by Various
When the duo reached the peak of the final ridge before the forest descended into a sweeping, picturesque valley, it had been just over four hours since they had set their trap at the foot of the sniper’s tree. Though briefed and rebriefed by Beta-5’s intelligence officers in regard to the specifics of their mission, Roland and Jonah had yet to see any of the target camps with their own eyes.
Over the course of the countless drills, both back in training and their twelve live-combat field insertions, they had learned not to rely too heavily on intelligence reports. Although a needed tool, such reports were limited in their use during real-time battlefield situations; there were just too many variables to account for in between the time a final mission brief is run and the actual moment of combat. Did the enemy alter its protocols for any reason?
Have their defensive measures been upgraded, downgraded, or modified in any other fashion? Have the patrols changed within the last day?
The last ten minutes? Were there clouds in the sky?
Had it rained? Some of this could be predicted to a relative degree of certainty, but predictions weren’t always reality, and for Headhunters the only intel worth relying on was gathered firsthand.
After settling in to check their equipment, Jonah inched ahead of Roland, pulling himself to the edge of the craggy rise they’d chosen for their observation post. The vantage this jagged rock outcropping provided was ideal for keeping tabs on the goings-on below, and the haphazard formation itself gave perfect cover for anything but the most thorough of inspections.
Careful to maintain his focus, Jonah moved at a deliberate pace as he lifted his head to gaze down on the Covenant campsite below. The wide valley that swept out beneath them and into the distance was marked by a small clearing nestled into the foot of the nearest mountainside. Target one was less than seventy meters in diameter, housing six sleek, gleaming purple structures and a series of energy barriers set up over well-lit excavation sites. In the distance Jonah could make out the lights from the other base camps peppered across the darkened basin, surrounding a massive complex of swooping buildings and ornate towers that loomed over the forest like a mechanical mecca to some forgotten god.
Taking it all in, the first thought that popped into Jonah’s mind was simple, comforting, and more than a little malicious: I can’t wait to burn it all down.
As impressive as the whole scene was, it also gave rise to another, less comforting thought. “Ya know?” Jonah said. “This place’s gotta be pretty damned important to the Covenant for ONI to be wastin’ so much firepower on a glorified dig-site so far back from the front.”
Jonah understood the value ONI placed in the strange alien artifacts the Covenant cherished so deeply, but found it hard to believe his and Roland’s services were best utilized against such a remote outpost, especially with the UNSC suffering such heavy losses on the frontlines of the war.
“ONI says it’s hot, it’s hot. Ours is not to question why,” Roland explained, as he removed a cleaning kit from his pack.
“Not really sayin’ otherwise, more just thinkin’ out loud.” Jonah continued his visual sweep of the valley. “I mean, two infiltration teams? We haven’t had two squads ’a Headhunters in-field for the same drop . . . ever.”
“The Covies seem pretty enamored with these alien leftovers they’re always scroungin’ for,” Roland offered. “So, who knows what kind of weapons system or whatever they’re hopin’ to uncover here. And what does it matter, right? They could be diggin’ for earthworms, in which case . . . it’s our pleasure to make sure they don’t find any.”
The Spartans sat in silence as Jonah scanned the Covenant operation below and Roland went about checking his gear.
“Wha’ do we got down there, anyway?” Roland swabbed the chamber of his M6C suppressed sidearm with a cleaning solution. These long excursions were hell on weaponry, and if a soldier neglected to keep up with the proper maintenance procedures, there was good chance he would be stuck in a firefight with an inoperable firearm, or worse yet, the damn thing could jam and explode in his hand, doing the other side’s job for them.
“The spooks weren’t messin’ ’round with this one, Rolle. The Covies got quite a little picnic set up out here.”
“How’s alpha-target lookin’?” Roland inquired, nodding at the base camp nearest their location.
“Pretty much as expected. Don’t think we’ll need much more than a day or two to scout their movements versus what we’ve been briefed.”
“What about infantry?”
“Moderate.” Jonah scanned the Covenant enclave. “In the high twenties, maybe lower thirties. Definitely not gonna be a cakewalk, but we’ve had worse—”
“Apes or alligators?”
“Huh?”
“We got apes or alligators running the show?” Roland clarified.
Jonah slunk back down into the crevice they would be occupying for the remainder of the night and the next day. “ ’Gators. Saw quite a few, but no sign of Brutes. Usually when one’s around the other’s not—don’t think they like each other much.”
“Fine by me.”
Jonah easily detected the relief in Roland’s voice. “The Elites may be a bitch to deal with,” Roland continued, “but at least they’re smart, right? Smart we can predict—we can plan for.” Jonah nodded his agreement. “The damn Brutes, though,” Roland said, “they’re just a buncha overly aggressive troglodytes. Start shootin’ at ’em and they slip a gasket, go all aggro.”
“They do operate on a shorter fuse. I think it makes ’em fun—like pickin’ on an emotionally stunted twelve-year-old.”
“You were a bully as a kid, weren’t you?”
“Me? No. I was the twelve-year-old,” Jonah corrected.
“Ha. You’d think that’d teach you to have some sympathy for—”
“Sympathy? Shit. If getting my ass bruised every other week taught me anything it was the simple truth that it’s better to be the bully than the bullied.”
“You are one enlightened individual, my friend.”
“Hey, I tend to think I turned out okay.”
“Jay? Yer essentially a government-sanctioned sociopath. That’s not normal, and some would say far from okay.”
“Like yer a fuckin’ saint.”
“Never said I was,” Roland replied, before adding, “but you seem to take a bit more . . . let’s just call it ‘pride’ in our work.”
“Just ’cause I’m good at what I do—” Jonah retorted, a confident swagger in his voice.
“There’s no denyin’ that.”
“Right, so? What’s the issue?”
“I think the issue was: Elites are smart, Brutes are dumb.”
“On which we both agree.”
“And my point—the point I was trying to make—was the Elites’ strategic intelligence makes ’em more of an ideal opponent in direct combat, because we can make educated guesses as to how they’ll react. Whereas Brutes—”
“Ya give ’em the stink-eye,” Jonah interrupted, “and they get pissy—makes ’em lose their head; intellect goes completely out the goddamn window.”
“Right.”
“Right.”
“And that difference in composure—in the way they handle their shit—makes the Brutes tougher to deal with in spur-of-the-moment situations, ’cause who knows what the hell they’ll do.”
“No—I get you,” Jonah corrected. “And this is, what? The nine hundredth time we’ve had this conversation—”
“That’s a bit of a stretch.”
“Well, it’s not the second—” Jonah chuckled, cutting Roland off. “You been tryin’ ta sell me on yer theory of smart-equals-easy, dumb-equals-tough since training. I just ain’t buyin’ it . . . er . . . I guess, really, it’s that I just don’t care much one way or the other.”
Jonah paused to give Roland a chance to respond. When he didn’t, Jonah continued, “I mean . . . I really do get it. And there’s some weird kinda backwards logic to y
er thinking, but at the end of the day, Rolle—”
“You just never pay much attention to the tactical side of—” Roland interrupted.
“Tactical what?” Jonah shot back. The pair’s conversations often became friendly competitions, as they’d verbally spar over even the smallest differences in opinion—each trying to assert why their view was the more valid of the two while the other’s was simply dead wrong. “I do tactical. But, come on, it’s—” Jonah stopped mid-sentence before shifting gears. “Never mind . . . Forget it . . . You already know what I’m gonna say, right? So there’s no reason ta continue . . . You already know what I’m gonna say before I even say it.”
“Yeah, so . . .”
“So . . . tell me what I’m thinkin’. Finish my thought,” Jonah urged, wanting nothing more than to hear the words from Roland’s mouth.
“No.” Roland didn’t want to give his partner the satisfaction.
“Just say it,” Jonah poked. “Let’s hear it.”
“You think they’re the same,” Roland relented, knowing the conversation would continue to spiral if they didn’t move on quickly.
“Right. Brutes. Elite. They may pose different problems, but when it comes right down to it, they’re the same damn thing—targets. Big ones. Small ones. Smart ones. Dumb ones. Who cares—just point us at ’em, give us some weapons that go bang, some knives that cut like butter, and a brain-load of semiaccurate intel, and we’ll cut ’em loose, scrape ’em off our boots, and march on to the next batch.”
“You always find a way to make mass murder sound so simple—almost poetic.” Though it was a hard and fast fact of their lives, Roland had always been amazed—not perturbed, not put off, just amazed, maybe even a little amused—by Jonah’s flippant attitude toward death.
“As if you have any objections,” Jonah huffed.
“Don’t get defensive—wasn’t a complaint, just an observation.” Roland finished cleaning his pistol and passed the cleaning kit to Jonah before offering, “I’ll take first watch,” and lifting himself up to view the valley below.
“So, I’m a sociopath, huh?” Jonah spit, a hint of feigned sadness in his voice.
Roland stopped just before the lip of the ridge and turned back toward Jonah. “Doesn’t mean yer not a helluva guy, Jay. Just means I wouldn’t trust you ’round my kids.”
“You don’t have kids.”
“Then I guess we don’t have to worry about it.”
Jonah laughed as Roland repositioned himself for a clear view of the valley.
The two Spartans spent the rest of the night alternating between keeping watch and taking hour-long power naps to ensure they would be functioning at optimum combat efficiency during their steadily approaching engagement against the Covenant.
The next two days were spent observing the Covenant base camp in preparation for their assault. Troop movements and specific interactions between the various alien species were noted and checked against known patterns. The number of individual soldiers, including their rank, was marked and prioritized by threat level. Locations in and around the camp were assigned specific designations based upon their placement and estimated purpose.
Finally, as the sun dropped below the horizon on the third night, Roland and Jonah made their way to the camp’s perimeter.
FOUR
* * *
“ ‘Great Journey,’ huh? What’s so great about it?”
“—that wasn’t so bad,” Jonah finished his thought after taking a few seconds to ensure he had everyone’s attention.
The few remaining Elites and the smattering of Grunts all turned and lifted their gaze to take in the sight of the lone human standing before them.
THE TWO Spartans had entered the camp not ten minutes prior, silently overtaking a trio of sleeping Unggoy before slipping into a small two-room storage facility.
They quickly recapped their plan of attack: Roland would trigger his av-cam unit and slip about the base, planting charges on four reactor cores spread across the compound. Meanwhile, Jonah would enter the barracks, utilizing flash bangs and a fancy new ONI energy disruptor to disorient the Covenant inside before entering and eliminating all enemy targets within. As soon as Jonah engaged the barracks contingent all hell would break loose.
If the Spartans had done their job right, the sudden, furious nature of the attack would catch the Covenant off guard long enough that any real attempt at resistance would be squelched before the aliens knew what hit them. And, while Roland and Jonah expected a fight, any troops occupying a position this removed from the frontlines were more than likely not the cream of the crop when it came to the Covenant’s fighting force.
Headhunters, on the other hand, were as near perfection as humanity could muster in terms of weapons of death and war.
Confident in their abilities and dedicated to their purpose, Jonah slunk out from the rear of the storage unit, heading to the barracks to play his part in the massacre to come.
Roland followed closely behind him before veering off toward the nearest reactor. Using the shadows at the edge of the forest that ringed the camp, they both moved quickly into place.
Jonah cocked his M7S, armed the ONI special-issue energy disruptor, and primed two flares, then waited silently for Roland’s signal.
On the other side of the camp, Roland checked his weapon and primed the first set of charges.
A pair of Sangheili strolled past, close enough that had they simply glanced to their left they would have been staring directly at the human intruder, but the creatures passed uneventfully, totally oblivious to the enemy in their midst.
Once the two Elites were at a safe distance, Roland pulled out a small transceiver, flicked the devise’s safety cap open, and pressed his thumb to the larger of two buttons on its plain surface.
An explosion erupted in the distance, echoing across the canyon, and somewhere off in the night a large tree fell to the earth, a lone Jackal sniper tumbling down with it.
The triggering of the lumberjack was the “go” signal. As the explosion reverberated through the valley, the Covenant camp sprang to life.
Roland activated his camouflage and stepped from his cover, darting toward the first reactor. The instant the crack of the detonation filled the air, Jonah swung around the front of the barracks building, tossing his energy disruptor through the barrier that served as its door.
Like Roland’s av-cam, and most other advanced battlefield equipment, the energy disruptor Jonah used to deactivate the barracks’ entry barrier and all electronic devices within was reverse engineered by ONI scientists from scavenged Covenant technology.
Part of Jonah was irked by the need to rely on their enemy’s tech, but a larger part thrilled at the irony of turning the Covenant’s advances against them. He followed the disruptor with a pair of flares, then stepped through the entryway prepared for chaos.
Hell and fury seemed to erupt from the area surrounding the barracks. As Roland continued about his piece of their little insurrection, he allowed himself to briefly imagine Jonah prancing upon a field of Covenant corpses, happily bounding about in his own private nirvana, but just as quickly Roland was back in the moment, and his internal clock was telling him they didn’t have much time.
Aside from the reality of his av-cam’s limited lifespan, Roland also knew the second he triggered the explosion at the sniper’s perch, he and Jonah would have a very limited time frame before reinforcements from one or more of the other camps arrived. Making an effort to focus solely on placing the charges on the chosen reactors, Roland had to pause briefly between the first and second in order to drop a collection of Grunts and Jackals who were in the process of setting up a defensive perimeter around a shade turret. Moving as quickly as he could, Roland finished planting his charge on the third of the four reactors and turned toward his final target, when he saw a squad of five Elites and four Grunts heading up the low brim that led to the barracks.
Certain that Jonah was able to handle himse
lf, but not wanting his partner caught unaware by the Covenant making a beeline directly for him, Roland altered his course to engage this new threat, tossing a frag grenade into their midst to soften them up.
The small, round explosive bounced and ignited directly between two of the Elites; their shields flared and died. The other Elites lost their shields, but only temporarily, and of the four Grunts, three were killed in the blast, the other falling in a heap, mortally wounded.
Roland steadied his submachine gun and was prepared to fire when another explosion boomed off in the distance, across the valley.
The second, unexpected explosion must have been the work of the other infiltration team, Roland thought. Though the two Headhunter teams were acting independently, Roland and Jonah had been designated Team One and were serving as the mission’s primary assault squad, meaning the secondary team would wait for their attack before initiating one of their own.
The explosion Roland triggered at the sniper perch gave Team Two the go-ahead, though Roland was surprised they’d been in a position to follow so quickly on the heels of his and Jonah’s assault. Not that it bothered him. With two simultaneous stealth attacks against what the Covenant thought was an unknown outpost, the aliens would be in complete disarray. The timing of the second attack allowed each team a slightly increased window of opportunity, but there was still no room for delays.
Roland threw his second grenade. The two shieldless Elites went down, not dead, but out of the fight—one missing its legs at the knees and the other with a gaping wound in its stomach, intestines and fluid pouring forth onto the matted grass.
The remaining Elites once again lost their shields, this time for good. They wheeled around, trying to spot their attacker. Roland’s camo flickered, momentarily giving away his position, as he emptied his clip into the disoriented Elites.
