M5: Rumble in the Jungle

[McStubbsberry]

Private Scott Lugar
Marine Forward Operating Base

Scott sharply saluted Staff Sergeant Naomi Kosovo as they wheeled her off of the Pelican. It was hard, but Scott genuinely did the best that he could as a Marine. It didn't bother him like he originally thought it would, later on down the road, however, the scars of battle will haunt him. Hopefully the conflict doesn't last much longer, but time will tell.

"I have to thank you guys for getting me out of there, I probably would have died. As far as she goes, she's a hero, damn strong woman. War is hell, but you guys stay safe." With that, the private turned smartly on his heel and left the aircraft back into hell itself. Immediately the humidity hit him again, but he felt more alive knowing that each step could potentially be his last if anything were to happen. Things seemed different though. There were a lot of people who seemed like they were in a hurry to leave. For the first time since he set foot on the planet, he took off his helmet. Scott couldn't help but notice a large crack that split right down the middle of the standard-issue helmet.

Scott took a deep breath and looked up into the sky. It was kind of hard to miss the frigate that ominously floated in the sky. The large guns protruded out of it threateningly, pointed at who knows what. He couldn't help but to marvel at it. He has seen something like this on the vid-screens and incredibly far away on Tribute, but nothing came close to seeing it first hand, with such a massive vessel so close, as if he could touch it. And to think, this massive machine of war was only a frigate.

Numerous little insects zipped to the frigate or up past it into space, or at least, they looked like insects compared to the massive hulk of metal that was next to them. They were Pelicans. From his viewpoint on the ground, Scott noticed that they were coming back practically empty, but they were taking in supplies and people. Something seemed very wrong, but he couldn't quite figure it out. It dawned on him then, he needed to check out that Alpha Evac that was mentioned on the CASEVAC.

The private made his way to the right where the Pelican was sitting. His blood-drenched uniform felt sticky, but he paid no mind to it. Somehow, what sat on that Pelican would be the answer to all of his questions. Unfortunately, he missed it by a mere minute as it became one of those many small insects. The private cussed.

[BasedGoody]

Gary A319

Gary flinched as he saw the blade coming towards his wrist, so he brought back his hand with barely enough time. The top of his knife was sliced in half. His hands flew to his pistol, but with not enough time. The Elite already was attempting to take him at the knees with his sword. The SPARTAN jumped straight up into the air, only to look forward to see his opponent crashing into him with his back. Gary slid on the ground before coming to a stop. Luckily for Gary, the fact that he jumped saved him from the energy swords the Gator was holding behind his back. 

"Alright, alright, no more games, let's do this." Gary said.

The SPARTAN leaped forward, attempting a right hook. He knew the attack would be blocked, so he followed up with a left jab at the Elite's stomach, with the magnum. If he had landed the hit the way he wanted to, he would fire as many rounds as he could into the Zealot before it escaped.

[MrKill]

Colonel Johnathon B'Sheau Killinger
Pelican CL-2512-T3
Airborne

“Might wanna lock in, sir. I move fast, and the air’s been shaky.” The Pilot said. John nodded buy stayed put for a minute as the pilot went further into his pelican and entered the canopy. Moments later the pelican started lifting off, turned lazily to the left and slowly moved off. Killinger was still sitting on the ramp to see a greedy pelican swoop in, nearly clip the back end of Pelican CL-2512-T3. It was so close, in fact, the Colonel had to drag himself into the troop tray. He swore as the other pelican swooped down, gear lowered and landed with speed.

More importantly it was a CASEVAC pelican.

Killinger activated his communications channel and linked the pelican pilot, Buzzkill, so he could talk to him - the livid anger probably present in his tone. "I want the name, rank and serial number of every single crew member operating on that CASEVAC pelican. They'll be discharged for that stunt if I have any say in it!" Killinger snapped. He had friends in high places.

Not only did the greedy pelican pilot risk damaging the pelican Killinger was on, the angle of trajectory if there had been a collision would have likely snapped the two vectoring pylons off along with a portion of the tail. That would have likely killed everyone aboard this pelican, the medical tent and nearby troops... All that potential death for a landing spot. CASEVAC pelican or not it was a bad call, a bad decision and the risk they just pulled certainly outweighed the rewards.

Killinger exhaled, extremely displeased. He stood up and approached the pelican's canopy to reply to the pilots original question. The pilot wanted to know if the drop off was the Iowa and in this case it was. Killinger needed to be completely positive that the creature would be secured in the brigs sufficiently enough that it meet security standards. With his responsibilities as a Colonel, who was now the Marine Commanding Officer on the Iowa and it's capacity for two thousand, four hundred marines... a lot of lives depended on 'meeting regulations'.

"Yes it is, Lieutenant. Take us directly to the Iowa." The Colonel finally responded, calmer now. He nodded and returned to the troop bay, this time nearing Corporal Ward. It was logical, for Killinger anyways, to assume that the Corporal was a part of a different unit and had lost radio contact. He himself lost contact with the FOB when he was in the jungle and Ward was, at the time, in too good of shape to be from Oblivion One-One's crash.

"Contact your unit, Corporal. Let them know you're okay and heading back to the Iowa. You'll be fit and ready to fight in no time."

[Spartan 999]

Field Master Sorsa Ra'ha Je'at 'Xirsasai
Landing Pad
Ending the fight with Raptor

When the Demon popped back to its feet and came at him, Sorsa was sorely tempted to just gut the creature where it stood. Fortunately for the human, he spotted an opportunity over its shoulder. The second Demon had just been thrown to the edge of the pad by Til, and appeared weaponless. Better, it was looking away from him at the moment. With a surprisingly nimble dodge and spin for his size, he swerved around the punch, shifted so his back was to the Demon's back, then jabbed back with his right elbow, attempting to bash it and knock it away.

Regardless, he started sprinting at the second Demon, only one blade ready, while the other was deactivated for the moment. While still about five meters away, he jumped into the air, whirled around to build up momentum, then came down and attacked. His right sword slashed at the Demon's head, but he rapidly spun while activating the other in an attempt to catch it by surprise, and also made a fast slice with that blade. Once that was done, his hoof came up as he kicked at the Demon's chest.

[Arbiter124]

Drake A124

UNSC SPARTAN-III

What goes up, must come down

Drake staggered to regain his balance, to see the Zealot that Gary was supposed to be dealing with leaping at him, swords in hand. Drake watched as the sizzling plasma flew towards him. The SPARTAN twisted his torso and brought his head over to the right, the weapon slicing through thin air inches from him. He could still feel the powerful heat of the sword as it passed by.

The second sword he never saw coming.

The pain was unbearable, easily ten times as worse as anything he had ever experienced before. It was a searing burn feel. He had been shot by plasma, but nothing had been this traumatically painful. The burning surged through his shoulder, and the SPARTAN had no choice but to yell out in incredible agony. Drake never even had time to see how bad the wound was before one taloned boot made contact with his chest. Drake flew backward, and fell.

He fell, and fell, and fell.

Drake twirled through the air, doing several flips to survey the area. Sadly, he had no time to recover from the fall and come out of the kick unharmed, as everything was slowed, and all he could think about was the searing pain in his shoulder.

Drake hit the ground with a thud. He heard a variety of sickening crackles course through his body, and he caught the glimpse of bystander Marines turning to the downed super soldier, wide eyed. All of the lesser soldiers began yelling out comments relating to Raptor 001.

"I thought they never died?"

"That's because he's not, numbnuts! We need a corpsman!"

"Right here!"

Drake felt a variety of hands and tools come in contact with him, but he did nothing to stop them. He just stared through his now cracked visor into the trees up ahead, and the sky above them. He was breathing heavily, and when a hand went to his shoulder, Drake bellowed. He writhed as a reaction, and he caught a glimpse of his arm, and then just stared, his blue eyes wide.

The entire arm was gone, up to the shoulder. Blood seeped from where his tricep should be. Drake was only able to stare at the wound.

It took his arm...

It took his arm...

He would return the favor...

He would make that bastard pay.

[Huka]

Field Master Til Je'at Ra'ha 'Muramai

Watching the Demon soar through the air, the Field master let out a deep mechanically-ravage cackle as the sheer joy of battling one of the infernal meddlers and easily defeat it. When it landed hard on the other side of the landing pad, Til slowly started to stalk around towards it, eager to finish it off and add it to his collection. 

 Just then, he noticed his brother-in-arms quickly taking the opportunity. Oh well, Muram. You lose this one. He pondered in his mind before looking at the other nishum. Just the scream of agony rang in his ears and he returned his attention to Sorsa delivering a amputating slash with one of his ever-fluid techniques. His eyes watched as the creature's arm spun in midair, ashes of its sliced end flying in speck. Finally the Demon itself was kicked clear off its feet and spiraling over the air and edge. 

 Hissing in partial anger at the loss of a potential kill and trophy, felt like the Hunt rotations ago, he weakened the prey while Sorsa took the kill. Soft envy that lasted a moment's heartbeat wrecked but his aggression was pointed to the other Demon. "This one is mine!" He growled, immediately dashing around again. Sliding his hookblades back in their sheaths, he unholstered one of his plasma rifles with a quick draw and fired bursts at its feet.

[Buzzkill]

”Ho shit!” Buzzkill yelled immediately after he’d finished asking about where to drop off the passengers. In his hand the sticks immediately began to shake violently. He was not prepared for it and nearly lost his grip on the controls. The Dropship shook like an earthquake that only affected it was rattling through the entire thing. It occurred for an instant and suddenly faded, at the conclusion of a the Dropship tilting forward slightly.

Buzzkill was suddenly on edge, and looked down on his read outs. His radar scan showed the other Pelican directly behind him. So close that the radar nearly fused them together. On his helmet Heads Up Display, there was a warning the top right which blared, with the words “Rear Proximity Alert!”. Below it, there was a camera view of the rear of the craft. On it, it shown the cabin of the other dropship, taking up nearly the entire window.

”Blow back from the engines.” Buzzkill said aloud, answering the question that was likely on his Copilot, ‘Seaweeds’, mind. His breathing was suddenly fast, and he seemed like he’d just gone for a short run. He wasn’t exhausted, but it was a scared sort of exhale that he did. ”What a moron.” Buzzkill said in regards to the other pilot that darted into position, knowing Seaweed got the same warning on his HUD.

The warning vanished moments after they were further away. Still Buzzkill was wide awake all of a sudden, ready for something else.

The Colonel’s voice was heard in his ear a moment later. "I want the name, rank and serial number of every single crew member operating on that CASEVAC pelican. They'll be discharged for that stunt if I have any say in it!" He said

”Roger that.” Buzzkill answered aggravated. That situation could have ended very badly. Though even if the dropship went down it likely would not lead to much injury of the occupants due to its altitude, it still could have wound up in a collision, which was not good. He knew their designation as CASEVAC 3 of the Hibernian so they’d get an answer for that easily.

After a few moments passed Buzzkill got an answer on their destination. He was write in his assumption of the Iowa and prepared for atmospheric entry. ”Iowa it is. Ramp commin’ up.” Buzzkill warned, as he flicked a switch on the console.

The Pelican’s ramp then quickly closed, and locked itself. Once it did, Buzzkill accelerated their speed and made his way quickly towards the coordinates of the UNSC Iowa.

[Ward, J.]

The last hour had been dizzying and aggravating for Ward. Namely because he hated hospitals. While one would never go as far as to classify the medical tent he currently sat in a hospital, it was the thing closest to it in the field. Nevertheless, the Navy doctors had managed to wrench the spike out of him and patch up the wound. According to the lead Doc, a Lieutenant Commander, he'd be limping for quite some time due to the injury. That was something he wasn't quite happy about, but there honestly wasn't anything he could do about it.

As he laid on the cot he'd been placed on, he spotted a blur of movement out of the corner of his eyes. The roar of various Pelican's engines had been frequent, a clear indicator that the FOB was being abandoned - thus the planet being abandoned by extension. Jon craned his head and spotted Lance Corporal Furby and PFC Allens approaching him.

"Jay! Allens! It's good to see you!" Ward bellowed jovially.

The two new arrivals bore thin smiles. "Good to see you, too. You had us worried back there, man," replied Furby.

The Corporal noticed the absence of a third person. Private Krieg. His expression contorted to a look of mild confusion at this fact. Jay glared back at him almost as if he knew what his leader was thinking before he even posed the question. "Where's Krieg?" he asked, and both his friends' expressions turned grim.

"He... didn't make it."

Ward was taken aback by this. He lowered his head for a moment. Private Krieg had been a fellow native of Reach and of full-blooded Hungarian descent. He and Allens had been real close friends and were known to hang together on and off of duty. This news troubled Ward not only because it meant he lost a man under his charge, but also because it brought into question how Allens was taking the loss of someone so close. Despite this, the only thing he could think to say was "How?"

Allens stepped forward slightly. "Plasma grenade... it landed and detonated beside him when all hell broke loose at the crash site. He... didn't even get the chance to scream."

Allens stepped back and Jon opted to stare at his own feet. He couldn't think of anything to say, the shock of the loss settling in. As well as the guilt. Thoughts of how things could've ended differently blazed in his mind like a wildfire. It was difficult to organize his thoughts, but the overall theme of the majority of them was that if he hadn't have tackled Cuu and kept attentive he might have been able to prevent Krieg's death.

Before he could further contemplate the matter (or over-analyze them more), the Colonel entered the tent and ordered the corpsmen and doctors to prep the wounded for evac fast. It was at that point that his suspicions of an evacuation had been proven correct, and Ward was quickly transferred from the cot to a stretcher to be hauled out to an awaiting drop-ship.

The two corpsmen that carried him swiftly exited the tent and carted him towards the bird. Furby and Allens stayed close beside him and as he was loaded onto the bird, they climbed aboard as well to accompany him. Jon caught a momentary glance of a Covenant ship loitering in the sky near the FOB, looming over it like an eagle awaiting to swoop down and kill its prey. He fully realized the situation that was unfolding and that the UNSC had no chance of continuing combat operations on the planet.

The Covenant were about to glass it like so many other worlds. The only thing that brought him relief was that this was not a human world. No more human lives would be lost as a result of them abandoning this hell hole of a planet. That was perhaps the best thought in the world in his mind. For once there'd be a classing without a catastrophic loss of life.

The voice of Colonel Killinger broke the concentration he hadn't realized he'd had on his musings. He looked up at the officer and attempted to assume a loose interpretation of the position of attention. Pain shot up his spine from the wound to his leg, causing him to grit his teeth and abandon any effort to adhere to basic military courtesies. Instead, he just stared at the men.

"Corporal, you need to try and get in touch with your unit to let them know you're alright." the officer said.

Jon nodded. "Roger that, sir."

With that, he keyed his radio and was glad to not be met with a painfully familiar burst of static. "Oden Two-One Alpha to any and all Oden Two callsigns on this freq, how do you read me? Over."

[David]

Admiral David Vardy
Bridge - UNSCS KILLIMANJARO
En route to position in formation

As David watched the fleet organise, He noticed last minute transfers from different ships. It reminded him of an ant hill. But his main concern is that the Covenant fleet hadn't fired. What was so damned important that they hadn't torn the UNSC fleet to shreds? Perhaps the arrival of this other fleet? Including the Super Carrier that was disabled. That was David's main concern.

"Kim, as soon as everyone is in place, have them target that Super Carrier." David ordered, His voice quavering ever so slightly. Wincing, David realised he needed to sound confident and in control. Not like some green ensign.

More confidently, He turned to Chakotay at Tactical. "Whats our status."

"Sir" Chakotay replied, his fingers dancing over his control panel. "We have 78% charge on the MACS, Refill was completed. We have full Archers. Three Shiva Nukes are prepped and we still have the remote controlled longsword with the other Nuke."

Nodding, David quickly formulated what was a daring, yet in his experience and opinion... completely suicidal move. It had worked for him before, and the Covenant thus far had shown signs that they never learned. Perhaps he could do it again. Perhaps.

[Deleted]

Smoke billowed from the crash site turned war zone. The screams of wounded and dying Marines echoed a great distance. Sitting on the ground, thoroughly exhausted, was Sergeant Thomas Stone. His rifle was beside him, its ammunition long since expended. To his immediate left was the charred corpse of Second Lieutenant Durant, and if he looked in any direction he would spot bodies strewn across the area. Those who hadn't been injured in the battle were helping the corpsmen strip the wounded of their dogtags.

The call to retreat had been issued shortly before the Covenant had completely bugged out from the Corvette's crash site, bringing an end to the battle that had initiated Oscar Company's death blow. Few were left from the company, mostly enlisted with a single officer who commander fourth platoon that had survived. In the case of First Squad, Corporal Washington and PFC Fields of Second Fire Team had been killed. That left Stone and two other Marines left in the squad. The fate of First Fire Team was still a mystery, though the battle weary NCO feared the worst.

Thomas shook these thoughts from his mind and absentmindedly grabbed the canteen strapped to his utility belt and took a swig of the warm water. Sweat trickled down his face, and wiping it away only served to smear the partially dry coating of mud that adhered to his skin. He felt as if he had been fighting nonstop for days, when in all actuality it had only been a few hours. "I hate this Goddamned shithole," he thought aloud.

"Sergeant Stone," came a voice from somewhere nearby. Thomas lazily glanced upward. His steel grey eyes fell upon Second Lieutenant Ogden, who seemed just as ragged and fatigued as he felt. With a sigh, Stone slowly stood up and stood at a relaxed form of attention. "Evac birds are on the way. We're headed back up to the fleet. Your the senior NCO of Second Platoon, so get your men prepped to go."

The Sergeant nodded and gripped the push-to-talk tightly. "Oden Two-One ta Oden Two elements, git ready ta roll outta this dump. Birds are on the way ta take us back up ta the Navy tin cans in orbit. I want y'all ready ta mount up when they git here, ya hear?"

A string of replies sounded over the radio. Second platoon would be ready to pack up and head home by the time the Pelican's arrived. This brought not one ounce of relief to the grizzled NCO, however. He realized that the bodies of those fallen would not be coming with them. Their families would never receive an explanation for how or why they died, only affirmations that their sons and daughters had performed admirably in their duties and paid the ultimate sacrifice. There would be no viewing of the body, all caskets would be closed and empty. The thought brought a bitter taste to his mouth.

The buzz of the radio in his ear that interrupted his morbid thinking didn't startle him. The voice that immediately followed it, however, did. Corporal Jonathan Michael Ward was transmitting over Oscar Company's frequency, addressing anyone from second platoon to respond. For the first time in the last few hours, a genuine smile crept its way onto his features.

"This is Oden Two-One, I read ya Lima Charlie," Stone said, the joy nearly seeping into his voice. "What in the hell have ya been doin' 'n what's yer status?"

As he impatiently awaited a response from Ward, the blare of Pelican engines resounded in the Sergeant's ears. He watched as the birds landed and Marines and corpsmen began rushing for the transports. He keyed the radio and barked orders for his men to mount up, then ran for and boarded one of the Pelican's himself. As soon as the Pelican's blood tray was full, the rear hatch shut and sealed and the vehicle ascended into the air.

[Cabel]

[51st Marine Assault Regiment, 1st Battalion, Alpha Company, Alpha Platoon, First Lieutenant Mark Seamus “Spade” Sorelson: Tropical Planet: Airborne: Pelican CL-2512-T3, Bloodtray, Year 2547]

“I may be on this stretcher, but if you boys don’t stop pouting or condemning this as a lousy planet I’ll climb off this stretcher and kick all of your asses. Marines fought and died on this planet, proving to these alien bastards they messed with the wrong species. Marines gave their lives so you can take another breath, and meet these same aliens with the mettle and steel that make the Corps. This may look bad, boys, but defeat isn’t a word I know. Look in the Marine Corps Dictionary and you won’t find a listing for the word. It doesn’t exist. Now, get your heads out your guts and look like marines. You owe the fallen your respect,” Mark said having overheard the whining of marines around him. The jungles on the planet had proven to be a quagmire of confusion with bad decisions made that allowed the Covenant time to have dug-in for a harder fight, but the lifer hadn’t been able to look at it as a failed mission. Defeat hadn’t been a word he’d come to understand, not because he’d been uneducated. He’d had two Degrees under his belt in both history and auto-repair before he’d joined the Corps, but the word ‘defeat’ hadn’t simply failed to exist in the Marine vocabulary the marines had forced it to jump ship and swim back to shore.

His head felt like an Albatross had landed on it, but even with the discomfort Spade had felt he had to motivate the marines around him to see the planet below differently. It could have been said it had been either the old Senior DI inside him forged from nearly a decade pushing raw recruits to their limits only to reshape them, or it could have been the single feature that could have been construed as a weakness his over-zealousness that had often forced three or more of his own men to pry him from the field.

Grabbing hold of a handhold built into the hull of the pelican dropship with his right hand when it listed sharply to starboard, the First Lieutenant held on though several ammunition magazines stored from a crate in the netting above him had fallen out of the crate to land between his legs. “Remind me to file a complaint after I’ve found some industrial sized aspirin,”

"Colonel? Mind if I ask what happened with Big Bird? He saved our butts, mine included. I'm wondering if he's still alive if I can visit the bird after I'm cleared for duty? And did the Lieutenant Commander manage to tend to his injuries?" he asked, wanting to know if his Jackal friend had managed to survive.

[Frazer]

Captain Frazer York
UNSCS Preston
Virtue Class Attack Carrier

Frazer thought to himself, "I have forgotten to do something." Then he remembered he needed to get the pelicans back to the ship after they dropped the marines off at the Iowa. Frazer turned towards Tiffany who was just staring into space blankly. "Tiff?" Tiffany snapped out of her daydream and turned towards Frazer.

"Yes Captain?" Tiffany said in a pleasant voice. Frazer stood up and pointed towards the holo table, she turned towards it and then looked back up at Frazer.

"What is the status on our Pelicans? Have they finished dropping the troops off to the Iowa?" Tiffany nodded and put her hand to her ear and then looked back up.

"All Pelicans are en-route to us now sir and the MAC's are primed and ready."

"Good work Tiff, everyone stand by for battle we will be engaging shortly I believe." Frazer moved back to his chair and awaited the first person to fire. 

[MrKill]

Admiral Eric Klix
UNSCS Iowa
Marathon II Super-Heavy Guided Missile Cruiser

The overhead light panels sparked twice and sizzled out near the tactical display screen - leaving the forward right hand side of the bridge dark - left the room to be illuminated with the red, spinning klaxons for a few seconds aa the emergency lighting kicked on to replace the damaged lights. The Admiral stayed standing, however, as his bridge shorted out.

"Damage report," He bellowed, annoyance laced throughout his tone. "I thought we fixed these power fluctuations."

The Engineering Officers on both consoles were typing away trying to figure out what happened. Another light snapped off, then the entire bridge went dark. The Admiral stood in the blackness, waiting for his power to be restored. Fortunately the consoles were still operational. The silhouettes of every crew member manning a console created an oily shadow on the bulkheads of the bridge.

"It appears our repairs to the second SSAK-79 have reached the limit, sir. When we went to charge the specific system it shorted out most of the forward decks, drawing power directly from the main lines rather than the reactor lines. We should stabilize if we shut down the second gun." The Engineering Officer finally reported.

"Do it. Weapons, cut power." The Admiral ordered.

"I can't, sir. My console isn't responding. It's being overridden by security features designed to protect the rest of the ship from the power surges. If I override I'll likely lose my console as well as damage other systems as we're still feeding power to the MAC." The Weapons Officer said.

The Admiral swore under his breath, "These MAC's are practically at full charge. Override the security protocols, Lieutenant. We'll have to deal with the consequences."

"Overriding, sir." The Weapons Officer replied. The bridge lights slowly turned on, from dim before being restored to full power. Unfortunately, like the weapons officer predicted, both the WEAP1 and WEAP2 stations were offline. The power surges must have damaged the systems trying to interfere directly.

"Are we operational?" The Admiral asked.

"We are sir." The Engineering Officer replied.

"Good. Work on getting the weapon stations back online." The Admiral ordered.

We need to get back to Reach, the Admiral thought. "Will we experience power fluctuations with the slip-space drive?" The elderly officer asked, wondering if it was dangerous to simply enter slip-space.

"No sir." The Engineer replied.

"Good."

The Admiral looked forward, towards one side of the darkened bridge where an overhead light panel had literally shorted out. Fortunately, however, bridge hands had begun to remove the florescent tubes. They'd replace the lights and they'd be restored.

"Sir, we still don't have communications at the moment." The Communications Officer replied.

"Send an E-Band message to the fleet." The Admiral said. "It should say this: UNSCS Iowa is experiencing power fluctuations that have disabled the communication array and weapons station. Should be operational within the hour."

"Aye, sir. E-Band online - message sent." The communications officer reported.

Good, the Admiral thought. Now it was time to focus on the evacuation. Fortunately the majority of the ground troops had been evacuated already, with the rest being ferried onto the UNSCS Hibernian. By the Admiral's calculations they should, hopefully, be carrying the rest of the Marines since the UNSCS Prestons Pelicans and Albatross's had offloaded the surviving Marines.

[David]

Admiral David Vardy
Bridge - UNSCS KILLIMANJARO
In centre of fleet formation

"Admiral" Kim reported. "All ships report station keeping at requested co-ordinates. Awaiting your command."

Nodding, David then went over to the tactical table and keyed comms for the fleet. "Attention. This is Admiral David Vardy. You may be wondering why I have tightly packed you. I intend to take out that super cruiser. No matter the cost. I won't have it sniping our ships when we engage the rest of the fleet."

Pausing, David tapped his thigh, and then continued. "Some of you will die today. Some of you will loose brothers. Sisters. Friends. We will loose many that we hold dear but we are doing it for humanity. As soldiers it is our duty to carry the flag of the UNSC to victory. No matter the cost. We will win the day. Maybe not through superior force but through sheer will and Goddamnit, We will win. Hold your positions, Wait for my AI's firing solution and when I give the signal. Fire. God speed. Vardy out."

Cutting the channel, David turned to see his entire staff on their feet. Nearest to him was Janeway and she had tears in her eyes. She nodded her approval, and it re-affirmed that David was doing the right thing. He would lead these people to victory. No matter the cost.

[Frazer]

Captain Frazer York
UNSCS Preston
Virtue Class Attack Carrier

Frazer sat on his chair yet again twiddling his thumbs waiting anxiously for something to happen and then as soon as he turned towards his comm officer Wilson spoke. "Sir we have an incoming transmission from Admiral Vardy."

"Bridge speakers Wilson." Wilson nodded and turned back to his post, he pressed a few buttons on the panel and then the bridge speakers spoke.

"Attention. This is Admiral David Vardy. You may be wondering why I have tightly packed you. I intend to take out that super cruiser. No matter the cost. I won't have it sniping our ships when we engage the rest of the fleet." The comm paused as the entire crew stared at the speaker. "Some of you will die today. Some of you will loose brothers. Sisters. Friends. We will loose many that we hold dear but we are doing it for humanity. As soldiers it is our duty to carry the flag of the UNSC to victory. No matter the cost. We will win the day. Maybe not through superior force but through sheer will and Goddamnit, We will win. Hold your positions, Wait for my AI's firing solution and when I give the signal. Fire. God speed. Vardy out." The speaker went silent and Wilson turned round with a gasp in his mouth.

"Thats it sir, end of transmission." The entire crew sat there in silence including Frazer as he sat there trying to get to grasps with the concept of maybe loosing his ship, the ship that he has grown to love including the A.I and her crew. Frazer then realized he has to man the fu** up and calm the crew down and get them ready for a fight of a life time.

"Listen up everyone." Frazer paused as the crew looked at him stand up and walked over to the holo table. "We knew this was coming and ill be dammed if I am going to sit her and let them covie fuc***s win. Now as Vardy said we might not make it but shouldn't we take a chance and give our selves the best sending off ceremony ever?" The crew shouted.

"YEAH!" Frazer smiled.

"We have had a good run all of us, I have grown to love each and everyone of you and I could not ask for a better crew. So I am glad I am going out with you brave soldiers. Lets just go and kill them shall we? WHOS WITH ME?!" Frazer screamed and the crew responded by standing up, saluting and saying.

"WE ARE SIR!" Frazer grew a tear in his eye and so did the rest of the crew even the male officers had a tear down their eye. Tiffany the A.I screamed along with them and smiled as she looked at Frazer.

"Lets do this then. Trayner stand by for evasive maneuvers, Tiff be ready with the MAC's on my mark fire everything we have including the MAC's. Aim all fire power on the super carrier. Wilson tell me when the A.I of the Kilimanjaro fires because that's when we will have to. XO be ready for any boarding parties and inform the med bay for casualties. This is it people lets go give them hell." The crew responded and went back to their posts and did as they were told. Frazer went to his chair and stroked the side of it and said to his self. "We have had a good ride haven't we?" He then patted the side of the chair and climbed into the seat and awaited firing orders. Frazer was ready to win.

[Buzzkill]

Lieutenant “Buzzkill” Adams
In Orbit Over Planet
Pelican CL-2512-T3

The Dropship rattled and shook as it raced its way up into the atmosphere. The planet’s air was thick and heavy, leading to heavy turbulence on the way. There was nothing Buzzkill could really do to stop the shaking, but he did not apologize for it. It was not his fault that the planet had such choppy skies. Everyone on board must have known that, since they had been initially dropped off on the planet by drop ship when they initially landed. Just because they were wounded would not give them a special edge on treatment.

Not all in the back of his Dropship were wounded however, and he did not exactly hear any complaints. He still was taking the ship up into orbit as fast as he could, though you could only go so fast. Pelicans were much faster upon entry, but not nearly so when moving in an upward direction. It was still fast, but not as fast as many would like.

Eventually however the hot red flame on of the canopy faded and was replaced with an icy chill that could almost be felt from inside the air tight craft itself. The shaking ceased as the Dropship pushed itself through the weightless environment of space. There was of course slight vibration that came from the Dropship’s engines, but not such a great deal that it would be a bother. Buzzkill and the other crew of the Dropship did not even really notice them they’d dealt with it so often.

”Iowa control, this is Buzzkill of flight 142-D, requesting docking clearance for a priority Alpha drop.” Buzzkill asked into the radio, always offering his callsign instead of his name, which was common.

“Roger Buzzkill, we see you. Transmitting docking orders to you now.” A woman’s voice answered almost immediately after he’d asked. They’d likely been getting such requests every few minutes at that point, making it very routine.

”Orders received. Proceeding to dock.” Buzzkill replied, switching the com off.

The Pelican came up towards one of the under docking ports at it had when it had initially left. An airlock opened up immediately beneath the massive cruiser as the tiny Pelican ascended beneath it. The craft was quickly swallowed up by the immense metallic monster that hovered motionless above it, and the lock beneath it closed.

Quickly an elevation pad enclosed itself under the Pelican, and Buzzkill extended the landing gear of the craft. It touched down gently onto the elevation pad, which then immediately began elevating them upwards towards the hanger itself. It took only a few seconds and the craft reached its final position, seated nicely in an array where other vehicles, war materials, and men were moving around hastily.

Buzzkill then clicked on the intercom. ”We’ve arrived on the Iowa, ramp commin’ down.” Buzzkill said. He then flicked the ramp switch and the ramp began to deploy.

He got up out of his seat once more, and took his helmet once again. He dropped it on his chair. ”Stay here Seaweed, see if we get any new orders.” Buzzkill said.

“What? New Orders?” Seaweed asked sarcastically. “We’ve only been getting them every 3 minutes.”

Buzzkill shook his head in agreement, walking into the “Blood Tray” to see if he could help get the wounded off, or at least make sure they got off in a timely fashion.

[BasedGoody]

Gary A319

Drake... was he... dead? No. It had never been 'Drake the dead'. It was always 'Drake the Leader', the God, the Commander, not Drake the Dead. And on their first mission together too? Gary stood in shock for a moment, almost missing the giant Elite barreling towards him. He spun to attention and lifted his DMR, but it was too late. A volley of Plasma shots were already on their way.

Gary dove to the left, somersaulting on the ground and bringing himself back up. This was not a battle he would be winning. The SPARTAN spun on his heels and sprinted away full speed. Could he outrun a Zealot? The real question was, would the Zealot follow? Gary reached the doorway back downstairs, bolting through it with fear for his own life. He continued to run down the hall until he escaped through the door back on to the jungle floor. 

From there he activated his camouflage and retreated into the treeline.

[Huka]

Field Master Til Je'at Ra'ha 'Muramai

 With a savage roar, Til dove to drive his taloned boot into the Demon before it rolled to the side. When he snapped his head to it's direction, the creature was already making a escape through the corvette's halls. Firing a bolt at it but missed. Leaping forward to the doorway, the Field Master took the time to replace his rifle with one of his few remaining javelins. When he landed in a spinning crouch, he thrusted his free arm out to aim at the creature's back with his talons, and threw the weapon, hoping to impale it to the wall. 

 However once more, his projectile missed just barely, and embedded itself into the bulkhead by a few inches with sparks of scrapping metals. Instead of chasing the fast human, Til walked over to his javelin and ripped it out of the wall. Rubbing a claw over a button, the weapon collapsed and he walked back to the landing pad. Beaten one Demon and narrowly killed the other, Better than nothing.

 Looking over the ledge, he caught sight of the Demon as it ran and melted away in its lesser camouflage. "We will meet again..." He said to himself before craning his head to see their phantom finally swooping down and activate its gravity lift. Clicking his mandibles, Til walked over to pick up the Demon's machete and looked at the fallen arm from the other side of Sorsa, "Come brother, let's leave this place." With that, he stepped into the lift, finally eager to leave. Gravity lost its meaning for that moment and he was sprung into the belly of the phantom.

[Spartan 999]

Field Master Sorsa Ra'ha Je'at 'Xirsasai
Evacuation Phantom
Leaving the planet

Sorsa chuckled darkly as he saw the Demon go tumbling through the air for a couple seconds before vanishing out of sight. He turned to regard the other Demon, who had turned and was fleeing. Til chased him, but Sorsa figured that with the Demon's camouflage and greater speed than a normal human, they wouldn't be able to reach it before it got to friendly ground. A pity.

He noticed the second Demon's right arm lying on the landing pad a few meters away, and stooped to pick it up after retracting his energy sword hilts. A fitting trophy. He clipped the still-armored arm on his belt and looked up at the Phantom as it descended, gravity lift activating. He walked along with Til to the lift and was felt himself float up and into the dropship.

"Pilot, we are finished here." Sorsa barked up to the cockpit. "We must depart quickly. I long to be rid of this planet."

"Yes, excellency." The Sangheili grunted back.

As the dropship rocketed off into the atmosphere, Sorsa glanced over at Til. Wordlessly, he took the arm off his belt and handed it to his half-brother. As Til had properly beaten the Demon while Sorsa made the finishing blow, it properly belonged to him.

[Huka]

Field Master Til Je'at Ra'ha 'Muramai

Walking back and forth abit to cool his adrenaline, Til reached on the right side of his thoracic cage and worked on his respirator's manual controls with memorized dials and presses. In response, the simple mechanism flushed cool gases from his well-armoured tank to his lungs. Sighing softly, he breathed regularly and reached up to his face. With his secondary tubes sitting idle, he easily pulled his helmet off his head and felt the phantom's conditioned air brushing on his scales. 

His green eye looked over to Sorsa and saw the offered arm, hanging limp and clad in its former owner's armor. Rumbling softly in appreciation, he reached over and took it. Looking it over, the Muram's fanged mandibles clicked and scrapped against each other before he returned the fine gesture by holding out the Demon's machete to his half-brother by the blade. 

[MrKill]

Colonel Johnathon B'Sheau Killinger
UNSCS Iowa
Marathon II Super-Heavy Class Guided Missile Cruiser

"Thanks, Lieutenant." The Colonel said, looking at the pilot of the drop-ship. He was appreciative about the quickness the alpha evacuation had came, and the Lieutenant was the first one to respond to the call despite dozens of other pelicans nearby. The sleeping Jackal was roused awake and dragged off the pelican. A dozen Marines, likely the vessel counter boarders, all had their rifles aimed.

"Take the Jackal to the brig," The Colonel said. "Unharmed."

The Marine Sergeant nodded and dropped the Jackal out of the troop bay roughly. He jumped down and returned his grip to the Jackal's hand tie and started to drag the Jackal off the pelican ramp. He stopped as another Marine asked him something. The man nodded, released the Jackal and opened his ruck-sack up. He produced a fatigue shirt and quickly tied the shirt around the Jackals head so it couldn't see anything within the ship.

"Good idea," The Colonel muttered, before moving out of the way to allow the the nurses to carry away the wounded men. The smell of iron was fresh, and it was rather strong scent too. Someone was bleeding fairly bad. He got his answer as Pain was wheeled off with a red cloth holding a wound he had suffered. The Colonel left the ramp and gave the Lieutenant that dropped them off one more nod before catching up with the nurses as they quickly maneuvered the stretcher towards the tram. Luckily the wheels had been deployed, which allowed one of the nurses to attend to Pain.

"What happened?" Killinger asked quickly as they wheeled Sorlson and Ward in.

"One of his deep cuts opened up. I don't have what I need to sew it up, but I'm trying to stop the bleeding." The nurse replied, her hands shaking slightly as the white cloth turned into darker shades of red every second. Pain was bleeding pretty bad. The Marine was naked from the chest down now, but he was put into the pelican with nearly full armor. Blood dripped down into the stretcher.

How deep is that cut? Killinger wondered. "Okay, get going." He said, closing the doors and watched as the bulkhead doors slid shut - a protective element if the tramcar tube became breached. Killinger sighed and returned his attention to the Marine Sergeant that was dragging the Jackal away.

[Faclan]

Bep Spike, Iowa brig occupant - Kig-Yar #000001.
Worried, a little scared, and glad he's been left alone for now.


Still sleeping happily on the pelican as it rumbled and rocked back and fourth toward the Iowa Spikes mind slowly gave him a little dream; where he could see Kig-yar and humans trading freely without having guns around all the time. But as the pelican was sucked up into the huge ship, which Spike probably would have enjoyed looking at, a human without a shift on screamed and held up a big bomb, the dream ending in a large explosion as he was smacked none to gently across the beak and forced awake.

Looking up as his vision focused, himself still being very exhausted, he could feel the straps across his chest removed before he was gripped around the throat and yanked out of his seat. Gurgling quietly as he was dragged toward the exit he heard the Important Humans voice and the grip changed to the tie around his wrists instead. Coughing a little he was about to offer a thank you before he clucked in surprise and was dropped off the Pelican. He luckily landed on the side of his ribs that were not broken so he only coughed as the air was knocked out of his lungs. His vision back to normal he looked to the side as human boots landed next to his head and his wrist ties were gripped again and he was pulled away from the pelican.

But the one dragging him stopped and started to converse with another one. Spike looked back at the transport and could see the Important and Helpful human near each other. He opened his mouth to try and tell of his plan to find out all the info they wanted again, but once more it was smothered in his peak as what felt like fabric was wrapped around his head...it smelt terrible.

The dragging started again, several times Spike tried to get up so he wouldn't have to be dragged so much but each time he tripped over or was yanked off his feet as the humans laughed. Eventually he just went mostly limp and listened to what was going on around him. He could hear countless doors being opened and what sounded like a really low powered gravity lift as well as the sensation of moving up. He couldn't guess how many levels wherever he was had but it must have been a few considering how long the sensation lasted. There was also just how long he was dragged, several human voices coming and going as he was moved - likely taunting him.

But he eventually stopped as a grinding door was opened and the foul smelling fabric was removed from his head. Trying to get a little look around it was for naught as he was half thrown half slid into the little room before the door was shut and sealed. He could see a small window near the top of the door and could hear the steady blow of air from somewhere so at least this wasn't some kind of slow suffocation death. Taking a few deep breaths he looked around the room and could see a bed and a humans waste disposal unit...so he was in a prison. But it honestly didn't seem that bad, it was clean and best of all there were no guns pointed at him. He actually smiled, a odd sight for any human looking in as he got up from his seating position and moved over to the bed. The little nap he had on the transport though made him not want to sleep just yet, so instead for now he just hopped up onto the bed and sat down on it with his back resting against the cool metal wall, facing the door.

His shoulders were starting to ache from being forced behind him for so long, and he still had a line of dried blood down the side of his head from his damaged ear, but he was glad that things had calmed down and he was still alive.

[Spartan 999]

Field Master Sorsa Ra'ha Je'at 'Xirsasai
Evacuation Phantom
Almost in orbit

Sorsa glanced down at the Demon's stolen weapon and took it by the handle. When Til relinquished his hold on the blade, he brought it up to examine the machete. Small, unwiedly for him, but it would make a decent trophy. He nodded his appreciation to his brother and pocketed the knife. He felt the steady hum of the Phantom as it exited the thickest layers of the atmosphere and breached the vacuum high above the planet's surface. He had to admit, breathing in the air down in the jungle for days on end was not something he wanted to do again, especially considering it could have been lethal after prolonged exposure.

"Where to now, I wonder..." He mused out loud.

[Huka]

Field Master Til Je'at Ra'ha 'Muramai

Looking at his left arm, Til put down his helm by his boot and started to press a built-in button on the side to summon a holographic tactical computer, pressing a small series of glyphs before summoning a miniature twin of the crashed corvette, looking at the purple lining of the plasma reaction coils tracing from the remodeled engines after it proved useless for flight, but continued to power the rest of the ship. "First we deal with the humans' tendency of digging through scraps." He hissed before pressing the engines, immediately making them flash purple and red rapidly. 

 Down below, the engines started to rumble before its contained source started burn bright, melting at the containment field as it was losing its capabilities and the metal hissed. Vibrating faster and faster, the main engines immediately exploded into a blue fire and a glorious chain-reaction occurred along the coils. The corvette's shell flowering destructive plasma with showering shrapnel deep into trees and wandering insects that assumed all was clear. Til watched intently as the ship continued to spew plasma and fire before finally violently exploding that could almost hear from their position before the phantom started to course towards the waiting Destroyer.

 The destructive took a whole radius towards the mid-section of the orange zone in Til's battle plan, vaporizing vegetation and bodies, and no doubt leaving a glassed crater as a scar of this battle for decades. He wondered if any foolish humans remained and he chuckled to their doom.  

 "Field Masters," The pilot interrupted, "We are approaching the Sailing Blade."  

 "Good, get us aboard quickly." He ordered before putting on his mask again, gaining access to the battlenet, now restored to more comforting capabilities. "Task Force commander, retreat to the Sailing Blade and prepare for slipspace."  There was static for a moment before the Aquir Shipmaster answered after a gurgling growl, "As you command, Holy Zealot." He said, respecting the other's senior and power. As the phantom boarded into the Destroyer, most of the surviving sect lances were awaiting for their remaining leaders. 

 Turning slowly, the dropship opened its rear and reveal Til and Sorsa to the soldiers. Stepping out with his brother, the Field Master lifted the arm of the Demon high for all to see, and the Sect roared in triumph,

"This is just the beginning sign of our small loss!" Til roared out to the soldiers with his helmet's volume; his amplified voice loud, deep, and clear, "We will avenge all who have fallen in our battles for the Supercarrier and this world! We will avenge the deaths of fine warriors of all species and rank! We will see our enemy burn for their transgression! We will show them the folly of challenging Covenant might! We will show them the price of heresy and treachery!" 

 With that, he accessed his communications to the bridge, "Shipmaster, activate the view of the Supercarrier and its fleet to ship-wide screens!" He commanded. The former General heard the fiery speech and command, and nodded to his operations officer to do so. With a press of a claw, the vision of the intimidating Kig-yar fleet was appeared on the upper video screens.

"See the rebellious Kig-yar and their prime of piracy. See those who refuse the patient hand of the Covenant leadership! See them abuse their freedoms to steal from either side of the war, using the ship graveyards of our valiant brethren and fallen enemies to their pleasures, now they stand to challenge us. Heretics! Deceivers! These renegades are as worrisome as the Heretics of the Great Uprising many rotations ago! Now they have taken a jewel of our naval might from our rescued Admiral! Behold the price of arrogance and lack of perception. Now we must make things right, we have lost brothers and ships to correct this mistake! Who amongst you agree with me!?" He roared out with a clenched fist. 

 The Covenant task force in heavy battle have nearly lost a warband while sustaining various degrees of damage but they repaid their losses with the growing shipyard of destroyed Yig-yar vessel. Upon the command, they started to move towards the planet with the rear guard keeping the chasing interlopers and raiders busy with plasma blasts of pulse lasers and torpedoes. 

 The ship roared in savage agreement; from the clenched fists and splayed jaws of the honor-bruised Sangheili, the vengeful squeals of the Unggoy, the pounding and howls of the wounded Jiralhanae pack, the harmonious cry of the last surviving Mgalekgolo, and even the hisses of the Kig-yar joined in the chorus of spurred wrath. 
 
 "Then we return the wound tenfold. For the death of General Ekdo and his proud warriors. For the fallen Chief and his strong pack. For the sacrifice of the Arbiter. For the Covenant." He said and he summoned the holographic image of the Supercarrier from his wristcomputer. He let the sight sink before pressing at the engine room. 

 ***

 Supercarrier Bloodied Coin, Kig-yar Mercenary Fleet

 Within the juggernaut's engine room, littered with the bodies of humans, Kig-yar, and three Sangheili commandos, the last surviving commando leaned against a control console with blood drooling out of his many wounds, breathing raggedly with blood coughs. Then he heard a distinctive whine. Looking over to the plasma coil, nestled out of sight was a cleverly hidden antimatter charge. His shaky vision could see the countdown rapidly descending. Chuckling to himself, the commando leaned his head against the console. "For...the Great Journey." He whispered before closing his eyes and the coming explosion took him to the life after. 

 The holy fires stroked and overloaded the engines' power source, coursing it throughout the ship with rippling explosions. In the CIC, the commanding Kig-yar looked in horror and surprise at the sudden disruption of her stolen craft, talons gripping at her second-in-command. "Milady, the engines room have just exploded and the ship is go-" The sensors officer reported before his console exploded violently, sending his burning body flinging into the wall like rag doll. "Everyone abandon ship!" She commanded and immediately leaped away towards the escape-pods, with some of her staff close behind her, forgetting to alarm the rest of her crew, but they were already scrambling based on self-preservation; escaping in pods themselves or in their crafts. Those too slow or confused were engulfed by the Covenant's last gift to their transgressions. 

 Outside, the Kig-yar fleet were trying to reach their commanding voice and few were moving away from the Supercarrier before it exploded against its powerful shields, contained for a time. However, it too failed to prevent a glorious azure explosion that swallowed many of the surrounding ships and crippled others, ripping apart a good portion of the once-massive fleet, leaving it broken with their channel flooded with screams of anger, fear, and disbelief as their former jewel floated as a large torn section and a cloud of molten scraps.

***

 The Covenant task force watched in pious bliss at the beautiful sight and all cheered at this gloriously-turned Pyrrhic victory. "Reticent! Reticent! Reticent!" They chanted to their avengers with fists in the air. Til felt nothing but beautiful triumph to that, it felt he was waiting for the ship's destruction for ages. Inhaling deeply, the Muram Hunter unleashed his clan-centric roar of victory, that was just contagious.

"Lamenting Consecration!" 

His lungs burned, his throat itched and his ears rang, but these mortal discomforts were trivial to the pleasure of ripping his enemies of their victory and giving his comrades a reason to continue on. With this grievous strike and the Kig-yar fleet still too large for their smaller fleet, the Covenant task force made a slipspace jump to the closest sanctioned colony world. 

---

 The Covenant has left the battlefield. 
Mission Report

>The Imperial Admiral has been successfully rescued and the Supercarrier has been DESTROYED with a 1/3 of the Kig-yar Fleet. 


>Lost many lances and officers to the skirmish on the Supercarrier and ground-battle on the Unknown World, replenishing of the Sect of Lamenting Desecration required. 

 

[David]

Admiral David Vardy
UNSC Killimanjaro
Watching hell unfold

As the supercruiser exploded, David watched as it took roughly a 1/3 of the unknown fleet with it, and further more, watched as the Covenant fleet left. Which meant that they must've succeded in escaping with their leader. Which meant their mission was a failure.

Slamming his fist against his arm console, David opened a fleet wide transmission. "Vardy to the fleet. Dump whatever power is in your MACs and jump heat your reactors, Prepare a randomised slipspace jump as per the Cole Protocol and Meet back at the barn. ONI is sure to want to hear about this." and then closed the channel and mentally amended. and chew my ass off for failing.

Looking at Paris, he simply nodded. and watched as the viewscreen turned black as they entered slipsace.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The UNSC Fleet has retreated
Battle report.

After a valient battle to recover the Covenant asset, The Covenant prevailed. All Ships are now reporting back to reach for debrief and R.R

When back in orbit, Killimanjaro and Iowa will transfer personel, and then continue to shore leave on the planet. The Admiralty will be questioned by ONI as well as some of the higher ups in the marine corp.