The Holy Saints
25-11-2004, 06:02
(wrote this spur of the moment, decided to post again. this is just pure fun fiction.... haloish style. :P)
Three teams of AMS-H personnel moved into position all around the low plateau, preparing to strike at the enemy position. These men, trained for years to fight normal threats such as small rebellions, pirates, smugglers, all the lows of any empire, now were fighting something that most people couldn’t fathom; an invasion, but not by humans, a foreign race, one never encountered before. They were fighting for a remote planet; light-years form the Sol system, an essential shipyard and training facility for UEIPN and UEM forces, Dura.
As the teams all sounded in their ready signals through the team communications system, a low rumble shook them, and they momentarily stopped operations to see whether a new threat had come into the are. They saw an alien drop-ship skim over their heads, engines glowing bright blue, so bright it almost hurt their eyes, but their helmet systems, equipped with a full faceplate used for team communications and coordination, along with individual body sensors and friend/foe recognition emitters, darkened to near black to compensate for the brightness.
The platoon’s two sniper teams, stationed and hidden on two separate ridges 1300 meters from the target location, confirmed that the drop-ship had unloaded additional supply crates, 50 infantry, and two heavy stationary guns. They advised to attack while the new troops were still disoriented and waited for orders from the lieutenant. The lieutenant quickly whispered into his helmet mike, “Sniper teams Alpha and Bravo, begin suppressive fire on my mark… mark!”
Four small thuds signaled the deaths of four enemy troopers, and soon many more thuds were heard as the snipers continued emptying their twenty round magazines. The lieutenant began silently ordering each squad of ten, fire team Alpha, Bravo, and Charlie, by way of red lights in the orders box in each Marine’s helmet systems. The teams scrambled up the rocks and low rises which led up to the plateau thirty meters above where they were and began throwing fragmentation grenades into the enemy base, trying to take out concentrations of troops as quickly and efficiently as possible. They srambled on top of the plateau and began firing concentrated bursts of rifle fire into enemy groups all over the base.
The teams ran for cover as soon as they took a foothold so they could regroup and begin sending out small teams to clear out the area. Each squad was divided into two teams of three and one team of four. These teams began a meticulous and ruthless raid of the base, killing dozens of enemy troops before their rifles. By the end of the raid, much of the area was craters and corpses riddled with holes, along with the substructure beneath the two squads still above ground, with the third squad clearing out below. It was another decisive ground victory that would end up never mattering once the troops were pulled out and the planet was glassed by the enemy, but this time, it would hit home.
These men had practically grown up on this planet, and letting go of it would be that much more difficult. This was one small victory, whereas on the rest of the planet, the real battle was raging, with thousands falling on both sides. Out in space, the enemy had the distinct advantage. The only wish of the men fighting on the ground was that the orbital platforms would be able to hold off the enemy until reinforcements arrived. They knew it was a practically futile wish, but this planet really was almost as important as Earth.
(continues later... 45 minutes of typing from my head is tiring.)
Three teams of AMS-H personnel moved into position all around the low plateau, preparing to strike at the enemy position. These men, trained for years to fight normal threats such as small rebellions, pirates, smugglers, all the lows of any empire, now were fighting something that most people couldn’t fathom; an invasion, but not by humans, a foreign race, one never encountered before. They were fighting for a remote planet; light-years form the Sol system, an essential shipyard and training facility for UEIPN and UEM forces, Dura.
As the teams all sounded in their ready signals through the team communications system, a low rumble shook them, and they momentarily stopped operations to see whether a new threat had come into the are. They saw an alien drop-ship skim over their heads, engines glowing bright blue, so bright it almost hurt their eyes, but their helmet systems, equipped with a full faceplate used for team communications and coordination, along with individual body sensors and friend/foe recognition emitters, darkened to near black to compensate for the brightness.
The platoon’s two sniper teams, stationed and hidden on two separate ridges 1300 meters from the target location, confirmed that the drop-ship had unloaded additional supply crates, 50 infantry, and two heavy stationary guns. They advised to attack while the new troops were still disoriented and waited for orders from the lieutenant. The lieutenant quickly whispered into his helmet mike, “Sniper teams Alpha and Bravo, begin suppressive fire on my mark… mark!”
Four small thuds signaled the deaths of four enemy troopers, and soon many more thuds were heard as the snipers continued emptying their twenty round magazines. The lieutenant began silently ordering each squad of ten, fire team Alpha, Bravo, and Charlie, by way of red lights in the orders box in each Marine’s helmet systems. The teams scrambled up the rocks and low rises which led up to the plateau thirty meters above where they were and began throwing fragmentation grenades into the enemy base, trying to take out concentrations of troops as quickly and efficiently as possible. They srambled on top of the plateau and began firing concentrated bursts of rifle fire into enemy groups all over the base.
The teams ran for cover as soon as they took a foothold so they could regroup and begin sending out small teams to clear out the area. Each squad was divided into two teams of three and one team of four. These teams began a meticulous and ruthless raid of the base, killing dozens of enemy troops before their rifles. By the end of the raid, much of the area was craters and corpses riddled with holes, along with the substructure beneath the two squads still above ground, with the third squad clearing out below. It was another decisive ground victory that would end up never mattering once the troops were pulled out and the planet was glassed by the enemy, but this time, it would hit home.
These men had practically grown up on this planet, and letting go of it would be that much more difficult. This was one small victory, whereas on the rest of the planet, the real battle was raging, with thousands falling on both sides. Out in space, the enemy had the distinct advantage. The only wish of the men fighting on the ground was that the orbital platforms would be able to hold off the enemy until reinforcements arrived. They knew it was a practically futile wish, but this planet really was almost as important as Earth.
(continues later... 45 minutes of typing from my head is tiring.)