Halo: In the Dark

Dramatis Personae
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Halo: In the Dark

Sunrise
The transport zipped over the treeline, rotor blades buzzing as it half a dozen others joined it. Flying high above the jungle canopy, they sped towards their target as one of the planet’s two distant suns began to rise on the horizon.

"We’ll be on ‘em in five minutes. Look sharp, Trident!"

Two of the Falcon helicopters flew a short distance behind the main group. Painted with red markings and other insignias, the pair were heavily armoured and modified compared to their counterparts ahead; Machine guns loaded with explosive rounds sat on each side of one, while the other carried two grenade launchers in addition to the standard chin-mounted autocannon.

"Ammo and weapons check, we’re approaching the drop zone!"

Aside from the pilots, the two Falcons were crewed by eight people; seven men and one woman. In one, a tall, fair-haired man placed a black beret on his head and loaded his sidearm before glancing back towards his teammates.

"We ready?" he asked, speaking loudly over the sound of rotor blades.

The man nearest to him, a heavyset soldier with a shaven head, spat over the edge before slapping the side of his machine gun and grinning.

"We sure are, Captain. They ain’t."

He smiled. "Just make sure they don’t get a shot off, Hawkins."

The Captain turned as his headseat buzzed. He tapped it, activating his COM system. A voice called over from the other Falcon.

"Captain LaMarche, launchers are loaded over here. We’re gonna hit ‘em with one sweep and let you guys finish off what’s left, so long as our boys don’t blow the place to pieces first."

"Copy that," he responded, glancing out of his Falcon towards the far-off mountains. "We’ve got orders to land and clear afterwards, Lieutenant, so try not to level the place."

"Yes sir," came the immediate reply. "See you down there." The COM channel switched off.

They were almost at their target. Anton LaMarche straightened his beret, and reached across the cramped confines of their Falcon for a rifle; like the rest of their gear, it was state of the art and heavily customised; a level above the equipment the Marines loaded into the other Falcons carried. He began to affix an underbarrel shotgun to his weapon as their chopper swooped in low over the jungle canopy. Mack’s voice rang out over the COM.

"Approaching the target zone now. Weapons free."

Barely a second after that, the sounds of firing lit up the air, followed shortly by explosions from the jungle below as the grenade launcher blasted the foliage apart in its search for the hidden buildings that dotted the jungle. Within seconds the ground below was ablaze, revealing dozens of structures and figures running for cover as the Falcons circled. Anton smirked at the sight of it; they looked like ants fleeing for their lives.

"Open fire!"

Beside him, Sergeant Steven Hawkins didn’t need much prompting before he opened fire. The explosive rounds from the Falcon’s M247’s cut across the dirt and blew the fleeing people to pieces. Anyone in sight below was exterminated by either the relentless grenade launcher fire or the heavy machine guns. After circling the area twice, LaMarche motioned for the other Falcon to land in the now-cleared area before speaking.

"Take us down, pilot. We’re going in."

The four soldiers held on as their transport descended, keeping an eye out for any movement in the trees around their landing zone. LaMarche and Hawkins clambered out of one side, while Sergeant Major King and Sergeant Crowley moved from the other. Wary of possible attacks from rebel RPG’s, the Falcons lifted off immediately and ascended to a safe height. Once all eight members of Trident had disembarked, they spread out in a semi-circle towards the treeline, carefully moving past the dozens of shredded corpses that littered the ground.

"Trident, final check," LaMarche whispered over the COM. “Three meter spread towards the main site, presume any contacts as hostile and terminate immediately.”

"Copy that," Mack replied after several affirmatives from the others. "I’ll take point."

"Got it. Let’s move."

Trident moved swiftly through the undergrowth, keeping low. Their green camo fatigues offered them some cover in this planet’s dense jungle, though the rebels up at the main camp almost certainly knew they were coming after their outpost had been shot to pieces. By now the Marine contingent of this strike force was probably landing close to the nearby town a dozen miles to the west; their orders were to take and hold the area’s only known functioning spaceport.

"Movement ahead," muttered Gunnery Sergeant Redford, crouched in the bushes not far to Mack’s left. He froze and dropped to one knee as several men came into view on a nearby dirt road. With a quick nod towards Mack, Redford raised his assault rifle and opened fire. That, coupled with a burst from Sergeants Hollister and Ackton nearby, dropped the patrol before they could even react.

"Targets down."

"Keep going, they’ll have heard that."

"Forest fire’s spreading. We’d better make this quick."

LaMarche motioned for the others to move forward as he activated the second COM channel.

"Oscar Three-Three, this is Trident One. We’re approaching the camp. Please move in and provide aerial support, over."

"Copy that, Trident One," the Falcon pilot replied after a brief delay. "Moving in to assist now."

The rebel encampment was already in disarray by the time their team arrived. Located by the base of a local mountain range, the prefabricated buildings and modified civilian vehicles had been hidden from radar and satellite scans for months now, until one of their undercover agents had managed to infiltrate the group. With the attack underway, it was Trident Team’s mission to find their agent and eliminate the rebels before they could give the planetary government any more trouble.

"Counting at least thirty," muttered Hollister over the COM. She slowly inserted a grenade into her rifle’s undermounted launcher, waiting for LaMarche to give the order.

“Got it," he replied. "Ackton, move into the hills with Redford and get a vantage point on the base. Hawkins, I want you covering the road. Mack and King will get the main gate while everyone else blows through the wall. They won’t know what hit ‘em."

It took less than half a minute for the team to get to their positions. From his vantage point LaMarche watched the people in the camp pulling up camo nets and covering their anti-aircraft guns, perhaps hoping that their foes had only noticed their outlying camp. As the Falcon approached overhead, he nodded to Hollister. She raised her rifle.

"Move in. Weapons free."

Trident Team didn’t need much encouragement. The area around the base lit up as all eight of them opened fire. Hollister’s first grenade blew an AA gun to pieces as sniper fire from Ackton and Redford picked off anyone not in cover. A heavily-loaded flatbed truck sped out of a nearby garage and out of the side gate, only to meet Hawkins’ machine gun. It veered off the road and crashed into the undergrowth before bursting into flames.

"Trident, move in," LaMarche spoke over the COM as he stood up. Crowley ducked through the bushes towards him, giving a thumbs-up as he passed his superior a detonator. The Captain clicked it once and the outer wall of the camp burst inwards, showering several rebels with stone and shrapnel.

"Go, go!"

Crowley was in first, casually picking off stragglers with his rifle while Hollister lay down a steady stream of fire. By the time LaMarche stepped into the enemy compound it was a mess of corpses and burnt-out buildings. A hacking cough nearby caught LaMarche’s attention. To his right lay a badly-wounded man in tattered green fatigues, one hand reaching out weakly.

"Ple-"

He fired once with his sidearm. The man fell back and was still. Orders were orders. No survivors. No mercy. The UNSC wanted to make an example of this place and had deployed their best to show what happened to dissidents in the colonies. LaMarche strode confidently into the main courtyard, stepping over bodies as his team spread out to eliminate the remaining resistance. With an almighty crash the main gate fell open, revealing Mack and King.

"Think we got ‘em, sir!" Mack called over the sound of the Falcon. "Any sign of our informant?"

"Negative. Spread out and search the buildings!"

LaMarche adjusted his beret slightly and continued his stroll through the carnage. Every now and then he’d find an incapacitated foe bleeding out in the dirt, and kindly made their passing a little quicker with his pistol. Of course, such actions would be deemed both immoral and illegal should the civilian media or any reasonable figure at command find out, but Trident Team hadn’t been part of any standard operations for years now; officially they weren’t even on this planet.

"Captain!" Hollister waved to him from a nearby building. "Got a tunnel here leading into the mountains. Should we go in or wait for backup to smoke ‘em out?"

He made up his mind in less than a second. "We’re going in."

Rifles raised, the commandos moved into the tunnel. It had been roughly hewn out of the rock with heavy mining equipment, and was wide enough that three of them could stand abreast if they wanted to. Their attack had evidently knocked out a generator of some kind as the tunnels were unlit and pitch-black, forcing them to equip their night-vision eyepieces as they moved slowly into the heart of the rebel base.

"Sir," Ackton’s voice cracked over the COM. "Truck convoy heading up the road, we free to fire?"

"Never told you to cease fire, Sergeant."

"They look like civilian vehicles, Major."

"Follow your orders." LaMarche switched his COM off. Seconds later, the crack of a sniper rifle echoed from outside, followed by gunshots from other members of Trident. The group eventually came to a large steel door which had evidently been put in to seal off intruders. LaMarche stepped aside without a word as King moved to plant a charge. Though small, the device generated enough force to send the door flying back, followed by a flashbang grenade from Hollister.

"Get down, now!" King roared as the four of them advanced into the next room. They had evidently caught a few rebels by surprise; two lay on the floor already, dazed by the sudden explosion, while a third had a pistol raised. She was riddled with bullets before she could level the weapon. LaMarche waved for them to advance.

"Crowley, prisoners."

"Got ‘em." The Sergeant drew his sidearm and fired twice before rejoining the squad. What followed was little more than a standard clearing op; they had evidently missed or killed the remainder of the group already. Still, they hadn’t just come here to wipe out a few innies. LaMarche lowered his rifle slightly before calling out.

"Storm!"

After a few seconds, a weak voice replied. "Thunder!" The four commandos turned to a locker in the corner of the room, which creaked open. A thin, terrified-looking man in olive fatigues was crouched inside. At the sight of four weapons pointed towards him, he raised his hands in surrender.

"Thunder, damnnit! That’s still the countersign, right?"

LaMarche smiled. "Mister Rojas, I assume? We’re here to get you out."

"Yeah, I can see that." Rojas stepped out from the locker, wiping sweat from his brow. "I got the intel on their other bases, too. Bastards never expected a thing."

"Where?"

"Right over here."

The man opened a nearby cabinet and fished out a small chip, which he inserted into a nearby datapad. Rojas tapped it several times until the screen lit up, and passed it to LaMarche.

"Is this everything?"

"Yes sir. Managed to get everything downloaded last night. I knew it was only a matter of time before ONI sent my evac team. We good to go?"

LaMarche nodded. "Hollister, if you don’t mind…?"

Without a word, Marion Hollister stepped up behind Rojas and slit his throat with her combat knife. She held him for a few seconds as his body jerked and blood sprayed across the meeting room. He fell to the floor with a dull thud.

"Thank you," the Major stowed the pad in his pack. "Such a shame that Agent Rojas was discovered and brutally murdered by this group of terrorists." He shook his head. "Let’s go."

Outside, the battle was already wrapping up. Hawkins was crouched by a pile of bullet-riddled crates, reloading his machine gun with a lit cigar in his mouth. He nodded as LaMarche and the others approached, keeping low as gunfire echoed through the smouldering treeline. The Captain knelt by the Sergeant as Crowley and Hollister moved into cover.

"Anything to report, Hawkins?"

"At least forty innies dead. Falcons are heading out to mop the rest up while we deal with stragglers around here, sir."

"Where’s Mack?"

Hawkins jerked a thumb towards what remained of the gatehouse. LaMarche patted him on the shoulder before ducking out and springing into a low run across the burning compound. His second in command barely glanced up as he approached, keeping his rifle trained on the corpse-strewn road. Not far outside the gate a large truck lay on its side, belching acrid black smoke into the morning sky.

"See something?" he whispered. Mack gave a fraction of a nod.

"Truck came in from the west, past Ackton and Redford’s killzone. Looked like it was carrying arms. Took a lot of fire from the four of us before it went down."

LaMarche nodded, peeking out for a second to get a better view of the mostly-obscured truck. Though the sheer amount of bullets pumped into it by other Trident members should have been enough to tear the vehicle to pieces, he could understand Mack’s caution.

"Survivors?"

"That’s what I’m waiting to see, sir. No chances."

"Right." He sat in silence for a few seconds, awaiting the briefest flicker of movement from the overturned truck. "Gonna call for evac now, be ready for a quick exfil."

"Rojas?"

"Taken care of."

"Good. Had a bad feeling this would turn into another SWEEPER."

"Unlikely. We’re being very precise this time." LaMarche knew Mack still carried scars from the operation two months ago, both physical and mental. Another lengthy campaign like that would only prove to damage the Lieutenant and the rest of Trident, considering the hell they had all been through back then. LaMarche put two fingers to his ear and activated the COM.

"Oscar Three-Two, Oscar Three-Three, this is Trident One, are you receiving me, over?"

There was a brief pause before a response filtered through. "Copy that, Trident One. We’re already en-route to the compound now, what’s your situation?"

"All objectives complete. We need a quick exfil ASAP. How soon can you get here?"

The Falcon pilot clicked her tongue. "Two mikes, Trident One. We’ll be there soon, out."

He clicked his COM off. Anything could happen in two minutes. In combat, two minutes could either blow by in seconds or feel like two hours. All Trident had to do now was hold their location and wait.

"Trident Team," he spoke over TEAMCOM. "Regroup in the compound for exfil. Ackton, pop green smoke at our primary LZ."

As the chorus of affirmatives came in, LaMarche crept from the gatehouse and moved round by one of the unburnt buildings. Just a few hours ago, people had been sleeping here, completely unaware of the storm the UNSC was about to bring down upon them. Still, their choice to live as criminals and terrorists led to this, regardless of whether or not they picked up a gun in this fight. LaMarche had few qualms about what he did, so long as it ensured that dangerous elements like this were eliminated and the United Earth Government remained as the dominant political power across the colonies. To him, the possibility of any other faction springing up to challenge Earth’s authority in the Outer Colonies could only lead to the outbreak of war; something the UNSC and UEG were desperately trying to prevent. LaMarche sighed after taking a quick glance into the building, where five bodies lay shot to pieces, probably by Hawkins’ machine gun.

"This was a cakewalk,” the Sergeant shouted. “Think Command’s running out of good ops to give us?"

"Hell if I know, Hawkins. It’s a big galaxy; I’m sure there’ll always be enough nutjobs around for them to point us at."

"Hope so." Hawkins ground the spent cigar under his boot. The man had no interest in anything beyond the next mission, and their next targets.

Across the compound, First Lieutenant Richard Mack sat behind a ruined wall, still watching the road. Beside him sat Second Lieutenant Frederick King, Trident's infiltration specialist. King, who usually wore a facemask over his mouth and nose while on missions, had pulled it down due to the heat, and was looking over his rifle in their momentary reverie.

"You always do that," Mack glanced towards him. "You really think your gun's gonna jam, considering the way you treat it? "

"You can never be too careful," King replied. He held up the gun, satisfied, before crouching down next to Mack to watch the road.

"I think there's someone alive down there."

"How do you know?"

"Just a hunch."

They sat in silence for a few more seconds, watching the truck. Wisps of green smoke blew through the air above them as Ackton's grenade marked their location. The helicopters buzzed over the burning treeline, slowly circling the compound before descending.

"Huh," Mack shrugged, and began to get up. "Guess I was wrong."

As he stood, a rocket streaked out of the undergrowth where the truck had crashed, smashing into Oscar Three-Three's cockpit before detonating. Most of Trident dived for cover as burning metal rained down overhead and the other Falcon veered off to avoid the blast. King, who had rolled away, caught a glimpse of Mack sprinting past the gatehouse.

"Lieutenant!"

Mack ran at breakneck speed, sweating slightly as he cleared the compound's entrance and headed down the dirt road towards the truck. The smoke from the rocket had barely dissipated by the time he arrived, darting round the side of the destroyed vehicle with his rifle raised. Among the scattered bodies torn apart by gunfire lay a young woman, bleeding from the chest and legs. She tossed aside the spent weapon as he appeared, drawing a small handgun and levelling it towards him.

"Die!" she gave a hoarse cry, letting off a volley of rounds. Several plinked off Mack's armour, though one grazed his left shoulder.

Barely flinching at the wound, he pulled the trigger. A rapid discharge of armour-piercing rounds ripped through the wounded rebel, her bloodstained body jerking violently as each shot impacted. He'd expended half of his magazine before the handgun fell from her limp fingers. His COM buzzed.

"Mack!" LaMarche called. "What's the situation?"

"One insurgent KIA. Looks like they were playing dead out of sight, sir."

The Captain sighed. "Copy that. I've re-routed Oscar Three-One to our location while Three-Two extracts the rest of the team. We'll wait with Ackton for the next bird."

Mack turned and began walking towards the compound, ignoring his stinging shoulder. Idiot, he thought, scowling as he neared the gatehouse, watching the first Falcon land. She might've lived if she'd just stayed there. If there was one thing about Innies that worried him, it was the absolute devotion to the cause and willingness to die that many of them showed. To Mack, it was different than a soldier's willingness to sacrifice themselves in the line of duty. It was the righteousness they felt in their cause. LaMarche or Hawkins would probably berate him for thinking about it too much. They were the enemy, and it was the duty of Trident and the UNSC to wipe them out.

''Still, should've blown the truck to pieces. It's like King said; can't be too careful''.

He tried not to think of the downed Falcon's pilot. At least it was a quick death. Most of Trident were aboard Oscar Three-Two, which rose steadily and flew off as he approached, leaving Captain LaMarche standing in the centre of the rebel compound

"Good work," he said, clapping Mack on the shoulder. He shot him a puzzled look when the Lieutenant winced, and saw the wound. "Oh, sorry."

"Just a bug-bite," Mack smirked.

"Get that treated when we get back. God knows what kind of shit you might catch out here."

"Will do."

Mack strode across the open area and sat on a crate He nodded towards Sergeant Ackton as he emerged from behind one of the buildings. Trident's marksman, John Ackton was rather easygoing for a man whose skillset involved killing people from thousands of metres away. Lugging the heavy SR-99 rifle - an Army-issued weapon he'd requisitioned - he'd recovered quickly from an injury sustained during the recent Operation: SWEEPER

"Nice shooting," he said as Ackton sat down nearby. "How many?"

"Fifteen. Armed."

The Sergeant might have been accustomed to the grey area Trident operated in, but he'd never shot a defenceless person if he could help it. Mack respected him for it. LaMarche saw it as a weakness. He glanced over to see the Captain lighting a cigarette; unlike most officers, he disliked the popular Sweet William Cigars that many servicemen paid handsomely for. Mack and Ackton weren't smokers, though the former drank on occasion. Waiting for evac was fairly tedious at times, he reflected.

"Shame about the chopper," Mack broke the silence.

"If I'd been in a better position I might've been able to take that innie bitch out."

"We sharing the guilt trip on this one?"

"Might as well," Ackton smirked. Humour was how he coped with things. While Trident and their comrades in the ORION project had only been properly active for less than three years, they had experienced more combat than your average Marine would go through in nearly a decade; mission after mission, target after target.

"You hear about Javelin Team?"

Ackton shook his head. "That's Black's, right?"

"Yeah." Mack had befriended Daniel Black at the Reach Naval Academy several years ago. "They were going after some nutjob cult on Eridanus II and the bastards were wired. Took out a half a city block in Luxor and buried Javelin in the rubble. Reynis died."

"Shit. I liked her."

"Yeah. Turns out that while they're recovering, Perrin goes nuts and kills two nurses. Psychotic break. Heard that command kept things under wraps and discharged him quietly."

"Well, shit," Ackton exhaled. "Perrin seemed like a decent guy. Surprised they even let him go civvie."

"Yeah. It's pretty messed up, man."

The pair sat for some time without speaking. While ORION's augmented soldiers had succeeded in cutting a bloody swathe through the growing Insurrection that seemed to spring up on every other colony, rumours of mental breakdowns and severe mental issues had been spreading through the ranks. Mack wondered if the chemical augmentations he'd been given years ago would one day affect his mind as well. Best not to think about it, he reflected. He was perfectly sane, and intended to stay that way.

"Chopper's here!" LaMarche called, tossing aside the stub of his cigarette as a Falcon came into view over the nearby mountains. Ackton and Mack stood up, grabbing their weapons.

"They torching this place?" the sniper asked as they approached.

"Probably. Let's just get the hell out of here."

"Nobody argued. For Trident Team, today was just another successful mission; one more win in what Mack hoped would be a long, successful career of counter-terrorism ops. They boarded the Falcon as it descended, hovering a few inches above the ground. LaMarche checked their mission clock: 0700 hours exactly. As they skimmed above the still-burning forests, he saw that the first sun had fully risen and felt a strange sense of pride.

''Today, the people of Phoros IV can awaken without the threat of terrorist thugs knocking at their doors. We've brought peace and dealt with threats to this colony world's stability. They can call our methods harsh if they want, but the results are there for all to see. All this, achieved by a handful of men and women willing to do what it takes.''

This was how Anton LaMarche saw things. While the rebel base lay a burning ruin and UNSC forces either killed or rounded up any survivors, he knew that they had done some good for this world. He and his men were not just fighting for the UNSC, they were fighting to maintain the stability of Humanity itself in the galaxy as it continued to expand.

For the Captain, there were no lengths he wouldn't go to if it meant that stability would be preserved..

Fall
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