Halo: Alien Senses

Chapter three

Several minutes later, the squad waited in silence as they watched the night sky, anxious, eager for just something to happen. Kowalski was basically entrenched in the small depression next to the Pelican's tail, caused by the impact of the landing. He tried scanning the dark plains, using his low light setting in his helmet. Nothing. Just a perfect outline of the area and the green auras surrounding his squad mates. Just then, orbital pods started raining down around the crash site, lighting up the sky like flares as they burned through the atmosphere upon entry. The Covenant wasted no time with their attack, hoping to give the Marines less time to reorganize. The battle cry of the Elites, reptilian warriors donned in elaborate power armor, was enough to strike fear into even the strongest of soldiers, especially under the night sky of the now desolate planet.

They were surrounded in the purest form of chaos fathomable by the human mind. They were firing in all directions as their thermal displays picked up more and more heat signatures in the area. The minimal cover provided by the Pelican's wreckage held out fairly well for them but it wouldn't last. Clyde overheated the turret as he attempted to hold back a suicide charge on their location. Their odds were now significantly lower than before. Just as Wierbowski exited cover to fire, a round from a brute's weapon pierced his visor, knocking him to the ground.

Reynolds rushed to his body. He turned him over to see that the spike had impaled itself deep past the front of his helmet. He was gone. By the time they suffered their third casualty, Derek recognized their desperation. Muzzle flashes illuminated the plains of Harvest. The sounds of exchanging fire was deafening.
"Dawn Hammer! We're taking casualties!"
"Garuda. You need to hang in there just a bit longer. We're almost there."
"I've got three men down! How much longer you want us to wait?!"
"I won't let you down, son. Just hold the line."

Derek fell victim to a stray shot from a spike rifle, which dug into his knee. He opened his mouth to yell but nothing came out; the pain was too much. Eluding the agonizing state as best he could, he reloaded his weapon, watching every detail of the action in what felt like accelerated reaction time. He wasn't out of it yet. He propped himself against the side of the Pelican and re-applied himself to the conflict. Suddenly the sounds became muffled, the flashes lasted longer. Through his eyes, everything began to move slower. Perhaps it was an adrenaline rush, he thought. It didn't matter. Time itself began to lag. Every second was an hour to him. He could see everything that was happening.

Derek could see the smoke trails of every bullet casing as it left the chamber of Reynolds weapon like discarded cigarettes being flicked away. The incoming plasma fire seemed to move slow enough that he could trace their paths back to the source. He could distinguish the twisted expressions of the Covenant warriors as they attempted to advance. For once he noticed things about combat that he couldn't have seen before.

At this point, desperation was all that drove the fight even further. The helljumpers didn't focus on any definite targets. It was as if they had disregarded their training and resorted to wild fire. Derek began to hear the voice of his drill instructor replaying in his head. "You're not being paid to rest, soldier! Every second you sit on your ass is a second that humanity will never get back! Colonies are relying on you to fight with ever second you have left alive in your very God-given existence! Don't stop for anything! Kill! Kill! Kill!" Teachings from basic started to come back to him. "The enemy is downrange!You need to man your weapon and put him in your sights!"  Derek brought his weapon to shoulder level, drawing a bead on the first target he could find in the darkened hell. "Too slow. He got you by now. Shoulder your Goddamn weapon! Good! Now fire! You heard me! Fire! Paste his brain!"

He watched the blood splash up after landing a three round burst into the skull of a distant Sangheili. He remembered hearing of moments similar to the one he was experiencing. The last moment to shoot back at the enemy as much as one could before they were forced out of the fight. There was no order in this minute. No coordination. Just a continuum of confused, undisciplined fighting. Their short window of time to do as much as possible, hoping that it would make a difference in the already hopeless situation.