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Jacob acknowledged Tye's orders and remained downstairs. He looked around the area and grabbed a spare assault rifle, filling his ammo belt with some magazines. At that moment, he ran over to the end of the hallway and opened up the tunnel system, checking the other side for hostiles.
It was empty, but he had no idea if it would remain that way.
Jacob headed back, using the few minutes of quiet time to reflect on the battle and what had taken place only a short hour or two ago. He tried to shake the young marines out of his mind, tried to shake everything out and focus on saving the marines here...focus on saving what was left of this planet.
He had to focus, for the sake of others, and for his as well.
He arrived at the staircase leading down to him and noticed marines were heading in.
Marine: Captain, sir! We're being overrun...orders are to start moving wounded.
Jacob: Get to it marine! We've got warthogs all over the place. Anyone who can handle a weapon better grab some extra ammo while you're down here! Spread the word!
The marine nodded and within a few minutes, more and more marines began to arrive.
Meanwhile:
Harrison nodded at Reynolds.
Harrison: That may indeed work. And if we can give the Covenant a small distraction, I can send in a few teams to rearm the marines on the planet now...and to give them a little morale boost.
Harrison nodded.
Harrison: Send word to any and all ODST or marine squadrons on board the remaining ships. I want volunteers ready to head into a hot fight in twenty minutes. Once we have the people, we'll contact the ground teams, send the communication device to link up, and send the reinforcements.
Meanwhile back at Regional HQ Bravo:
Omega Legion wasn't letting up on the approaching Covenant forces. Within minutes a pile of alien bodies was forming and the line was holding.
That was until Troy noticed something out of the ordinary. A brute was approaching the area, the first he had seen all day. Troy quickly fired his battle rifle at the brute, trying to weaken his shields and eventually dropping him. However, his gun jammed and the brute was retreating.
But the brute fell to the ground, the head plastered against the wall.
Colby had managed to take the brute down with a shot from his DMR. That's when Troy yelled out to the marines in the area.
Troy: We've got brutes! Far right, back side!
Concurrently...on the Ulterior Motive:
Seven Spartans were waking up from the cryogenic pods they had been "sleeping" in for the last few days. They were groggy, some taking a few minutes to get out of the pod, regaining their senses.
One, however, immediately jumped out, stretched his arms and neck a little bit and then turned. A Spartan-II heading directly for Kolya and the engineers. The Spartan's armor was silver, a tint of green going down the legs and arms. The number 174 scratched onto the left breast of his armor and painted on the back of his helmet. The helmet with a pitch black visor, hid the face behind the countless burns, scratches, and marks on it. He immediately walked over to the weapons area and took a quick look around.
He stood straight, walking in a manner high above others. Given his seven foot stature, he had the right to do so. The Spartan grabbed a shotgun and a DMR, placing the shotgun on his back and holding the DMR in one hand. He walked over to Kolya, and his gestures as he approached Kolya were that of respect, he knew the chain of command and he was obedient.
The Spartan stood even straighter, saluted, and spoke a few words. His voice commanding, deep, and echoing throughout the room.
Spartan: Risk-Takers. Reporting for duty, sir.
By this time, the other six Spartans had stepped out and made their way to the weapons as well.
One of them, a woman, in completely maroon armor, another Spartan-II. Just a few inches shorter than the male Spartans, but with just as much command in her steps. She grabbed an assault rifle and a magnum and waited for the others.
The third, another woman, in silver armor with a gold tint, a Spartan-II again grabbed a rocket launcher and a magnum and took a position in front of the first female Spartan, lining up for a role call.
The fourth, a man and the final Spartan-II of the group, was bearing brown armor with a tint of white. He grabbed an assault rifle and a magnum and stood next to the third Spartan.
The fifth Spartan, another man, but at least half a foot shorter than the rest. A Spartan-III by the looks of him had grabbed a sniper and a magnum and had taken his position with the others. The dark green of his armor reflecting the little light he had within.
The sixth Spartan, a woman, a Spartan-III, and in very nice salmon color, had grabbed a shotgun and a magnum and joined the others.
The final Spartan, the tallest of the Spartan-III's, bearing the darkest color, black was standing in front of the weapons. It looked as though he was still deciding until the woman in front of the others yelled something at him. He grabbed a magnum and put it on his thigh and then grabbed the flamethrower, walking over to the others with the flamethrower in his left hand. He took his position and waited.
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