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Terminal This fanfiction article, Stories from the Sigmaverse/Retreat, was written by Brodie-001. Please do not edit this fiction without the writer's permission.
2103 Hours, February 3rd, 2539

New Dodoma, Outer Colonies


"More stragglers, coming up on the left."

"I see them. Detonating."

Martin-A136 made no effort to suppress his grin as a section of rocky path below erupted in a brilliant explosion, the blast ripping up chunks of rock and scrub and utterly consuming the thirty or so aliens marching along it. A wave of dust and pressure blew past him, coating his pale blue armour in dirt, but it did not move him an inch.

"Little heavy on the C-12 there Eugene?" Martin inclined his head to the figure that lay beside him, one hand still clutching a detonator. "I saw maybe four hinge-heads in that pack. We should be saving our real firepower for their heavies."

Eugene-A133 shifted up, swiping two fingers across his dirt-streaked visor as he did looked to his teammate. "That's what this is for," he said, patting the twin tubes of the SPNKR missile launcher on the ground. "Besides, I think they're pretty much done here."

Martin cast his gaze back to the pass below, where the dust cloud had finally begun to settle. Dry and inhospitable though it was, this was one of the few ways across these mountains that hadn't been strategically bombed yet, leaving few options for the retreating Covenant. That's not something you hear often, Martin thought, narrowing his eyes as he searched for any signs of movement in the pass. Nothing.

"You may be right." Martin nodded, satisfied. "We've actually got them on the run."

Four days ago three Covenant warships had come to New Dodoma with one goal: the complete eradication of all human life on the planet. A world of little strategic military importance save for its location as a stopping point for ships in the sector, its defences had been minimal at best. Lacking a defence fleet, its orbital stations' automated weaponry were no match for the powerful energy shielding and plasma torpedoes of the Covenant attackers, and soon the alien invaders had uncontested control of New Dodoma's orbit. All three warships descended through the atmosphere, targeting the planet's primary cities and deploying troops in the tens of thousands to butcher its civilians, cutting across public broadcasts with their own messages of divine retribution and righteous slaughter.

Then, the trap was sprung.

When Covenant ground forces touched down on New Dodoma's surface, swarming towards cities already being struck with artillery fire and fighter-bomber strikes, they took the opportunity to advance unopposed with glee, and found nothing. No civilians ran for their lives or cowered in fear, and no military force stood in their path. AI-driven cars drove up and down empty streets, and radio transmissions and public broadcasts played on a loop with no one to hear them. New Dodona had been evacuated two months ago.

As realisation dawned among the Covenant that they had been tricked, a series of pre-planned strikes were launched simultaneously across the planet. Tactical nuclear weapons launched from hidden silos turned staging areas into molten craters, and chemical agents long since banned for use against human opponents were unleashed on the occupiers of the planet's cities, spreading like wildfire as the aliens suffered agonising deaths. Panicking, one of the Covenant warships attempted to rise back into orbit, only to rise unwittingly into a nuclear minefield laid by stealth ships that had lain unnoticed by the planet's moon. Combined MAC gun volleys from no less than four stealth cruisers tore through the shields of the weakened vessel, tearing it apart before it could return fire. On the ground, a second warship, still busy disembarking troops through its immense gravity lift, suddenly erupted from the inside as nuclear fire killed all aboard. Those below had noticed nothing.

Martin and Eugene jogged along the clifftop at a steady speed, heavy boots kicking hard against the dirt. The Spartans of Upsilon and Tau teams had been deployed a little over a week prior, alongside six regiments of battle-hardened Marines and two platoons of Orbital Drop Shock Troopers. Naval Intelligence had discovered the impending attack close to three months prior, and had used what precious time they had to organise an ambush of immense scale. While all UNSC personnel involved had done their part magnificently, striking hard and fast against the confused invaders, it was the Spartans who had led the most daring raids with a single goal in mind: vengeance.

"You hear that?" Eugene broke the near-fifteen minute silence of their journey, running several paces ahead of Martin.

"Yup." Martin knew that distinctive whine anywhere. "Phantom. One must've gotten past Sal."

"That's not like her." Eugene sounded slightly concerned.

Martin smiled. "Then she clearly left it for us. Almost there."

The Spartans picked up the pace, striding through the treacherous heights of the mountain pass with ease before passing through a final crevice, just wide enough for the armoured soldiers to squeeze through. Beyond it the land sloped downwards, and the rocks and dirt gave way to a vast plain of yellow scrub, dotted by the occasional patch of trees. At the other end of the plain, floating ominously above a half-burned circle of squat purple buildings and defence towers, was a CCS-class battlecruiser. It was the Covenant's only way off New Dodoma, and they knew it. Fires blazed across the plain as UNSC tanks launched shells at the landing site, and a dozen individual battles raged amidst crashed dropships as knots of retreating aliens made their final stand, cut off from any hope of escape.

The dull whine from earlier grew louder, and Martin and Eugene looked up as an oblong shadow passed over them. Sure enough, it was a Covenant Phantom dropship, its hull pitted with impact marks as one half of it belched black smoke. A second craft shot overhead - a UNSC Falcon helicopter, its autocannons blazing on full auto as it chased the Phantom down. Suddenly, the dropship veered around, its underslung plasma cannon swivelling round to return fire, and Eugene wordlessly shouldered his SPNKR. Martin stood to one side as his comrade fired twice, sending a pair of rockets streaking across the darkening skies towards the craft. Before the Phantom could open fire on its pursuer, both shots hit home, the first shearing the cannon away and the second detonating against the cracked hull. All lights on the Phantom went out as its power vanished, and the alien dropship fell like a stone, detonating in a flash of purple fire as it hit the plain.

"Eugene," a familiar voice crackled over the COM. "I know that was you."

Eugene let out a harsh laugh. "You were too slow, Sal."

The Falcon turned, and made it way back in to pick the pair up. The rest of Upsilon Team were already aboard, and pulled Martin and Eugene up. Dan-A105, the team leader, patted some dirt from Martin's shoulder as the transport craft rose into the air. Martin looked towards the battlecruiser, its shields flaring against a dozen different artillery strikes.

"So," he asked. "We going after that thing next?"

"No need." Dan pointed towards the ship, then dragged his finger skywards. As if on cue, something big streaked downwards, plunging through the ailing craft's hull in an instant. Fires erupted along its surface, and with a distant scream of tearing metal the Covenant warship exploded, raining fire and death on whatever remained of its allies below.

Hovering a safe distance away, the Spartans watched as though it were the most beautiful thing they'd ever seen. It probably was. A victory, Martin swallowed as he watched the conflagration. Something stung his eyes, and he blinked it away.

How often do we get one of those?

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