HURRAY WE REACHED CHAPTER 50 :)
I also just realized this is officially my longest fic so far
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(3rd Pov)
VRRRR
The engine of a lone M12 Chaingun Warthog growled as it bounced over the pot holes in the gravel road it traveled upon. Trees lined the perimeter, their branches stretching out just above the turret striking the Spartan that operated it if they were any lower.
A set of white LED lights illuminated the area immediately in front of the scout vehicle. Anything beyond the light was invisible by all but the Spartan in the back, and even with his night vision he was still unable to see through the tree trunks. As such the four last UNSC soldiers remained cautious constantly watching the area to the side of them with what little vision they had.
A small whistle suddenly filled the air behind the driver and passenger as the Chaingun's spooling slowed before stopping. The barrel glowed subtly red from the sustained firing it had been put through during their drive. The Spartan turned it to the side as he crouched down and crept to the front of the platform. He reached grabbing onto roll bar tightly, and spoke close enough to where he would not need to raise his voice.
"Keep your eyes open. The Chaingun is down for now," he said causing Michael to swerve a bit as he turned his head quickly.
"What! Why!?"
"Heat. If I fire it anymore then the barrel will deform causing a massive drop in accuracy and possible ammunition cook off before being properly fired," he reached down grabbing Sullivan's MA5K to replace his own, "I will swap to your rifle while it cools down," he said leaving no room for discussion.
Silence set in while they continued into darkness, before Chyler spoke up to ease the tension.
"So… Captain, how long have you been on Circinius for?" she asked curiously glancing at the dark armored presence just behind her.
"A few days," he answered immediately as he usually did.
"Did you come just to fight off the invasion?" Michael also decided to ask whilst keeping his eyes on the road.
"Negative, my team and I came to assist in evacuations," he paused before continuing, "We lack the necessary equipment and supplies in order to effectively fight off a Covenant invasion,"
The undertone of the last thing he said was not lost on Lasky, "Are you saying you and your team would be able to defeat this invasion… if you just had enough help,"
"Or force the enemy forces to retreat, Affirmative," he added a single concession before agreeing.
Lasky looked at him with an incredulous expression, "And how pray tell would you accomplish that?" he couldn't help but ask as if a toddler had just told him 2 + 2 = infinity.
"We would need a sufficiently large enough fleet presence to provide a distraction and covering fire, a Razor-class Prowler, and at least five Fury-class tactical nuclear weapons," he began to speak giving what seemed like a prepared answer to the cadets, "My team would jump from ship to Prowler to the next ship to Prowler deploying the nuclear bombs in inner portions of the Covenant ship's hulls. Thus destroying each ship until all were successfully decommissioned or until the others retreated,"
Lasky could only help but gawk at what he had just heard, 'None of that even remotely sounds possible,' it was like saying 'I will slay a dragon by being eaten and poisoning it with Cyanide'.
Yet he found himself struggling to refute the Spartan super soldier. So far the man had thoroughly crushed and dismantled the things he thought were impossible, improbable and unlikely. The Spartan hadn't so much as changed his tone, there was no way he was joking.
Then the thought crept into his head, 'Maybe he could actually do that,'
Slowly but surely David began to become 'The man who made the impossible, possible,' in not only Thomas's head but Chyler and Sully's as well.
"That…that sounds…dangerous," Chyler chose her next words carefully. She like Laskey struggled to comprehend the simplicity of a plan meant to accomplish a Herculean labor, "You Spartans are capable of that,"
"Affirmative, or at least five of us are. Though it is unlikely that many if any of us survived such an operation. Which is why unless under dire circumstances the UNSC would never approve of any plan like it," there was a slight sound of metal scraping as he repositioned to watch the other tree line, "I would also not risk my team on such a meager objective," he added and Chyler could feel an echo of warmth from the statement, or whatever good feeling a Spartan could portray through speech.
Michael who'd been quiet decided to speak up as he drove, "Hey if you don't mind me asking how does someone become a Spartan? Are there like tryouts or is it one of those 'don't look for us we'll find you' type things?" he asked intrigued.
There was a pause for just a moment from the Spartan. It lasted only long enough for in the silence the group to hear the independent suspension of the Warthog to pass over a bump, but compared to his near instant answers from before. It was clear that he hesitated before answering.
"That's classified," he gave cryptically
Lasky looked at him strangely, "Classified? Does that mean-"
"Contact-multiple contacts left side," David said quickly as fire began to erupt from the barrel of his rifle as blue blood splattered on the left of the road way.
"This is unfucking ending," Lasky mumbled to himself as he scooted up his seat to shoot over Chyler as she shot just above Sullivan's head.
Pink needles from further down the approaching path blinked into existence before piercing the hull of the Warthog and exploding into pink dust. A few found themselves embedded in the glass lasting longer as a whole than the others.
Michael was wiggling in his seat trying to see around the new obstructions as he struggled to stay focused on the road, 'Please God do not let me get shot,'
"Is the Chaingun ready!?" Lasky shouted over the gun fire.
"Negative," David said glancing at the still faint red tint to the barrels, "Floor it cadet. They cannot have troops stationed down this road the entire way,"
"Y-yes sir!" Sullivan strained out as he put the accelerator to the floor.
Whether or not the Warthog picked up any speed was uncertain, but what was clear was that the engine began obviously louder.
Soon enough as David emptied his last magazine he spotted no more hostiles as they zoomed away as fast as possible, "Clear," the others in front of him let out a sigh of relief.
A moment later after the adrenaline dump had begun to fade Michael couldn't help but laugh aloud, "Well that was a close-"
Before he could finish his statement two lights came speeding at the Warthog from down the road, one orange and one blue. In sequence they attached themselves one behind the other.
The one closes to the cabin was what looked like a plunger with various spikes poking out of it like branches on a tree. It was made out of some kind of metal and the point that attached to the Warthog glowed a cruel orange in the planet's dark night.
The other was familiar to David as he turned in time to see it. The blue light was a plasma grenade, and it had just stuck to the hood of the Warthog.
For the cadets the only thing they were capable of was processing the image in front of them and what it was. Whilst David did the best thing he could in the current situation-
He jumped.
And a second later the Warthog erupted in a hail of tungsten bolts of shrapnel and blue plasma.
David was tossed through the partially burning wreckage and skipped across the gravel road. His body was flung about like a steel coil on a high way before he came skidding to a stop not far from the Warthog's last resting place.
Had David stayed on the Warthog he would of instantly killed the cadets when he in his armor would of crushed them after the roll cage snapped trying to hold him back from going over the back of the vehicle.
Slowly he struggled to give up. His vision blurred slightly as his brain had been rattled. He paused staying on the ground on all fours as he regained his bearings with time. Finally he snapped out of the concussed state he had been in and began to analyze the new situation.
'Status report,' he thought hazily as his suit already was informing him of its condition:
INNER SHELL COMPROMISED-INNER SHELL COMPROMISED-INNER SHELL COMPR.
A string of text informed him as he glanced down as he began to stand. Embedded in his right chest piece were three slightly glowing tungsten shards. They were in a linear descending pattern and each stuck out less than a finger. He didn't feel any pain and chalked it up to adrenaline or the possibility it pierced the body suit but not his skin beneath it.
He reached down trying to pull them out but stopped as he noticed the plate armor being pulled with the spikes. The armor had seemingly fused with the molten spikes after they impacted.
Suddenly the sound of a crackling fire entered his helmet and he rushed over to the Warthog, 'Don't let this all be for nothing,' he all but begged internally.
Looking into the front he saw no bodies giving him a quick sense of relief. He saw the fire was quickly spreading and glancing at the Chaingun in the back he made a quick decision. Jumping up with a quick step he gripped the handles of the weapon and gave it a single good jerk.
SNAP
The bolts and other various welds keeping it mounted snapped under his force and the Chaingun came with him as he stepped back down and set it down away from the wreckage.
Looking around he finally spotted a dark mass on the road just before the Warthog. He approached it cautiously until he noticed the olive green uniform it was wearing.
The body was face down, and as David stopped and crouched down he reached grabbing the cloth around its limp arm and pulled it over. He needed to I.D. who it was for casualty reports… and to show himself who he'd failed.
The unfocused eyes of Michael Sulliva was the first thing he noticed. They looked off into the night sky behind him and didn't track him for a moment. The next thing was another spike that had impaled his heart. Blood ran down the thorn giving it a sickly red appearance that spread to David's glove.
'You didn't deserve this cadet. I… I wish things were different,' he'd only just met the cadets, but it would be false to say David hadn't been looking forward to saving these cadets, but now here was one… dead. And this time not dead because he'd been cut off or was on his own, but dead following one of David's orders.
The next realization hit him like a ton of bricks, 'This is the first to die under my command,' he realized, 'What if it had been Sheila, Cal, Daisy, or Jorge-,' he began to think but shook his head.
'Now's not the time to deal with what ifs. I'll-I'll think about that later. Right now I have two remaining cadets that need my help,' steeling his resolve he snagged Sullivan's dog tags and reacquired the Chaingun before beginning to search the immediate area for the other two.