章 29: Saving the Day
Location: Southbridge City, Virek
Date and Time: May 5, 2553 – 1100 Hours
The city of Southbridge is a far cry from the barren ridges and rural expanses we've been operating in for the past few weeks. Here, the streets are narrow, lined with old stone buildings that have seen better days. Civilians move cautiously through the alleys, their faces marked with fear and uncertainty. The war may have passed through here before, but it left scars that won't heal anytime soon.
We're not here to destroy. We're here to protect. The URF has been using civilian locations like this to stage ambushes, hide weapons caches, and disrupt local support for the UNSC. But today's mission is different. We've been tasked with rooting them out without causing unnecessary harm to the city or its people.
I can feel the tension in the air as Bravo Fireteam moves cautiously through the streets. The civilians keep their distance, watching us warily from windows and doorways. Some of them nod in recognition, others simply turn away. We've become a familiar sight, but that doesn't make us welcome.
"We need to keep this clean," I murmur into the comms. "No collateral damage. Watch your targets."
The squad acknowledges, their movements careful as we approach our objective—a small warehouse at the edge of the market district. Intel suggests the URF has been using it as a staging area, but we don't know how many hostiles are inside, or if any civilians are being used as shields.
As we move through the narrow alleys, I notice how the locals tense up, avoiding eye contact with us. It's a reminder that this isn't just a war between us and the URF. These people are caught in the middle, and it's our job to protect them as much as it is to neutralize the enemy.
We reach the warehouse without incident, the large, rusted door looming in front of us. I signal for the squad to hold position while Santiago checks the entry point for traps. The URF is known for rigging civilian structures with explosives, and I'm not taking any chances.
"No IEDs," Santiago mutters after a thorough sweep. "Looks clear."
"Let's move," I say, giving the signal for Dash and O'Neill to take point.
We breach the door with quiet precision, sweeping inside with rifles raised. The interior of the warehouse is dimly lit, rows of crates stacked high along the walls. It looks like an ordinary storage facility, but I know better. This is exactly the kind of place the URF would use to hide.
As we move deeper into the building, I hear faint voices coming from the far side. I hold up a fist, signaling the squad to stop, and listen closely. The voices are muffled, but they're definitely human.
"Hold position," I whisper. "Could be civilians."
We move quietly through the rows of crates, keeping low as we approach the source of the voices. When we reach the end of the row, I peer around the corner, my heart pounding in my chest.
There they are—three URF operatives, gathered around a table, their rifles slung casually over their shoulders. But that's not all. Seated nearby, tied to a chair, are two civilians—a middle-aged man and a teenage girl. Their faces are pale, eyes wide with fear.
"Hostiles confirmed," I mutter into the comms. "Civilians present. Do not engage unless fired upon."
The squad stays in position, weapons ready but pointed low. We can't afford to make the first move. Not with civilians in the line of fire.
I weigh my options carefully. We need to get those civilians out of here, but if we go in guns blazing, there's a good chance they'll be caught in the crossfire. The URF operatives haven't noticed us yet, but that could change in a heartbeat.
"Dash, O'Neill, flank left," I say quietly. "Santiago, with me. We'll take them down quietly."
We move into position, inching closer to the URF operatives as they continue their conversation, unaware of our presence. My heart races as I close the distance, every step deliberate, every breath controlled. One wrong move, and the whole situation could spiral out of control.
When we're close enough, I give the signal.
Dash and O'Neill move in from the left, while Santiago and I approach from the right. In one fluid motion, we take the operatives down—silent, precise, and without a single shot fired. Within seconds, it's over. The URF soldiers lie unconscious on the floor, their weapons confiscated.
I exhale, motioning for Santiago to secure the civilians while I check the operatives for intel. We don't have much time before someone notices they've gone dark.
The civilians are shaken but unharmed. The man stares at me with wide, fearful eyes as Santiago unties him. The girl clings to her father, her face pale with terror. I kneel down in front of them, trying to project a calm I'm not sure I feel.
"You're safe now," I say quietly. "We're UNSC. We're here to help."
The man nods slowly, his eyes darting nervously around the room. "Thank you," he mutters, his voice barely audible. "They… they said they'd kill us if we tried to leave."
I place a hand on his shoulder, giving him a reassuring nod. "You're going to be okay. We'll get you out of here."
As we move to exfil, I can't help but think about how close this could have come to disaster. One wrong move, one bullet in the wrong direction, and those civilians would have been caught in the crossfire.
This is the part of the war they don't tell you about—the part where you have to make split-second decisions that could mean the difference between life and death for people who didn't ask to be part of this fight. The URF uses civilians as pawns, but we can't afford to treat them the same way.
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