The Hero

LOCATION: VIZEGRAD
He was Sgt. Harry Jansen of the UNSC Marines, 82nd Mechanized Infantry Battalion. His entire family used to be farmers. Used to be; until Harvest fell to the Covenant years ago. Sometimes Jansen liked to think of the stricken world as farms and plains preserved perfectly under a sheet of glass. But he knew that the Covenant ships left nothing more than a charred black orb, floating silently in space for eternity. Jansen had joined the Marines not because of some deep-seeded patriotism, but because he was the oldest son: destined to inherit acres of farmland and be bound to his family tradition. When his father tried to stop him from joining the Marine Corps and to continue the family tradition, Jansen yelled: “It’s just dirt!” To him, it was just dirt, acres and acres of dirt with no value at all. He didn’t want to be a farmer; he wanted to experience the life and adventures of a UNSC Marine. But being a Marine wasn’t all about the adventure, it was about saving lives. And he was going to save this young boy’s life right here. The boy reminded Jansen of himself, same blue eyes and brown hair. And just like Jansen, the boy had nothing left. He carried the child outside. Jansen felt the boy’s body start to tremble as he looked around; what was once a suburban street was now flames and dust. Jansen turned the boy’s head into his chest. Jansen walked towards the four-wheeled LRV Warthog parked on the curb and set the boy in the passenger seat. “Lopez,” he barked. “Get on the gun.” Obeying orders, the Marine got behind the tri-barreled light anti-aircraft gun mounted in the Warthog’s trunk. “Hey, I’m coming too,” Abdul called out, hefting a rocket launcher. He picked the boy up and set him in his lap as he sat down in the passenger seat. “Where are we going, Sarge?” he asked. “Airport,” Jansen called out.
“Wait, but-“ Lopez was cut off by the engine growling to life. Spewing dirt from under the oversized all-terrain tires, the Warthog took off down the remnants of the street. “That’s right through Covie airspace!” Lopez called out over the wind. “Under,” Jansen corrected, as if that made a difference. The Warthog raced off into the night.
***

Lopez scanned the sky. He swore he heard it: the wailing sound of anti-grav engines that gave the Covenant Banshee attack aircraft its name. Suddenly, he saw it: a flash of purple in the night sky. And it was coming right for them. “Get down!” Lopez screamed. Abdul pushed the boy’s head down by the dashboard and covered the boy’s small body with his own. Lopez fired the LAAG, and the Banshee shuddered under the impact of the rounds. But the Banshee fired, spewing blue plasma at the Warthog. Abdul screamed as his armor superheated and burned his skin. He fumbled for his rocket launcher, and started crawling to the trunk, slipping into a state of shock. Like sharks attracted to blood, two more Banshees appeared and started making runs on the Warthog. Jansen swerved violently to avoid the blue globs of plasma. The missed shots impacted the dirt, burning it instantly into glass. The Light Reconnaissance Vehicle bounced through a pothole in the road. “Steady, you bastard,” Lopez growled. “Kiss my ass!” Jansen screamed back. “Not you,” Lopez yelled as he fired the heavy machine gun, “The bastard on our six!” Lopez put up a steady stream of fire. The first Banshee finally collapsed, losing a wing and spiraling into the ground. A second Banshee swooped in, aiming for Lopez. He swung the LAAG with all his might, but he couldn’t turn the gun fast enough. He closed his eyes. Suddenly, there was a whoosh, and the Banshee exploded into bits of blue fragments. Lopez looked down and saw Abdul there, lying in the trunk of the ‘Hog with a smoking rocket tube. His eyes were filled with tears from pain and mirth as he visualized the poor alien bastard that was hit in the face with a 102mm shaped explosive charge. Then he passed out from shock and pain. “Shit,” Lopez muttered as he reached for a medkit. The other Banshee banked away into the night, leaving the Warthog free to get to the airport. “That’s right you alien bastard!” Jansen screamed. “Run!”
And suddenly, to Jansen, the ground whizzing by under the Warthog’s tires wasn’t ‘just dirt’ anymore. It was his dirt, humanity’s dirt. And even if he had to throw the last rock himself, he would make the Covenant pay for every inch of it.