but was still in range afterwords, Sorsa would bull-rush forward and attempt to slam into the human with his upper back, head tilted down and swords pointing behind him. Otherwise, if the Demon was out of comfortable range of the rush, he would step back and ready himself for the next clash.

[Huka]

Field Master Til Je'at Ra'ha 'Muramai

Watching the Demon fly back from his glance of a kick, Til flexed his talons in his handgrips but didn't quite expect it to come springing back at him. Stepping back, he just barely evaded the machete but the knife clashed at his neck. Eyes widened at the feel of his shield flaring and the blade itself scrapping against it, however the sheer thought of his neck armor be penetrated brought a surge of self-preserving rage.

 Crossing his blades in a X-fashion at either side of the knife-wielding arm while it still outstretched, Til spun on a talon-toed foot until his back was to the Demon and the hook-ends of his blades gripped at its armor before beginning to toss it over his shoulder towards the other side of the landing pad, near Sorsa and its battle-partner. 

[McStubbsberry]

Private Scott Lugar
Unknown Location

The private heard static, perhaps there was a human voice behind it, but Scott figured it was his mind playing a trick on him. It felt like hours since he called out, hoping someone was on the other side of the device. It had only been minutes though. For the first time since the young Marine went to boot camp, Scott was scared. The woman below Private Lugar groaned, shaking him from the thought of becoming stranded. She was bleeding out and could very well die any minute now. Master Sergeant Miller taught his class in basic the ways of combat life-saving. That brutish man also taught them how to use the fauna if you were unlucky enough to have proper bandages to dress wounds, which just so happened to be Scott's case. It wasn't hard for Scott to find a plant that provided a large enough leaf to cover the wound. In fact, the smallest plant within few appeared to produce a leaf that could wrap around a three hundred pound dwarf several times.

Leaving the staff sergeant's side, Scott almost drunkenly inspected the plant to make sure it wasn't toxic or a carnivore. I must have a concussion. Scott thought to himself. "Well, I might as well sample it." He said dryly as he pulled out his father's combat knife. The plant is thick and has a leathery texture to it, which made it hard to cut into, but he eventually cut out a small chunk and taste-tested it.

Scott chewed on the vegetarian beef jerky for a few minutes. It tasted bitter, just like any other plant he had tried. Always did love his red meat. Still, he needed the nutrients and had to make sure it wouldn't kill his superior. As he swallowed the leather piece of leaf, Scott began to cut through the stem, occasionally checking on Naomi. 

Once again, it seemed like hours to cut through the plant, but it was only several minutes. Quickly, the young private wrapped the leaf around the woman's torso and folded it into itself to keep it relatively secure. He was in no condition to carry her, nor did he think it was safe to do so. But before he prepares to follow the tracks of the mongoose, he tried the radio on more time. "This is Private Scott Lugar of Task Force Seven-Seven. I am with Staff Sergeant Naomi Kosovo, she is badly wounded. If anyone can hear me, that would be great. Over." Before waiting for a reply, Private Lugar began to unceremoniously drag his superior behind him. Leaving so quickly, he forgot his primary firearm, leaving him with only his pistol.

[McStubbsberry]

Private Scott Lugar

Scott trudged through the thick jungle for what seemed like a half hour. He had lost the trail of what he thought to be the mongoose, but it seemed like the right way. He thought he was sweaty before, but the humidity drenched the young man's aching body. The private stopped to rest for a minute. He felt the weight of his canteen and realized it was almost empty. Rather than taking the rest for himself, he parted the staff sergeant's lips and jaw and poured the rest of the contents into her mouth. Most of the water ran down her chin, but Naomi, whether out of sub-conscious reflex, or she really was conscious, managed to swallow. It was a relief to Scott, it was a good sign that she was still alive and kicking.

As he was about to begin his long trek again, the communications equipment buzzed to life. The jagged voice seemed tiny, but Scott was able to make out some of the words. "Private Lugar this is…. CS Hiber… acting as… evacua… and atmospheric ass…. the Marine….. Be advised, a…. pelican….. location, ground forces….. ocation is thick with foliage, …. clear area for…. can to land or clear…. ver."

It wasn't much to work with, but it would have to do. "This is Private Lugar to the last transmitter, I think I can see a clearing ahead of me. Maybe twenty-five meters. If possible, I think that will be suitable, over!" With renewed vigor, Scott grabbed Naomi's collar and as carefully, but quickly as he could, made his way forward.

[MrKill]

Colonel Killinger
Marine Forward Operating Base
Security Tent

"Covenant Spotter," The Sergeant mused for a second, speaking under his breath. The Colonel nodded slowly, understanding what the Jackal had meant. "But it is Covenant, sir." The Sergeant added, speaking up this time. His finger slipped from the trigger guard and touched his MA5C's trigger. The man was ready to fire, as was everyone else but the Colonel still needed answers.

"Stand down, for now." The Colonel said, taking another drag of his cigar. If the Jackal was just a Covenant spotter then perhaps it didn't actually know anything, but ONI wanted information and so did John, really. This was one in a life time opportunity to interrogate a jackal that had come willingly, rather than forcefully - unlike the rest of the Jackals the Marines were unable to gather in time.

"So, Spike..." Killinger began, clearing his throat. He'd seen an elite execute a grunt during previous missions for playing with a dropped hand grenade. They were literally following what ever religious motivations they had to its core, what ever its core was. "I want to know where the Imperial Admiral sits in the Covenant Military's chain of command." Killinger said.

There was still a chance they could get the Imperial Admiral, but at this point the Colonel wanted to know what they were loosing.

[Faclan]

Bep Spike, Jackal Prophet Prisoner.
Surprised they are asking silly questions.

"Covennnnnt Seer." Again with that, at least the important one has seemed to get over the computers quirks and understand. Looking at the humans as they conversed he shifted his legs around a little so he could get the crick out of his knees. As expected the humans tightened their grips but he made no moves beside that, just trying to stay still and be cooperative so they would have no reason to think he was going to try and run or kill anyone. Spike guessed him being still and not struggling or squawking madly was un-nerving to them, besides, he knew that after the human left he would probably pass out from all the exertion and pain.

"Stand low, now." The human seemed to be wanting him alive, which was good, but Spike still had concerns about how long that would like.

The human took some more puffs of his smoke stick, Spike being amazed that he could tolerate such a horrid smell and taste, before he crouched down in front of him again.

"So, Spiker..." There were worse names he could have called me - he mused as he twitched his two short mowhawks on top of his head, thanking the gods again that the spike hadn't been two inches lower. Looking up at the human as he continued he tilted his head a bit as the computer translated. "I want know, where, Imperial Admiral," Wow, the computer is getting good, "He sit, in, Covennnnnt station?"

How would they not know that? Would they just command a entire Sect of humans toward a well defended Corvette if they didn't know what was at stake? Blinking a little he thought the best way to describe this would be to try and do it with words and his hands to show the levels. But when he tried to bring his hands forward to explain this he had forgotten his hands had been very securely tied behind him, dam exhaustion, and as such he fell forward right on his beak in front of the important human. The marine headband falling out of his belt compartment as he squawked a little in annoyance and started to roll over to sit back up as he explained.

"The Imperial Admiral controls the entire Covenant Fleet," He replied as he finally got back into a sitting position, crossing his legs in front of him so he hopefully wouldn't fall forward again. A thought crossed his mind that now he was 100% dead if he went back, so freely giving up information, but he was past that now, and just trying to give what he could to live. "His station is the highest, taking orders directly from the Hierarchs."

"Imperial Admiral, own all fleet. He top station, take command from high leaders."

(Good old Fumbles Bep :>, the headband is the forest green fatigue pattern with the UNSC eagle on the inside of it.)

[MrKill]

Colonel Killinger
Marine Forward Operating Base
Security Tent

The jackal fell forward, the leading edge of his beak nearly catching the Colonel's right leg. A green digital pattern headband, however, slid off the birds person. The Jackal rolled onto its rear and sat cross legged as the Colonel retrieved the headband. Marines, however, were caught startled and again strengthened their grips on their rifles. The tension was tight but the Jackal was, so far, providing information the Colonel wanted - for now. He examined the headband and found his internal anger growing. He took a deep breath and tucked the headband into one of his vests pouches.

Who does this belong to? The Colonel wondered.

It was logical to assume, however, that the Jackal, being a spotter, wasn't that high up the Covenant hierarchy - just like a Private wasn't in the UNSC's rank of file system, which could be largely considered a hierarchy as well, since a hierarchy was a system where someone was ranked within an organization higher than someone else, thus holding more responsibilities.

The Colonel sighed and realized that the Jackal was fairly useless and probably couldn't provide much more information, and it was ONI's job to rip information from the creature, but John still had to dig in deeper for the things he wanted. He'd let the political rambles of ONI deal with the bird later, but for now it was staying alive - and that was his standing orders as of right now.

"If the Imperial Admiral is the commanding officer of the fleet, like a Fleet Admiral, but answers to someone else..." Killinger thought aloud for a second, before looking directly at the Jackal. In the UNSC the Fleet Admiral's of the navy were the leaders of the Government. Since humanity was in an 'emergency military government' state the Fleet Admirals had everyone, including the political divisions, answer to them. They were extremely powerful people, more powerful than the infamous ONI shenanigans. "What form of Government does the Covenant have, and who runs it."

That was a question the UNSC had yet to find out. How were the Covenant gathering their materials to build their ships? Where were chains of supply the Covenant used to humanity could tactically disrupt them to slow down the Covenant from wiping humanity out. Did they have some form of currency? How was the Covenant managed. These were answered, other than the oblivious religious motivations and a hierarchical system the UNSC used.

Those would be answers ONI would practically force out of the Jackal.

[Arbiter124]

Drake A124

UNSC-SPARTAN-III

Drake spiralled through the air, and landed hard on his shoulder. He skid on the landing pad until he reached the edge, finally stopping. The SPI clad SPARTAN staggered to his feet, looking up, dazed. He looked around as he realized that he was holding no machete, nor a knife.

He was a sitting duck.

[McStubbsberry]

Private Scott Lugar
En Route to Extraction

The young private was becoming weaker by the minute. He had become dehydrated, he was sure he had a concussion, but there was a woman dying behind him. That was his only reason to keep pushing on. The clearing seemed so close, only steps away from his salvation. Scott's body screamed in agony, it screamed for him to stop, to lie down and quit. To finally sleep, to dream. He refused though, he wouldn't give up, not now. He was too close. Sweat trickled into his eyes, the salty content burned, but he paid no mind to it, he knew he was still alive. Scott was covered in blood. Some of it was that sickly blueish purple alien blood, some of it was his own. Most of it was from that woman he dragged behind.

All of these things flooded his mind until the communications equipment strapped to his Staff Sergeants chest crackled to life once more. "…vate Lugar Please confirm that you…. transmission the UNSCS Hibernian sent…. are responding to said transm…. advised, CASEVAC… your position…. due to the open nature of your broadcasting, …..telling us about the clearing, over"

The private quickly grabbed the receiver, excited one more to hear the sound of another person's voice, as tiny and jagged as it was from the equipment. "This is Private Lugar, I confirm that the last transmission was intended for the Hibernian. The clearing is also for your people, glad someone's out there listening."

Once again, Scott was filled with excitement. He wasn't aware of how long he had been here, but he was moments away from a rescue. It was a good time to check on Naomi's vital signs. Just by looking at her, he realized something was very, very wrong. Her skin had become pale and it was cold to the touch. The Marine knew the answer, but he needed to be sure. Shakily, he pressed his index and middle finger to her neck, there was nothing. Maybe it was too weak to feel, she couldn't be dead yet. He checked for any sign of breathing, there was none. Scott felt as though he was going to throw up, the woman had literally died in his hands. Quietly, he pulled off her tags and pocketed them. "Private Lugar to the UNSCS Hibernian, inform your extraction team that we have one KIA. Over."

Slowly but surely, Scott dragged the woman into the clearing. It was going to be a tight fit, but it should work. The trees were far to high to see it, but he could hear the comforting purr of the Pelican circling above like a bird of prey. 

[McStubbsberry]

Private Scott Lugar
Extraction Point

Scott laid the woman down and then sat down against a tree. Once more, the equipment chirped and a voice came through, this time much more clear. "Casualty this is CASEVAC Pelican three sent to rescue your ass, urrm, I am currently unable to see you, do you wish for us to land in the landing approximately 35 meters from your last registered location? If not I will need you to pop a flare or somethin', over." Scott figured a link in the system must have been damaged, before they didn't have an issue with communications in the jungle.

"This is Private Lugar to CASEVAC. I don't have flares but I can hear you up there. The clearing is a tight fit, come in straight down and it should be fine. I'm located on the south-western portion of the trees, over."

For the first time since landing on the planet, Scott closed his eyes and tried to relax. The voice of his head Drill Sergeant wormed its way inside of his head. "You're in the Marines now, son." 

[Faclan]

Bep Spike, Jackal Prophet Prisoner Teacher.
Starting to get worried again, and doing his best to explain politics in broken English.

Looking at the human's expression as he looked over his headband Spike got a little worried as he looked angry and the humans behind him tightened their weapon grips again. Quickly clucking out that he found it, he didn't kill anyone to get it he managed to force himself to stay seated so he wouldn't make any more blunders that could lead to horrible death.

"No kill, I find, I find!"

Taking some more deep breaths as the human got close to him again Spike was pleased to see that no foul smoke was going to be blown into his face this time as he asked him some more questions. Well, asked him more questions after a clarification it seemed;

"Covennnnnt, what, politic kind have?"

Ooooh...this may take awhile...and I'm not even sure if its still run that way? Most of the stuff I know about this we got as sermons by the Sangheili, the Hierarchs holograms, or those Unggoy. Being silent for a good twenty seconds he looked to be deep in thought about how best to explain this with the problems that the translator had, thought it could be seen as plotting, but he was just wishing he could use his hands but he wisely decided against asking for that - he was still a prisoner, so they got to set the rules. He was just glad they weren't asking him with the assistance of knives or beatings. Looking back up at the human he took another deep breath as he started to try and explain.

"From what I understand, though I'm sorry I don't know for sure, the Covenant is led by a San 'Shyuum Prophet who is able to talk with the Holy Ones to lead them on a Great Journey. The Prophet then directs the Sangheili commanders and they direct the troops to retrieving artifacts of the gods to lead us to the Great Journey." He wasn't sure that was exactly what the human wanted, but he really wasn't sure what he had been asked so it was the best he could offer. He just hoped it was enough to save him from the evil tree.

"What I understand, sorry I not know, Covennnnnt led by a Prophet prophet, he talk with Holies to direct to Big Journey. Prophet talk to Elite leaders and they direct troop to pick up Holies pieces to go on Big Journey.

(So doesn't know there are three prophets or a council of Sangheili+San 'Shyuum, can't let him know too much being such a low rank.)

[McStubbsberry]

Private Scott Lugar
Extraction Point

Scott opened his eyes to watch the craft touch the ground. The pilot knew what they were doing, that's for sure, but the landing was too soft for him. The private wanted the thrill, he wanted the drop pod. He wanted ODST. Perhaps he will get it for managing to survive. Hell, the higher-ups might see the blood and envision a battle between him and that alien he apparently landed on. It brought a thin grin to his face, but it was time to go.

The Marine was tired and his body ached from dehydration and the pleasant bump he experienced, thankfully unconsciously. It was difficult standing, but he had to look tough in case the crew needed to write a report. Perhaps Major Killinger would see it and applaud Scott. That's right, he needed to get into contact with the Major. Scott's legs felt like jello, but he wasn't going to wait for the crew. The private picked up the former Staff Sergeant, his muscles ached, but it reminded him for that twelve-hundred pound log he had the pleasure of sharing with a dozen men and women at basic. He supported her back with one arm, causing her head to rest on his chest, while the other arm supported her legs at the knees. She wasn't a big woman, but between her, the gear, and his screwed up body, it wasn't an easy task in itself. 

With a grimace, Scott made his way to the Pelican, waiting any moment for the crew to come out and drag him away from this mess.

[MrKill]

Colonel Killinger
Marine Forward Operating Base
Security Tent

Killinger nodded, taking a sharp breath to cool his nerves. It was clear, now, that this Jackal didn't know anything anymore as he started repeating information that the UNSC had already known. It was obvious that this specific Jackal wasn't high in the chain of command and probably had revealed all the information he knew at the moment. The ground wasn't entire secure anymore, with the Covenant ship nearly above the crashed Corvette.

"Okay, thanks. We're done for now." Killinger said, let the computer translate and shut it down. He closed the portable computers lid and slammed his fist down, frustrated that the Kig-Yar was clearly didn't know much more information. In reality he was angry at the Lieutenant Colonel. If they had the Imperial Admiral much more information would have been available and potentially, if the UNSC would have been successful in capturing the elite, end the war.

The entire plan was to capture the Imperial Admiral, which the UNSC assumed to be above these 'prophets'. One valuable piece of information, however, was figured out during the Colonel's questions. That Imperial Admiral, was, answering to someone of a higher power. The Colonel slammed his right fist down again and started to walk away from the security tent. This whole operation was a waste of life.

"The Imperial Admiral answers to someone else. This whole operation was pointless and lives were lost for an elite that would have got us nothing!" Killinger said aggravated, thinking aloud. Hundreds of Marines lives had been lost, bodies that they'd never be able to recover without sustaining heavier casualties... all for nothing. The Colonel felt guilty, like it was almost his fault.

He glared towards the command building, where he knew the Lieutenant Colonel that put the bad tactics into plan was standing over a holographic projector waiting for his pelican to arrive to send him back to the ship he once came from. The man had the guts to continue to order troops around after costing the lives of hundreds. John shook his head and cleared the thought of strangling the man.

"This is Colonel Killinger to any pelican on this station," The Colonel begun. "I need transportation for a high value package, wounded men and myself to the UNSCS Iowa] - Alpha Priority." The Colonel said, walking into the medical tent. He noticed First Lieutenant Sorelson on a stretcher, as well as Sergeant Pain and Corporal Ward. He walked over to Sorelson first and examined the Marine over.

"Sir." A Lieutenant Commander, a medical doctor, said.

"Lieutenant Commander," Killinger replied. "I've called for a pelican. I want any Marine who warrants a medical extraction on a normal pelican ready to go in five minutes."

"Understood, sir. Sorelson and Pain can go, as well as Ward, Jonnie and Dexter. Other than that I'm sure the rest of the Marines will be fine." The Lieutenant Commander replied.

Killinger nodded and looked at Spade. "You old bugger," He said - smiling. "You'll make it."

[McStubbsberry]

Private Scott Lugar
CASEVAC Pelican

The oily smell of the Pelican was comforting, Scott didn't quite realize how much he hated that jungle until he stepped into the aircraft. One medic worked on the private, it was very basic. Checking his vital signs, asking where he hurt, re-hydrating him. Scott just wanted to sleep, but the work that was being done to his superior kept him waiting. The private had no sense of time, but she had to of been dead for about ten minutes now. His hopes weren't so high. Still, if they could bring her back, he would applaud them. Though even then, she wouldn't be returning to combat. More than likely, they would put her into cryo until they could take her somewhere with the proper facilities to treat her. It was wishful thinking on his end, but the Master Sergeant told his platoon to expect people to die. He had told the group to look to their left and right, that chances were that those people would die within their first engagement with the Covenant. That man should do uplifting speeches, he'd be good at it.

The medic pulled a chunk of metal out of Scott's thigh, he wasn't expecting it, but then again, he didn't know it was there either. Biofoam was injected into the open wound, it would be more than enough to fix the cut and punctured flesh. "Sir? Would you be so kind as to pass a message along to the Hibernian? I need to get in contact with a Major John Killinger." 

[Buzzkill]

Lieutenant Buzzkill Adams
Airspace Over Marine FOB
Pelican CL-2512-T3

The airspace over the Marine forward operating base was anything but empty. Here and there Pelicans rushed around to pick up soldiers that were stranded on the ground. Some were heading into orbit, others were coming back down at incredible rates of speed. Among those that were returning, many bore the increased troop capacity module, so that they could carry more troops back up to the vessels in orbit, rather then remain with the minuscule number of fifteen troops within their belly’s. It was a speedy tactic for withdrawal, but not all of the craft held them.

Dominating the airspace over head was the Frigate Hibernian, its green striped mass keeping a vigil over the hastily made installation. With it in place many felt an increased air of safety. The mass of cannons and close proximity of a powerful weapon system such as that would keep many of the Covenant forces on the ground far away, lest they be wiped away with ease.

Some of the pilots however did not feel quite so sure of that however. While all of the brave men of the UNSC had seen what the Covenant was capable, few had the first hand look that the pilots of its space fairing craft did. Seeing first hand what Covenant plasma did to a ship made you see the concept of safety a bit differently, especially in a hard war like the one they were fighting.

Amongst the Pelican Dropships flying over head was one marked CL-2512-T3, with a gray hornet painted just below the cockpit, along with a buzz saw wrapped around it. It was the personal marking of the ship commanded by Lieutenant Gavin Adams, commonly referred to as Buzzkill, his nickname and call sign. It soared with ease over the base, heading towards a general staging area. They were not specifically scheduled, but it was where many of the Dropships were heading to pick up soldiers stationed on the UNSC Iowa.

Buzzkill himself was a bit on edge. They were doing a full retreat, and while that was not uncommon, it always made him a bit wary. The UNSC forces only did that when they were facing overwhelming firepower and an imminent loss. While they were assured that the Covenant forces did not pose any direct threat to them, he had been on the receiving end of bad intelligence before and was not looking have it run him down on that particular day.

“Priority one call, Buzz” said the co pilot Seaweed, without any indication he was going to speak.

“Patch it in.” Buzzkill responded, his hands firmly on the controls of the Pelican.

A voice came over that Buzzkill did not personally recognize, but the name was one he was familiar with. ” "This is Colonel Killinger to any pelican on this station. I need transportation for a high value package, wounded men and myself to the UNSCS Iowa - Alpha Priority."

“We’re takin’ this one.” Buzzkill declared to his co-pilot. “Better that then a trunk full a grunts.”

Buzzkill switched on his com so that it met with the frequency of the other dropships. “Buzzkill responding to Alpha call, over.”

He began adjusting the Pelican immediately starboard to head in the direction of the calls coordinates. He adjusted the frequency to the Colonel’s position and then acknowledged the transmission.

“Colonel Killinger, this Buzzkill, we hear you. Comin’ to your position now. ETA, 90 seconds, over.” He finished and switched the com off.

The Dropship began coming in low. The clearing was easy to fly through, but the thick air had made turbulence a very regular thing on that planet. It was not ideal flying conditions, but Buzzkill was willing to work through it. He did not have much a choice but the good news that he was very familiar with that specific sort of atmosphere and did not have a lot of trouble with it.

Buzzkill’s Dropship came directly over the coordinates of the Colonel’s transmission, and they found an open spot designated for arrivals and departures. Buzzkill moved the craft a bit farther forward to come even with the open space. The Dropship then began to lower itself over the small clearing of space. It was an easy touch down onto the landing zone, though the dropship’s powerful engines kicked up dust as it set down.

Finally as it set down, landing gear fully extended, the noise loud scream coming from its engines began to lighten up. They remained active however as Buzzkill kept them that way.

“Keep the engines hot Seaweed, I’m gonna help em out.” Buzzkill said, unhooking his harnesses and removing his flight helmet. He’d had it on for a few hours, and it was becoming uncomfortable. He already had the visor up since they were in atmosphere, but he’d get a few minutes of fresh air.

He came around the flight chairs and into the belly of the Pelican itself. He was met with ‘Switch’ who was dressed the same as him, only still had on his flight helmet. ‘Switch’ was already opening up the rear ramp when Buzzkill came into the back and light poured into the cabin.

Buzzkill stepped outside and looked around. It was always a bit strange seeing troops moving on the ground, since it was so different from the sterile environment which dropships like him tended to operate off of. Of course half the time Buzzkill was deployed to ground positions when he was in a combat zone, but the sheer majority of his time was spent on ship which made scenes like the one he was looking at unusual even then.

He looked at the side of his dropship and saw a large plasma burn on the side. He had noted that they were fired on earlier, but did not realize was that close.

“Holy shit, where’d that come from.” He muttered to himself.

Buzzkill did not realize they had been streaked that well. Of course the shot did not look like the plasma weapon was heavy duty enough to really bring them down, but it was odd just seeing the streak.

He then looked over at the people operating in front of him, not sure who he was looking for.

“Someone called for an Alpha Evac?” Buzzkill said, then scratching his short blonde hair as he waited for whatever was to follow.

[MrKill]

Colonel Johnathon B'Sheau Killinger
Marine Forward Operating Base
Medical Tent

(( OOC: Sorry for the SLIGHT god-mod, Faclan, but I assumed it'd be okay to phase you onto the pelican. ))

“Colonel Killinger, this Buzzkill, we hear you. Comin’ to your position now. ETA, 90 seconds, over.” Killinger's communications channel replied. The veteran officer nodded and felt a ping of regret. For the first time in his career he'd actually be leaving the field of battle before the rest of the UNSC troopers, but his priority packaged deemed it necessary for him, as the Iowa's Marine Commanding Officer, to secure the prisoner satisfactorily. Who knows - perhaps Killinger could convince 'Buzzkill' to return to the planet and wait for everyone else to be extracted.

There was another looming concern, too - the lack of bodies that were being brought back from front line units. It always pained Killinger to have to leave a fallen man behind and five hundred years ago it wouldn't have been acceptable. Hell, even not it wasn't entirely acceptable but sometimes necessary. Entire worlds had been burned away, leaving nothing but nearly vaporized, or vaporized, remains of troops that had fought hard to keep the colony in UNSC hands. Hell... sometimes they weren't even dead. Burned away while still breathing.

Killinger winched at the thought. Being glassed as your last breath of air escaped your lungs, the excruciating pain that was not describable followed by the vaporized remains of who you once were. Perhaps, however, those people were lucky to die in the field of battle. People who were killed during the glassing of Harvest no longer lived to see just how bad the UNSC's current status was. John had personally seen planets glassed from orbit, watching as lakes boil away and the atmosphere ripple with the destructive power.

"Get the wounded ready," Killinger stated. "Pelican arrives in fifty or so seconds."

"Yes sir!" The Lieutenant Commander said, waiving down some medical assistants - likely nurses. They lifted the stretchers up as the roar and whine of the pelican engines approached. The medical tent flap flew open and the Colonel watched as the bird slowly descended, hovered and the troop bay ramp open up. The Colonels HUD flashed as the piece of equipment read the younger looking pilots IFF.

First Lieutenant Gavin Adams stated something about the priority evacuation request Killinger had sent towards a channel. That was, probably, Buzzkill. The Colonel approached the man as he waived the nurses carrying the stretchers towards the pelican's troop bay. Hopefully the ride up would be a lot more softer, as he knew Pain and Sorelson likely both had pretty bad headaches.

A Marine Sergeant saw the Colonel approach the pelican and lifted the Jackal up with the help of another Marine and dragged him over. The Jackal moved cooperatively.

"I'm Colonel Killinger," John stated as the two Marines dragged the Kig-Yar prisoner behind him, towards the pelican. "Thanks for the lift." He added, nodding respectfully as he moved past. The Marines worked in a system. One of them climbed into the troop bay, weapon raised on the bird as the Sergeant helped the prisoner onto the pelican. As soon as it was the Sergeant climbed aboard.

Killinger sighed and sat down on the troop ramp, his right foot still digging into the dirt below him.

[Faclan]

Bep Spike, Jackal Prisoner.
About to have a 'great' idea, but annoyed he cant tell the important one - also worried like normal.

Shrinking back a little as the important human in front of him suddenly looked very annoyed Spike hoped it didn't mean it was time for that weapon on his leg to be used;

"OK, thank. We done now." He was thanking him, so that was a good sign, unless the human just wanted him to be calm before being executed. But Spike just nodded a little and went back to breathing normally, his head drooping a little as the Important one closed his little computer and preceded to have a tantrum before he left. He probably should have cared more that the human was made, but now that he didn't have to answer questions anymore Spike was about ready to collapse. It had been quiet a day for him; countless death threats, them being unfounded, and being captured by the humans and not being killed for it. But right now he just wanted to sleep, he would have time to think on it later.

Grunting as he was grabbed by the arms and hauled to his feet Spike just nodded and walked with the humans out toward a transport, again. By now his ribs had mostly stopped hurting and his ear seemed to be fine too. Medical attention would help to heal them faster, but if left alone he would likely recovery for the most part. The quick job the Helpful human did back at the transport seemed to do its job. Tripping over his own feet a bit he stumbled before being quickly hauled back to his feet by the humans, getting a cuff across the back of his head for his absent mind as he looked around at the people around the transports.

He smiled and bowed his head a little as he saw the Helpful human standing there, it was good to see he seemed to be alright to. There were a lot of new humans around, but he was too tired to care as he looked up again at the new transport, the frigate, and the ships in orbit...Kig-yar mercenaries...YES! Closing his eyes as dust was blown everywhere he opened them as soon as he could and looked around for the Important human again.

The Mercenaries would have records stolen from the Covenant or know themselves how it was run, they could just ask them for it! Upon seeing the Important one again he chirped at him, trying to get his attention, but even if the Important human looked over his beak was clamped shut by one of the humans holding him and the idea was smothered in his beak. Whatever was whispered at him flew right over Spikes head as he nodded and went quiet again, he would have to try and tell him later, or the Helpful one...if he got the chance. Crossing the last few steps up the transport he looked at the pilots of the vessel but then quickly looked away as he hopped up and was pulled into the transport by the Helpful human. Still barely managing to hang onto consciousness he moved past some of the wounded humans toward the seat that had been pointed out for him by the Helpful one.

He would also have to get his headband back eventually...if the human wanted to that is. But after being shoved into a seat and strapped in, his arms still securely plastic tied behind him, his beak bumped against his under armored shirt covered chest and he fell asleep almost immediately - breathing quietly out his nose as his hair spines slowly shifted around the shades of red.

[Buzzkill]

Lieutenant Buzzkill Adams
Marine FOB
Pelican CL-2512-T3

The air on the ground the was thick with rough smells. There was the ever present scent of the dirt that was being kicked up. There was also the smell of blood and medicinal chemical. On top of that the ever present aroma of the ordinance that was being brought around, as well as fuel which was loosely making its way through the Pelicans engines. All of that was different then sitting on a ship, where the air was clean, and very sterile.

Buzzkill waited for just a moment to find someone approach to take charge. He wore a standard looking set of Marine Flak armor, and had the demeanor of someone who had seen a lot of action. Buzzkill did not quite meet the same standard. While he had seen ground combat, he was not someone who was molded by it. He worked almost as a logistics officer that was charged with supplies and movement as far as he was concerned.

That did not mean that Buzzkill gave the impression that he was a rookie. He had been a marine pilot for years, probably longer then the majority of the troops on the ground there had been enlisted. Still he did have a certain level of detachment from the whole situation.

He was acknowledged by the Colonel, and Buzzkill looked around at the people being moved onto his craft. He was very surprised to see them moving one of the Covenant aliens on board. Seeing nothing else that could represent the high value package which they were ordered to carry, he assumed that must have been it. He did not necessarily like the idea of having an alien on board, but he knew the marines would have completely stripped it of weaponry before taking it on. They’d been fighting the Covenant for years, and they understood their enemy well. They knew the Covenant played their tricks, but when one was caught like that, there weren’t many tricks to be played.

Suddenly there was a call going through his headset. Buzzkill put a piece of gum into his mouth as he heard the words, and crushed the mint shell with his teeth as it was finished. He noticed the Pelican flying over head, but it didn’t concern him until he heard the call that was no doubt a reference to his own.

Buzzkill looked up, and placed a finger to his headset. “This Buzzkill, its mine.” He said. He initially wanted to say something to try to make the other pilot sound stupid, but he refrained. “We’re responding to an Alpha Evac, should be out in two minutes tops.” That was all he had to say. Even if the pilot of the other pelican did have wounded, Buzzkill’s dropship was being filled with likely the same thing, and that did not give the airborne bird priority. The Alpha Extraction call however did give it to Buzzkill.

Once everyone seemed to be loaded onto the Pelican Buzzkill came from behind. He moved onto his dropship, his crew chief ‘Switch’ assisting with locking everyone in. The Colonel however opted for sitting down at the back of the ramp.

“Might wanna lock in, sir.” Buzzkill suggested as he came beside him. “I move fast, and the air’s been shaky.” He was referring directly to the turbulence they’d been having. Either way he’d have to get up once they started getting towards the atmosphere, but for the moment it was not necessarily disallowed.

Buzzkill came back into the cockpit, and then put his helmet back on. He put a finger to his neck and it ceiled around his head with a quiet hiss. He began to quickly get the Pelican ready for flight, which was easy as he had left the engines running hot. It had been noisy but was very effective.

The Pelican began to lift off of the ground slowly, and spun gradually to the left. It then drifted slowly forward. As soon as he was high enough that he wouldn’t disturb the ground he would throw them in fast.

“CASEVAC 3.” Buzzkill called out in his com. “The LZ’s yours, over.” He concluded switching his mic off.

But he quickly moved it back over to sync with his crafts intercom. Everyone on board the Pelican would then be able to hear what he was saying.

“So where am I dropping this Alpha? On the Iowa?” He asked. He was not sure, as this was and Alpha priority extraction, so it may have special parameters, and he wanted to know what they were before he just took them to the Hibernian, which was much closer.

[McStubbsberry]

Private Scott Lugar
CASEVAC Pelican

Scott was shocked to hear that the Major was a Colonel now. In a way, having an even more powerful ally will help him rise the ranks and get into the ODST program. Perhaps it worked to his advantage, but it was only a matter of finding him. The rather pleasant folks on this Pelican weren't of much more use, only referred him to the Iowa. That was a big ship, but Colonel Killinger was a big man.

What the hell am I trying to prove? Scott thought to himself. I'm greedily after a promotion and trying to follow my father's footsteps despite the fact that he's a damn hero. His life before the Marines was getting to him, he was getting selfish. It was a terrible combination, but one that he hungered for. Scott has yet to kill something that hated him as much as he hated it. Perhaps that thinking was going to get himself killed, but it's what he trained for, he was a killer, a destroyer of things. Just one without experience. Perhaps the alien blood will do him some good with the higher ups at the very least. Still, he needed to get on the ground first. You have to crawl before you can walk.