Halo, Seige of Yankee Station Game

Scene: December 2552, two weeks before Christmas

Covenant will start in their basecamp. This is located in the ruins of MIT. Beware of snipers, many of the skyscrapers lining the Charles River were not destroyed in the initial bombardment.

Marines will start in Yankee station which is currently under attack be a combined force of three squads. (Elite commanders, grunt infantry) Yankee Station is located underground, location classified at this time...but prepare for close quarters fighting.

Spartans will start aboard the BattleAxe with my ODST troopers.

If nobody has posted by this evening I will start, otherwise...have at it, Ill be back after I finish my assignments.

Kzitzit skipped forth along the long lineup of grunts that he was in charge of. He felt important for once in his life, that they were going to lead an assault against the human defense. They may have been the puppet frontliners, but without the grunts, the covenant wouldn't be much; At least that was what Kzitzit told himself trough the time in war. He took a deep breath-
"Unggoy, Unggoy! Kzitzit, Unggoy, Humans! Death!"
His words didn't have much varity, but it wasn't neccessary. The grunt race might not have been the strongest, or the fastest, but their minds knew exactly what Kzitzit meant with the dialogue.

They all started screaing an almost pathetic battle-roar as they loaded up their guns. A covenant elite walked by, kicking Kzitzit who fell to the ground. The fellow elites near him all bursted out in laughter and kept going. However, it didn't knock Kzitzit over as they were going to win this war. Maybe once they did, they would be free from this.... slavery! The brutal kick of the covenant elite didn't silence the almost roaring, high pitch grunts who prepared themselves for a battle unlike many others.

Jacob sat inside the small quarters that were assigned to him inside the BattleAxe. Due to regulations, he wasn't allowed to wear his armor at all times and was forced to remove it. His frighteningly pale skin was seemingly reflecting the luminescant light from the overhead. The standard marines issued clothing seemed to cover most of his skin up but still let his arms show freely and his face also. For reasons unknown he felt kind of cold and naked without his armor. The sleek green killing machine of his was being examined by the lab technicians and wouldn't be out for many hours. He hated it, letting someone tamper with his armor just to send it back saying that it was one-hundred percent operational. Shaking his head with a scowl he opened his quarter doors and walked out into the near-empty hallway looking for any of his fellow spartans onboard. Though not many were left in this day and age. If only their leader would return, he thought to himself.

Yankee Station was quiet, for the moment. The UNSC Marines that were stationed in the area were holding off the Covenant forces, but at heavy losses. Those who weren't dead were either injured or resting, and bodies lay everywhere. The marines salvaged what they could from ammunition to better armour pieces from the dead or dying. Today was one hell of a bad day.

Sergeant Avery Johnson looked around at his squadron. So many dead, so few left alive. "Pathetic..." He muttered, as he lit a cigar and placed it between his teeth. "Alright greenhorns, line up!" Those that weren't wounded jumped to their feet and formed two lines, facing the center as the Sergeant began walking through the space in between. Those injured just watched intently.

"Men, I have been through even worse situations than this, so to me this is nothing but playtime! I expect to see the same come from every single one of you standing here today. The only thing I'm seeing, is a pathetic bunch of cowards who haven't taken a hit! You all know who you are. So until you know what real pain feels like, start using your brains! Buck Up! You are marines! So act like it! I want to see bullet holes in every Covenant son-of-a-b*tch who dares tangle with us! Am I right, marines?"

All the marines chanted in unison the same set of words. SIR, YES SIR!

Johnson took the cigar away from his face, giving himself a second to blow the smoke away and answer. "Mhm, damn right. Now move out! Get in to positions! Double Time!"

He placed the cigar back between his teeth, clicked the safety off his Battle Rifle, and took position.

Malcolm sat quietly behind the sole piece of cover that was a wrecked warthog. He was sweating. Then again, he was always sweating. Since REACH, he had been in many battles, and always he sweat. This was no exception.

To his left and right were two other Marines, what was left of his squad. To his left, a fat wheezing man. Asthmatic. To his left, there squad commander, who was just as quiet as he was, his empty assault rifle laid abandoned at his feet on the cold cement floor. Only a couple feet away laid Lazansky's mutilated corpse. His assault rifle was still completely full, cradled in his arms. The poor guy hadn't even gotten a shot off before his brain matter was released from it's bony prison and sprayed all over the floor by an enemy Sniper. The assault rifle was within reach, but just outside the cover the warthog provided. The Squad leader wasn't going for it.

Malcom sighed and dipped down so that he was laying on his belly and looking out from under the warthog. Malcolm and what was left of his squad were on one end of a long service tunnel. At the opposite end was the exit to the outside of the station. There was the Covenent. Three Elite and four jackals. There was more, but his squad had taken out quite a few, the Sniper included, thanks to him. Twenty meters in front of there position was a door that led to another hallway, and from there to another section of the base. Everyone except for his squad had retreated through that door to take up more defensible positions, but his squad leader hadn't noticed..

Malcolm sighed and sat up, grabbing his Sniper Rifle from his feet. The cold metal felt good in his hands. He had half a clip in the gun at the moment, and two more clips on his belt. Ten shots total. From his crouching position, Malcolm could see through the fire that was engulfing the passenger and drivers seat. The Elites were yelling at his position, obviously getting ready to charge.

"Jackson, give me some cover fire while I get Lazansky's rifle. " The SL whispered. Malcolm nodded and poked his sniper rifle out from it's cover. The Elite's immediately started shooting once it came up out of cover, but they couldn't shoot past the car. The SL crawled out and retrieved the rifle while Malcolm laid down cover fire. As soon he retrieved the rifle he ducked back behind cover.

Malcolm sighed and crouched back down, reloading. They couldn't wait behind here forever..

The nose of the BattleAxe transitioned back into real space with a shudder. Commander Rachel Elizabeth, the captain of the BattleAxe was thrown against her harness as the massive light cruiser decelerated. "Status report."
Next to the command chair, a small pedestal hummed to life as the light blue figure of the ships mil.AI appeared next to her. "1st Fleet is heavily engaged along with elements of 3rd, 8th, and 7th Fleets. All are taking significant losses. Covenant forces outnumber our battle group. It seems we have lost a number of the Orbital Defense Platforms as well, creating gaps in the network. The Covenant have already begun their predicted invasion. The North American Protectorate is overrun, and the South African Protectorate is all but lost. I would recome...." Archangel became silent as another ODP exploded in a brilliant but quickly fading fireball outside the forward view screen. He was about to speak again when the comms officer announced an incoming transmission from Lord Hood.
"Commander Elizabeth, glad to have you back' the image jumped and crackled as electronics overloaded and flashed sparks in the background 'what is the condition of your vessel."
"Sir we are operational, ready to go. The firing crews are loading the MAC's right now, Fire Control should have a solution for us any minute now. I also have several Spartans and a compliment of ODST troopers sir. Just tell us where you want us." Lord Hood's response came moments later inter spaced with heavy static.
"We have a situation on the surface that needs your attention Commander, do not engage the Covenant in space. Establish a low orbit inside the ODP perimeter, we are sending you to Boston. Yankee Station's ground control facility there is under heavy assault. Rectify that."
"Yes Sir."
The channel closed and Commander Elizabeth sat back in her chair as her helmsman maneuvered the cruiser through several debris fields into a low Earth orbit over the North American Protectorate. The Covenant were preoccupied and did not notice the cruiser. The arrival of the loyalist Elite fleet was causing havoc amoungst the separatists, adding to the chaos. Commander Elizabeth toggled a switch on her armrest and spoke, the comm link sewn into the collar of her uniform piping her voice throughout the vessel.
"This is the Captain, we have just been ordered to engage the Covenant on the ground. All Spartans and Lt. Victoria report to my Ready Room at 2100 for mission briefing and objectives. Lets hit 'em where it hurts folks."

"This is the Captain, we have just been ordered to engage the Covenant on the ground. All Spartans and Lt. Victoria report to my Ready Room at 2100 for mission briefing and objectives. Lets hit 'em where it hurts folks."

Jacob heard the message and smiled. "Show time!" Jacob began to sprint to where his suit was being stored. Bursting through the door, nearly breaking it in the process, he made his way over to the technicians. "You heard the Captain, gear me up." The technicians didn't even put up a struggle as they began to fit the different components of his suit on. After about only fifteen minutes, his entire suit was completely attached and his shields read one-hundred percent. The only part left of his suit was his helmet which grabbed and sprinted out the door. Before he arrived at the bridge he would have to take a service elevator up two floor and would pass an armory on the way. He would lose time and maybe even be late but he still felt safer armed. Jacob decided to double time his way to the servicve elevator and arrived inside just as it began to ascend. Just as he thought he came past the armory. A single marine was guarding the door. "I need to arm up, Captains orders." The marine looked at him with doubt and fear in his eyes. "I recieved no information that this armory would be visisted. What's your rank." Jacob stood proud as he spoke. "Master chief, Pet-" The marine looked astonished. "You're THE Master Chief!?" Jacob was startled. "No... Yes, yes I am." The marine stood to one side. "Wow, you're a real live hero. I won't tell anyone." Jacob walked past him into the armory. He laughed as he thought to himself. "Sure, you won't tell anyone and no one will notice that I'm armed." Jacob took his favorite combination from the station, the MA5B and the M6D. He quickly exited the armory and dashed for the Bridge.

Vtras sat behind debris, using it as his cover. The energy shots slowly blasted against the slab of stone chipping it away. He had very little support, aside from Johnson and a few other marines, along with another elite, whom sat across from him. The elite ran to another nearby slab of stone, where he sat for a moment, breathing heavily. The two stared at each other nodding, as they prepared to go gung-ho on the covenant. As he began to get up, the stone which the other elite hid behind was blasted by a fuel rod cannon and it slammed into him, knocking off his energy shield and ramming him into a wall. Vtras' eyes widened, realizing he'd be the next target. He ran for cover behind a wall, and felt a spray of energy blasts grazing his shield, and as he reached the wall a brute shot hit him, blasting him to the ground. Vtras jumped back to his feet shaking it off, and began firing blindly with his plasma rifle.

Crono stood beside his fellow chieftain's, two hunters guarded the doorway. "Sir!" A grunt said, running into the chamber. Crono snarled,
"What!" The grunt stumbled back,
"Um, well sir, a ship seems to be heading towards earth, they're thinking it's going to Yankee Station." Crono sat silent for a moment, and the grunt had sweat streaming down his face. Crono reached for his spiker and pointed it at the grunt. He let out a little yelp of terror and began to run. Crono fired one shot of his spiker and it slashed across the grunts breathing system. He stopped and began to run in circles until he died. Crono and the other brutes laughed for a moment. "So, the humans are going to Yankee station? Perhaps it's time for me to pay a visit to the battlefield."

Commander Elizabeth looked up from where her chair at the far end of the solid oak conference table. The room glowed blue and gray from the holographic topographical map floating in the center of the table. The other Spartans were already there, helmets sitting before then on the table, and Lt. Victoria sat next to the Commander with her platoon Sargent, both clad in black jumpsuits. Archangel was standing in midair, his wings folded across his back.
"You're late."
She was of course addressing the Spartan soldier that had just opened the hatchway and crossed the threshold. The Spartan took off his helmet and apologized, before taking a seat at the table, the oaken chairs creaking under the great weight.
She shifted her weight as she turned to face Archangel again, before addressing the Spartan.
"What is your name Master Chief."
He answered quickly.
"Jacob, next time you would be advised to come directly, rather than taking detours' she turned again to face him and became more serious 'do not ever enter the armory again without direct authorization, do you understand Chief? I will not have Spartans running about my vessel armed to the teeth, do I make myself clear." Confident she had gotten her point across, she turned back to Archangel "continue"

"As you can see' the image rotated to show a better angle 'the major access points are blocked. By the Covenant on the outside, and blockaded by the Marines on the inside. Intelligence on the station, taken from ONI files, shows a catacomb of tunnel networks and false walls. Evidentially this facility is something more than just Yankee Stations ground control facility. Finding out what ONI wants with this place is secondary, primary objective is to secure a beachhead, clear an extraction route and get our people out of the engagement area. "
Archangel continued for several more hours discussing strategy and means of attack, including detailing the means and the site of the landing, with the Spartans and the ODST's. The briefing ended at 0100.

The time was set at T-24 hours. All involved were ordered to their racks and to arm themselves. Lt. Victoria spent two hours in the ships chapel before turning in. Tomorrow was going to be a very good day, for an ODST.....she smiled to herself as she walked into her quarters and turned off the light.

Jacob grunted and hissed under his breath. "You should show some respect. It's because of the Spartan's that you're even alive.." Jacob leaned back slightly dropping his shoulders. He never knew why but staying at attention, even when sitting seemed tiring. Standing at the large port window near his quarters Jacob just stared off into space. "Who does she think she is? ODST are just marines in fancy armor. Nothing compared to us Spartans... John proved that." Not wanting to be away from his armor, he decided to keep it on for the duration of the wait. It wasn't like he would be able to sleep anyway. Something about a battle just seemed to make him show his true colors. Images of past battles started to flood back into his head. All of them seemed dwarfed in comparison to what Spartan 117 went through. He was the true hero of the war and earth.

Lt. Victoria awoke in a cold sweat. She checked her watch, the dull green digital display shone 0450. The perfect time to rise.
She jumped out of bed and started her morning routine;200 pushups, 400 situps followed by a jog around the track in the ship's gym. The exercise served duel purpose, the first was to keep herself in peek physical condition, and the second was that the pain of the PT kept her mind off her past, something that continued to haunt her.

Taking a quick shower, she dressed herself in a tight fitting black jumpsuit and walked towards the lift. Five decks later she arrived in the wardroom for morning meal. Commander Elizabeth was already there sipping the timeless drink of all military man and women, coffee.
"The Spartan looked pissed that I knew about his field trip to the armory yesterday night LT, did he say anything to you?"
Hannah looked up from her mug
"Not directly, but he seems to be under the impression that one of my troopers, or myself ratted him out." This produced a slight chuckle from the Commander as she responded, "He should know by now that no weapons are allowed in the Wardroom or the Ready room for that matter. He has been on the ship, what, at least two months now. Im sure it wont happen again." And with that the matter was dropped.

UNSC BattleAxe
Hanger Deck Bravo
0030
Lt Victoria and Sgt. Pannik walked up and down the short line of ODST troopers under their command. The 517th was merely a shadow of its former self. With no new recruits available when on patrol, the 60% losses they had taken over the course of two years showed. Hannah thought back to the canvas sack lying under her rack, the one that jingled when moved..........she shook her head to clear the thought away

Over in another corner of the hanger the Spartans stood checking their gear by the nose of the Pelican that would take them to the far end of the compound. A small access hatch had been located on the long range images a few blocks away. this would be the perfect area to insert and execute the extraction of the stations staff. Only problem was, the Covenant owned it.

The ODST's, well they were taking the brunt of this exercise. They were charged with causing a divergence long enough for the Spartans to gain entry, and than fall abck to a predetermined rally point to await extraction.

The Pelicans dropped through the hatch into the blackness of space. The navy pilots fire walling the throttle towards Earth. Lt. Victoria stood in the cockpit hatch watching the distance close on her HUD. She couldn't help but remember something a Professor at the Academy had told her:
"The best laid plans never survive contact with the Enemy."

Sgt. Mjr. Avery Johnson sidestepped to his right, grabbing on to a Brute's Gorilla type fur with his left hand, and aiming the muzzle of his MA5C Assault Rifle in to the back of its neck and pulling down on the trigger. The Brute reached for its neck in pain, then flopped forward lifeless, purple-black blood dripping from its wound. He glanced over towards an Elite who was firing a Carbine into a Grunts methane breather, watching as the deadly gas hissed out until it silently ceased, and the Grunt fell backwards, grabbing the breather before it died. He nodded towards the Elite when he looked over towards him.

The Sergeant strapped the Assault Rifle and reached for his Battle Rifle. He stared around at his losses. He had been greatful when this small platoon of Elites showed up just before the battle started. However, his remaining Marines had taken several losses, only 8 remaining who were battle ready. He looked at the tag of the nearest body, which read: Corporal Thomas L. Petnick. The Sergeant sighed, placed his hand on the Corporal's dead shoulder, took the tag and marked him down as KIA.

"God damnit, we really need some help here, or else we're cooked." As he finished the sentence, the sound of a Fuel Rod Cannon blasted through the air, knocking some Elites back against the wall and lowering their shields. The remaining Marines ducked for cover and tried to pick off the Grunts firing at them. A Private by the name of Carson H. Firth shot a controlled burst from his Battle Rifle into a Grunts skull, causing him to drop dead instantly. The safety on the Fuel Rod Cannon activated, causing it to explode, taking out two more Grunts, one carrying a Plasma Pistol, and mortally wound a Brute enough to give the same Private a chance to put it out of his misery.

Sergeant Johnson crouched over to the Private and patted him on the shoulder. "Nice work son," The Sergeant pulled his cigar away from his mouth and blew away the smoke. "But don't get cocky. We aren't done yet."

His target struck the ground hard, Vtras was swift and moved quickly as the brutes began to form up and fire off their spiker's, he ran diving to cover. His body hit the ground hard and his shield was out, he'd also dropped his gun. The fire was to heavy to go for it, he needed a diversion of some sort, his only other weapon was a shotgun, and it did him little good here. He used his only weapons available, grenades. He pulled the pin from a frag and chucked it out, before it made it five feet it was blown up. Vtras looked at his only support, Sarge and a few other marines. "Johnson!" Vtras yelled out. "I need cover fire!" He prayed that the Sargent would deliver.

"Already on it, split lip." The Sergeant Major looked through the scope of his Battle Rifle and aimed it at a Brute Chieftan's headpiece. It took a few controlled bursts to knock it off and give him a good shot at the Brute's forehead. It took only one shot after to send the Brute flat on its back, a medium sized hole going through its head, and the Brute's brain matter was splattered over the back wall of the tunnel. The Grunts squealed in terror and began running in circles, arms flailing. The Brute Captain nearby primed a spike grenade and threw it. This started a chain reaction, as the Brute pack threw spike grenades in succession.

"Incoming, lads!" A marine with a scottish accent yelled out to his surviving team, and he rolled to the side as a spike grenade missed him by inches and exploded 10 feet away from him. Johnson pushed a marine out of the direction of a spike grenade and threw himself behind it, putting his hands behind his head just before it exploded. The last spike grenade flew way over head, causing a nearby Elite to leap out of the way, but getting a full load of shrapnel in his right arm, causing his shields to flicker and die.

Vtras watched as the spike grenades exploded all around them, the guns had stopped firing though, it gave him the chance he needed. He ran, lunging towards his gun, dodging incoming grenades. He gripped his needler and pointed it towards the brutes firing it, the crystals ripped through their thick exterior into their skin, easily breaking through their shields. Some kept firing their guns, others tried to rip them out, it mattered not, they were all blown to hell in the end. Vtras grinned and ran to Sargent Johnson, sliding to cover near him. He held the bottom of his needler and made a thrusting motion with it, reloading more spikes into it. "What now Sargent...?" Vtras asked, noticing the brutes he'd just killed had already been replaced.

Johnson placed a fresh clip in to his Battle Rifle and locked the magazine in place, taking the cigar away from his mouth. "Now," He blew the smoke away, extinguished the cigar, and looked through the scope. "We kick it up a notch. Take your Elites and cover the right side. Me and my squad will take up the left. Wait for my signal, then bombard them with grenades. Move out!"

The Sergeant motioned his marines to take up the left side of the tunnel, crouching against a crate and reaching for the fragmentation grenades placed in his belt. This was his last resort, and if this didn't work, then they were done for. They really needed back-up, but it was impossible to get a signal from way down inside the tunnels of Yankee Station.

Jacob sat back breathing steadily, waiting for the Pelican's to finally reach Earth. To keep his morale up, he kept telling himself that he would be able to kill something very soon. "Soon.. just a little bit longer." As far back as he could remember, he had been in a dead-lock with any covenant forces he had ever come in contact with. Now with the elites on his side he may not be able to kill ass many enemies, but he would at least have a stronger soldier than an average marine, to fight along side him. An overbearing itch came over him that was always there, right before the start of a battle.

Vtras nodded, and looked back at the few elites he had left. He yelled out to them: "Elites! Come, follow me! Make haste!" Vtras and the elites activated their camo and dashed across the open gap. Most had already made it over, a few hadn't, a spiker malfunction cause one to fly into an elite, knocking off his camo. He was killed, Vtras wouldn't risk his men's lives for one, though he regretted not being able to help.

The rest made it and held their backs against the cover. Vtras knew if no help arrived soon it was all over, but he'd give them hell before that happened.

0045 EDT
December 12th 2552
Over the City of Boston
NAP

Twin sonic booms split the air above the evacuated city of Boston. The air was thin and cold, the temperature hovering towards 0 degrees Celsius. Lt. Victoria swore under her breath silently, as predicted by the Fleet Meteorologist, the expected high pressure system was over the city, providing little to no cloud cover to mask their approach. To make matters worse, there was a full moon. The Navy pilots dove for the deck, extinguishing the birds nav. lights and switching to NV goggles. Lt. Victoria looked over her shoulder into the cargo bay. The dull red light made the ODST troopers helmets glow with an eerie sheen, she wondered silently how many were going to make it back. The voice of the NFO in her earbud broke her out of this train of thought. "Five Minutes.."
She looked back into the cockpit, than back into the cargo bay, and held up five fingers. "Five Minutes, Check your equipment. Ill see you on the Ground!"
She turned back to the cockpit, turned her visor to NV mode, and looked off to the left. As planned the second pelican suddenly sheered off and followed the shining snake that was the Charles River, towards Fenway Park, towards the back door. The Spartans would establish a beach head, exterminate any Covenant with extreme prejudice, effect entry into the tunnels and extract the Scientists. She hoped to god that this plan worked.

The Pelican made a sharp climb, increasing altitude by several thousand feet. The NFO turned towards Lt. Victoria and gave her the thumbs up, than saluted.
Lt. Victoria turned around and her men jumped to their feet, the added weight of the parachutes slowing them slightly. The rear hatch opened as all but a single of the red lights were extinguished. Only one by the hatch remained, this turned green. One by one, the ODST jumped from the rear of the Pelican into the night sky.

Lt. Victoria felt herself free-fall for a few seconds before the on board computer deployed the chute. She looked up. Through her NV filter she saw 9 chutes leave the Pelican, Eight men, plus Sgt. Pannik. She looked back down and checked their vector on her wrist mounted screen and swore. The wind was wrong, they were being pushed behind enemy lines. They were going to land right behind the Covenant forward observation post.

She hit the ground softly, but to her it sounded like a bomb going off. Quickly detaching her harness, she gathered up her chute and stuffed in into a crevice. Her men, by the grace of god, landed around her. Gathering their weapons they moved out towards the UNSC lines. They moved silently for about a mile before Lt. Victoria held up her hand. The troopers stopped where they were, falling to a knee and taking up a 360 degree range of fire. Sgt. Pannik moved up and spoke through the ODST's secure channel.
"What'ive we got LT."
Lt. Victoria pointed. Up ahead was a grunt, obviously asleep "guarding" the hole they needed to go through to make it to Yankee Station. Pannik nodded and set down his battle rifle. Unsheathing his combat knife he moved silently towards the sleeping alien. The matte black blade reflected no light and his movements were swift and true. The grunt fell to the ground in a heap, its head barely still attached.
"Lets Move."
Lt. Victoria led her men through the gap while broadcasting on the UNSC military battle net frequency.
"This is Lt. Victoria of the 517th ODST, friendlies coming in, Hold Your Fire, repeat Friendlies coming in, HOLD FIRE."
As she got closer to the station she saw shapes running towards the barricades. She hoped they got the message.

Jacob leaped down from the Pelican and landed making a quite loud thud as he hit the ground. Though he wasn't very high up, the armor was still extremely heavy. "Maybe they should let the Spartan go in first. I mean it's not like I was specifically designed to fight these guys or anything." Jacob laughed it off and smiled as he saw figures making their way towards the barricades. Either it would be marines that would lead him to the stuff to kill, or it would just be the stuff to kill. Both ways made him smile a cold smile. Pulling the hammer of his MA5B back, he walked towards the others. It was a good distance to the drop point from where he has beem dropped off and he did admire the ODST for taking such a risk to secure the land zone. "They dropped right in.. crazy bastards. Looks like I'm huffin' it there anyway."