Post by Major Xeno on Jul 1, 2011 20:58:16 GMT -5
Summary: Master Chief died. On the Pillar of Autumn, repelling boarders, and takes a plasma grenade to the face. Now what? Is Humanity to die out? Not on this man’s watch. Based partially off Halo: ODST
Xxxx
Sergeant Eugan Chelkar was a soldier. Simple, no? His job was to give the Xeno a bad day. Not what he had planned on doing when he was a boy, but when alien murderers came calling, he was hardly going to deny them the ass whooping they so richly deserved. So when the opportunity came and he was invited to join the ODST 105th Division, who was he to refuse?
Chelkar just wanted to know how the hell he ended up orbiting a hula-hoop.
Xxxx
“All Marines, prepare to repel boarders!” the ship’s AI Cortana, called over the intercom. Chelkar silently donned his ODST Armor, fitting the reflective helmet on. Around him, his squad did the same. The armory was silent save for the clacking of armor being buckled in place and the whirring of onboard computer systems.
Chelkar thumbed a worn rubber pad as he replaced his helmet to its rightful place: his head. As he did, the helmet groaned with life as it’s rudimentary computer beginning its warm-up cycle. It flashed random red dots across his HUD, recalibrating the sensor profile to his eyes.
The blood-red RAMBO etched on his helmet top stared back at him as Chelkar crossed by a mirror, adjusting his armor plate sections. His midnight black and gunmetal grey plates glinted, before the newly developed passive camo came on, rendering his suit in patch urban camouflage. He swung his arms and legs, stretching and testing his motion with the armor. Frowning, he adjusted a couple plates, before testing it again. Satisfied, he turned to his squad.
“Any news Rambo?” asked Dutch, Chelkar’s second in command. Chelkar bit down his brief flash of annoyance at the informality. The people here were much more informal than his homeworld, and it showed.
“That’s Sergeant, smartass.” Rambo replied. Dutch shrugged, unabashed, as Galt and Grange the other members of the Kill Team laughed. They stood casually around him, in full gear, all camouflaged up.
“Ready for war, Sergeant.” Dutch replied cheekily. Rambo quirked an eyebrow behind his helmet.
“I don’t know about you, Dutch, but I think my fists aren’t enough.” Rambo said, pushing Dutch lightly. Galt laughed as Dutch fended off mock blows from Grange, while Rambo watched his men squabble.
“Load up for a combat drop: Attack Pattern Delta.” Rambo reprimanded.
They headed to the nearby Armory, where a platoon of ordinary Marines was gathered. They went to work quickly and efficiently, grabbing rifles and checking to make sure they were combat ready.
They got a few curious glances from the other Marines, who took note particularly of their new armor. It was, technically speaking, fresh off the assembly line. Their sergeant, an older man with a cap, said nothing.
Their assigned defense position was the bridge, to protect the captain. They had just started to go when the floor shook beneath them, dropping Grange and several other marines on the floor. They helped Grange up, and exchanged a brief look. Then they ran for the bridge.
Xxxx
Twenty minutes after the announcement, after dodging through a couple Covie-held corridors, the ODSTs reached the bridge, linking up with the Marine regulars who were already in position and posting themselves in a series of fallback points leading up to the bridge. They stacked the Covie dead killed earlier like matchwood, forming crude barricades out of the armor-clad aliens.
Then they waited.
A tinkling sound was their only warning, then a small blue orb fell out into the hallway from the far door. The Marines cursed and ducked, but the ODSTs raised their weapons as their visors polarized instantly, matching the bright blue explosion. The doorway was scarred and smoking from the plasma. As soon as the grenade had detonated, a gaggle of dwarfish aliens with bright colored armor ran in, firing plasma pistols as they called in a yipping, doggish way.
The ODSTs did not hesitate, opening fire as the grunts entered, joined a moment later by the Marines. The grunts charged two more feet, then died as a whole. Their slumping bodies had not lain still for a moment before more aliens came in, accompanied by Elites this time.
The ODSTs concentrated their fire without a word on the foremost Elite, pushing him back with sheer numbers as the beast’s shield tried to repel them. With a crack and a howl, it broke, and Galt dropped the monster with a headshot with his M6D.
“Focus your fire on the bigger xenos!” Rambo instructed calmly, as he killed grunts with precise headshots of his M6D. The regulars were admirably good, which is probably why they were assigned to the bridge, but it wasn’t enough.
With a wild cry, a red armored Elite broke through the sea of corpses and hurled another of the blue plasma grenades at them, clearing the barricade easily. The ODSTs scattered, diving to side as the grenade came near. A marine dove on top of the grenade, covering with his body.
The surviving marines broke, some running, some firing back as the Covenant forces surged forward, over the make-shift barricade and into the milling humans. Rambo primed a frag grenade and hurled it into the their midst, before pushing a wounded marine back with his free hand as he ordered the men to fall back. Dutch had picked up an M90 and was somehow firing and racking the slide with one hand, dragging a marine’s unconscious form with his other hand. Galt was busy up front with his combat knife and his M6D, slaying with both as he bought vital time for his squad-mates. He couldn’t see Grange inside the swarming mass of grunts.
The grenade exploded, shredding the grunts and sending Elites flying. Galt was knocked aside by the broken body of an Elite, and smashed into a bulkhead. Rambo ducked down and grabbed his arm, dragging him away. The Elites still alive were busy smashing marines with strong blows from their plasma rifles, dispatching them with ease. The marines tried to fight back, but the aliens were simply stronger.
Dutch had passed his unconscious load into the waiting arms of another marine, and turned around to fight when a long shadow came over his face. Without waiting, Dutch’s hand had grasped his knife and stabbed-
Rambo. With lightning fast reflexes, Rambo stopped the knife thrust with a crossed hands check, then moved his hands away. Before Dutch could comment, Rambo smacked a red button in a shadowy alcove near the door, after tossing the unconscious Galt into the room. Klaxons roared, and Dutch quirked an eyebrow at the action.
Rambo held up his hand, pointed at the button he pressed, then rapped his knuckles on the now sealed bulkhead. Dutch didn’t have to lean closer, instead using his VISR to highlight the darkness. The button read Depressurization. Dutch look at Rambo again. Did he think this was a joke? Sure, it shut the bulkhead, but other than that all it did was alert the bridge to the predicament.
Suddenly, Dutch heard a hissing sound. He spun about, checking his armor for shrapnel holes, while Rambo merely punched another button, bringing up on the data screen a camera view of the corridor they had just left.
A grim view of Elites grasping for air even in death greeted them. The bridge had vented the air in the compartment. The grunts moved, their methane respirators still functioning, but as they watched, the Grunts died as .50 BMG bullets shattered their armor, detonating their methane harnesses with lethal fury. Grange was back against the far wall, his M6D curiously ringed with smoke in the depressurized room.
The compartment repressurized, and Grange joined them, dragging behind him the corpse of the Red that had led the assault. While the other Marines rebuilt the barricade again, Grange was pulling apart the Elite’s armor, inspecting individual plates and storing them with magnetic plates. Chelkar was propping up an Elite’s body when a light blip signaled a message.
“Hold here. I have to report to the Captain.” Rambo instructed. “Dutch is in charge.”
He turned on his heel, clamping his rifle on his back.
Rambo made his way through the packed and tight quarters. Though his position was the main bridge defense, the unusual superstructure of a Halcyon-class cruiser was odd, to say the least, making him double back at a couple locations to avoid depressurized corridors.
“Star!”
“Texas!” Rambo called back, moving past the last corridor and into the bridge. Crewmen stepped quickly to the side as he passed, either intimidated or impressed with the liberal coating of xeno blood that coated Rambo’s armor.
“Captain, Sergeant Chelkar reporting.” Chelkar saluted.
Captain Keyes turned away from the tactics screen and regard Chelkar with a cool look. His decidedly non-regulation pipe was clutched in one hand, and his grey uniform held many creases. Chelkar, who had never met the Captain before this, moved the Captain several notches up in his book.
Keyes swept his arm towards the blinking display, where Chelkar could identify seven combat clusters of carriers and destroyers. The Autumn was outnumbered and outgunned twenty-one to one, but Rambo noticed four red X’s.
“Take a good, long look son. That’s your LZ.”
Rambo glanced at the Captain.
“Sir?”
“Cortana, drop tactical analysis for a minute.”
...
...
...
...
“What is that sir?”
Keyes chuckled.
“As best as we can tell, the atmosphere is breathable to us, and the environments on it vary, but it should serve as a viable landing zone for the Autumn.” Cortana reported.
Chelkar tore his eyes away from the gigantic Hula-Hoop that dominated the reinforced front view-screen.
Keyes brought up a diagnostic screen of the ship, highlighted in various places with differing colors.
“As you can see, Sergeant, the Autumn is damaged severely. Our Engines are running on one hundred and fifteen percent to get us away from the Covenant ships.” Keyes pointed out the gray sections of depressurized compartments, the red of blazing fires, and the black sections that were either open to space or destroyed.
“Current plan is to hot-drop all ODST’s first, then evacuate all remaining crew members, essential or not. The last ones out will be Romeo Squad and the bridge crew. Now I know you’re down a member, but your squad is to escort-”
“Captain Keyes.”
Chelkar and Keyes turned to face the newcomer, and Chelkar was surprised to see a SPARTAN-Commando standing behind them. How he’d come up that silently Chelkar would never know.
“Ah, Master Chief, good to see you up.”
Xxxx
Sergeant Eugan Chelkar was a soldier. Simple, no? His job was to give the Xeno a bad day. Not what he had planned on doing when he was a boy, but when alien murderers came calling, he was hardly going to deny them the ass whooping they so richly deserved. So when the opportunity came and he was invited to join the ODST 105th Division, who was he to refuse?
Chelkar just wanted to know how the hell he ended up orbiting a hula-hoop.
Xxxx
“All Marines, prepare to repel boarders!” the ship’s AI Cortana, called over the intercom. Chelkar silently donned his ODST Armor, fitting the reflective helmet on. Around him, his squad did the same. The armory was silent save for the clacking of armor being buckled in place and the whirring of onboard computer systems.
Chelkar thumbed a worn rubber pad as he replaced his helmet to its rightful place: his head. As he did, the helmet groaned with life as it’s rudimentary computer beginning its warm-up cycle. It flashed random red dots across his HUD, recalibrating the sensor profile to his eyes.
The blood-red RAMBO etched on his helmet top stared back at him as Chelkar crossed by a mirror, adjusting his armor plate sections. His midnight black and gunmetal grey plates glinted, before the newly developed passive camo came on, rendering his suit in patch urban camouflage. He swung his arms and legs, stretching and testing his motion with the armor. Frowning, he adjusted a couple plates, before testing it again. Satisfied, he turned to his squad.
“Any news Rambo?” asked Dutch, Chelkar’s second in command. Chelkar bit down his brief flash of annoyance at the informality. The people here were much more informal than his homeworld, and it showed.
“That’s Sergeant, smartass.” Rambo replied. Dutch shrugged, unabashed, as Galt and Grange the other members of the Kill Team laughed. They stood casually around him, in full gear, all camouflaged up.
“Ready for war, Sergeant.” Dutch replied cheekily. Rambo quirked an eyebrow behind his helmet.
“I don’t know about you, Dutch, but I think my fists aren’t enough.” Rambo said, pushing Dutch lightly. Galt laughed as Dutch fended off mock blows from Grange, while Rambo watched his men squabble.
“Load up for a combat drop: Attack Pattern Delta.” Rambo reprimanded.
They headed to the nearby Armory, where a platoon of ordinary Marines was gathered. They went to work quickly and efficiently, grabbing rifles and checking to make sure they were combat ready.
They got a few curious glances from the other Marines, who took note particularly of their new armor. It was, technically speaking, fresh off the assembly line. Their sergeant, an older man with a cap, said nothing.
Their assigned defense position was the bridge, to protect the captain. They had just started to go when the floor shook beneath them, dropping Grange and several other marines on the floor. They helped Grange up, and exchanged a brief look. Then they ran for the bridge.
Xxxx
Twenty minutes after the announcement, after dodging through a couple Covie-held corridors, the ODSTs reached the bridge, linking up with the Marine regulars who were already in position and posting themselves in a series of fallback points leading up to the bridge. They stacked the Covie dead killed earlier like matchwood, forming crude barricades out of the armor-clad aliens.
Then they waited.
A tinkling sound was their only warning, then a small blue orb fell out into the hallway from the far door. The Marines cursed and ducked, but the ODSTs raised their weapons as their visors polarized instantly, matching the bright blue explosion. The doorway was scarred and smoking from the plasma. As soon as the grenade had detonated, a gaggle of dwarfish aliens with bright colored armor ran in, firing plasma pistols as they called in a yipping, doggish way.
The ODSTs did not hesitate, opening fire as the grunts entered, joined a moment later by the Marines. The grunts charged two more feet, then died as a whole. Their slumping bodies had not lain still for a moment before more aliens came in, accompanied by Elites this time.
The ODSTs concentrated their fire without a word on the foremost Elite, pushing him back with sheer numbers as the beast’s shield tried to repel them. With a crack and a howl, it broke, and Galt dropped the monster with a headshot with his M6D.
“Focus your fire on the bigger xenos!” Rambo instructed calmly, as he killed grunts with precise headshots of his M6D. The regulars were admirably good, which is probably why they were assigned to the bridge, but it wasn’t enough.
With a wild cry, a red armored Elite broke through the sea of corpses and hurled another of the blue plasma grenades at them, clearing the barricade easily. The ODSTs scattered, diving to side as the grenade came near. A marine dove on top of the grenade, covering with his body.
The surviving marines broke, some running, some firing back as the Covenant forces surged forward, over the make-shift barricade and into the milling humans. Rambo primed a frag grenade and hurled it into the their midst, before pushing a wounded marine back with his free hand as he ordered the men to fall back. Dutch had picked up an M90 and was somehow firing and racking the slide with one hand, dragging a marine’s unconscious form with his other hand. Galt was busy up front with his combat knife and his M6D, slaying with both as he bought vital time for his squad-mates. He couldn’t see Grange inside the swarming mass of grunts.
The grenade exploded, shredding the grunts and sending Elites flying. Galt was knocked aside by the broken body of an Elite, and smashed into a bulkhead. Rambo ducked down and grabbed his arm, dragging him away. The Elites still alive were busy smashing marines with strong blows from their plasma rifles, dispatching them with ease. The marines tried to fight back, but the aliens were simply stronger.
Dutch had passed his unconscious load into the waiting arms of another marine, and turned around to fight when a long shadow came over his face. Without waiting, Dutch’s hand had grasped his knife and stabbed-
Rambo. With lightning fast reflexes, Rambo stopped the knife thrust with a crossed hands check, then moved his hands away. Before Dutch could comment, Rambo smacked a red button in a shadowy alcove near the door, after tossing the unconscious Galt into the room. Klaxons roared, and Dutch quirked an eyebrow at the action.
Rambo held up his hand, pointed at the button he pressed, then rapped his knuckles on the now sealed bulkhead. Dutch didn’t have to lean closer, instead using his VISR to highlight the darkness. The button read Depressurization. Dutch look at Rambo again. Did he think this was a joke? Sure, it shut the bulkhead, but other than that all it did was alert the bridge to the predicament.
Suddenly, Dutch heard a hissing sound. He spun about, checking his armor for shrapnel holes, while Rambo merely punched another button, bringing up on the data screen a camera view of the corridor they had just left.
A grim view of Elites grasping for air even in death greeted them. The bridge had vented the air in the compartment. The grunts moved, their methane respirators still functioning, but as they watched, the Grunts died as .50 BMG bullets shattered their armor, detonating their methane harnesses with lethal fury. Grange was back against the far wall, his M6D curiously ringed with smoke in the depressurized room.
The compartment repressurized, and Grange joined them, dragging behind him the corpse of the Red that had led the assault. While the other Marines rebuilt the barricade again, Grange was pulling apart the Elite’s armor, inspecting individual plates and storing them with magnetic plates. Chelkar was propping up an Elite’s body when a light blip signaled a message.
“Hold here. I have to report to the Captain.” Rambo instructed. “Dutch is in charge.”
He turned on his heel, clamping his rifle on his back.
Rambo made his way through the packed and tight quarters. Though his position was the main bridge defense, the unusual superstructure of a Halcyon-class cruiser was odd, to say the least, making him double back at a couple locations to avoid depressurized corridors.
“Star!”
“Texas!” Rambo called back, moving past the last corridor and into the bridge. Crewmen stepped quickly to the side as he passed, either intimidated or impressed with the liberal coating of xeno blood that coated Rambo’s armor.
“Captain, Sergeant Chelkar reporting.” Chelkar saluted.
Captain Keyes turned away from the tactics screen and regard Chelkar with a cool look. His decidedly non-regulation pipe was clutched in one hand, and his grey uniform held many creases. Chelkar, who had never met the Captain before this, moved the Captain several notches up in his book.
Keyes swept his arm towards the blinking display, where Chelkar could identify seven combat clusters of carriers and destroyers. The Autumn was outnumbered and outgunned twenty-one to one, but Rambo noticed four red X’s.
“Take a good, long look son. That’s your LZ.”
Rambo glanced at the Captain.
“Sir?”
“Cortana, drop tactical analysis for a minute.”
...
...
...
...
“What is that sir?”
Keyes chuckled.
“As best as we can tell, the atmosphere is breathable to us, and the environments on it vary, but it should serve as a viable landing zone for the Autumn.” Cortana reported.
Chelkar tore his eyes away from the gigantic Hula-Hoop that dominated the reinforced front view-screen.
Keyes brought up a diagnostic screen of the ship, highlighted in various places with differing colors.
“As you can see, Sergeant, the Autumn is damaged severely. Our Engines are running on one hundred and fifteen percent to get us away from the Covenant ships.” Keyes pointed out the gray sections of depressurized compartments, the red of blazing fires, and the black sections that were either open to space or destroyed.
“Current plan is to hot-drop all ODST’s first, then evacuate all remaining crew members, essential or not. The last ones out will be Romeo Squad and the bridge crew. Now I know you’re down a member, but your squad is to escort-”
“Captain Keyes.”
Chelkar and Keyes turned to face the newcomer, and Chelkar was surprised to see a SPARTAN-Commando standing behind them. How he’d come up that silently Chelkar would never know.
“Ah, Master Chief, good to see you up.”
