Stories from the Sigmaverse/Partners

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"We'll be there in five minutes! Get yourselves prepped!"

The truck rumbled down the highway, slightly behind four others in the convoy. Each had been heavily modified, with metal sheets and extensions welded on to increase carrying capacity and to provide protection from small arms fire. Ahead of them, smoke billowed from New Tyne as gunfire rang out across the city. The smoking hull of a UNSC Frigate lay in pieces across the surrounding fields, which had already burned out in the previous day's blazes.

"Shit," the driver muttered, tossing a cigarette out of the window. "Think the militia's still holding out?"

His passenger simply shrugged and went back to cleaning up his handgun. They'd been driving since before dawn and in the six hours since then he'd only spoke briefly to the driver. Those in the back of his truck were a bit more lively, though as news of the fighting across Venezia filtered in they'd been more quiet and focused on the task at hand. Since the UNSC's fleet arrived a week ago shortly after the new year, most of Venezia's population had either fled or died against their better-equipped foe. At least they seemed content to fight for the population centres instead of bombing them from orbit, for now.

"Listen, you've got your orders, right? See if you can reach the airfield and get a ship back to base. Command says they don't care how you do it, just get one back ASAP."

"I know."

The driver nodded contently. He'd arrived on Venezia in 2560, nine years ago, and had found work for the local authorities to be the best-paying position on this hellhole of a world. It wasn't as bad as some parts of Cascade or even Tribute in the aftermath of the war, though since people like Jonathan Ulan and Mal Roberts had taken over half the planet and organised the scattered gangs into a proper fighting force there had been heavy resistance from some groups, leading to the creation of units like the one he was transporting. Since their deaths however, things had begun to crumble again as Venezia's leaders were too busy squabbling to lead an organised resistance. His passenger didn't look much more than fifteen or sixteen; a skinny, black-haired boy with dull brown eyes and a rifle that looked far too big for him. As they neared the city, his radio suddenly crackled to life.

"Foxtrot Two-Six, this is Lookout. Got Shortswords dropping below cloud cover, would recommend evasive action ASAP!"

"Fuck."

The convoy sped up immediately as three blips popped up on their radars. Swearing, the driver span the truck's wheel and veered towards an off-ramp as quickly as he could. Seconds later, the ground shook as the trio of bombers screamed overhead and blasted the main highway to smithereens, reducing most of the convoy to burnt-out hunks of metal and charred flesh in an instant. They were all that was left.

"Holy shit man," the driver gasped for breath, his heart pumping as he tore his eyes away from the carnage. "We gotta find shelter."

The truck rumbled on, moving into New Tyne itself. They found themselves on a wide high street, normally bustling with cars and people. Now, it was empty. The road ahead had been blown apart by a bomb of sorts, leaving rubble and remains scattered about. They ground to a halt in the middle of the street.

"End of the line, folks!" he called. "You know your orders, so get out there and give 'em he-"

The truck jolted violently as his cranium burst, sending blood and bone fragments flying across the dashboard. His passenger ducked down immediately and kicked the door open as a dozen figures poured out of the truck and ran for cover. There were two more loud cracks and one of their number collapsed to the ground.

"Boss!" called one young man as he smashed his way into a cafe. "Orders?!"

He dived behind a stone pillar, narrowly missing the sniper's fourth round. "He's reloading, I want five of you across the street, now!"

They complied with his orders immediately, scattering across the road and into side buildings while he entered the cafe with the rest of their squad.

"They got Luke," one boy said solemnly.

"He never could run fast enough," another remarked.

"Didn't think the oonskies were this deep in the city, though. How many d'you think they've got up there, Winston?"

Their leader clicked his tongue before speaking. "Two or three, Zach. Looked like a sniper-spotter team, else they'd have opened fire on us with something else."

"Solution?"

"Flank them." He put in a small earpiece and activated it, speaking to their other team. "This is Zhou. You guys put some fire towards that sniper, wherever he is. We'll

A voice responded after a few seconds. "Copy that, boss."

Winston grabbed his rifle, a well-used MA5B, and moved towards the back of the cafe. New Tyne was Venezia's oldest and largest settlement, and was well known for its labyrinthine system of back streets and side alleys that had sprung up as people immigrated to Venezia from across Human and Covenant space. Judging by the smell of the back room and writing on the walls, this place had belonged to a couple of Kig-Yar before the invasion. He nodded ahead and the rest of the squad moved silently out into the back street, keeping their eyes open as Winston looked for somewhere to get a vantage point.

"Pelican above," Zach whispered. Winston's second in command had uncanny hearing, and the entire group got down low as two heavily-armoured dropships passed overhead.

"Better move fast," said Amber, one of his scouts. "Don't wanna be here when reinforcements arrive."

"Agreed."

Moving at some speed as gunfire from the other team erupted several streets away, all Winston had to do was listen out for the enemy sniper to respond again before moving across a deserted path and towards the smouldering ruins of some kind of bar. It was the tallest building in the local area, so naturally their target was up there with a couple of friends.

"Geoff, Zach, Callum, with me. Amber, get up on the roof next to us and keep an eye out for any others. Everyone else, cover our backs. Go!"

He dashed towards the bar as quickly as he dared, glancing left and right as he and the others moved in through a gaping hole in the wall. The inside stank of corpses and cheap beer, though he stomached the smell and crept up the first flight of stairs, waving for Geoff to move round the corner as he did. The pair darted round and were met with a burst of rifle fire that sent Geoff toppling backwards, but gave Winston enough time to gun down the man guarding the top of the stairs, hitting him square in the face and killing him instantly.

"Geoff?" Winston whispered without looking back.

"Hit." Callum had a hand over Geoff's mouth to stop him from screaming while Zach checked the wound. He'd been shot in the lower abdomen, and though some of the shots hadn't penetrated his body armour a round had definitely hit him in the gut. He writhed in pain, tears streaming from his eyes.

"Deal with him. I'll get the sniper."

Winston moved past the uniformed corpse, coming across a ladder and hatch to the roof. As the other oonskies had no doubt heard their approach, there would most likely be someone waiting with a gun trained right at him. Instead, he ran into an adjacent room and out onto a nearby balcony. It was an eight foot drop to the floor at least, so Winston moved slowly and methodically as he clambered upwards, grasping bundles of wires and metal piping to pull himself to the roof. A quick peek over the top revealed two more Marines, one ready to unleash a hail of gunfire the moment that roof hatch so much as twitched.

''Assholes. I'm not easy to kill.''

Straining hard not to make any sounds, Winston eased himself up onto the roof, and drew his handgun. Training it on the back of the man's head, he waited just a second before pulling the trigger. The Marine slumped forward silently. His parter across the roof turned away from his sniper rifle instantly, only to be shot repeatedly by the teen before he could pose a threat. Exhaling slowly, Winston activated his headset's COM.

"This is Zhou. Sniper's down. I want everyone to regroup on my position at the bar, over and out."

Pausing to take ammunition from his fallen foes and grabbing the heavy sniper rifle, he climbed down into the building as his squad filed in downstairs. Geoff's body lay in a side room, wrapped in a sheet. Zach grimaced as he approached, clutching his handgun tightly in one hand.

"I didn't have any other choice, Winston." His voice seemed close to breaking. "There wasn't anything we could've done."

"I know."

Two members of the distraction team had fallen against the enemy marksman. That brought his squad down to nine, himself included, and they were nowhere near the airfield. Still, they had an objective to complete, and he'd get his superiors their ship if it cost him the lives of everyone else in the process. For Winston, this life meant everything to him; taking orders, maintaining weapons, killing others and getting rewarded for his success. Having just recently turned fifteen he had already amassed a higher body count than his entire squad combined over the last couple of years, and had gone from simple cannon fodder to a valued asset.

"Team, we move in one minute! It's not too far to the airfield, so as long as we hurry we'll arrive within the hour. Clear?"

The others responded with affirmatives and checked their weapons. Everyone else was Venezian-born just like him, and had either lost or been abandoned by their parents at an early age. With little chance for a future and nobody to care for them, they had been easy recruits for the army Venezia's leaders had been trying to build. Winston had survived the longest, and as such was in charge of most of the planet's child soldiers.

"Hey, Winston?" a small voice spoke up from across the room. He turned to see a short kid standing there, shaking slightly as he clutched a submachine gun.

"What is it?"

"My brother's dead."

"How'd it happen?"

"The sniper got him. I was trying to shoot back and he kept pushing me down and he got shit."

"Oh." Winston wasn't sure what to say. They should've both taken cover and not been idiots. "I'm sorry to hear that. Once we're done here, we'll try and get his body, okay?"

"Really?"

"Sure," he lied. The kid had been plucked from some farming village a month ago after a Jiralhanae attack, and for all intents and purposes was useless, except as bait.

The unit moved out silently, creeping through New Tyne's streets as the battle raged around them. The scattered remnants of the city militia and various criminal organisations had made the UNSC fight for every street and building, though it would only be a matter of time before the populace was either dead or subdued. Winston remained in the middle of his group, with three others on point and two acting as a rearguard.