Halo_ The Fall of Reach - Eric Nylund [67]
They had all almost been goners.
The squad had left Firebase Bravo two hours ago. Satellite images showed the way was all clear to their target area. Lieutenant McCasky had even said it was a “milk run”. They were supposed to set up motion sensors on grid thirteen by twenty-four—just see what was there and get back. “A simple snoop job,” the ell-tee had called it.
What no one told McCasky was that the satellites weren’t penetrating the rain and jungle canopy of this swampball too well. If the Lieutenant had thought about it—like Corporal Harland was thinking about it now—he would have figured something was wrong with sending three squads on a “milk run.”
The squad wasn’t green. Corporal Harland and the others had fought the Covenant before. They knew how to kill Grunts—when they massed by the hundreds, they knew to call in air support. They’d even taken down a few of the Covenant Jackals, the ones with energy shields. You had to flank those guys— take them out with snipers.
But none of that had prepared them for this mission.
They had done all the right things, damn it. The Lieutenant had even gotten their Warthogs five klicks down the streambed before the terrain became too steep and slippery for the all-terrain armored vehicles. He had the men hump the rest of the way in on foot. They moved soft and silent, almost crawling all they way through the slime to the depression they were supposed to check out.
When they had gotten to the place, it wasn’t just another mud-filled sinkhole. A waterfall splashed into a grotto pool. Arches had been carved into the wall, their edges extremely weathered. There were a few scattered paving stones around the pool . . . and covering those stones were tiny geometric carvings.
That’s all Corporal Harland got a look at before the Lieutenant ordered him and his team to fall back. He wanted them to set up the motion sensors where they had a clear line of sight to the sky.
That’s probably why they were still alive.
The blast had knocked Harland and his team into the mud. They ran to where they had left the Lieutenant —found fused glassy mud, a crater, and a few burning corpses and bits of carbonized skeleton.
They saw one other thing—an outline in the mist. It was biped, but much larger than any human Harland had ever seen. And oddly, it looked like it was wearing armor reminiscent of medieval plate mail; it even carried a large, strangely shaped metal shield.
Harland saw the glow of a regenerating plasma weapon . . . and that’s all he needed to see to order a full speed retreat.
Harland, Walker, Cochran, and Fincher fell back, running—blindly firing their assault rifles.
Covenant Grunts had followed them, peppering the air with those needle guns, mowing down the jungle as the tiny razor shards exploded.
Harland and the others stopped and hit the deck, splashing into the thick, red mud, as a Covenant
Banshee passed them overhead. When they got back on their feet, Cochran took the round in the stomach. The Grunts had caught up to them. Cochran flinched, his side exploded, and then he crumpled to the ground. He fell into shock so fast he didn’t even have time to scream.
Harland, Fincher, and Walker hunkered down and returned fire. They killed a dozen of the little
bastards, but more kept coming, their barks and growls echoing through the jungle. “Cease fire,” the Corporal had ordered. He waited a second, then tossed a grenade when the Grunts got closer.
Their ears still ringing, they ran, dragging Cochran with them, and not looking back.
Somehow they had returned to the Warthog, and gotten the hell out of there . . . or, at least, that’s what they were trying to do. “Over there,” Fincher said, and pointed to a clearing in the trees. “That’s got to lead up to the ridge.” “Go,” Harland said. The Warthog slid sideways then raced up the embankment, caught air, and landed on soft jungle loam.
Fincher dodged a few trees and ran the Warthog up the slope. They emerged on the ridgeline. “Jesus, that was