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The ground at the edge of the plateau was supposed to be solid. But it wasn’t the first time topographical reports were wrong, and it wouldn’t be the last.
Kelly clipped the shotgun at the small of her back while gravity kicked in, and grabbed the pistol from the thigh holster in her armor. She dug her fingers into the crumbling slab of earth to control the fall as she lifted the M6. Two shots and she took out the Grunts falling out of turret seats and flailing in midair ahead of her. Probably unnecessary, but she did not want them to go suicide and set off any plasma grenades they had on them.
“087,” John called over TeamCOM. “Status.”
“You left tracking range,” Fred added. He was worried, but it just came across as nagging when the last thing he said to her was don’t leave tracking range.
“I have visual,” came Linda’s calm voice. “Nice shots on the Grunts.”
“Appreciate it,” Kelly said. Like all of them, she was secretly giddy when their resident sharpshooter, sniper, gun-master, complimented her shooting. “Any intel on where I’m going?”
“Going?” John said. “What’s the status of the Banshees?”
Kelly had broken cover to draw a pair of Banshee fighters into Linda’s sightlines and away from the base. The plan was for her to hit the edge of the plateau, disable two turrets while she was there, and double back while Linda took out the Banshee pilots.
“The targets our rabbit was drawing off have been neutralized, as have the turrets,” Linda said. “087, you have maybe fifty meters to fall.”
“Fall?” Fred broke in.
“Should I lock my armor?” Kelly asked Linda, ignoring Fred’s unhelpful question.
“Lock your armor,” John said over the COM in a tone that was probably an order, but he didn’t specify.
“There’s an outcrop on the cliff face below your current position. It could break your fall enough that you won’t need to lock your armor,” Linda said. “If you’re fast enough to reach it.”
That was a challenge if Kelly ever heard one.
She managed to twist and spot the quickly approaching outcrop Linda was talking about. It was about six meters to the right of her trajectory.
“I see it,” she said.
Kelly maneuvered in the air so she could slam her foot into the cliff at an angle, her own physical strength magnified by the MJOLNIR armor to alter her path. It also caused a second landslide to start.
She collided with the outcrop at high enough speed her shields took the brunt as her armored body crashed through the rock. According to HUD readings, impact slowed her to a manageable speed where locking her armor was suggested but not necessary.
“I’ll start clearing your landing zone,” Linda said. “Debris should take out Grunts at the base, but there’s a cache at the bottom of the plateau as well.”
“Must be what the turrets were set up to defend,” Kelly said as she tried to get a look at the approaching ground.
“How hot is the zone?” Fred wanted to know.
“I can handle it,” Kelly said, crossing comms with Linda’s response of, “Nothing 087 can’t handle.”
“The marines can hold here.” John asked, “Should we reroute to your position?”
Midair? was Kelly’s first thought. “Negative. I’ll be on the way back before you can arrive.”
She holstered her pistol and drew her limbs in as she got ready to hit.
Kelly impacted with the ground barely a second behind the two turrets, which shattered, and the two Grunt corpses, which liquified. Her HUD flashed with reprimands and her jaw hurt from the rattling of her teeth. But the gel layer did what it was supposed to and cushioned her body enough she hadn’t become mush, and she didn’t have to wait for an armor lock to lift.
She launched herself out of the impact crater before more of the cliffside could come down on top of her, sprinting forward at full speed into a lightly forested area. Kelly pulled the shotgun from her back as she ran past panicking Grunts and straight into a Covenant cache, its occupants slowly reacting to the collapsing cliff.
Her M45D shotgun had six shots.
One, for a Grunt going for the mounted plasma cannon. Two, for a Jackal to take down its shield. Three, to take the Jackal out. Four, for a second Jackal crouching over a dead sniper that must have fallen from its perch when Linda got it. Leaving five and six for the Elite. Both were needed to take down its shield and knock them back.
Kelly didn’t stop running as she snatched her combat knife and stabbed the Elite, sticking it hilt deep in the throat and yanking free as she ran over them. Not fancy work like Fred did, but effective. He’d probably get on her about sheathing the knife without cleaning it later. But she kept going, snatching ammo from her belt and reloading while racing forward at a breakneck pace.
“Two Jackals and one Ghost ahead, then you’re clear,” Linda informed her on COM. “I have the Ghost driver in my crosshairs.”
“Copy. They’re on my motion sensor now. Leave the Ghost intact if you can.”
“Will do.”
Kelly focused on the smaller enemy indicators on her HUD, zagging to get a jump on one, crashing through the bushes to surprise a Jackal. She put her shotgun against its throat. It was decapitated before her feet were on the ground again. The second squawked and didn’t have a chance to raise their shield before Kelly unloaded two more shots.
She came to a stop as the Ghost spun toward her and a Grunt went flying off half a second later. The vehicle slowly came to a stop.
“087 is catching a ride back,” Linda informed the team over COMs.
Kelly secured her weapons as she got on the Ghost and cranked it into overdrive. There was a slope to the East that would get her back up on the plateau where the base and the rest of Blue Team was.
“Not exactly to plan,” Linda said on a private connection.
“Could have been worse,” Kelly said as she reflexively swerved through the forest. There was a plume of dirt at the base of the cliff she’d just left.
“Rabbit is enroute,” Linda informed the rest of Blue Team. “Back in tracking range in sixty or less.”