Clipped Wings

"What the fuck did you do to piss off Ramirez?" He asked.

"Oh nothing at all." John replied coyly.

"Bro, when we get on the ground you better fucking tell me or I swear I am never going to quit bugging you." Neal said, a dead serious look in his eyes. John just laughed.

Sergeant Miller seemed to be done talking on his radio as he now turned to face his squad.

"Alright kids, double, triple and quadruple check yourselves and then get in your pods. Drop time in ten minutes." The sergeant commanded.

Doing as he said the squad donned their helmets, almost in unison, and checked themselves and their neighbors. Once everyone was satisfied they climbed into their pods and initiated the pre-drop sequence. A few minutes later the drop bay alarm klaxons started blaring. John hit his pods door release and the large metal door closed him in.

This was always John's least favorite part, the waiting. He could feel as the Houston began it's approach and moments later saw it as the floors of the drop bay opened up. The Houston was skimming the upper atmosphere as it approached his units insertion point. A drop timer appeared in his pods display. John anxiously waited as it counted down to zero.

Five... Four... Three... Two... John's stomach dropped out from under him as his pod began it's decent to the planets surface. Through the torrent and jarring movements of the pod John could still hear his heart beating in his ears and his breath became more violent.

He stole a look at the pods health monitor. Elevated adrenaline and heartbeat, well within normal levels for a drop. As he broke through the friction of the atmosphere John got his first real look at the planet. It was a lifeless looking brown/gray ball of rock and not much else. In the distance he could make out some kind of structure. Probably a piece of the left behind terraforming equipment.

The ground was rapidly approaching and it wasn't long before he felt the reverse thrust of his pods retro burners attempting to slow him down and soften the landing. His pod landed with a very jarring and loud 'thunk'. John hit the door release and grabbed his rifle as he jumped out of the pod. He quickly surveyed his surroundings. He could see other pods falling not far in the distance.

John double checked his suit and gear before activating his GPS. The display projected into the corner of his eye a marked location of his squads rally point, giving him directions as it did so. He hit the pods door close and headed off to meet with his comrades. The hike to the rally took about ten minutes. He probably could have saved some time by ignoring his training and heading over top of one of the planets numerous rocky hills instead of around them.

But he was in hostile territory and the less chance he gave the enemy to see him, the better his chances became. The majority of his squad were already there. It seemed as though John was one of the ones who landed furthest away. His team was waiting for him. Their faces hidden behind the black tinted ballistics plastic of their helmets face masks. John chinned his radio, a nice little bonus that his drop suit provided that wasn't issued to standard infantry.

"Ford! Washington! Dorn! On me!" John commanded on his fireteam's radio channel.

Three faceless arid camouflaged drop suits ran over and fell in beside him.

"Gear check!" John commanded again.

It was another one of those mandatory procedures to make sure nothing was lost or forgotten during the drop. Sometimes John thought they spent more time checking their gear than using it. Satisfied they had not forgotten anything he let himself relax. The squad was still waiting on one member of Jamie's team to arrive.

"So, you going to tell me what you did to Ramirez?" John could hear Neal ask him over the radio.

"Ford, keep this channel clear." John commanded. He sighed then added "When we get back to the Houston I promise I'll tell you anything you want to know."

John's statement was reciprocated by a thumbs up and a mock salute from Neal. Ford could be a pain in the ass sometimes, but John had been serving with him for about two years now. So he had become more of a friendly pain in the ass. Johan had gone through drop school with him.

Once they were both assigned to the 105th and found out that they would be sharing the same room, the two had become fairly fast friends. Billy on the other hand was a bit new. Having only recently been assigned to John's squad. John admitted that he really hadn't got the chance to get to know him properly yet. But there was always still time for that.

The last of Jamie's team had arrived and the squad began their three kilometer hike to where the Forward Air Controllers would be set up. His squad job was simple, watch the left flank until the setup was complete and then break off with Second and Third platoons to join up with the ANZAC Marines.

The journey was uneventful. Dirt and rocks littered the landscape. The air was dry as it filtered into John's suit. As far as John knew there were no bodies of water anywhere near the AO, which meant they were more than likely in some kind of desert. A cool desert mind. His temperature readout showed 10 degrees Celsius with the sun just barely overhead.

First Company moved swiftly over the planets surface. And before long the FAC squad reached their destination and began setting up firing solutions for the orbiting A-100 pilots. The rest of the Company that wasn't needed quickly broke off. John switched his radio to platoon frequency and listened in as they moved.

He wouldn't be able to transmit but listening gave him a better picture of the operation around them. With trickle down information from command channel John was able to determine that the ANZAC Marine unit was in position and ready to engage. It would still be a few more minutes until the bulk of the paratroopers were in position along side them.

It was in that moment that all hell seemed to break loose. Platoon chatter was being informed that a squad of Australian Marines had stumbled upon a small Breten Hvas scouting party. Most likely having seen about one hundred shooting stars falling towards the planet and were out to investigate. The ANZAC Marines had neutralized the party but not before some sort of transmission had gotten out through the Human's jamming attempts.

The outpost had been alerted and a firefight had broken out between the Marines and the pirates. John could hear Sergeant Miller yelling in his ear for them to pick up the pace. The units swift walk had turned into a hurried jog.

Contact reports were now coming in a steady stream over the platoon net. John shut it off, not wanting to get distracted from his own squads contact reports when they inevitably came. A series of explosions went off in the direction of the outpost. No doubt the orbiting A-100's dropping their payloads. A few minutes of jogging later, John heard the first telltale sound of gunfire.

Small arms, definitely the Marines. John's squad was ordered to take position along a slightly elevated rock outcropping. Peering over the top he could see the 'Haves' outpost, about 500 meters away. He steadied his rifle on the rock, laying on his stomach he took a look down his telescopic sight of his ACOG. The JDAMS had hit their marks.

Both anti-air guns were nowhere to be seen and only a crater remained where they once had been. All three of the bunkers had their roofs caved in as well. Regardless of them being destroyed John could still see the unmistakable mantis like body of a Siven Breten Hvas, using a piece of the broken masonry as cover. John toggled his rifles fire selector from 'SAFE' to 'SEMI' and lined up a shot on the unwitting Hvas pirate. He then chinned his radio.

"Charlie Two-Five to Charlie Actual." John said, a hint of tension in his voice.

"Charlie Actual here, go ahead Charlie Two-Five." Came the response from Sergeant Miller.

"Sir, are we weapons free? I got a shot on one of the bastards shooting at the Aussies and I would very much like to take it." John said with his heart pounding in his chest.

"Affirmative Two-Five." He heard Millers voice say. "Squad is weapons free on all targets of opportunity."

John could feel a wave of adrenaline wash over him. "Copy that Actual. Charlie Two-Five out."

"Fuckin about time!" He could hear Neal yell through his helmet. "Get some ya freaks!"

No sooner had Neal finished his remark than he opened up with his SAW, firing it in deadly accurate bursts. Apparently Neal had seen the same cowering pirate as he had. The 7.62x39mm rounds ripped through the pirates left side nearly severing it's shoulder from the rest of it's body. The second burst, which had already been in transit, caught the pirate center mass.

Punching through its armor and leaving a bright red stain on the wall behind it. John had to admit, Neal was a good shot, a bit of an ammo hog with his SAW, but deadly nonetheless. The Siven's comrades were caught by surprise at the sight of one of their comrades being cut down from a different angle and attempted to move to compensate for the new threat.

It seemed in vain as an entire firing line opened up on the semi-exposed pirates. John sighted another one and squeezed off a few rounds. The Siven pirate was fortunate enough to sidestep for one reason or another and John's shots impacted the concrete wall where it just had been. John cursed slightly and readjusted. This time his shots rang true and caught the pirate just below the neck, punching through it's armor.

The alien staggered and fell over. John put a few extra rounds into it just to be sure and began searching for a new target. He found another and fired. The pirate dove for cover just as John's bullets reached it. John was fairly certain he had got him in one of the legs.

"Johan!" John yelled over his teams net. "Can you put a grenade in between that busted wall and the pillar? Pretty sure I crippled one hiding behind it!"

"Copy that!" The response came. Five seconds later John heard the telltale 'thunk!' of a 40mm grenade being loosed. The explosion came about ten seconds later, right where John wanted it.

"Good effect!" John yelled over the net. "If that didn't get him he's bleedin bad! Good shit!"

"Copy that!" Came Johan again, a little more enthusiastic this time.

The firefight raged on. John's squad continued to plink away at anything they could get their sights on. It wasn't long before he heard Sergeant Miller back on the squad net.

"Charlie Actual here, we got new orders boys! Aussie squad is pinned attempting to breach the compound and needs an assist. We're the closest squad so we're heading over. Pack up your shit and lets move!" Millers voice commanded.

John gave a hand signal to his team to pack it up and fall in behind him. They retreated down the elevated rock and met with the rest of the squad.

"We're headed northwest around the ridge." Miller said, pointing in the general direction. "I want Red to take point and Blue covering. Let's move people!"

The squad did exactly that, fanning out into two rough diamond formations. Sergeant Miller fed Jamie's team directions as they went. Moving John could get a better understanding of how the battle was going. They had the 'Haves' boxed in with their backs to the rock face outpost. The US Army's Mechanized Infantry had blocked an escape route through an open flat rock field to the east.

Every so often John could hear the 'thump, thump, thump' of the US's 25mm LAV mounted autocannons and the rattling of machine gun fire. The 105th had taken up position south of the outpost along the same rock embankment that his squad had just been at. Which left the Aussies in the west, fighting a more CQB-esqe battle for an access point to the outpost proper.

John's squad was on their way to help the very tip of that spearhead. They passed plenty of entrenched ANZAC Marines. No wonder they were coming to assist, John thought. The Australians had the chore of holding a fairly wide valley with plenty of rocky outcroppings. Perfect for an ambush or counter-attack. The Australians wore similar armor to them, without the vacuum suit obviously.

Kevlar coated ceramic/titanium plate carriers and chest rigs with an Australian version of a arid digital camo. They had open faced combat helmets with no respirators. There was plenty of oxygen on the planet, John supposed. Still he liked the security and comfort of a full faced helmet over the open kind any day.

John could hear an increase in the rattling firing sound of the Aussies TR-25 bullpup rifles mixed with the iconic whistling on Siven made bolt rifles. The Sivens, and the Breten Hvas by association, used some kind of oxygen/gas propellant that was fed into their rifles where it would fire at sonic speeds tiny arrow shaped spikes.

By the way the weapons were designed, normally covered in hieroglyphs and spiky housing , they were meant more as a weapon of fear than a weapon of war. Nevertheless, they would and could pierce lighter human armor and tear up anything underneath, causing as much internal damage as they possibly could.

Sergeant Miller motioned for the squad to stop and hold position. John could see his head moving in a way which told him that he was most likely on the radio with someone. More than likely the pinned Aussie squad. After a minute Sergeant Miller's voice came over their radios.

"Charlie Actual here, embattled Aussie squad is a hundred meters north of us. They are taking fire from the east." Miller said, pointing with his fingers as he did so. "There is a small ravine that leads up to the Hvas position from the south. We're going to take that ravine and give those xeno's a hell of a surprise." He took a short pause. "Red you're still on point. Blue, same shit. Lets move it!"

With the squad reformed they descended into the ravine. The squad walked as quickly and as quietly as they could, crouching and attempting to keep out of sight. The Hvas bolt rifle whistling became even louder, they were probably no more than 20 meters ahead of them. The squad peaked over the top of the ravine and sure enough 10 Siven pirates were laying down a barrage of suppressing fire on the Aussie position.

John motioned for his team to take flanking positions, Jamies team was doing the same. Once everyone was in position John gave a hand signal to Jamie and then Sergeant Miller. Miller responded with his own hand gesture and held up his gloved five fingered hand.

They all could most likely use their radios and the Breten Hvas would be none the wiser, but just in case that slim chance happened, hand signals were the preferred method of communication. John sighted his rifle, keeping an eye on Millers hand as he did. At this range the ACOG was more of a hindrance than a help. If he could John would simply use his rifles folded down iron sights.

However since they were blocked by the scope, he simply used he top of his ACOG as his guide. Miller's hand started to count down. Five fingers, four fingers, three fingers, two fingers, one finger, fist. On 'fist' the entire squad opened up on the unsuspecting xeno's.

The firefight lasted all of thirty seconds as every one of the aliens were cut down into varying states of gore. John had caught one in the side of the head, causing whatever the alien used as a brain to come out the opposite side and paint the adjacent wall with a splat of red and pink.

John could hear Miller yelling 'Cease fire!' in his helmet and then subsequently gave the order to advance and secure the pirates previous location. Cautiously the squad moved forward, checking the bodies for any signs of life as they went. They had almost finished when John heard a familiar voice.

"Friendlies coming out! Don't fucking shoot!" The familiar voice said in it's Australian accent.

John looked over towards the friendly soldier and to his surprise it was none other than Lieutenant Ross 'fucking' Vanderbelt. John almost without thinking walked up to him.

"Ross?" He said, more shocked than anything else.

"Yes?" Ross said back. "And you are?"

John blinked inside his helmet. He then remember he was wearing a helmet.

It's me, John!" He said with a laugh.

"Fucking John Baird, I didn't recognize you because I can't see your fucking face." Ross said laughing.

He reached out his hand. John took it and gave it a firm shake. He was now acutely aware that the rest of his squad was staring at him.

"What the hell are you doing up here?" John asked, releasing the mans hand.

"Leading from the front." Ross replied. "It's easier to give orders if I can see what the fuck we're up against. The squadies hate it but what are they gonna do?"

John was about to reply when he was cut off my Sergeant Miller.

"Sir," He was addressing Ross. "We should get moving, we..."

What happened next was like something right out of a horror film. Out of the corner of his eye, John caught a glimpse of a figure moving. It took a second for it to register that it was a Siven pirate with the majority of it's left arm gone. It's red blood dripping in a pool behind it. In its right 'hand' it held a pear shaped device.

John had just enough time to yell 'Grenade!' and turn to run before the mutilated Siven screamed something his translator couldn't decipher and dropped the grenade at its feet. John was in the air before he realized he was in the air. He landed on his back with a thud that winded him. He could taste blood and realized he had bitten his lip when he hit the ground.

His ears were ringing as clumps of dirt and rock showered all over his armor. He didn't so much feel the impacts as felt the vibrations throughout his suit. John took a moment to catch his breath as he scrambled to get up. An indent had been made in his visor where a piece of shrapnel or rock had impacted it. He looked around and noticed that the majority of his squad was on the ground.

Including Sergeant Miller and Ross. John sprinted over to where Sergeant Miller had been thrown. His legs ached and threatened to give out from under him from the exertion. Miller had yet to get up by the time John slid over to him. John tried calling his name and got no response. Miller had been closer to the explosion than all of them.

Quickly, John cracked the seal on the Sergeant helmet and removed it, putting it aside. He threw off one of his gloves and checked for Millers pulse. It was steady, as was his breathing. It seemed the sergeant had simply been knocked unconscious. John instinctively chinned his radio.

"This is Charlie Two-Five, Charlie Actual is down. Unconscious but alive. All squad check in!" John demanded.

"Two-Six here" It was Johan. "Neal and Billy are fine."

"Copy that." John said, rifle now shouldered and scanning for additional suicide bombers.

"Hansen here," Johns radio squawked. "Red is fine, worst we got is Martin with a possibly broken ankle. We're dispersing to check for additional contacts. Let me know when the sarge wakes up. Hansen out."

Protocol dictated that they were supposed to use their callsigns at all times during an operation. But unique circumstances had unique responses and John doubted that anyone would really care if they broke radio protocol. John continued to scan his surroundings, rifle still shouldered and finger on the trigger. It was then that he heard a sound.

It sounded like gurgling. He looked down at his squad lead and saw that he was still breathing normally. That;s when it clicked. Ross. Ross had been in the blast zone as well. He looked over to see his Australian friend laying on his back, clawing at his throat. John dashed over to him. He gave Ross a once over and noticed the piece of rock lodged right in his throat. Shit, shit! John's thoughts raced. Ross needed immediate help or he was bound to suffocate.