VerbotenDonkey
07-21-2011, 11:57 PM
A flare of red and orange burst overtop the atmosphere of Mars, propelling the single engined spacecraft towards a much larger luxury liner. By anyones standards, the craft was a simple civilian operated vehicle, no terms for alarm. The hiss of pressurizing gas released as the two vehicles connected, a small bridge lay inbetween them. A click later and the hatch swung open, revealing a comfortable interior of the space limousine. Two young men wearing civilian casual dress entered the luxury limousine, respectively taking off their city berets and taking seats on two red velvet lined couches. Surrounding them were a hand full of privateer mercenaries, doning the BLUE half-star emblem on their sleeves. In the center of the liner sat a middle-aged man, a cigar wedged between his fingers.
"Gentlemen! So glad you could make it. I assume everything went well?" He asked.
The first of the messengers placed a folder onto a table inbetween the seats. Several documents and star-charts spilled out, cluttering the area.
"We've tracked movement. The Imperials dispatched a fleet towards Reach. We can't explain why yet, but this is the information from their Slipspace entrances, they're heading for that planet."
"Isn't that better for us? The invasion of the Inner Colonies is scheduled for next week. With the Emperor splitting his troops, this will be a cake-walk." The man smiled, tapping his ashes onto a tray, then biting down hard onto the gnarled end of his cigar. "We go as planned. Earth will fall within the month."
"With all due respect, the Imperials are after something. Something Forerunner. We know they've been amassing artifacts, we may want to look into this."
The man scowled, sitting up into his chair now and leaning forward, thrusting his pointer finger forward at the two of them.
"If it weren't for investors like myself, your group wouldn't even make it out of the hole it was in. Its simple, we supply the money, you do your job."
The two younger intel officers stood forward, placing their caps onto their heads. "The others have reason to believe that if the Imperials get their hands on Reach and the thought of Forerunner Artifacts, the War may soon be over before we can strike. They don't want another Juggernaught flying through Space. Our Army is being moved to Reach within the week. If all is successful, you'll land yourself a nice share of the pot. Otherwise, you're bought out."
As the two turned to return to their ship, the man scratched his chin, and finally nodded in agreement. "Count me in. Reach it is then. The strike on Earth can wait."
In the depths of BLUE controlled space, the Carrier Eternal Sacrifice, housing an entire BLUE unit, the 13th Marine Expeditionary Unit, received it's orders for Reach. A cheer rang out through the metallic hull, as the Field Marshal himself addressed them. This would truly be the End of Peace.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Snaking grey smoke from a lit cigarette slithered through the air as it dispersed into the dense atmosphere above of Reach. Sighing, Private First Class Caiden let the cigarette fall from his fingers and stamped it into the shortcut grass. Specialist Ryan Webber smiled to himself, shaking his head as he sat against a metal outcropping of the crude barracks that they had erected amongst the valleys of Reach. Tall cliffs of solid earth and compacted dirt rose protectively around them, forming natural walls from attackers. Rolling green hills reached out in front of them, coiling in circles into the mountains; the place was an obvious maze.
The camo green sleek Pelicans drifted overhead, blue thrusters lighting up the dimming evening sky as they descended from above. The Eternal Sacrifice had arrived three days earlier and was still unloading supplies to Battalion fresh on the ground. Reports were buzzing in to Alpha Base every hour with fresh news from the front lines. It seemed the Imperials were ill-prepared for the sudden outbreak of violence, as Brotherhood forces had swept the Emperors finest off of some of the reconstruction of Viery. Several smaller skirmishes also occurred around the plains outside of Viery, where each Army was keeping several defensive bases.
Alpha Base itself was a small rear base for the Brotherhood to land its supplies at to support the front line with. Tucked neatly within the long stretching valleys, it was the focal center to the Brotherhood, as it had access to all of the fronts. It lacked any sort of landing strip for planes or docking bay for aircraft, but Falcons, Hornets, and Pelicans often flew through to drop off supplies or soldiers and relocate them. A grey rectangular building in the center of the base marked the command station, an antennae propped on the top to communicate with the Eternal Sacrifice. The Barracks loomed next to it, emptied of all inhabitants as Aurelius watched the perimeter while the Pelicans unloaded their cargo. A small strip of grass was removed to allow a section for smaller aircraft to land and a building was created from some interlocking tents to house the cargo. Sandbags surrounded Alpha Base, turrets gutting the position facing each of the small paths leading out into the rolling hills. A few forward checkpoints were established and always guarded.
Aurelius Platoon was stationed in guard duty of the Supply Base, basically the boring op, if you could call it that, while the rest of the Battalion was off at Viery. Corporal Lonlian stifled a yawn as he leaned back against a sandbag, his Assault Rifle laying neatly across his arms. He stared at the three Pelicans, their blue emblems freshly painted onto their wings.
“Damnit, when do we get outta here?” He complaining, turning around to lean his arms on the sandbags as he stared out into the hills. Lonlian was always itching for combat. Like Webber, Christopher Lonlian was a veteran of the previous war between the two factions, back when the conference first erupted back on Earth and they were called to duty. They had fought side by side before meeting again in Aurelius, and Ryan knew he was a reliable partner as well as a perfect shot with a rifle.
“Now, Corporal,” a stern voice broke over the slight silence after Lonlian’s sentence, coming from the fresh landing of Pelicans. A few large strides and the bulking figure was before them, DMR in hand. Colonel Greg Cassidy stood about a head taller than them. Each of the members of Charlie Fireteam drew themselves into crisp salutes as the Commanding Officer of the current ground forces stood in front of them. They had not expected such a high ranking Officer to address them so soon.
“High Command gave the word that Aurelius is shipping out to the plains of Viery. Looks like you guys might make it to the fight after all.” The Colonel joked, turning around to gesture at the commotion overhead. Two dozen Pelicans flew overhead in formation as they drifted left towards the plains. Three Pelicans stayed behind on the ground, their tails facing the Platoon left on the ground.
“I’ll brief you as we go, but we’re needed now. Once we eliminate all of the Imperials off of the plains, Viery will officially become Brotherhood property.” All of Aurelius filed in behind Fireteam Alpha, and overhead, an orange glow lit the sky as several dozen ODST pods lit the evening sky up like a meteor shower. They must have launched somewhere overhead from the Eternal Sacrifice. Specialist Webber slid into the first Pelican, taking the third seat on the left as he strapped the shoulder harnesses around his body, awaiting the rest of the Platoon to enter their craft. A hiss sealed the back shut and a pang of vertigo rose through Webber’s stomach as the Pelican gained altitude, circling once overhead. The grey buildings of Alpha base lingered in the small aft window before disappearing behind the hills. For once, Aurelius would meet the enemy head on.
- - - - - -- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -- - -
Corporal John Teller gripped the sides of his M247 Heavy Machinegun as the twin rotary blades lifted the Falcon off the grassy plains. His stomach rolled with vertigo as the towering hills surrounding them began to fall beneath the cold metal flooring. A gust of wind rattled the craft, jostling John in his seat a bit.
“You okay over there?” His partner and close friend Tim Waringer joked over their comm, with a chuckle. Tim was seated on the right gunner position, and turned in time to catch the action. John let out a short laugh in embarrassment and click his chin-strap mic.
“Just the pre-battle jitters. We’ll see who marks up the most kills.”
The hum of the air convoy made talking more tedious, so John took on to observing his surroundings as they had taught him in his advanced weapons training. Their main purpose on this mission would be to provide fire support for the teams that were to be inserted into Viery Plains. In total, the convoy numbered ten Pelicans, two of which were heavily armored with ANVIL rocket launchers on their wings. Five Falcons flew in formation in front of and around the Pelicans acting as their protection, but were also to be used as fire support during the combat to come. Four Hornet fliers equipped with mounted commandos stayed in reserve as well as to quickly drop off their cargo at key locations for fast deposit.
The green hills quickly rolled underneath, thinning out as the convoy followed overtop a smooth river that snaked along the banks of mild undergrowth. John relaxed back in his leather seat, the wind whipping by quickly and chilling his M52B body armor. Quickly, the temperature-regulation units beneath the ballistic gel began to warm, creating a tingling mixture between two ends of temperature. The pilot banked right causing John to look into the sky as his field of view shifted. He had to admit, conditions were optimal, few clouds interrupted to light blue sky that shone like tropical water.
The scenery abruptly changed, the green hills now cut off as the ground turned into hardened rock and sand. The river continued to flow out onto the Plains, with grey dots indicating settlements that they quickly flew over.
Suddenly, a roar of thunder erupted underneath John and explosions rippled the Plain. A formation of Brotherhood Scorpion Tanks positioned in the Plains began to open fire on encroaching Imperial Militants. Orange flares blossomed from the dusty ground as several troop carriers exploded in place. John couldn’t tell the numbers because of the altitude, but masses of Imperial forces were gathering in the Plains below. He knew that if the Imperial REDDs broke into the hills, then the Brotherhood central command centers would fall, leaving exits in every direction into Brotherhood held territory.
Yellow tracer rounds buzzed past his seat, flying over top of the Falcon. Grey puffs of smoke rose from the depths of the Plains below as an anti-aircraft gun began pounding into the skies, the automatic fire blazing from the ground. Machineguns erupted as well, taking careful aim at the air convoy.
The hardened voice of Colonel Cassidy filled their ears, a voice of determination that sounded as if he had foreseen no danger in the threats looming below.
“Take us down to our LZ. We’ll take the ground ops from here, thanks for the ride.”
John’s stomach rolled as thrusters engaged on both wings to negate the forward momentum, Pelicans began their downward descent on both sides. They flew in small circles, like a hawk diving down for it’s prey. The Scorpion Tanks unleashed another volley, yellow energy shields flickered and failed as red dolls were tossed around.
The vision was cut short however as the Falcon jerked forward, blue thrusters propelling them. Underneath, an entire Platoon’s worth of men moved forward, not waiting to give their REDD opposers the opportunity to make the first strike. Not waiting for the BLUE reinforcements from Alpha Base to unload, the original defending force moved ahead to secure an advancement point.
The Falcon dived down now, the auto-cannon placed below the pilots seat now churning out it’s automatic fire. John sat low in his seat as he leveled his M247 towards two enemy soldiers taking cover behind a sandbag. His gloved trigger finger pressed tightly downward as his gun performed the actions he was only thinking. He fired in short bursts and three rounds entered the first soldiers chest, crimson shot out of the exit wound and spattered to the grass. His partner crouched low, leaning against the sandbag as the force of the shots scared him into a defensive position. John heard Tim yell in excitement and begin counting over the mic. Finally, the Falcon leveled out, strafing slowly left and right to avoid incoming fire against such a large target. All three of the turrets onboard keeping the REDDs scared shitless.
Pinpoints of yellow exited the barrels of the DMRs as the Platoon rushed up a small incline that an enemy occupied force currently held. Spatters of red stained the insides of several Imperial helmets as they fell to the floor. Rocks scattered about the battlefield gave the best cover and Brotherhood forces kept their back safely against them as they rushed upward in small sprints.
Suddenly, the Falcon dipped downward and strafed right, a rocket roared right past John’s gunning position. Sweat beaded on his forehead underneath his helmet and his nerves tensed inside his body. That had almost ended his life, but a quick maneuver had saved him. Enough thinking, that would get him killed. Three Imperials shone brightly in the mid-days sun, their red armor covered in dirt from lying prone. The recent repositioning placed the soldiers right between John’s crosshairs and he pulled his trigger hard, his machinegun roaring to life as hot lead poured from the muzzle. Spent casing flew from the gun. One landed on the bare skin of his wrist, searing a hot mark onto his unblemished skin.
Two rounds tore into the red armor protecting one of the Imperial’s backs, his face skewing into devout pain. His head hit the dusty plains of Viery hard and his Assault Rifle fell limp from his hands. The second one took a knee, attempting to level his rifle, but time did not give him a chance as four yellow tracers took him from his feet, blood leaking from the wounds like a broken pipe. The third must have been a new recruit and not accustom to war. His rifle lay in front of him as his hands cupped his head. His body heaved and he appeared to be sobbing. John burst fired his gun, ending his misery. Then he held down the trigger, overkilling the other two and laddening them with bullets.
Unexpectedly, a red light flashed overhead and a constant beeping sound emitted from the cockpit. Smoke swirled around the propellers and the Falcon drifted aimlessly around the airspace. Automatic fire from Assault Rifles glanced off the armor of the Falcon, but ricocheted off the propellers. They spun in the air once as the pilot attempted to maintain control. It was a hassle for John to even attempt to remain in his seat. The spinning stopped short as the right side of the craft nudged into the ground hard, shuttering them as it rocked onto its side. John blacked out shortly after.
"Gentlemen! So glad you could make it. I assume everything went well?" He asked.
The first of the messengers placed a folder onto a table inbetween the seats. Several documents and star-charts spilled out, cluttering the area.
"We've tracked movement. The Imperials dispatched a fleet towards Reach. We can't explain why yet, but this is the information from their Slipspace entrances, they're heading for that planet."
"Isn't that better for us? The invasion of the Inner Colonies is scheduled for next week. With the Emperor splitting his troops, this will be a cake-walk." The man smiled, tapping his ashes onto a tray, then biting down hard onto the gnarled end of his cigar. "We go as planned. Earth will fall within the month."
"With all due respect, the Imperials are after something. Something Forerunner. We know they've been amassing artifacts, we may want to look into this."
The man scowled, sitting up into his chair now and leaning forward, thrusting his pointer finger forward at the two of them.
"If it weren't for investors like myself, your group wouldn't even make it out of the hole it was in. Its simple, we supply the money, you do your job."
The two younger intel officers stood forward, placing their caps onto their heads. "The others have reason to believe that if the Imperials get their hands on Reach and the thought of Forerunner Artifacts, the War may soon be over before we can strike. They don't want another Juggernaught flying through Space. Our Army is being moved to Reach within the week. If all is successful, you'll land yourself a nice share of the pot. Otherwise, you're bought out."
As the two turned to return to their ship, the man scratched his chin, and finally nodded in agreement. "Count me in. Reach it is then. The strike on Earth can wait."
In the depths of BLUE controlled space, the Carrier Eternal Sacrifice, housing an entire BLUE unit, the 13th Marine Expeditionary Unit, received it's orders for Reach. A cheer rang out through the metallic hull, as the Field Marshal himself addressed them. This would truly be the End of Peace.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Snaking grey smoke from a lit cigarette slithered through the air as it dispersed into the dense atmosphere above of Reach. Sighing, Private First Class Caiden let the cigarette fall from his fingers and stamped it into the shortcut grass. Specialist Ryan Webber smiled to himself, shaking his head as he sat against a metal outcropping of the crude barracks that they had erected amongst the valleys of Reach. Tall cliffs of solid earth and compacted dirt rose protectively around them, forming natural walls from attackers. Rolling green hills reached out in front of them, coiling in circles into the mountains; the place was an obvious maze.
The camo green sleek Pelicans drifted overhead, blue thrusters lighting up the dimming evening sky as they descended from above. The Eternal Sacrifice had arrived three days earlier and was still unloading supplies to Battalion fresh on the ground. Reports were buzzing in to Alpha Base every hour with fresh news from the front lines. It seemed the Imperials were ill-prepared for the sudden outbreak of violence, as Brotherhood forces had swept the Emperors finest off of some of the reconstruction of Viery. Several smaller skirmishes also occurred around the plains outside of Viery, where each Army was keeping several defensive bases.
Alpha Base itself was a small rear base for the Brotherhood to land its supplies at to support the front line with. Tucked neatly within the long stretching valleys, it was the focal center to the Brotherhood, as it had access to all of the fronts. It lacked any sort of landing strip for planes or docking bay for aircraft, but Falcons, Hornets, and Pelicans often flew through to drop off supplies or soldiers and relocate them. A grey rectangular building in the center of the base marked the command station, an antennae propped on the top to communicate with the Eternal Sacrifice. The Barracks loomed next to it, emptied of all inhabitants as Aurelius watched the perimeter while the Pelicans unloaded their cargo. A small strip of grass was removed to allow a section for smaller aircraft to land and a building was created from some interlocking tents to house the cargo. Sandbags surrounded Alpha Base, turrets gutting the position facing each of the small paths leading out into the rolling hills. A few forward checkpoints were established and always guarded.
Aurelius Platoon was stationed in guard duty of the Supply Base, basically the boring op, if you could call it that, while the rest of the Battalion was off at Viery. Corporal Lonlian stifled a yawn as he leaned back against a sandbag, his Assault Rifle laying neatly across his arms. He stared at the three Pelicans, their blue emblems freshly painted onto their wings.
“Damnit, when do we get outta here?” He complaining, turning around to lean his arms on the sandbags as he stared out into the hills. Lonlian was always itching for combat. Like Webber, Christopher Lonlian was a veteran of the previous war between the two factions, back when the conference first erupted back on Earth and they were called to duty. They had fought side by side before meeting again in Aurelius, and Ryan knew he was a reliable partner as well as a perfect shot with a rifle.
“Now, Corporal,” a stern voice broke over the slight silence after Lonlian’s sentence, coming from the fresh landing of Pelicans. A few large strides and the bulking figure was before them, DMR in hand. Colonel Greg Cassidy stood about a head taller than them. Each of the members of Charlie Fireteam drew themselves into crisp salutes as the Commanding Officer of the current ground forces stood in front of them. They had not expected such a high ranking Officer to address them so soon.
“High Command gave the word that Aurelius is shipping out to the plains of Viery. Looks like you guys might make it to the fight after all.” The Colonel joked, turning around to gesture at the commotion overhead. Two dozen Pelicans flew overhead in formation as they drifted left towards the plains. Three Pelicans stayed behind on the ground, their tails facing the Platoon left on the ground.
“I’ll brief you as we go, but we’re needed now. Once we eliminate all of the Imperials off of the plains, Viery will officially become Brotherhood property.” All of Aurelius filed in behind Fireteam Alpha, and overhead, an orange glow lit the sky as several dozen ODST pods lit the evening sky up like a meteor shower. They must have launched somewhere overhead from the Eternal Sacrifice. Specialist Webber slid into the first Pelican, taking the third seat on the left as he strapped the shoulder harnesses around his body, awaiting the rest of the Platoon to enter their craft. A hiss sealed the back shut and a pang of vertigo rose through Webber’s stomach as the Pelican gained altitude, circling once overhead. The grey buildings of Alpha base lingered in the small aft window before disappearing behind the hills. For once, Aurelius would meet the enemy head on.
- - - - - -- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -- - -
Corporal John Teller gripped the sides of his M247 Heavy Machinegun as the twin rotary blades lifted the Falcon off the grassy plains. His stomach rolled with vertigo as the towering hills surrounding them began to fall beneath the cold metal flooring. A gust of wind rattled the craft, jostling John in his seat a bit.
“You okay over there?” His partner and close friend Tim Waringer joked over their comm, with a chuckle. Tim was seated on the right gunner position, and turned in time to catch the action. John let out a short laugh in embarrassment and click his chin-strap mic.
“Just the pre-battle jitters. We’ll see who marks up the most kills.”
The hum of the air convoy made talking more tedious, so John took on to observing his surroundings as they had taught him in his advanced weapons training. Their main purpose on this mission would be to provide fire support for the teams that were to be inserted into Viery Plains. In total, the convoy numbered ten Pelicans, two of which were heavily armored with ANVIL rocket launchers on their wings. Five Falcons flew in formation in front of and around the Pelicans acting as their protection, but were also to be used as fire support during the combat to come. Four Hornet fliers equipped with mounted commandos stayed in reserve as well as to quickly drop off their cargo at key locations for fast deposit.
The green hills quickly rolled underneath, thinning out as the convoy followed overtop a smooth river that snaked along the banks of mild undergrowth. John relaxed back in his leather seat, the wind whipping by quickly and chilling his M52B body armor. Quickly, the temperature-regulation units beneath the ballistic gel began to warm, creating a tingling mixture between two ends of temperature. The pilot banked right causing John to look into the sky as his field of view shifted. He had to admit, conditions were optimal, few clouds interrupted to light blue sky that shone like tropical water.
The scenery abruptly changed, the green hills now cut off as the ground turned into hardened rock and sand. The river continued to flow out onto the Plains, with grey dots indicating settlements that they quickly flew over.
Suddenly, a roar of thunder erupted underneath John and explosions rippled the Plain. A formation of Brotherhood Scorpion Tanks positioned in the Plains began to open fire on encroaching Imperial Militants. Orange flares blossomed from the dusty ground as several troop carriers exploded in place. John couldn’t tell the numbers because of the altitude, but masses of Imperial forces were gathering in the Plains below. He knew that if the Imperial REDDs broke into the hills, then the Brotherhood central command centers would fall, leaving exits in every direction into Brotherhood held territory.
Yellow tracer rounds buzzed past his seat, flying over top of the Falcon. Grey puffs of smoke rose from the depths of the Plains below as an anti-aircraft gun began pounding into the skies, the automatic fire blazing from the ground. Machineguns erupted as well, taking careful aim at the air convoy.
The hardened voice of Colonel Cassidy filled their ears, a voice of determination that sounded as if he had foreseen no danger in the threats looming below.
“Take us down to our LZ. We’ll take the ground ops from here, thanks for the ride.”
John’s stomach rolled as thrusters engaged on both wings to negate the forward momentum, Pelicans began their downward descent on both sides. They flew in small circles, like a hawk diving down for it’s prey. The Scorpion Tanks unleashed another volley, yellow energy shields flickered and failed as red dolls were tossed around.
The vision was cut short however as the Falcon jerked forward, blue thrusters propelling them. Underneath, an entire Platoon’s worth of men moved forward, not waiting to give their REDD opposers the opportunity to make the first strike. Not waiting for the BLUE reinforcements from Alpha Base to unload, the original defending force moved ahead to secure an advancement point.
The Falcon dived down now, the auto-cannon placed below the pilots seat now churning out it’s automatic fire. John sat low in his seat as he leveled his M247 towards two enemy soldiers taking cover behind a sandbag. His gloved trigger finger pressed tightly downward as his gun performed the actions he was only thinking. He fired in short bursts and three rounds entered the first soldiers chest, crimson shot out of the exit wound and spattered to the grass. His partner crouched low, leaning against the sandbag as the force of the shots scared him into a defensive position. John heard Tim yell in excitement and begin counting over the mic. Finally, the Falcon leveled out, strafing slowly left and right to avoid incoming fire against such a large target. All three of the turrets onboard keeping the REDDs scared shitless.
Pinpoints of yellow exited the barrels of the DMRs as the Platoon rushed up a small incline that an enemy occupied force currently held. Spatters of red stained the insides of several Imperial helmets as they fell to the floor. Rocks scattered about the battlefield gave the best cover and Brotherhood forces kept their back safely against them as they rushed upward in small sprints.
Suddenly, the Falcon dipped downward and strafed right, a rocket roared right past John’s gunning position. Sweat beaded on his forehead underneath his helmet and his nerves tensed inside his body. That had almost ended his life, but a quick maneuver had saved him. Enough thinking, that would get him killed. Three Imperials shone brightly in the mid-days sun, their red armor covered in dirt from lying prone. The recent repositioning placed the soldiers right between John’s crosshairs and he pulled his trigger hard, his machinegun roaring to life as hot lead poured from the muzzle. Spent casing flew from the gun. One landed on the bare skin of his wrist, searing a hot mark onto his unblemished skin.
Two rounds tore into the red armor protecting one of the Imperial’s backs, his face skewing into devout pain. His head hit the dusty plains of Viery hard and his Assault Rifle fell limp from his hands. The second one took a knee, attempting to level his rifle, but time did not give him a chance as four yellow tracers took him from his feet, blood leaking from the wounds like a broken pipe. The third must have been a new recruit and not accustom to war. His rifle lay in front of him as his hands cupped his head. His body heaved and he appeared to be sobbing. John burst fired his gun, ending his misery. Then he held down the trigger, overkilling the other two and laddening them with bullets.
Unexpectedly, a red light flashed overhead and a constant beeping sound emitted from the cockpit. Smoke swirled around the propellers and the Falcon drifted aimlessly around the airspace. Automatic fire from Assault Rifles glanced off the armor of the Falcon, but ricocheted off the propellers. They spun in the air once as the pilot attempted to maintain control. It was a hassle for John to even attempt to remain in his seat. The spinning stopped short as the right side of the craft nudged into the ground hard, shuttering them as it rocked onto its side. John blacked out shortly after.