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This fanfiction article, Stories from the Sigmaverse/Memorial, was written by Brodie-001. Please do not edit this fiction without the writer's permission. |
"Impact. Chutes probably failed." "I think he caught some AA at the last minute. Went straight through, knocked him off-course." "Going that fast?" "I've seen it happen." "Maybe. Whatever it was, I hope it was quicker than drowning." "God, I hope so too." Sat side-by-side atop the bed of an abandoned truck, Ash Mitchell and Mal Roberts watched as the surface of the Freeborn River bubbled violently, disturbed from below as something heavy made its way to the surface. Around them sat the survivors of a depleted Orbital Drop Shock Trooper platoon, enjoying a well-earned moment of respite after a day of heavy combat. All were watching the water, and the waves dyed orange by the light of a setting sun. "Up he comes." Mal nudged Ash with his elbow. The river's surface finally broke apart, and a large metal box slowly rose into the air, held tightly from below by a pair of massive metal hands. A cheer went up from the assembled ODST's as a Cyclops exoskeleton emerged from the river, water streaming from it as it held its prize - a drop pod - overhead. The masked pilot gave the assembled troopers a thumbs-up as his machine clanked past them, gingerly setting the pod down on the dockside concrete before releasing its grip. Still sat on the truck bed, Ash let out a sigh and removed his helmet. He thought of rubbing his tired eyes, but the dust and dirt on his gloves dissuaded him. At only twenty-three he'd been pushed by way of unit attrition and battlefield heroics to the rank of Staff Sergeant, and as the highest-ranked NCO left in their platoon following today's deployment had to take the lead in these proceedings. "Right," Ash muttered, mostly to himself. "Let's get this shit over with." With a slap on the back from Mal, his best friend and a man content to repel promotions as long as he served, Ash approached the drop pod, which had been placed on its side with the entry hatch facing the evening sky. The metal around it was blackened and twisted inwards, and a sizeable hole had been punched through its outer shell. His fellow ODST's, still armed and armoured, removed their own helmets at his approach. They all knew the tradition, unspoken though it was. "Looks like I was right," whispered Mal, a step behind Ash. "Plasma bolt right through the hatch." Ash nodded. "Lucky him." Making a mental note to thank the Engineering Corps for lending their unit the Cyclops, Ash placed one hand on the damaged pod, the metal cold and slippery beneath his gloves. His comrades gathered round, most holding their helmets in their hands. Two corpsmen were among their number, and would have the unenviable task of extracting the body once this was all over. While they'd be lucky if it left the planet - corpse retrieval had long since been relegated to a low-priority task for most fleets - there was no way the ODST's were going to leave one of their own behind. "All right." Ash cleared his throat. "You all know Riz hated these things, so I'll keep things brief out of respect for him. Lance Corporal Damien Rizzo was as tough a trooper as I'd ever seen, and as I'm sure most of you can attest to, one hell of a drinker." That got a few grim smiles and nods of agreement. Ash continued. "Riz was from Eirene, and to hear him talk about it there wasn't a better place to live in the Outer Colonies. When the planet was glassed back in '35, Riz had nowhere else to go, so he joined the Marines. Three years later, he signed on as an ODST and never looked back. Forty-seven drops later-" "Forty-eight!" someone yelled from the small crowd. Ash had forgotten to count his final drop. "Forty-eight drops later." Ash tapped the top of the pod. "Riz never made it to ground. Covvies had dug in hard, and it was just godawful luck that his pod was the one to get hit. He wasn't the only trooper lost today, but I think we all know he would've wanted to be on his feet with us when it happened. At the very least, I'd like to think that he knows, wherever he is now, that we won one. What's left of the Covenant fleet is burning up in orbit, and Barrier's still ours. That counts for something." Ash stepped back, his throat dry. Several troopers approached the pod wordlessly. Some tapped the side of it to pay their respects, while others left offerings; shell casings, playing cards, and in Mal's case, a hundred-credit chip. Catching Ash's eye, Mal shrugged. "It's what I owed him. With interest." It didn't take long for the meagre ceremony to come to a close. The troopers, some saying parting words and the others leaving things unsaid, left Rizzo's unintended coffin to their corpsmen, turning away as they reached in to dig out whatever was left of him. Ash and Mal joined several of their unit in leaving the dock entirely, heading up a flight of stairs towards the city that this morning had been fending off a sizeable Covenant attack force. "Where'd you land?" Ash asked his friend, breaking a long silence. "About a block north." Mal pointed towards a ruined tenement. "My chute popped a few seconds late, y'know." Ash let out a low whistle. "Scary stuff." "Just about pissed myself. Still, considering the fire they dropped us into I'm surprised more of us didn't get blown out of the sky." "We did." Ash grimaced. "Couple of boys from another platoon took direct hits from an AA gun. Nothing left." "And poor Riz dug his own grave, kinda." Mal looked back to see the corpsmen dragging a headless torso out of the pod, and shuddered. "Notice it's only the guys who go out that way that get these little memorials?" Ash sighed. "Death by Covenant is part of the job, Mal. Once you're out of your coffin it's fair game. Before that, though? Life's barely in your own hands." "I hear that." The two ODST's looked over the ruined cityscape, its buildings cast in a hazy yellow light as the sun sank further behind them. Both men cast long shadows across the street. This was a rare victory, to be sure, but not one either would have fond memories of.
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