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[@Amaranth][@Joker892][@OrizaSaucer][@Starlance][@Delta44]
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[color=Gray]	A smile of relief struck the face of Lucas as a small flow of relief was released from his inner systems. There were still other soldiers alive, more importantly ones close by. However, the chaos through some of the radio transmissions seemed to make his head hurt only a little bit. It was like Harvest again, in the sense of a slaughter. However this time, it wasn't just the UNSC who got badly hit, the Covenant too must have been hit quite similarly. Though their fleet was superior in size, one vessel was taken out at the beginning of the atmospheric engagement. The Sergeant let his helmet's visor clear up, allowing him to properly look at the surroundings he was dumped within at the failed drop. The view was somewhat aesthetic, pleasing him with the sense it looked like dense forests found on most human colonies. The nerve within him was still there though, even as an ODST. He was in an unfamiliar environment, one that was never part of his preference. Anyone, or anything, could be lurking amongst the foliage.

	As he analysed the transmissions that came through, he clambered back into his pod to grab a similar device. A small tac-pad, hard-cased to survive as much pressure as the user did, was his goal, and surely enough he found it with ease. Lucas' fingers trembled slightly with the shock of the unbalanced impact his pod must have suffered from. The tac-pad itself wasn't great in size, but it had as much technical analysing systems as a man nicknamed Spark could ever dream of. These T.A.S's were very useful to him, helping him gain an insight into the newer weaponry of the Covenant, as well as the hopeful discovery of unseen Forerunner technology as well. Anyway, he clipped it onto his wrist slot in the armour and began to wait for it to link up to his own system. Though it felt like forever, only ten seconds passed before it was fully calibrated and ready to continue its work. A slightly slow-paced (in a few minutes) amount of time passed whilst he began to link the radio transmissions up towards his Heads-Up Display map. Two, however, were relatively close. That was the cherry on top of the pudding. Another smirk ripped its way onto his face as he smiled with glee. He had to recompose his tone and voice to not sound too shocked by the tragedy that was this battle...[/color]

[color=Orange][b]"[i]O-Outpost Charlie[/i], once I rendezvous with the nearest of the friendlies, I'll link up an assistance, if not distraction, force towards your location ASAP. Try to hold out, but if shit gets too hard, I will take direct orders of any lower-ranking Marines and order them to retreat to [i]Outpost Sierra[/i], if it is still intact."[/b][/color] [color=Gray]Once the response from whoever was on the radio telecoms of Outpost Charlie now was returned back to him, he switched his frequency to a closer and more high-end reading to contact the individuals who had contacted him in the first place.

	There were a seemingly rag-tag amount of survivors still left around the area. Several marines, army engineers and corpsmen somehow managed to find themselves still alive, but who was he to question. Everyone had a way to survive the chaos that was now an unguided war. This battle, the Battle for Oman, was to now be fought on unconventional grounds, at least until a reformed military can find its way on the planet. Although, he began to talk to Harper first...[/color]

[color=Orange][b][i]Mako 6-2-8[/i], this is [i]Chariot 9-4-3[/i]. Pinging my location is the least of my worries. Making sure those nearby can find and reunite with me is my priority. As for you, I want you to round up the nearest man, woman or group as you can and head to Outpost Sierra. We need to make sure that there are still signs of life there, so any firsthand information would be bloody useful. Make sure you tell whoever their Commanding Officer is that hopefully more Marines and Army personnel will be headed to their location. I'll see that to your doing. Acknowledge?"[/b][/color]

[color=Gray]	Having finished with talking to Harper, one of the two ODSTs that had radioed in to him, at least by what the tac-pad stated, he continued his conversations to the other groups around him, though not too close. Seeing as the tac-pad stated those who relayed the messages to him weren't of a higher status, it seemed fair that he would at least give them an objective in what seemed to be an empty army fighting without knowing their purpose.[/color]

[color=Orange][b]"[i]Fireteam 2, Bravo 9[/i], I want you to make your way towards my location fast. Double time, little exceptions. Out of the three closest to me, you are the furthest, but don't bring a horde of Covenant forces with you. [i]Token 6-4-8[/i], I want you to get here too. [i]Kensington[/i], it is vital that you also regroup with us, seeing as you are the closest. Approximately over 1 minute from my location, to be exact. I don't know your weaponry and armament, but I'd prefer it if you had some way to defend yourself. The Hospital Corps weren't always my most fluently known branch of the UNSC. As for any other listeners, I want you all to head to Outpost Charlie if you are close enough. Those who aren't are to regroup at Outpost Sierra. Do I ma-"[/b][/color]

[color=gray]	A rounded fist slammed into the side of his head, smacking him and his helmet to aside. Being knocked out of his transmission, he tried to recover as quickly as he could. The surprising blow caught him off guard, yet before his head to see what had hit him the grasp of fingers wrapped around his collared armour, lifting him from his fallen position. The slow lifting gave him time to bare witness to the Sanghelli holding him in his strong grasp. It was definitely surprising, as Lucas began to breathe faster and faster, struggling with only a single arm left free. The 'Elite' seemed to be alone, but that allowed it to be as dangerous as ever. From it's wrist, the small energy-dagger that was constantly hinged onto itself sparked into action, signalising that this was just the leftover cleanup crew of the sector. Quick and clean...That's how the least honourable of Sanghelli liked it.

	Upon seeing the blade, and the vicious roar the mandibles of the creature gave, Lucas struggled more, using his only free arm to reach for the only weapon still within his reach...The knife. It only took him a short amount of time to draw his own blade and plunge it into the under-exposure to the mandibles, where the Sanghelli's reaction sprung as well. Flinching in pain, a large streak from the energy-dagger carved a deep pattern onto his chest-plate. Whilst it didn't puncture the armour nor his skin, the reaction of the blade and Elite flinching threw Lucas, again, to the side form the sheer pressure that was applied. This move left him on the ground once more, but nearer to his own armament.

	Using a finger-less gloved hand, worn out and charred by the sparks of the Sanghelli's bladed weaponry, Sergeant Hickery reached out, seeing his designated Battle Rifle within his grasp. As soon as his fingers wrapped around the weapon's holding positions, he twisted his current prone stance and aimed at the Elite, pulling the trigger several times and sending an echo throughout the forest, audible to those close by.[/color]