Halo: Alien Senses

chapter Five

0559 hours
Earth, kenya, New Mombasa plaza

Derek was hard-locked on his position, standing a good five paces from the window, rifle level, sights focusing in on Bowski's assigned vantage point across the plaza. Usually seen as a bad idea for sniping, firing from a standing position with the SRS wasn't as difficult as Drill Sergeants shouted it out to be; the weapon's design was meant to dampen the initial surge of recoil, and with his tone and form he was a master at accurately firing on his feet. The real challenge was hiding the length of the barrel, especially one equipped with a suppressor-a muffler for the signature .50 caliber howl, but also another twelve inches of barrel extension for the enemy to look at. He hadn't been spotted, by ground patrols or the Jackal overwatch, so he was doing well thus far.

"I got eyes on the Jackal sniper in your zone, Reynolds," he reported.

"What's he doing?"

"Just standing watch. How close are you?"

"Just reached the floor now. I'm a stone's throw away."

It took Derek three seconds to comfortably line a shot onto the alien sniper's cranium. Now came the waiting part, he thought as the Oracle's reticule danced over the target's bird head. The scope magnified the Jackal to the point where Derek could clearly see its natural, toothy expression and cycloptic headgear that shone a dim purple in the daylight. It didn't take ONI specialists for a grunt to take a guess and say that the alien headgear was not unlike their own rangefinder, augmenting the Kig-Yar's already keen sight. To Derek, it was little more than a target now.

"Derek-in position."

The marksman pressed his jaw to the comm pad awkwardly; he wasn't about to lose a perfect shot over a phone call. "Copy. Nice timing, Derek. How are things looking?"

"Guard duty's still watching their Ghosts, but it won't be long before they start wondering why the sentry's not reporting; Shade turret on the corner's still unmanned, and I count three more Grunts around the corner. No eyes are on you just yet."

"How about that sniper over team one-what's he doing?"

"Standing watch. Hold." There was a short pause in radio traffic. "He's moving. Now, take the shot."

That was all he needed to hear. "Alright. Bowski," he called, nuzzling his shoulder against the S2's stock. "Taking the shot in three. Be ready."

"Copy."

Before slipping his finger into the trigger ring, the Lieutenant rolled his neck and comfortably rested his head against the rifle stock. The Jackal had barely moved, displaying remarkable composure, the one thing he envied of the Kig-Yar aside from their naturally keen sight. He took in a long breath and held it, then released in a slow exhale, steadying his shot as he drew back on the trigger.

The rifle made a loud, but muffled spiff and through his scope Derek saw a cloud of blood burst from the other side of his target's chest as it crashed to the floor in a violent twirl.

"Hostile down," he reported