Planet Arcadia

My eyes snapped open. Under me, I felt the Warthog racing over tiny little bumps and holes; each one not helping my sore back. Stretching a little, I carefully maneuvered myself to the back, getting a tight grip on the gun before I tried to stand. Once I got comfortably positioned, I loaded the heavy rounds into the M41, adjusting the shielding on the sides of it.
Ahead, I could see the other Warthogs and the few Scorpions that came with us; past them, maybe a klick or two down from our position, I could see where the fighting was at. From here, I could see tiny little sparks where muzzle flashes were; both friendly muzzle flashes and plasma muzzle flashes. Adjusting my helmet, I heard our CO yell over the radio to pick up speed, and I felt our Warthog lurch forward.
As we passed by a Scorpion, the gunner waved at us and shouted “Good luck.” I gave him a morbid thumbs-up, faking a smile. Even if we did survive the battle, we still had the carriers orbiting overhead, battling our frigates. If they fell, then so would Arcadia, and we’d fall with it.
Tearing my head away from my thoughts, I turned the gun to face the upcoming enemy, our Warthog’s engine blaring as we rocketed forward with the other hogs. The first one to reach it veered off to the left, with half of the ones following it going that same way, the other half veering right. Every gunner aimed into the crowd of grunts, jackals and elites and opened fire, unloading the heavy rounds into every one of them in sight.
Past my muzzle, which looked like a raging inferno of flames from the muzzle flash, I saw something disconcerting in the air; a lone Pelican, its cockpit flaring with green flame, headed straight for the ground. Offering whoever was on that ship my silent condolences, I went back to focusing on the Covenant troops ahead of me, making sure each and every round buried itself in their troops.
To my left I saw a bright flash of blue, quickly followed by screams and an explosion. I kept my eyes forward, ignoring them as best as I could; it wouldn’t help them if I got distracted and let something get close to us. Once the initial blast subsided and the ringing in my ears went away, I could hear, somehow audible over the boom of my M41, the screams of those caught in the blasts. Loud, almost shrill, cries of agony.
Another explosion sounded out from my far right, and more screams filled the air as even more Warthogs were taken out. Soon, only four of the probably twelve hogs were left; our ammo running seriously low. The rounds from the destroyed hogs were unusable, and the few other marines that were here had no supplies for them. As the next onslaught of Covenant came into view, I fiercely pulled my trigger, expecting to see my M41’s muzzle light up; but it didn’t. I kept pulling the trigger as I heard the other Warthogs firing into the crowd, panicking as I realized I had no rounds left.
I saw a ghost come around from the corner of a building, firing off a precise burst to kill the gunner of the hog farthest from me before aiming at me. I felt my heart rate quicken, thinking that this was it; this is how I would die. Desperately, I slumped over from my gun, reaching for my magnum that was in the passenger seat, and screamed when a hot ball of plasma hit my leg. I pulled myself down into the seat, scrabbling to grab my magnum, which was in the floorboard because of my shaky movements.
Looking up from the floorboard, I saw the Ghost closing in; the other Warthogs finally out of ammo. I closed my eyes and waited for the explosion of pain that would signal my death, but reopened them when I felt the ground rock underneath me. The Ghost, previously shining with its purple sheen, was now a fiery wreck. I glanced behind me, feeling a sense of hope well up inside me; there was one of the Scorpions.
As the driver and gunner worked on driving back the Covenant forces we left alive, one of the marines on the side ran over to my hog, pulling me out. He had to shout over the noise of the Scorpion’s cannon, his voice barely audible. “What’s your name, soldier?”
“Evans, sir. We ran out of ammo; we couldn’t hold them.”
He patted my shoulder, smiling. “It’s alright; you did what you could. You’re a brave man, Evans, believe me. You saved hundreds of lives by being here, and now it’s time we saved yours. We’re getting you out of here and back to our outpost down by the port; we’ll have you fixed up in no time, marine.”
Jerking me to my feet, he helped me limp over to the Scorpion, helping me onto the side before hopping up on it himself. He banged on the side, telling the driver to head back to the port, and as he did I finally noticed that this wasn’t the only tank here. About four Scorpions were rolling up behind this one, accompanied by dozens of marines; some on foot and some in Warthogs.
Smiling once again, I leaned my head back against the cool metal of the tank under me, and passed out.