Napalm Riot

Halo Fan Fiction (Read This One)

Kyle Roberts







Corporal Roberts


0405 HOURS, MARCH 15, 2530 (MILITARY CALENDAR) \
SOL SYSTEM, PLANET EARTH \ SOUTH EASTERN
CANADA NEAR LAKE ONTARIO, NORTH AMERICA

The stars shimmered white as they wavered through the entrails of the D77-TC Pelican’s thermonuclear engines. The sky appeared an unsaturated sapphire blue in the south as the sun’s light pierced through the thick northern atmosphere.
Static hissed through Corporal Williams’ helmet.
“Listen up marines!” barked Sergeant Roberts. “We’ve received intel from HIGHCOM that those URF bastards have intercepted a convoy carrying important UNSC personnel. We’ve located their field outpost where we suspect the hostages are being stashed for the time being. The outpost is heavily guarded, so expect strong resistance. Our orders are to retrieve the personnel and any other UNSC property at all costs. ETA 10 minutes.”
TACCOM went silent. Williams shifted in his seat uneasily. The cold morning air made the hair on his neck stick up as his body convulsed. He sighed through his nostrils as his heart rate began to increase. While attempting to concentrate on the coming mission, he shifted his hands on the MA5B Assault Rifle he was holding.
Missions never go the way they’re supposed to he thought.
“If anything can go wrong, it will.” Is what his father, Staff Sergeant Brian Williams always said.
Williams found perverse comfort in the second rate quality of his campaign on Earth. His missions were generally light, or consisted of simple recon. However, this was his first high priority engagement.
“Heads up boys,” said the female pelican pilot. “Landing zone is hot. ETA 5 minutes...”
This was it. In five minutes Williams would be groundside, where bullets would fly carelessly around his body, with not a thought in the world that they could easily stop a man’s life. In a serene moment, Williams, bent over, elbows on his knees, looked out the cargo bay of the pelican to see the snow-capped mountains, and an endless sea of wilderness. He thought how beautiful the world was, and how man plagued it with his existence, and how even when man longer walks this planet, the world will remain, in all its’ beauty. He wished life would just suspend in this moment–
“SHIT!” screamed the pelican pilot as Williams suddenly came to, “Incoming SPNKr missiles. Initiating evasive maneuvers, HOLD ON—”
The Pelican banked hard right. Williams was thrown against the seats on the opposite side of the pelican. Disoriented he tried to regain his bearings. He tasted blood in his mouth. Peering out the cargo bay, for a split second, he saw the salvo of SPNKr missiles. He contracted his hands to reassure himself that he still held on to his assault rifle, while anticipating the impact of more than a dozen high-explosive rockets.
There was no impact, but still Williams braced himself on the cold metal seats of the Pelican. He could hear the moaning of his other squad members.
Sergeant Roberts frantically ordered, “BRAVO 2, BRING US DOWN RIGHT NOW! EMERGENCY LANDING. I REPEAT EMERGEN—“
A sharp high pitched hiss intensified, like that of a swarm of roman candles, as Roberts voice drowned in the noise. There was a violent impact as he was thrown to the bow of the Pelican. The starboard engine exploded, as the dropship banked right in a turbulent decent.
TACCOM hissed on, “BRAVO 2 HAS BEEN HIT. UNABLE TO MAINTAIN ALTITUDE. INITIATING EMGERGENCY LANDING PROTOCOL.”
Williams now lay on the floor of the cargo bay holding on to the metal bench leg, as his body ached with pain. He looked out the cargo bay he saw the other eleven Pelicans scrambling for a safe LZ. Bravo 2 continued it’s violent rightward spiral toward Earth. Williams could only hold on to his assault rifle, hoping the pilot could slow down enough to make a survivable landing.
The trees became larger and larger, yet the Pelican showed no signs of slowing down. At that very moment the female pilot of Bravo 2 yelled. “BRACE FOR IMPACT!”
No sooner than she said this, did the remaining engines fire on a perpendicular vector with the ground. The single starboard engine hissed at full capacity as the port engines fired at half capacity to balance the Pelican, however there was too little power.
The Pelican became level with the treetops as the hull began snapping interfering trees like twigs. The sound intensified only for a half second more until the Pelican impacted the ground. The massive aluminum hull buckled as the ship slid sideways. The port wing scrapped against the cold March ground until it too buckled, twisted, than snapped. The engines exploded, melting away most of the 30cm titanium armor.

Williams lay stiff on the ground some ten meters from the Pelican. The taste of blood in his mouth became more apparent as he lifted his head out of the light coating of snow, noticing a pool of blood. He slowly began moving extremity of his body, making sure that he was not injured. Fortunately he was relatively unharmed. He slowly began to collect himself, when he noticed he was still holding on to his MA5B Assault Rifle.
His training quickly set in. He assessed the situation around him. Ten meters away from his lay the wrecked Pelican. He pulled out his retractable HUD; six of the eight members of Bravo-2 showed vital signs. Ten meters in his other direction lay a M831 Troop Transport Warthog on its side, with equipment capsules scattered about.
Williams prompted SQUADCOM, “Roberts, Sir. Sir are you there? What are your orders?”
Sergeant Roberts moaned inside the Pelican, as he lifted his body off the steel floor. He rose to a knee hunched over with one arm bracing the seat.
“Bravo-2…” He coughed violent, “…salvage all available resources and bring the wounded to the Warthog. We’re moving out ASAP before Charlie has a chance to find us. Williams assess the status of the squad and apply emergency first aid to the injured and give me a count on our KIA.” Williams had never been on a mission where KIA counts need to be taken, “Cole, salvage anything you can from Pelican. Becker, ready the Warthog.
“Command this is Bravo-2, over.” Roberts said triggering TACCOM. “We’ve made an emergency landing. We’re fifteen minutes out from the LZ on ground. What are your orders?”
“Bravo-2, this is Command, over—“
“New NAV points have been uploaded to your squad’s HUD. Regroup and move forward to the outpost. No one made it to the LZ—“

The squad was ready to move to NAV point ALPHA. The Warthog was packed tightly; Becker took the wheel, Roberts rode shotgun, while Williams rode “bitch” as they called it, the back seat, facing behind them. Cole the squad sniper positioned himself on the passenger side double-seater with his spotter Sierra. The two remaining seats were occupied by two of their squad members who suffered more severe injuries when the pelican went down. Williams had administered them Biofoam. Biofoam was an organic foam like substance, molecularly comprised of long organic chains of carbon, hydrogen, and oxygen, with a cocktail of different enzymes, antibiotics, and antiseptics, surrounded by a phospholipid bilayer to facilitate the diffusion of larger molecules, and largely to keep blood from exiting the body. One of these injured was the pilot, Crewman Maret, her arm was torn open from the shattered glass of the pelican. Her copilot took an unfortunately piece through the neck and died soon thereafter. The other casualty was Bravo 2’s field technician Private McCaffrey he was barely battle ready. However there was no time to waste, strike team Alpha had lost the element of surprise, the dead would have to be collected later.
“All right squad, listen up, we need to reach NAV point ALPHA and meet up with Bravo-1, Bravo-3, and Charlie Platoon. From there we will attempt to infiltrate the main entrance of the Rebel’s outpost. Our goal is not to gain access but rather to create a diversion for Alpha and Delta Platoon who will flank the rear entrance and extract the personnel.” Commanded Roberts, “— Oh yea and don’t get cocky, we don’t want anymore of you to die, stay back and stay alive so you can create a decent distraction for our flanking platoons.”
With that the Warthog’s whinny engines roared as the vehicle rolled away from the crashed Pelican. Williams, with his assault rifle now strapped to his back held a M19 SSM Rocket Launcher in his hands in anticipation for armored resistance.
“Bravo-2 this is Charlie-1, be advised there is URF resistance en route to NAV point Alpha from your location, prepare engage.”
“Roger Charlie-1, we’re ready for those bastards.”
Sergeant Roberts punched buttons on the Warthog’s radar systems. “Alright boys! We’ve got twenty signatures on the 5k radar, 43 degrees northeast of out position. Prepare for a fight.”
Williams became tense, as if surviving a salvo of SPNKr missiles was not enough; he was now about to engage nearly an entire platoon groundside. Becker veered of the dirt road and headed towards a ridge two and a half kilometers away. Williams knew the worst thing that could happen right now would be for a rogue SPNKr to broadside them, and take out his entire squad in a single instance.
But before he could think about all the possible ways his life could end abruptly Bravo-2 had reached an outcropping of rocks on the ledge of the ridge as Sergeant Roberts screamed, “Cole, Sierra, head up the ridge half a kilometer and set up position, Williams and— Becker assume positions for covering fire, I’ll take Maret. McCaffrey stay in the warthog, you’re not fit for battle.”
Williams grabbed a BR55 Battle Rifle and two grenades from the Warthog then ran behind a large rock on the edge of the ridge. Below was the Platoon of URF militia near a scattering of rocks. They secured three stolen GP Machine Gun Turrets, while the rest of the squad took crossfire positions, with a slew of assault rifles, battle rifles, and sniper rifles. At this point the sun had risen considerably but considering their latitude the sky had only brightened to a vibrant orange. Williams wished that he was not about to engage in a firefight.
Roberts initiated SQUADCOM, “Ok Sierra sight a turret for Cole, and be ready to fire on my mark… When I do me and Maret will launch SPNKr missiles at the other two, ant this point I want Williams and Becker to give covering fire for me and Maret. Understood!?”
Six yellow dots winked on his HUD, they gave him their confirmation. “Get ready… MARK!!!!” Williams hesitated as he gulped briefly for air as if he had not breathed for the past minute. To his left he heard the thundering punch of Cole’s S99C-S2 AM Sniper Rifle, while Maret and Roberts rolled out from behind their rocks and launched a salvo of missiles. In that moment Williams too rolled out from behind his rock, crouched, sighted down his scope, and shot. His battle rifle snapped off three burst rounds, as his torso recoiled backwards. To the surprise of his superiors, Williams had always been a miraculously good shot. His round ripped through the torso of a URF soldier, as he quickly scanned left trough his sights and snapped off two more rounds into the side of another soldier. With his targets bloodied and screaming the last bits life out of themselves he rolled back behind his rock to reload.
The Majority of fire was being focused towards Roberts and Maret, as only Roberts’ SPNKr hit a turret. “COLE GET THAT OTHER TURR—“ Before Roberts finished his sentence Cole had shot off another round straight through the head of the remaining turret operator whose body now limply fell to the ground.
The remainder of the firefight was merely mop up work, Roberts and Maret had switched to battle rifles and now were snapping off rounds with Williams and Becker as Cole played games with the remaining soldiers by shooting out their legs. “Damn it Cole just fucking kill them you asshole.” Snapped Williams.
Williams never liked the idea of suffering before death, he hoped it would be a bullet through the brain that did him in. The few remaining soldiers began to retreat as they slowly made their way away from the firefight under fire. Eventually all enemies were gone, even Cole or Sierra could not spot any.
“Good job Bravo-2, lets saddle up and move out. At least one thing went right for us so far.” Roberts said sarcastically.