Chapter 10

        A week into Ilos’s mandatory bed rest, and Jackson was already starting to feel claustrophobic. The walls of their home no longer felt as comforting, as he had gotten too used to the endless freedom of space. Despite his own injuries, the Spartan was eager to get back onto the field. Yet their future remained uncertain.

        It was on the eighth day that Jackson was finally allowed to see Kia. She looked even worse than she did on the Covenant Destroyer. Her missing arm was covered in blood spotted bandages, and her usually tanned skin was shockingly pale. She lay in her bed hooked up to an array of machines looking both exhausted and annoyed.

        “Hey squad lead,” Kia greeted as the other Spartan entered the room.

        Jackson’s wound had almost completed healed, leaving a harsh reminder of the Covenant’s fury across his face. It still hurt, and probably always would. The Spartan counted his blessings that he hadn’t lost anything, unlike the warrior laying before him.

        His expression fell, and he couldn’t help but feel responsible, and seeing Kia as she was in that moment made the weight come crashing down.

        “Boy, if I wasn’t so damn drugged up right now, I’d get up and slap that look right off of you,” Kia said, startling the squad leader with her ferocity. “I ain’t dead, and I’ve already been approved for a replacement. So stop looking like I ran over your cat, or so help me I’ll put you in a headlock and give you the worst noogie of your life.”

        The Squad leader blinked in surprise, then nodded his respect. “I’ll be back later to serve your dinner. Get some rest,” he said.

        “Listen to your own damn advice, Jackson. You took a beating just like the rest of us!” Kia shouted after him.

        Even though he was exhausted, sore, and feeling ill, the squad leader made sure to visit each of his Spartan’s rooms in turn. He made sure they were comfortable and had what they needed, before he made his way back to his own room. It was then that he heard the clicking of heels and looked down the hall to see Waylen, the Spartan’s director, walking hurriedly down the hall.

        Her lab coat billowed out behind her, and the woman clutched a holo-pad in one hand. She was beaming as she approached the squad leader. “I was right, you are up!” she exclaimed. The woman was practically bouncing on her heels with excitement as she looked up at the squad leader. “I’m here for Kia’s report. Baseless Accusations said she had it ready,” Waylen said.

        Jackson’s expression soured, and his muscles tensed up. As usual, the director only cared about her own interests. She didn’t even notice the quite obvious close call the squad leader had to being decapitated.

        Without a word, Jackson led the director to Kia’s room. The female Spartan had fallen asleep, but the director ran inside before Jackson could stop her.

        When Kia jerked awake, the director hesitated when she saw the Spartan’s missing arm. “Oh…what happened here?” Waylen asked. Jackson was surprised to hear concern in her tone.

        “Hunter caught me,” Kia responded shortly.

        “That’s a shame,” the director said, then began looking around her bedside. “Have you got the report you promised?”

        The female Spartan reached under her pillow and tossed it hard at the director. Had she been better, Jackson was sure the throw would have been hard enough to break the datapad. Instead it bounced off of the director’s chest and fell back onto the bed.

        After briefly scanning over Kia’s report, the director studied the health reports at the foot of the Spartan’s bed. Her mood shot back up as she read it. “Good, you’ve already been approved for a new arm! I’ll be working on your next mission, and we’ll have you out as soon as possible.”

        Jackson then realized her only reason for concern was for her own selfish desires. Again. Waylen wasn’t worried that Kia had lost her arm, rather she was worried that the Spartan wouldn’t be able to serve her needs anymore.

        Jackson snapped. He whirled on the director and knocked her to the floor hard enough to knock the air from her lungs. He then planted his feet in the doorway to his teammates room. “I am so god damn tired of your selfish attitude,” the squad leader snarled. His fingers balled into fists, and he struggled to keep them at his sides. “Leave her alone.”

        Jackson stepped aside as ODST’s clad in full battle armor, each aiming weapons loaded with live rounds, appeared in the hallway. He watched Waylen flee with a small sense of satisfaction, and no small sense of anger. The squad leader must have looked as angry as he felt, because the ODST’s quickly left with the director in tow as well as the entire medical staff.

        “You good now?” Kia asked once it had all settled down.

        The squad leader didn’t answer, but rather left the medical wing and returned to their personal quarters at the bottom of the base. There, Baseless Accusations’ avatar appeared walking side-by-side with the Spartan.

        “The medical staff are requesting you stay separate from the others during the recovery period,” the AI told him. “They do not want another ‘incident’ to occur.”

        Jackson went to their debriefing room and leaned against the server towers and gazed at the empty holographic projector. He was trying to cool his temper and put aside his distaste for the project’s Director.

        Baseless Accusations shifted its avatar to the holographic projector and sat in silence for a moment. “Waylen has put in a request for food from the local ramen shop to be delivered to the Spartan’s medical wing,” the AI said. “I haven’t heard anything about discharges, either.”

     The Spartan shook his head as he said, “She just doesn’t want to lose the only things keeping her from being disappeared.”

        “I don’t think she is quite as unfeeling as you seem to think, Spartan,” the AI gently said.

        “Tell that to me the next time she goes out of her way to help us,” the squad leader said, then pushed away from the projector. “Until then, I don’t want to hear it.”

        It was a few days of solitary confinement down in the Spartan’s barracks that Jackson was ordered to. The squad leader had regained full use of his eye, and the wound was already beginning to form a scar.

        It was quite the surprise when the elevator pinged an arrival. The squad leader was perplexed, as any of his teammates would have had unrestricted access to enter, and not many people even had permissions to get to their level. Jackson grabbed his Magnum sidearm and cautiously approached the door.

        The doors swung open, and the Spartan found himself aiming his weapon at a woman dressed in ONI slacks with sleek black hair, and a piercing gaze. She blinked in surprise to the weapon in her face, then cleared her throat.

        “Pardon my intrusion, but I wanted to speak with you about a few things,” the woman said.

        “Acc, identify,” Jackson instructed. He held his aim as the AI ran the stranger’s identity.

        “Lieutenant Evelyn Dane, from ONI high command,” Baseless Accusations answered.

        The Spartan lowered his weapon, but kept the safety off. He used his body as a barricade to keep the woman from entering their barracks.

        “High command has re-assigned me to Project Freebird to help progress your training and assist with the coordination of field projects,” Evelyn said. “As your new mission coordinator, I have a few questions for you.”

        Red flags were going off in Jackson’s mind, but he had no reason to question the Lieutenant yet. “You may begin,” the squad leader announced.

        Producing a datapad, the Lieutenant began to run through a series of questions about quality of life, command effectiveness, and a general rundown of how their missions away from base went.

        Then the Lieutenant switched subjects to their first mission; specifically about Grizer. “How did you find your first lead?” she asked.

        Jackson hesitated to answer, and was growing increasingly suspicious. “All you need to know has been detailed in my report,” he said.

        “That is correct, but I need notes to add to your squadmates stories as well,” Evelyn said.

        Jackson clenched his jaw, and tightened the grip on the pistol in his hand. “I think you have overstayed your welcome, Lieutenant,” he said.

        Evelyn picked up on the implications immediately and quickly backed into the elevator. “Thank you for your time, Spartan.”

        When the woman was gone, Baseless Accusation’s avatar stood beside Jackson. “There is no reason to be suspicious. I have verified her mission parameters, and they come from Admiral Parangosky herself.”

        Jackson walked to his bedside and put his weapon back down. “Something’s off,” he said. “Tell the medical staff I’m coming.”

        Baseless Accusations appeared in front of the Spartan, blocking his path. “You are not allowed back yet,” he protested.

        Jackson ignored the AI and walked through the projection and took the elevator one level up to the medical wing.

        What met him as the doors opened was a line of ODST’s with their weapons leveled. “I’m sorry, sir, we can’t let you in,” one of them said.

        “You aren’t going to keep me from seeing my team,” Jackson growled.

        Another racked a slug into his shotgun, then said, “We have our orders.”

        Time slowed to a crawl as Jackson lunged forwards and grabbed the barrel of the Shotgun and wrenched it from the ODST’s hands. He heard bones break as the Spartan turned the weapon on the ODST’s. Instead of firing, the squad leader smashed the butt into the side of a second soldier’s head. He grabbed his unconscious body and used it as a shield as the others turned on him.

        The few seconds it took for the others to react was enough time for Waylen to scramble down the hall. “Stop!” she shouted. “Stop!”

        Jackson stood his ground, shotgun in one hand and ODST in the other. He stared the other soldiers down as the director came to stand between them.

        “Stand down, all of you!” she pleaded.

        The ODST’s reluctantly lowered their weapons, and Jackson let both his weapon and his shield drop to the floor. He stood aside as the others took their injured friend and hauled him off to one of the empty rooms.

        “Baseless Accusations said you were coming,” Waylen said, looking flustered. “I didn’t have time to tell the Troopers.”

        Jackson, still angry with the director, said nothing. Instead he marched off to Parkson’s room and knocked on the door before entering.

        The red haired Spartan was sitting on the edge of his bed, datapad in hand. His legs were in protective braces, which didn’t allow for much flexibility. Overall, he was healing just as well as the others.

        Jackson leaned against the wall as Parkson set down his datapad and met the squad leader with a welcoming smile. “Still keeping tabs on everything?” Jackson asked.

        The Spartan nodded, then handed over the datapad. On screen was security footage taken from the barracks of Jackson’s meeting with Lieutenant Evelyn. The timeline was frozen right as the woman stepped out of the elevator. On a secondary window was the Lieutenant’s service record, and a third was the confidential information that ONI had redacted.

        Jackson poured over what ONI had hidden, but handed the datapad back when he didn’t find anything of interest. “I give, what am I looking for?” he asked.

        Parkson maximized the confidential window and tapped his finger on the Lieutenant’s homeworld. Baseless Accusations, having been watching, chimed in with; “Mesa Absolutus. An Outer Colony settlement that was lost to the Covenant two years ago,” he said.

        It hit the squad leader what the other Spartan was implying, that the Lieutenant might have insurrectionist ties. Though the possibility that an insurrectionist could infiltrate so far into ONI command was remarkably slim, it was still a possibility.

        “Great work, Spartan,” Jackson said. “Keep an eye on her, let me know if anything changes.”

        Having confirmed his suspicions with his teammate, Jackson walked back to the elevator, and paused when he heard footsteps approaching him.

        “Jackson, wait,” Waylen said.

        The squad leader turned around and was having a hard time keeping the distaste out of his expression. Even still, he waited for the director to say what she wanted.

        “I’m sorry that you feel I’m selfish, but what reason do you have to believe this?” Waylen started. “I gave up years of my life to create the very project that is entirely dedicated to making you what you are now. The hours of sleep I’ve lost staying up to make sure everything was in place, and your training came along how it should.”

        In his mind, Jackson cut through the bullshit and realized she wasn’t doing even a second of self-reflection. The squad leader’s anger spiked again, and he was struggling to control the thoughts of violence that bubbled up into his mind.

It was at that moment that Chase appeared out of his room and shouted down the hallway, “Squad lead, the hell you doing up here?”

        The massive Spartan eased himself between Waylen and Jackson, then guided the squad leader back into the elevator. “It ain’t worth it,” Chase whispered as the doors closed, and Jackson was still glaring at the director.

        When the two arrived back in the Spartan’s barracks, the squad leader went to his bed and sat down, elbows on knees and gaze fixed absently onto the floor. Chase sat next to him in silence until Jackson spoke up.

        “I don’t like the way this project is going. Too many new faces,” he said.

        “Talking about the new Lieutenant?”

        “Yeah. It was hard enough keeping the Covenant off our backs with the team we had. ONI is putting us all in danger by adding new people.”

        “We’ve got our eyes on her. Don’t worry about us,” Chase said confidently. “Kia says she’ll be battle ready in another week once her arm gets in, and Parkson is sure he’s got another day or two until he’s up and dancin’ again.”

        The squad leader took a moment to look around the room, and let out a quiet sigh. “This place used to feel a lot bigger,” he said.

        “You know it,” Chase responded, then slapped the squad leader on the back. “I’ll be cleared whether the doc’s like it or not tomorrow. We can run some training then. ‘Till then, keep your head up. We’ll be back to running and gunning soon.”

        With that, the massive Spartan left Jackson alone in the barracks with the quiet hum of the lights, and the expanding worry of his own thoughts.

Chapter 9

It was the bodies of the welcoming party that were strewn all over the inside of the hangar. Their blood painted the purple deck, and gave way to an eery silence that permeated what should have been a noisy arrival. It was obvious the attack was unexpected, as half of the corpses wounds were to their backs. The damage was all plasma, signaling that it was a betrayal from one of their own.

Kia and Parkson stayed behind with Janet, and the three of them wished the others good luck as they departed the empty hangar and made their way to the center of the Destroyer to confront the Prophet of Fragility.

The signs of carnage lasted all of the way to the bridge, where the doors were sealed tight. It was a time consuming task to get them open, where the two other Spartans kept the third safe during the stressful and unusually quiet task of hacking the door.

        When the door finally hissed open, their target sat in a hovering chair, plasma pistol in hand, flanked by two pairs of massive Hunters, and eight Elites in bright red armor. These aliens matched the scarce reports of the esteemed Honor Guard that followed their leaders everywhere, and were highly skilled.

        It was chaos as soon as the Spartan’s entered. The Elites were the first ones to fire, followed closely by a volley of plasma cannons from the Hunters. The Spartans wheeled around the bridge and found cover behind a wall and a barricade. It was then a tense trading of fire until two of the Honor Guard charged their position with their energy staves.

        Rounds grazed their shields until they dropped, yet the courageous Elites never stopped until the three Spartans were forced to face them in close combat. Jackson and Perish managed to free an Energy Stave from the hands on one Elite, and killed the other with it. The first Elite took the fallen alien’s weapon and cut Jackson’s assault rifle in half as he turned it on the surviving Honor Guard.

        Charlie pounced on the alien’s back and drove his combat knife up into its jaws as it became distracted with the other two Spartans. With two of the Elites down, they still faced innumerable odds and dwindling ammunition.

        Jackson turned to his companions, and they shared a knowing gaze. Spartans were good, but this time the Covenant was better. But that didn’t mean they would go quietly.

        With Charlie and Jackson wielding Energy Staves, Perish covered the two’s charge with his rifle, forcing a pair of Hunters to take cover behind their shields long enough for the Spartans to reach them.

        Charlie rammed his stave up into the back of one of the Hunters, and Jackson slashed at the second’s neck. He then parried an Energy sword from an Elite, and used the other side to slice the leg off of another guard.

        Charlie was pushed away from Jackson on the opposite side of the bridge, paired off with one of the two Hunters, and three honor guard. Jackson gripped his captured weapon tightly against the Hunter’s surviving mate and three of his own Honor Guard.

        Both Spartans were a blur of movement as they fought a losing battle. Jackson felt a sting as he missed a parry and the blades of an energy sword slashed across his calf. Charlie roared in rage as he caught a Plasma Rifle pulse across his chest, melting part of his chestplate.

        Perish stepped into the fray, taking on both of the Hunters by himself. He came in close, preventing both from using their plasma cannons. They were both throwing their heavy shields around, denting the deck and missing the Spartan by inches every time. He managed to kill one by viciously ripping out chunks of worm, which sent the other into a mindless rage.

        The flash of the plasma cannon was blinding, and Jackson felt his heart stop as he watched Perish get launched across the room and land in an un-moving pile.

        The momentary distraction was just what the Elites needed. The Spartan never saw the fist that connected with his helmet. Stars exploded in his vision and the human fell to the floor. A boot crushed into his chest, exploding the air from his lungs. Hovering above his faceplate were the tips of an Energy Sword, poised for the final blow.

        The strike never came, as there was an explosion at the front of the bridge, and the Elite’s head exploded as a flurry of pink needles lodged themselves into the alien’s body and promptly exploded.

        The fight turned towards the bridge’s doors, distracting the aliens that had bore down on the humans. This allowed Jackson to get back to his feet where he saw the Captain from before now fighting the other Elites, with a force of blue armored aliens alongside him.

        They tore through the remaining Honor Guard, then dispatched the raging Hunter who was seconds away from crushing Perish’s body.

        The squad leader brought his weapon to his shoulder as the Captain approached, then passed him without harm. The Elite stood facing the Prophet and began to speak in a language they couldn’t understand.

        The Captain then touched something on his helmet, and the English translator came to life as the Elite swept his hand towards the Spartan.

        “They are no more an enemy than you,” the flat translation spoke. “The very core of what this empire is built upon has been defiled.” The Elite began projecting his voice, speaking to all of those on the bridge.

        It pointed its Energy Sword at the Prophet. “This one cares not for the sacred relics of the Forerunners,” the Captain said. “He has defiled the luminary, giving it false readings in pursuit of his own greed.”

        Jackson had no idea what the Elite was talking about, but it apparently was very bad, because the others on the Bridge suddenly became enraged. Their roars of dissent were deafening.

        “If this one lesser Prophet does this without a second thought, then what do our leaders do high within their chambers, unwatched by others. Free to defile Forerunner relics as they wish.”

        “The Prophets have lied to us, and will continue to do so. They mock our honor, and manipulate the Sangheili into willing footstools.”

        The Captain strode towards the Prophet who seemed to become very afraid. The creature’s skin was lit by the blue glow of the Energy Sword as the Elite raised the weapon. He gripped the Prophet of Fragility’s neck in its four fingers, making the creature choke and gasp for air.

        “No more will we be pawns to the Covenant,” the Captain finished. In one swipe, the Prophet’s head was disconnected from his shoulders, and its hovering chair clattered to the ground, spilling its deceased owner onto the deck.

        Jackson wasn’t entirely sure what he just witnessed, but was sure it had just been important. His fate was still unsure, however. He stood on the bridge in confusion, gaze flicking from one Elite to the other.

        The Elite Captain turned on Jackson, and the Spartan put his finger to the trigger, ready to fight. But the alien turned off his Energy Sword and returned it to his belt. When the other Elites lowered their weapons, so did Jackson.

        “No one here will harm you, human,” the Elite said. “My word is my honor. We will return you to human space, and not pursue you further.”

        The Spartan, still confused, said nothing. He looked over his shoulder to watch as one of the blue armored Elites helped Perish to his feet amidst the gory pile of worms from the dead Hunters.

        “Your people are wounded. Fighting wounded prey would not be honorable,” the Elite said, then gestured towards the bridge’s door. “The travel will be quick. Return to the Phantom you were led in on.”

        The hit from the Hunter had broken too much in Perish, and the Spartan lay in the Captain’s arms as he carried the human back to the Phantom. The alien was more gentle then Jackson thought possible as he lay the Spartan into the dropship’s carriage.

        Inside the Phantom, Kia had fallen unconscious and lay against the wall. Parkson was sitting next to her, and Janet stood staring the Elite down as he deposited Perish onto the ship. It then backed away and disappeared through the far doors.

        “Care to explain?” Janet asked as soon as it disappeared.

        “I don’t think I can,” Jackson said.

                The UNSC Tailspin picked up a Covenant beacon at 1300 hours, and arrived cautiously at the location at 1400 hours, only to find a single Phantom dropship with six critically injured Spartans on board. The shocked Captain rushed them to their medical wing where one of the Spartans had fallen into a coma, and had to have their arm amputated on the spot.

        The Office of Naval Intelligence was contacted at 1500 hours, and the Spartans were gone by 1530 hours, picked up by an ONI Prowler that appeared from thin air.

        At 1600 hours, the UNSC Tailspin received another ONI visitor who picked up reports from all those who came into contact with the Spartans.

        Four days later, the UNSC Tailspin was found lost with all hands. UNSC investigators could only determine the attack was of Covenant origin, and closed the investigation.

Chapter 8

        Charlie’s theory of a trap was becoming clearer as the Cruiser kept a stable orbit around the planet after recalling its troops. It seemed to be waiting patiently for the Spartans to strike.

        With no other choice, and time running short, Jackson met with the others to plan their rescue. The “plan” was as brazen as it got. With Melecia using the Prowler to draw the Cruiser’s attention, the rest of the Spartans would use thruster packs to launch themselves at the Covenant ship and go straight through the docking hangar. Once inside, they would track Spartan-333’s IFF tag and bring him home. The escape plan all hinged on their ability to capture one of their single fighters and rendevouz with the Prowler unharmed.

        Chase followed the others to the airlock then placed a hand on Jackson’s shoulder before he entered. “Get your ass back in one piece, or I swear I’ll kill you,” the Spartan said.

        Jackson nodded to his teammate, knowing full well his previous anger came from a place of concern. “We’ll be back before you know it,” he said.

        The Prowler stayed stealthed as the Spartans gathered in the main airlock, then shot away as the team pushed away from its safety and into the void of space.

        The only sound Jackson heard as the sheer hull of the Prowler drifted away was the sound of his own breathing, and the rush of the thrusters. He watched as their ride was spotted, and the alien ship’s lines lit up with plasma fire.

        Melecia was careful to stay out of its immediate range and lay down enough fire to draw its attention away from the five suits of armor heading right for it.

        One of the lessons that was taught to the Spartans was that the Covenant ship’s shields had to come down to fire. This was their way passed their defences and into the hangar. Their entry was seamless as the team expertly timed their insertion and drifted not even an inch away from the smooth purple hull and across to the open hangar doors.

        Jackson made sure to drop in from the ceiling of the hangar and wait until properly inside the artificial gravity to open fire. All five Spartans entered in unison and gunned down the meager crew that was inside.

        As soon as their boots hit the ground, Parkson’s IFF tag lit up deeper within the ship. “Signal’s weak, but I’ve got him,” Kia said.

        Inside the hangar sat a Phantom dropship, deactivated and ripe for the taking. The squad leader then ordered his team to stay and hold the hangar, then took Kia to find their teammate.

        It didn’t take long for an alarm to sound throughout the ship, and an alien language begin to bark orders over the speakers. It seemed that all attention was focused on the hangar for the time being.  Though Jackson’s Spartans wouldn’t lost long under that kind of pressure, so the squad leader double timed it down the curving corridors and sloping ramps.

        It was a short run to a double set of locked doors where Parkson’s IFF sat behind. Kia wasted no time in prying open a panel and plugging her suit into the ship’s network. It was a tense few seconds before the door popped open, and a dimly lit room was revealed.

        The semi-circular room held a single level of smaller chambers, each that was blocked off by a glowing energy barrier. The rooms were as bare as they could get, save for a suit of green Mjolnir that sat in one of its corners.

        The Spartan inside snapped his head up and tried to jump to his feet, but fell instead. “It’s a trap! He’s still-“ Parkson began to say, but was cut off as the squad leader jumped forwards to avoid the Energy Sword that slashed through the air.

        An Elite in red armor appeared out of thin air. In one hand it held a glowing Plasma Pistol, in the other a blazing Energy Sword.

        Jackson was first to open fire, and his bullets reflected off of a shimmering energy shield. Yet he didn’t let up, but rather tracked it as the Elite dodged from side to side and closed the gap between the two.

        Green plasma pelted the squad leader’s armor and forced the Spartan to move to avoid it eating through his chestplate. He stopped firing, and the Elite swung at the Spartan, missing his neck by mere inches.

        Kia unloaded her Magnum’s magazine into its side, and the Elite’s shields began to flicker. Jackson used the momentary distraction to his advantage by giving himself distance and using the last rounds in his Assault Rifle to fully drop its shields.

        With an enraged roar, the Elite charged Jackson who ducked away from the alien’s powerful downward swing, but didn’t fully miss the second sideways slash that traced a glowing line across his chestplate.

        At this point, the Elite had pushed Kia and Jackson into intersecting lines of fire, keeping the female Spartan from unloading her weapon in fear of hitting her teammate. This gave the Elite the advantage he needed to corner the squad leader against one of the cell doors.

        He hadn’t realized he was so close until the Zealot suddenly lunged forwards and the Spartan’s back hit the energy barrier. He was about to slide away when the shield abruptly disappeared, and the Elite drop-kicked the Spartan into the empty chamber. He realized his mistake too late as the energy shield popped back into place, effectively trapping him inside.

        Kia was left to fight the Elite alone as Jackson’s gunfire only filled the room with ricocheting bullets. His teammate kept her distance from both the shield doors and the Elite. For a moment, the two stared each other down, until the tension was broken by a subtle acceleration felt in the deck.

        The Elite seemed to let out a laugh, then backed away and disappeared as its active camouflage activated. The prison’s doors opened, then closed again as it left. Kia made sure to lock the exit behind him, then ran to Jackson’s door and once again accessed the ship’s network and deactivated the shielding for all of the cell doors.

        As Kia was attending to Parkson, the squad leader answered a call from the team in the hangar. “The ship just entered slipspace, and the Covenant are pulling back,” Perish reported.

        Jackson cursed under his breath. The trap had been worse than expected, and there was no doubt that the Covenant Captain was taking them to reinforcements. The entire mission had just changed for the worse.

        “Change of plans, we’re taking the ship. We’ll rendevouz in the hangar,” the squad leader said.

        Parkson stepped out with the help of Kia, and he looked bad. His suit was stained with his own blood, and his legs had taken a horrible beating. The Spartan’s visor was cracked, and his red hair matted to his head with blood.

        The squad leader’s stomach took a dive, and he felt a sudden wave of guilt and rage that threatened to overwhelm him. There were a lot of things he regretted in that moment, but leaving his team when the Cruiser showed up was the biggest.

        “Can you walk?” Jackson asked the injured Spartan.

        “Sort of,” he responded.

        “Bio-foam can only do so much, Jackson. He’ll die without surgery,” Kia said urgently.

        “I’ll think of something,” the squad leader reassured.

        After unlocking the door and making sure the Elite was gone, the three Spartans moved as fast as they could back to the hangar. The fighting had stopped, yet the signs still remained. The doors leading inside were slick with alien blood, and all kinds of corpses lay scattered around the room.

        The other Spartans looked no worse for wear, but were running low on ammo. Charlie and Janet were both using captured Covenant weapons, and Perish was down to his last magazine.

        The others seemed to share Jackson’s rage when they saw Parkson’s state, yet no one said a thing about it. They were more or less in combat mode and focused on survival for the time being.

        Moments after arriving in the hangar, the ship subtly lurched under their feet, and it dropped back into normal space; surrounded by a fleet of Covenant ships.

        It was just about as bad as it could have gotten.

        “It’s fight or die now, Spartans,” Jackson said. He grabbed a Covenant Plasma Rifle and shoved it into Perish’s hands. “And I choose fight.”

        Fueled by the need for vengeance for their wounded teammate, Jackson led his able members through the blood stained doors and deeper into the ship. Hoping that the decade old reports held up, the bridge was located near the center of the ship rather than its front.

        Finally, the last door opened on to a spacious chamber that showed the stars outside, and a large holographic projector sitting on a raised platform in the center of the room. The bridge was not empty, but rather filled with a number of Elites who had been waiting.

        A hail of plasma fire answered the Spartans arrival, and the Spartans returned in kind. Charlie activated a Jackal’s shield he had captured that allowed the rest of the team to move away from the doors and file out behind the barriers that adorned the chamber.

        Heading the fight was the Captain of the Covenant vessel; the very one that had been chasing them. It took up a point dangerously close to the Spartans and kept them from surrounding the others who fought in the depression around the raised platform.

        Pairing off with Perish, Jackson moved clockwise around the room and pushed the remaining Elite forces away from the walls. Paired with their dwindling numbers, this made the Elites grow desperate. Their brazen acts only made them easier targets, and the Spartans began to take the bridge.

        This was when the bridge doors opened, and the floor shook as two massive hulking figures stomped inside. The behemoths wore armor that protected orange worm-like masses which made up their frame. On one “hand” was an oversized cannon, and the other held a shield made of thick metal.

        Jackson’s heart sunk as he recollected the information he had learned about them. These “Hunters” were made up of a colony of sentient worms that bonded in pairs. The armor around them made them slow, but immeasurably powerful. They could turn Warthogs into scrap with their shields, and incinerate Marines with that cannon.

        As the Squad leader pored over his options, both Hunters entered, and turned on Kia and Charlie who had been closest. The two Spartans were forced out of their cover as one of the Hunters ducked behind its shield and charged their position.

        The behemoth’s mate swung its cannon on Jackson’s position and forced him back into cover. The booming explosion and the blistering heat pounded into the deck just shy of his position.

        Because of their proximity to the other Spartans, using grenades was out of the question. This left few alternatives to fighting the Hunters as well as the Elites. It was as Jackson was running possible options through his brain did both Kia and Charlie suddenly sprint forwards and engage the Hunters.

        Charlie vaulted over the first Hunter’s shield, pouncing off of its back and onto the second Hunter’s shoulder. Kia had gotten behind the first Hunter’s guard and was ready to shove a primed grenade into its exposed midsection when first Hunter fired a panicked shot from its cannon that hit the wall overhead and threw Kia to the floor.

        There was an explosion and the adjacent wall was painted with a mess of orange as the grenade Charlie planted in the first Hunter’s neck exploded, and the behemoth crashed to the deck. The death of its mate enraged the second Hunter, and it let out a mournful roar, then immediately turned on the vulnerable female Spartan and sent its shield crashing into the deck.

        Kia wasn’t fast enough, and the massive weapon caught her in the arm as she was twisting away. The crunch of the bone could be heard from the other side of the bridge.

        Charlie sprung on the last surviving Hunter and rode the beast as it thrashed around in a blind rage. The Spartan threw his weight backwards and kept the beast from trampling Kia. The female Spartan was already up on her feet, and tossed one of her grenades to Charlie who caught it and rammed it into the Hunter’s guts.

        Both Spartans sprinted for cover as the grenade detonated and took the last Hunter down. At this point, there was only the Captain Elite left. Once he saw the last two Hunters fall, and realized he was the last one standing, the alien stopped firing and began to move towards the door. He roared at the humans, then ran out of the bridge, leaving the Spartans alone.

        Janet accessed the ship’s controls from the table at the center and sealed the bridge tight. Jackson let the other Spartans clear the room for enemies while he went to check Kia over.

        The female Spartan’s arm hung mangled at her side, It was an ugly mess of blood and tissue. Kia’s lifesigns showed her going into shock, despite her denials of anything being wrong.

        Jackson emptied the last of his biofoam into the hole at her side and clenched his jaw. Their mission had just gone from bad to even worse. With Melecia and Chase left behind in the Prowler, and Parkson and now Kia critically wounded, mission efficiency had just taken a nose dive.

        Then there was what to do now that they had captured the bridge. The remaining Covenant forces wouldn’t let them have it for long, which raised the question of what was next.

        Janet answered that question by way of a sudden shudder in the hull, and alarms sounding across the bridge. Jackson jumped to where the female Spartan was standing to peer over her shoulder at the console.

        “I sent us to slip-space on a randomized vector,” Janet explained. “Then decompressed the air on the entire ship, save for the bridge. Only those in sealed suits, like our Sangheili Captain, are left alive.”

        “Can you get a complete lifesigns reading on the ship?” Jackson asked.

        There was a moments pause as the female Spartan played around with the console. “A dozen lifesigns remain,” she responded.

        Jackson patted her on the shoulder. “Good work.”

        Perish pulled the squad leader aside, muting his exterior speakers to speak privately with Jackson.

“As soon as we exit slipspace, we will be a target. The fleet has undoubtedly followed us, and we’re down to half efficiency. If we continue the mission, losses will start to mount,” Perish said.

        Jackson placed both hands on his hips and looked to the floor. He gritted his teeth as the squad leader weighed the options. He could easily plot a course to UNSC controlled space and put out a distress call as soon as they dropped out. Doing so could risk the Covenant finding nearby human colonies and putting innocent lives at risk.

        If they decided to fight the fleet head-on, they would lose. Despite the far greater numbers, the Spartans didn’t know how to fight with a Covenant ship. The second option was staging a boarding operation to carry out the mission to assassinate their target. The final option was to abandon the mission.

        This was where Jackson was most conflicted. He had trained his entire life for this one purpose. Everything he knew taught him to never back down, and to carry out his orders no matter the cost. The bond he had with his Spartans conflicted his training, and gave way to a war that raged inside of the squad leader.

        Jackson quieted the storm in his mind and looked up from the floor. “We’re continuing what we came here to do,” the Spartan said. “But no one is dying.”

Janet came up to Jackson and gestured back over her shoulder. “Bad news, squad leader. The Elites locked me out of the controls. The slipspace coordinates are still locked in, but I can’t do anything else,” the female Spartan reported.

        This was it, then. Whatever came next they’d have to deal with as best they could.

        There was a familiar lurch beneath the team’s feet as the ship dropped out of slipspace, and alarms began to blare in the bridge. The bridge doors opened, but didn’t explosively decompress, and no one rushed in to greet them.

        It was eerily still as the Spartans prepared for the rush of gunfire…but nothing happened. The team crept down into the hangar and found the second Phantom was gone, and the first had been deployed from its dock and was sitting activated on the deck.

        The Covenant fleet could plainly be seen out of the energy barriers separating the inside of the ship from space, yet it seemed they weren’t opening fire or sending a boarding team.

        “Another trap?” Charlie asked incredulously. “I’m getting really god damn tired of this.”

        Jackson gazed at the phantom, then where the other had been. He suddenly wasn’t as confident as he had been about storming the capitol ship. Yet what else could they do? It was clear the fleet was holding off on shooting because they wanted the Spartans to board the Destroyer. If they tried to run, then they wouldn’t survive.

The Covenant had made their point clear, and it was the only thing they could do to take the provided Phantom and keep on plan.

        The dropship had been rigged with a pre-determined flight path that couldn’t be altered. As soon as Janet started the ship, it rose from the deck and glided out of the Cruiser and began its flight to the capitol ship. Janet and Jackson sat in the cockpit anxiously watching as the Destroyer grew larger in the viewscreen, until its menacing form filled their vision.

        Then the hangar materialized and the Phantom began its descent. The squad leader returned to the dropship carriage with the other Spartans, and prepared for a messy fight. He had Kia and Parkson sit in the cockpit, and the others took up firing positions on either side of the doors.

        Jackson slowed his racing heart, counted the seconds, and shouldered his assault rifle. Time slowed to a crawl as the doors to the Phantom dropped to reveal a room full of corpses.

Chapter 7

        Making contact with their two missing Spartans was not Jackson’s first priority as they clawed their way back into slipspace. To avoid the entire mission being compromised, the orbital station they had just left would have to be disabled before the Cruiser that had chased them reported back.

        It was a painful crawl back from the edges of the system under full stealth until the team finally reached the station. They targeted the communications satellites and wasted no time in destroying them, then it was a rush to forcefully dock and cut their way inside.

        As expected, the Spartans were met by resistance as soon as they entered. Time slowed as Jackson stepped foot on the Covenant surface, and locked eyes with a towering Elite in blue armor. Its split mandibles spread wide as it roared at them and leveled its handheld weapon.

        The squad leader sprung into action and launched himself from the airlock and slammed his shoulder into the Elite’s mid-section. The force knocked the alien onto its back where Jackson drew the knife from its holster and rammed the blade up through its mouth.

        The Elite spat blue blood onto his visor and died immediately. The Spartan climbed off of its corpse and brought his Assault Rifle to bear then gunned down the remaining handful of panicking Grunts. Perish was second out and cleared the hallway for the others, then gazed at the dead Elite.

“What an ugly bastard,” Charlie remarked, poking the barrel of his Battle Rifle into its bloody jaws.

“What remarkable armor,” Janet noted. She crouched next to its chest and ran a hand under the armor, tugging at its harness.

        “Eyes up,” Jackson reminded them. “Two teams, sweep the station and leave nothing alive. Melecia, stay with the Prowler and keep our ride safe.”

        The squad leader took Chase and left the other three Spartans to head the opposite direction. Unaware of the layout, the two looked for what passed for a terminal and found one in a darkened side room. Inside was a heavy fog that hung low over the ground, and a pair of pods that had a group of Grunts sitting around them. From attachments in the pod, a tube led out of and into the Grunts mouths, which they seemed to be feeding from.

The Grunts jumped in surprise as Chase and Jackson entered to swiftly gun each of them down. The Squad leader lowered his weapon to interact with the terminal, and the barebones translation system ONI had provided their Mjolnir with led Jackson to download what seemed to be a map of the station’s levels. Not caring for secrecy at this point, he relayed this information to the rest of the team.

“Ilos-2, secure the hangar then make your way to the armory,” Jackson told the other team. Then to his partner, “We’re taking the command center.”

        “Roger that, squad leader,” Chase answered.

A search team had already found the two and rained fire down the hallway at the Spartans. A single grenade rolled expertly uphill gave Chase the moment he needed to storm their position and send a pair of Shotgun slugs into the beaks of the Jackals who had tried to hide behind their shields.

        What neither Chase nor Jackson expected was the overcharged Plasma Pistol that slammed straight into the charging Spartan’s side and sizzled angrily through the nano-weave techsuit. Now fueled with anger, the hulking Spartan whirled on the Grunt who had hit him and sprinted forwards, slamming the butt of his Shotgun into its mask and sending the tank on its back flying back towards Jackson.

        “Status?” the Squad Leader asked his teammate.

        Chase examined the partially melted material and made an annoyed grunt. “Biofoam’s holding, but my suit got holed,” he said.

Jackson holstered his weapon and checked over the wound to find bubbling flesh and fused material. The bio-foam had covered most of the damage, but as soon as the adrenaline wore off, his Spartan would be in trouble and needed medical attention soon.

        There was also the more serious problem that without its seal, there was no chance Chase would survive if they got spaced. The chance of it happening was minimal for the time being, but the possibility grew every second they were on the station.

        Jackson keyed his mic and made the call. “Fall back to the Prowler. Chase got hit,” the squad leader said.

        It was Perish that answered, “We just secured the armory, and Janet estimates more than half of the population has been dealt with. If we seal off the command deck, and space the station-“

        Jackson cut him off. “Fall back now,” he repeated.

        There was a moment’s hesitation before Perish answered, “Yes, sir.”

        Quickly retracing their steps led the two back to the airlock that was still secure, despite the handful of new corpses outside of the door. Jackson rushed Chase inside, then turned as the other Spartans came soon after.

        It was Perish that held the squad leader’s gaze for a few seconds longer, which plainly translated as a protest of his orders. Now was not the time for discussion, however, and the team loaded into the Prowler’s airlock as Melecia sealed it up and unceremoniously tore away from the hijacked entrance.

        The sudden vacuum sucked the corpses out of the hole, along with a handful of new arrivals that had followed the Spartans. The Prowler turned away from the station and initiated its stealth systems to burn towards the dark side of the planet as quickly as possible. The air in the ship was tense as everybody knew Perish was angry with the squad leader’s decision.

        The silence was broken by Melecia’s calm announcement. “Slipspace rupture detected near the planet’s dark side,” the Spartan reported.

        The squad leader made his way to the cockpit , and his heart jumped into his throat as he locked eyes with the readouts, and realized the ship’s signal matched the one who had been chasing them. With all hopes, the Spartans on the ground would stay quiet enough to avoid being noticed, and the ship wouldn’t spot them.

The Squad leader was faced with a tough decision of how to go forward. All of his plans had hinged on them picking up the team on the ground before the Cruiser returned, but now that had changed. There was only one way Jackson could think of proceeding, and that was to stay stealthed and sneak past the Covenant ship to swipe the team from under their noses.

        With no other options presenting themselves, the squad leader had Melecia send them into a slow orbit that would lead the Prowler to their missing team’s last known location.

        As they drifted ever closer, the Spartans held a focused eye on the Cruiser. It was moving away from them, beginning to pass the horizon line and disappear over the planet’s curve. The sun shining off of its hull was visible from the viewscreen as a blazing beacon.

        It was fifteen minutes later when Melecia reported that the Cruiser had launched a number of Spirit dropships and Seraphs to the planet’s surface. Jackson cursed out loud and gripped the dashboard until it dented.

        “Get us down there,” Jackson ordered. “Break stealth if you have to.”

        Melecia hesitated. “If I reveal us, that Cruiser is going to tear us apart.”

        Jackson vented his frustration by way of gripping the dashboard even harder, nearly breaking off chunks of the metal paneling. “I can’t let them get killed,” he growled.

        Melecia sighed, and pushed the Prowler forwards and began accelerating towards the planet’s horizon. The Cruiser grew larger and larger in the viewscreen until it was looming overhead. Its menacingly smooth hull bristled with plasma weaponry that would rip the Prowler to shreds in a one-on-one fight.

        It seemed all of the Spartans held their breath as they practically skimmed the Cruiser’s belly to follow the dropship’s trajectory down to the surface and where they assumed their missing team would be.

        They made it into the planet’s atmosphere without detection, and there they saw a vibrant light show of gunfire surrounding what looked to be the charred wreckage of a Pelican.

        “Chase, meet me at the airlock!” Jackson ordered.

        Melecia twisted around in his seat. “You can’t-“ he started, but the squad leader was already out of the cockpit and sprinting his way to the armory.

        Jackson secured the Jetpack to his suit, held the Sniper Rifle in both hands, and led Chase to the nearest airlock. Wind ripped at their arms and legs as the doors slid open, and they gazed out of the ship and down at the ground that was incredibly far away.

        Neither said a word as Jackson was the first to eject himself from the moving Prowler and into open air. There was a moment where he moved side-by-side with the ship, until the squad leader angled downwards and began dropping much faster.

        The ship fell behind and the ground began to draw closer, Jackson spread his legs and fought the wind to angle his Sniper Rifle downwards. There would be a small frame where he could use the weapon before he needed to initiate the thruster-pack, so Jackson was quick to find the biggest target and line up his shot.

        On the ground, the Spartan saw Kia shooting from the corner of the Pelican, and a group of Elites who had formed a shield wall to push the Spartans. It was an inspired tactic that didn’t count on air support.

        Understandably, it was difficult to obtain optimal accuracy while plummeting insane speeds through the air, but the Spartan picked his targets and made a hole in the Elite’s shield wall. Kia didn’t bother to look up, but rather sent a grenade through the opening and broke their line.

        It was then that Jackson initiated the thruster pack and kicked his feet out underneath him. The harness jerked at his shoulders, but it was slowing him down to a safe enough velocity where he wouldn’t pancake into the dirt. As he got closer, the squad leader saw a pair of dead Hunters, and plenty of spent casings that spoke of a sudden and brutal fight.

        He was seconds from hitting the dirt as a pair of Elites no one had seen snuck around the rear of the Pelican. One wielded an Energy Sword and pushed Kia away from the corner of the bird. The second alien stormed inside the Pelican, where Jackson caught a glimpse of a seriously injured Spartan leaning against the cockpit’s door.

        The squad leader hit the dirt, knees protesting as they bore the weight of a fast landing. Adrenaline propelled him forwards and sprinted as fast as he could towards the back of the Pelican.

        The Elite with the Energy Sword didn’t seem to be trying to kill Kia, rather it seemed to be corralling her away from Jackson and to the opposite side of the Pelican. The Spartan shouldered his Sniper Rifle and planted a bullet into its sword hand. The appendage burst into a spray of viscera and the weapon dropped to the ground.

Chase appeared on Jackson’s left and he sprinted ahead to intercept another pair of Elites who were beginning to push the nose of the Pelican.

        It was then that an Elite in golden armor emerged from the inside of the Pelican with Parkson draped over his shoulder. The Spartan was limp in its grasp, suggesting a reality that Jackson refused to accept.

        The squad leader was blocked from pursuit as the others who were beyond the Pelican pushed into the open and drove Jackson far back. He laid himself out into the dirt to provide as small a target as possible as Plasma streaked overhead.

        “Shit, they got Parkson!” Chase exclaimed over TEAMCOM.

        Jackson saw a shadow overhead and watched as the Prowler swept in and dropped its loading ramp. The vessel was taking heavy fire, and Melecia’s voice broke through the cacophony of plasma and lead being traded.

        “Reinforcements incoming. Get back on the ship,” Melecia said.

        “They’ve got Parkson!” Chase repeated.

The gunfire had shifted from Jackson’s location, and the Spartan rose to a knee and watched helplessly as the General with his Spartan disappeared into a Spirit Dropship.

        Kia was standing behind Chase at the Pelican’s rear. Both Spartans weren’t able to fire back under the heavy return fire the Covenant were throwing back.

        “We need to leave now, before we lose the Prowler,” Melecia urged.

        “Damn it, Melecia, we can’t just leave him!” Chase bellowed.

        The squad leader felt more helpless and angry than he ever had before. There was a call he had to make as their leader. There was a call to make that Jackson had never hoped he would have ever had to.

        “Fall back to the Prowler,” Jackson ordered. His voice broke as he said this.

        “God damn it, Jackson,” Chase snarled. “This is on you!”

        Jackson gave the other two Spartans covering fire as they broke cover and sprinted back for the waiting Prowler. The squad leader backed up the ramp, and the ship lifted off. He watched with an aching heart as the enemy Spirit containing his teammate pulled away and rose into the sky. As it was leaving, the squad leader could see a cloud of arriving enemy fighters, and the Cruiser looming overhead.

        Inside of the ship’s hangar, Chase had removed his helmet, so Jackson could see his furious expression as he stormed towards the squad leader.

        Chase pushed Jackson so hard, the Spartan landed hard onto the deck, hitting his head and knocking his helmet clean off. He saw stars as the hulking Spartan grabbed him by the chestplate and stood over him.

        “What in the actual hell did you make us do?” Chase demanded. “You left him!”

        Jackson stared back defiantly. “There was no use trying to stay. If the reinforcements didn’t kill us, that Cruiser would have.” His voice was low as he faced the furious Spartan.

        “You didn’t even try,” Chase said. “We could have saved him.”

        It was then that Kia grabbed the Spartan around his middle and threw her weight into shoving him away. “Back off, Spartan,” she warned. “He’s not dead yet. Use that thumb-tack sized brain between your ears and think.”

        Charlie and Janet pushed their way between Chase and Jackson, as Perish helped the squad leader to his feet. The other Spartan was still fuming, hands clenched tightly into fists and hands shaking with adrenaline.

        “They took him alive, instead of executing him outright,” Kia continued. “We can still get him back.”

        “The Covenant aren’t known for prisoners,” Chase pointed out.

        “That is true, but there’s something different about the Shipmaster that’s been tailing us,” Janet said, stepping forwards. “For some reason, he wanted Kia and Parkson alive, which has not been documented yet.”

        “May be just to get us all in one place,” Charlie said. “Go to get our boy, and walk right into a trap. Boom, eight Demons down in one go.”

        “That is certainly what he may be doing, but it still gives us a chance,” Janet said.

        Jackson retrieved his helmet and placed it back on his head to make a call to Melecia. “Don’t let that Cruiser out of your sights,” he said, looking at Chase. “We’re getting Parkson back one way or another.

Chapter 6

        The Prowler descended through the dense cloud layer just as the Covenant Cruiser arrived behind them. With their stealth system engaged, there was no way they had seen them descend. Though it was only a matter of time before the enemy captain sent out a search party. The team would hopefully be gone by then.

        It was an eerie atmosphere as the vessel coasted over the decimated ruins of the colony. The Covenant had essentially glassed them on a much smaller scale by setting fire to anything and everything. The eco system was ruined, and there was nothing but scorched earth and ashes as far as the eye could see.

        The coordinates brought them to the outskirts of large colony ruins. Buildings sat half destroyed, stagnating in their own rubble from years prior. There was no color left on the entire planet, and the atmosphere was as grim as the grave.

        Melecia did a flyover of the area before choosing a landing site, which took longer than expected to select some place hidden, yet large enough to fit the Prowler.

        “Have fun out there,” the pilot said, looking over his shoulder at the squad leader. It was their rule to leave someone, usually the pilot, to protect their ride. Melecia was all too happy to stay behind.

        Jackson met the rest of his team at the airlock where they stood in line to leave. “Everybody keep your eyes up and spread out around the coordinates. Make sure to check your crossfire, and stay safe,” Jackson said. He then hit the manual release and put his helmet on, then made sure to be first outside.

        The stale air filtered roughly through Jackson’s helmet, leaving grit inside his mouth. Where they had landed was inside a blasted out parking garage that had all of its levels decimated, yet its walls were left intact.

        As soon as they were clear of their ship’s cover, the eight Spartans split into teams of two and disappeared into the ruins. Jackson and Chase stayed in the street to be the ones to make contact with whoever sent out the distress signal.

        It was a long walk through miles of wreckage and battle scars. Though the thing that Jackson noticed first was the lack of corpses. The scale of destruction and the lack of bodies put him on edge, and was constantly checking alleyways and down street corners.

        “Contacts coming out of the subway. Eyes up,” Perish warned.

        Down the street was an entrance that led underground, and inside of it was a group of humans in loose UNSC fatigues and Assault Rifles held warily in hand. They seemed skittish as their eyes scanned the rubble and seemed to be ready to run at a moments notice.

        “Damn they’ve been through the wringer,” Chase commented as the two approached the survivors.

        “Agreed,” Jackson said.

        The group’s mouths were agape when the Spartans approached them. No one spoke for a good few seconds until someone stepped away from the group to greet them.

        “By god, are you really Spartans?” he asked.

        “Affirmative. Who’s your commanding officer?” Jackson asked, scanning the heads of the timid group that was staying close to the subway’s entrance.

        The man’s expression dropped and he glanced at the clothing he wore. “We’re not military,” he hesitated. “The UNSC left some stuff behind.”

        “This changes things,” Chase said. His voice only came through the team’s encrypted channel, as he had muted his external speakers.

        Civilians would be more of a liability than trained soldiers. Though if the group was as small as these few survivors, extracting them would still be possible before the Covenant arrived.

        “Where is your base of operations?” Jackson asked. He wanted to see how capable these people were before attempting to evacuate anybody.

        The man gestured to the subway entrance. “Follow me,” he said, then began to descend the steps.

        “Ilos three and four, stay here and keep an eye on the sky,” Jackson ordered the other four Spartans. “If we’re not back in fifteen, evacuate without us.”

        With that, the two ducked their heads and descended the lightless steps underground. With their enhanced vision, the soldiers could see perfectly fine, but wondered how the civilians were getting around so well without any source of light.

        The subway was virtually untouched compared to what was on the surface. The head of the group led them down the tunnels until it abruptly ended with a collapsed section. Their guide took a left, pulled aside a massive piece of rebar, and revealed a hidden hole that acted as an entrance into a maintenance tunnel. The tunnel finally ended in a chamber filled with flickering light, and a makeshift camp filled with scraggly survivors all fitted in UNSC fatigues.

        The returning group was met at the door by a furious looking woman with pale skin and sunken eyes. She slammed into the man and pinned him against the wall. “Why the fuck did you bring UNSC down here?” The woman snarled. Her voice was lowered to avoid being heard, but the Spartans were still listening.

        “They can save us, Beth. Give them a chance!” the man responded, pushing the woman off of him.

        As the two fought, Jackson noticed all eyes had shifted to the newcomers. There was a variety of expressions that spoke of both hatred and hope. It occurred to the squad leader that some of them may be Insurrectionists, or developed a hatred for the military after losing their planet.

        “Is this everybody?” Jackson asked, interrupting the two’s argument.

        “There would be more, but you abandoned us, didn’t you?” the woman said.

        “We can just leave them. Would definitely be easier,” Chase said privately.

        Jackson took a deep breath and turned to address the man, who seemed willing to work with them. “I want a count of who is willing to be rescued, and who doesn’t,” the Spartan said. “You have fifteen minutes.”

        The group left them to speak with their people, and Chase shook his head. “There’s going to be Innies in here. If we’re taking them, they’re going to be quarantined.”

        Jackson didn’t answer, but rather wondered what they would do with all of them. This put a kink in their hunt, and it would take a long time to get back to UNSC space to drop off the survivors. Having ripped out most of the cryopods to conserve unused power, they didn’t have enough to stick them in pods for the remainder of their mission. And definitely didn’t have enough resources.

        Ten minutes passed and only the man returned, looking even more tired than before. “Looks like Beth and her people are staying. There are still about fifty people who want to leave,” he said.

        “Okay. Have your people ready in fifteen minutes, and meet us up top,” Jackson said, then left with Chase.

        They walked in silence until emerging from the subway where the other three Spartans were waiting for them. “How’d it go?” Charlie asked. The squad leader could see his rifle’s scope poking out from the top of a building between two pieces of stacked rubble.

        “We’ve got fifty evacuees to board,” Jackson responded.

        “Think this through, squad leader. We can’t fit that many,” Perish said sternly.

        “We can’t just leave them,” Janet countered. “They’d die in just a year.”

        In that moment, a decision was made. Taking in the lives of civilians was something any good soldier would risk their lives to do.

        Fifteen minutes later, the group of survivors came pouring out of the subway. They were each fitted with weapons of all kinds, each of which were in poor condition. If a serious firefight occurred, they wouldn’t be reliable.

        “Stay behind me and keep your head on a swivel,” Jackson declared. “If a firefight starts, keep your heads down.”

        It was a mere minute and a half into their march when Charlie called attention to the skies, and the Spartans turned to watch as the skies turned pink, and the Covenant Cruiser slipped through the clouds.

        “Time’s up,” Jackson told his team. To Melecia he said, “336, warm up the engines. We’ve got incoming.”

        The civilians caught notice of the ship, and started to panic as purple specks spilled out of its belly and descended upon the city. Seraphs and Banshees began a search pattern that started at the far end and swept in close.

        “Stay close!” Jackson called and pulled the group closer to the building walls and picked up the pace. There was a brief window of time before the group was spotted. Then a Banshee swooped low through the streets and opened fire with its plasma turret and gunned down two of the stragglers. The two Spartans opened fire on the Banshee and it went down in the street trailing flame.

        The destruction caught the attention of a passing wing who alerted the rest of the fleet and disappeared from view.

        Jackson stopped in the middle of an intersection with very little cover and turned to face the civilians. As he did this, there was the crunch and sliding of metal, and two buses and one semi-trailer were pushed into the street corners, forming an impassable barricade. Chase, who had fallen behind, kicked in a barrier on the open side just down the street. The civilians were penned in. The three other Spartans climbed atop their barricades and looked down on the confused group.

        “What’s happening? We need to get out of here!” their leader exclaimed.

Jackson said nothing as Chase passed them by and climbed the barricade next to Perish. It was then that the civilians began to realize what was happening.

        The Spartan looked to the sky as a swarm of Banshees and Seraphs grew in the distance. “You can’t do this,” the leader said with desperation growing in his voice. “You can’t leave us to die!”

        The squad leader turned away, and the leader pulled his gun. The sound of it cocking made the Spartan pause. “What happened to the honor of the UNSC?” the man cried. “I thought you were the good guys?”

        Jackson turned around and stared the man dead in the eyes. “I don’t answer to the UNSC,” he stated.

        It was then that the leader realized his mistake. “God damn it, you liars!” he exclaimed. He fired on the Spartan, hitting his cuirass with a single bullet before the others on the barricade gunned him down.

        He fell in a spray of blood, causing the rest of the civilians to panic and run away. Jackson joined the rest of his team and disappeared into the city to make their way back to the Prowler.

        The sounds of pursuit overhead was directed solely at the fleeing survivors. The Covenant hadn’t seen the Spartans. Only the helpless civilians.

        They were unseen as they made their way back to the Prowler, and the vessel rose from its hiding place. Melecia was betting on the fact that the Cruiser wasn’t fast enough to follow them out of orbit, and would be too distracted with the annihilation of the survivors. And he was right. The Cruiser didn’t give chase as the ONI vessel climbed out of the atmosphere and pulled away from the planet.

        Taking in the lives of civilians was something any good soldier would risk their lives to do. Jackson was not a good soldier.

Chapter 5

After dropping out of slipspace, it was a slow crawl to a lone planet orbited by a single Covenant space station. All seemed still and quiet on the outside, but the radio transmissions were loud and loosely encrypted. This far behind human controlled space, the aliens didn’t seem to worry about security; which would make the Spartan’s operation that much easier.

        The team’s time window was twenty-four hours, and a rescue mission would be underway if they missed their rendezvous window. The Spartans wouldn’t have any kind of communication during that time in fear of detection.

        With this information, the infiltration team departed the Prowler and began their slow ride to their destination. The ONI vessel the rest of the team stayed on was running on its absolute lowest power. The interior lights were dimmed, and its engines ran silent.

        Jackson stood in the cockpit watching the planet as It slowly spun above them. His arms were held at his sides and fists clenched in a subconscious acknowledgement of nervousness. The squad leader’s mind spun with a thousand possibilities as he watched the Pelican drift away. His team had done this countless times before in their hunt for Grizer, but this was different.

        It was an hour into the mission when Perish came into the cockpit. He had removed his helmet, revealing tightly kept silver hair and a face that spoke volumes of their decade of training.

        “You can’t stay here until they return,” Perish said.

        “24 hours isn’t that long.”

        “While I agree, worrying will only impact your decisions.”

        “They need me, and I’ll be damned if I’m the reason we lose them.”

        “Do you not trust the Spartans you sent out?”

        “You know that’s not what I meant.”

        “Then why do you worry?”

        “These are Covenant, not Innies. This is only our second time seeing them, and I sent my team into possibly the most dangerous situation I could have.”

        “Are you saying the ten years we spent training means nothing?”

Jackson sighed and shook his head. The rough awakening from cryo had begun to take its toll. He was more exhausted than he wanted to admit, and the squad leader realized it was affecting his judgement more than he thought. “Of course that’s not what I meant…”

        Perish took Jackson by the arm and pulled him out of the cockpit, then planted his feet and pointed towards the bunks. “Go to bed,” he demanded.

        Jackson started to argue about keeping watch, but Perish gestured again with his finger. The squad leader sighed then turned away from the cockpit and started off towards the barracks. His bed was at the front of the room, one of the two rows that sat facing each other. The Spartans had remodeled the space and laid the beds out in rows rather than having them stacked to better accommodate their armor if they didn’t want to remove it.

        The chamber had been ransacked by their Covenant intruders, and hadn’t yet been put back together. The sheets and pillows lay scattered around the room in unkept piles which the squad leader sorted through to meticulously remake each of his teammate’s beds, ensuring to match the personal bedding to the proper bunks.

        After this was done, Jackson lay on his back on his bunk and tried to relax. It was difficult to wrangle his thoughts into a box long enough for him to drift off to sleep.

        Jackson was awoken to a kick that made him jolt awake and reach for the knife on his chest.

        “Oh knock it off, it’s just me,” Chase said, smacking away the squad leader’s arm. “Perish thought you’d want to know the away team’s headed back.”

        The squad leader blinked away the sleep and got to his feet. “Thanks for letting me know,” Jackson said, patting Chase on the shoulder.

        Jackson met Perish on the bridge who was leaning over a console checking its readouts. He turned as the squad leader entered, revealing the dark circles under his eyes and the exhaustion that pulled at his face.

        “Melecia and Kia sent a ping out sixty minutes ago. They’re on their way back,” Perish reported.

        “That’s good news,” Jackson said. “I’ll go get the hangar ready.”

        “Charlie’s got that covered,” Perish told him.

        “Okay. Guess I’ll prep the armor stations.”

        “Kia’s on that one as well.”

        “Med bay?”

        “Chase is already there.”

        “Mess hall?”

        “Janet’s making stew.”

        It was then that the squad leader realized everybody else had to be as tired as he had been, yet stayed up to man the ship and let him sleep peacefully. He was both impressed and emotionally moved, yet refused to show it.

        “Guess all that’s left is to wait for the away team,” Jackson decided.

        Perish stayed in the cockpit while the squad leader went down to join Charlie in the hangar. He was sitting on a crate watching a holopad that rang with the sounds of some action movie. “’Sup squad lead,” Charlie said, nodding a greeting. “Get a good beauty nap?”

        Charlie’s helmet was off and his dark features shared the same look of exhaustion Perish had. The Spartan liked to complain, but when it came down to it he helped just like everybody else.

        Jackson touched the bandage over his face and shuddered at the raw memory of the flash of blue and the roars of the Elite.

        “Apparently not,” Jackson responded.

        “It’ll take more than a nap to fix that ugly mug,” Charlie said, leaning back on his seat with a smug look.

        Jackson smiled and shook his head, then approached the door control on the hangar to ensure it was set properly. It was then that the docking alarm sounded in the hangar and lights strobed alongside the blast doors. Jackson stood back as Charlie got up to approach the keypad. “Lets bring ‘em in,” the Spartan announced.

        Seconds before the doors opened, a blaring alarm sounded throughout the ship. The blast doors sealed over the hangar and the two Spartans felt the Prowler jolt beneath them as the pilot made an abrupt course change.

        “Oh shit,” Charlie said, voicing Jackson’s own thoughts.

        Both of the Spartans ran to the cockpit to see what was the problem and met the rest of the team watching a Covenant Cruiser jumping out of slipspace, escorted by two Corvette’s.

        Jackson leaned over Melecia’s shoulder and keyed the communication channel to the away team. “Ilos to away team, break radio silence now!” the squad leader demanded. There was a moment before the other side responded.

        “Already on our way back down. We’ll be fine, 332. Get out of there!” Kia answered, then cut the channel.

        The short transmission could have cost them everything, but Jackson didn’t think the aliens would be looking for such a small target. The squad leader wanted to make sure they would be distracted, though.

        “Make us a target, Melecia,” Jackson ordered. “Give them time to escape.”

        “I can give two minutes max. They’re charging weapons,” Melecia said.

        The Prowler’s engines surged to life and the ship shifted to face parallel to the enemy forces. A flash on the other side signified the launch of a plasma torpedo that chased the ONI vessel as it aggressively swung around the Covenant ships.

        Melecia suddenly cut power to the Prowler and forced it into an abrupt drift that knocked every Spartan off of their feet that wasn’t strapped in. Jackson got to his feet just in time to watch the plasma torpedo streak overhead and come curving back as the Prowler roared back to life and headed the other direction.

        This time, the slipspace engine began to charge as Melecia made a mad dash to outrun the tailing torpedo. With what the Prowler lacked in arms, it made up for in speed and it crawled its way into slipspace long before the torpedo could reach them.

        “There’s no way we’re getting away with this a second time,” Chase said. He stood at the back of the cockpit, hands on his hips as he watched the eery void through the windows.

        Melecia tapped at the console and shook his head. “You’re right, we’ve been followed,” the pilot said grimly. “Good news is only the Cruiser is on our tail. The Corvettes stayed behind.”

        “Not good news,” Jackson replied. “It means they suspect something, and may be looking for the away team.”

        “They’ll be fine,” Chase said. “Its us we have to worry about. How the hell are we going to fight a Cruiser this far from UNSC lines?”

        “Your guess is as good as mine. Better get brainstorming,” Melecia said.

        The Spartans went to the war room and pulled the information on the system that was chosen. It turned out to be a human colonized system that was lost three years prior when the Covenant swept in, and contact was lost with the colonists. The UNSC had written it off as another glassed system and the file was closed.

        The presence of the formerly populated planets may be an advantage in giving the Prowler a place to hide planetside until the Cruiser left. The Spartans decided that was the only viable option they had, and disbanded to await the transition back to normal space.

        An hour later and Melecia called Jackson to the cockpit, and both were seated as the Prowler was thrust back into normal space. Immediately Melecia engaged the stealth systems and faded from sensors. This gave them only a momentary advantage as a much bigger signal emerged behind them, and the Prowler was engulfed in the Cruiser’s shadow.

        Using the few seconds it would take for the Cruiser to sniff them out, Melecia pivoted away to crawl as fast as he could towards the nearest defunct colony. He knew their cover was blown when the Covenant ship turned its broadside to face the ship and glowing lines pulsed up and down its side as the weapons heated up.

        The pilot dropped the stealth and threw the ship into maximum throttle, making alarms wail in Jackson’s ear and red lights to strobe at the helm. The Cruiser disappeared behind them, and the stars began to blur with the sudden speed.

        It was as the console began to smoke did Melecia throttle down to a safer speed and adjust course to the selected planet. Jackson then realized how hard he had been clenching his teeth and removed his helmet to massage his sore jaw.

        “Pushing it a little close, 336?” Jackson asked through gritted teeth.

        “We’re alive, yes?” Melecia said. “I just outran a Cruiser, I wouldn’t complain.”

        The squad leader couldn’t argue with that.

        It was a rough five minutes to their destination where the reactor nearly had a critical meltdown, but was stopped by Janet, Charlie, Chase, and Perish who were all fuming at the pilot after putting out the flames.

        All went silent once Melecia called out the approach to the planet. When in visual distance, it was clear this small colony was spared the complete destruction of orbital glassing. Even so it was completely devoid of human life, and more than likely had been the victim of a landfall siege to recover a Forerunner artifact.

They had gotten near enough to initiate orbital cruise when a brief signal lit up on one of the smaller consoles. It disappeared quickly, then pinged again in a rhythmic pattern.

        It took Jackson a moment to decipher the signals to be morse code by way of old UNSC radiowaves. The Spartan’s Mjolnir systems began a translation before it began to repeat. It stopped after the second time and went silent. The message was clear, though. It was coordinates to the dark side of the planet, located near the remnants of one of the cities.

        “What’s your call, squad leader?” Melecia asked, turning to the other Spartan.

        The code of ethics was there. The Spartan was required to investigate any potential UNSC distress signal. Though Jackson weighed his options if he could risk the attempt.

        Finally, the squad leader stood and opened a channel to address his team. “Load up and lock down, Spartans. We’re going planetside.”

Chapter 4

     The down time required from Ilos after their mission was seven days. This was requested from Waylen herself during the early years of Project Freebird when she was investigated for unnecessary cruelty after a 125 hour field exercise had nearly killed Janet-335 and Charlie-337.

        During their down time, the Spartans kept up with their normal training regimen of weight lifting and sparring. It was also a time for reflection on the mission they had just completed against the Insurrectionists, and a time to think about what was coming next.

        By the time Baseless Accusations gave word that Jackson’s new Mjolnir suit had arrived, Ilos was ready to get back out into the field.

        After the initial calibrations, and oogling over the shiny new armor, it was time for Ilos to pack up and leave. When Jackson arrived at the Spartan’s personal hanger, the soldier paused to admire the pitch black ONI Prowler rising above him. Its sharp hull had been buffed and repaired since their return, and it looked practically new. He also noticed a bull skull with horns painted onto its side, a curious addition he was sure wasn't from the repair team.

     The squad leader met the others loading the last few crates into the ship, and jerked his chin towards the front of the ship. "Anyone know where the paint came from?" he asked.

     Chase-211 passed him with a crate and made an exaggerated shrug. "I'd talk to the guys that worked on her last," he said.

    "I'm sure Acc might know," Charlie said, a grin in his tone.

   Jackson knew immediately who did it, but decided to let it go. He kind of liked the new paint.

     After the final supplies were loaded, Jackson took to the bridge to oversee the take-off. Melecia-336 was already at the helm, going through the pre-flight checks. He was the best pilot the team had, and frequently flew whenever the need arose. He operated alone, and had shown he worked best without a co-pilot, so Jackson didn't yet take the seat next to him, but rather stood to the side with arms folded as the engines warmed up.

      "Ilos ready for departure," Melecia said, speaking into the communicator.

    Baseless Accusation's avatar appeared on the dashboard, and it nodded. "You're cleared for departure. Come home safe, Spartans," the AI said.

   It was now that Jackson took the co-pilots seat and strapped himself in, but didn't touch the controls. The Prowler rose as the ceiling opened above them to reveal a massive shaft. The platform underneath them tilted and the ship was attached to a track following the wall. The track moved the ship faster and faster up the wall, until the darkness opened up and they were launched into the daylight above the surface.

    They quickly burned through the sky until they broke the atmosphere and glided into the vacuum of space. There was a brief feeling of weightlessness before the artificial gravity kicked in. It was then that Jackson unhooked himself and gazed out over the darkness.

     "Twenty minutes until we're good for slipspace entry," Melecia said, glancing back at Jackson.

    "Thanks for letting me know. I want to see you in the war room in 5 minutes," the squad leader said. The other Spartan nodded his acknowledgement, and Jackson left to let the other soldiers know.

      The team was gathered 5 minutes later, and stood staring over a holographic projection of the data Baseless Accusations gave them. It was a series of stellar coordinates, matched to Solar System signatures. All of them were far behind enemy lines, and undoubtedly enemy occupied. The question on the table was where they would start.

     The Spartans went back and forth about this subject. It was obvious that they needed to find more information, and these potential solar systems would be a good place to look. Since they hadn't yet dealt with the Covenant, the biggest question arose of how and where they would look. They eventually decided on figuring that out when they arrived at the first destination.

     The trip was going to take a few weeks, as they had a ways to go. So the team were going into Cryo-stasis. A "dumb" AI would be used to monitor the ship and wake the Spartans if trouble arose, or when they reached their destination.

    No one on board was happy with leaving everything to the AI, but Jackson refused to let anyone stay awake. They hadn't brought the resources the one person would need, and it would be a waste anyways. It would be the first time outside of training they'd utilize cryo-stasis, and no one was thrilled.

   When the vessel successfully entered slip-space, the team stripped down and filed into their separate chambers. Jackson made sure to be last inside, and checked over the systems after the others had gone to sleep. He needed to inspire confidence in his team, but harbored worry himself.

     Chase hadn't agreed to use the chambers unless they each had weapons installed into the system. They had spent a week rigging combat knives so that when they woke, the weapons would be automatically distributed in case of emergencies. Jackson went through to check each of them were working before finally stepping into his own chamber.

    With one last look into the darkened room, he activated the system and fell into a deep slumber.

      After a vague sensation of time passing, Jackson was violently awoken when the lid of his chamber was ripped open and a four fingered hand gripped him around the throat. The blue glare of an Energy Sword snapped Jackson out of his drowsy haze and made him thrash in the Elite’s grasp. Its grip faltered right as the Sword came slashing down, but missed as the Spartan jerked away.

    Jackson was dropped and he found himself face-to-face with the closed helmet of a Covenant Elite. The looming alien drop-kicked him across the deck where his back slammed into one of the occupied cryo-pods.

   A second Elite roared in surprise and reached for its weapon, but the first already had its second weapon out and shot searing hot plasma from its Plasma Pistol. The Spartan scrambled away and the shots hit Chase's Cryo chamber. The emergency systems popped his door open, and Chase woke up almost immediately.

     The Spartan came out with his knife in hand and body-slammed the nearest Elite, ramming the blade up through the alien's chestplate. The alien fell to the floor, and the second Elite ran into Chase, knocking him flat. It was about to bring its sword down when Jackson grabbed the Elite from behind, climbing onto its back and shifting his weight backwards. The alien was put off balance, allowing Chase to take his knife and cut through the Elite's throat.

    Purple blood sprayed all over the deck as the alien fell to the ground alongside its partner.

    "Wake up the others," Jackson told Chase. The squad leader grabbed the alien's pistol and went to the door to make sure there wouldn't be any surprises. He was shaking his head as faintness came in waves. This was not the wake-up he had planned.

   The other Spartans had a much less jarring wake-up process, but it was still quick and they were somewhat shaken as they left their chambers and saw the two corpses.

    "What's the plan, squad lead?" Chase asked once the others were awake and alert.

     "We split into two teams. One goes for the bridge, the other goes for the hangar. Find and neutralize any threats along the way," Jackson said.

    No one had any arguments, so Jackson took Chase, Melecia, and Janet to the bridge while the others went the other way.

    They moved quickly through the halls, and came face-to-face with another Elite. This one was bigger than the two they had taken out, and carried a Plasma Rifle. Jackson had taken the Plasma Pistol, while the others had their knives. The Elite didn't stand a chance with four Spartans charging him. With three corpses on their ship, the soldiers moved quicker now. The aliens would be missed right about then, and others might come to investigate. Or the ship they came in on might still be occupied and open fire. All of this was going through Jackson's mind as they moved through the Prowler.

       They reached the bridge with no further encounters. Melecia fell into the pilot's seat, but frowned as he tried to bring the ship back to life. "The AI's not responding, and I'm getting red lines from down in the engine room. Someone needs to go down and reset it," the Spartan said, looking back at the others.

    "I'll go to the engine room. Chase, you help the others in the hangar," Jackson said.

      "Copy that, squad lead," Chase said, half saluting the other Spartan.

Jackson left the bridge and parted ways with Chase. The Squad leader had spent two months memorizing every piece of the ship, then solidified the memory during their hunt for Grizer. He knew where he was going and got to the engine room quickly.

    He entered the room and swept for threats. It wasn't the largest of spaces, and had few places to hide. He checked what few places there were, and satisfied it was clear, lowered his weapon to reset the system.

    As he did so, the Spartan felt a disturbance. Before he could turn to face it, a sharp electrical sound snapped behind him and an ominous blue glow lit the room. He registered the Energy Sword just before he threw himself out of the way.

   The sword swiped sideways, just barely missing the Spartan as he turned the tumble into a controlled roll and came up with his pistol leveled. The air in front of him wavered and a Sangheili appeared in front of him out of camouflage. Jackson fired until the weapon overheated, but the Elite shrugged off the shots and came charging at the squad leader. He raised his Energy Sword and sliced sideways in an effort to decapitate the Spartan.

    Jackson dodged again, but the Elite reacted quickly and swiped its leg out, catching the Spartan and knocking him into the floor. Everything seemed to slow as he stared up at the alien. He focused on the sword poised above his head and the two dangerous tips coming straight down.

    The Spartan rolled away from the blade, but wasn't quite fast enough and felt searing pain as one of the edges sliced its way across his face, sending searing pain across his right eye and forcing him to clamp it shut. This time Jackson didn't try to distance himself, but came up from behind and used the last few shots in the pistol to break the Elite's shields.

     Furious that he was denied the kill, the alien charged Jackson again and body-slammed him into the wall. The Spartan found himself pinned under the Elite's furious grasp, and his vision blurring as his throat was being crushed. The sword started to rise again, but never finished its swing as the engine room's door opened and plasma fire pelted the alien's back. With its grip still on Jackson's throat, it turned around, using the Spartan as a shield.

     "You shoot, he dies!" the Elite barked. Its own language came out first, followed by a flat english translation from a speaker somewhere in its suit.

    Chase had returned from the hangar, and was standing in the doorway trying to figure out what to do next. They had never come across an english speaking Elite before, and were taken aback.

     "I will leave alive, and your ally will too," the Elite said, keeping its Energy Sword poised carefully close to Jackson's chest.

     With no other option, and no one in their Mjolnir yet, Chase had no option but to comply. He backed away from the door and motioned for the Elite to leave.

   The alien backed away, keeping Chase in front of him. Jackson was forced to walk with the elite as he made his way to the hangar, still keeping his sword carefully close to Jackson.

      The Spartan hoped that his team could get the jump on the alien and free him, but the Elite was careful to cover his blind spots and enter with the others in his sight.

     Everyone immediately had their weapons drawn on the Elite, but didn't open fire. There were a small number of corpses in the hangar, mostly Grunt, and there was a lone Phantom ship parked there as well.

     No one said anything, as the situation was made perfectly clear. Jackson was brought into the Phantom. The others tried to follow, but the Elite made it clear they couldn't. The alien started up the ship, moved Jackson back to the gravity lift, and kicked him out.

   The others opened fire as the ship locked up and pulled out of the open hangar doors, but were unable to stop it.

        Jackson directed Kia to the engine room and the squad leader went to the bridge to hopefully watch the Phantom get blown apart.

    Instead he saw Melecia under the control panels fixing the wiring. "Report," the squad leader said.

      "They broke a lot," the pilot said. "The AI's gone, and I can't get anything to respond."

    Just then, there was a hum that came back to life and the lights snapped back on. Still, the weapons and engines wouldn't respond. The Spartan watched in frustration as the Phantom disappeared into the distance.

    "We've got a Cruiser signature at extreme distance. Probably their ride," Melecia stated, standing over the radar display.

     Jackson needed to act now. Things were about to get so much worse if that Cruiser got any closer. "Janet, tell the others to get suited up in case we’re holed. Melecia, stay here and get this ship working," the squad leader said to the other Spartan that had followed him. He then left to get his Mjolnir as well.

      With the modified stations they had thrown together, the process only took a few minutes. Soon there was an entire team of Spartans in their armor, ready to fight.

     Jackson returned to the bridge and found Melecia furiously working with the controls, and the Cruiser had turned into a visible dot in the distance. Time was almost out.

     "Status?" Jackson asked.

     "Kia's almost there. As soon as we're able, we're jumping," Melecia replied. "Given that Cruiser doesn't reach us first."

Another tense few minutes passed where the Cruiser grew into a worrying size, then there was a beep from one of the controls. "Got it!" Melecia said. The viewscreen turned away and he felt the ship accelerate. Soon after, they safely transitioned into slipspace.

    "Were we followed?" Jackson asked.

   The other Spartan leaned back in his seat and shook his head. "No idea," he replied. "but I don't think so."

    "Good job, Spartan. Keep an eye on our six," Jackson said, and left the bridge.

     He made his way down to the engine room and took his helmet off and ran a hand through his shorn hair, then winced as he touched the wound on his face. He still couldn’t see out of his right eye, which was increasingly worrying.

     Kia saw it, and raised a brow. "Is your looker okay?" she asked.

    Jackson looked around the room and frowned. “No,” he answered. He tried to focus and managed to pry open the swollen eye enough to see, but still saw nothing.

    The female Spartan left the room and gestured for him to follow. "Gotta get that wrapped, unless you want an infection," Kia said.

    After getting his wound cleaned and wrapped, the squad leader met Kia in the war room. "The AI dropped out of slip early to fix a small issue with navigation," the Spartan explained. "A nearby Covenant Cruiser heard the exit and came to investigate. Lacking any combat capabilities, the AI initiated the Cole Protocol and started thawing us, which is why you were even vaguely awake when that hinge-head popped your chamber open."

    "So the nav data is gone?" Jackson asked, a sinking feeling developing in his chest.

    "Yes."

     "So we're back to square one."

     "Not quite," Kia said, walking around the table. She pulled up the star charts and typed in a set of stellar coordinates. It was in the same system they had traveled to. "This was the only one saved from the purge. I'm not entirely sure how, but I'm thinking whoever put this information together had a safe guard in place to protect it from the Cole Protocol."

    Jackson leaned forward, intrigued. "Interesting," he muttered. It seemed that someone was playing a game. Almost like the attack was supposed to happen, and the protocol was supposed to be initiated.

     "I want you to salvage what you can with the AI and tell me what you find. I'll get these coordinates up to Melecia in the meantime," Jackson said.

      He returned to the bridge where the pilot was leaning over the controls, focused on a readout. "Got a new flight path for you," Jackson told him. The pilot subtly jumped as he was snapped out of his thoughts.

     "Thanks," he said with a polite nod. Then he frowned upon seeing the bandage around Jackson's face.

      "I got hit. Kia patched me up," the squad leader explained.

    Melecia nodded and returned to his work. "Be more careful next time," he said.

       With the emergency jump to slipspace, it had put them off course by a long ways. Jumping again would be ineffective, so they had to drop back to normal space and coast to their destination. After this was done, Jackson once again called the team into the war room. Melecia had done a scan of their destination and found a Covenant orbital station over one of the planets. Jackson already had a plan in mind, but wanted feedback from his team.

    After listening to their "compliments" on his bandage, the squad leader laid out his plan. It would be a simple information stealing operation. In and out with no casualties. His hopes were that they would find a lead to their illusive High Councilor.

    No one had any objections, but rather worries of Jackson's combat effectiveness. It was a legitimate concern, given his affected vision, so Jackson agreed to stay on the ship for this operation.

    After drawing straws, Kia and Parkson were picked for the excursion, and the meeting adjourned, leaving the  Spartans to go about repairing the damage that the Elites had done to the prowler. There wasn't much to fix but gutting out the former AI, and bringing it back up to where the Spartans wanted it. Clean-up duty was prevalent as the Elite blood had stained the deck, permeating the entire ship with a coppery tinge.

     As they worked, Jackson couldn't stop thinking about the only Elite that had survived. They were still in the same system, and would hunted now. The squad leader found the idea interesting. Only time would tell how big a problem it would be. And time was not on their side.

Chapter 3

              Jackson had almost entirely healed on the flight back home, but his entire suit of Mjolnir was trashed. The armor sat awkwardly on its mount with pieces hanging from the techsuit he had shed. The rest of his team’s armor looked worse for wear. Months of repairs and modifications left the once shining suits of armor a shadow of their former selves.

     Completing their mission meant a well deserved return home. The relief and excitement was felt by each of the Spartans. After months of living behind enemy lines, they could finally take a break.

      The Spartans’ home was on a world bordering UNSC controlled space. It was a habitable planet once scouted for colonization, but abandoned when the Covenant war kicked off, leaving a perfectly quiet environment for ONI to build Project Freebird.

      Headed by Christian C. Waylen, the program was meant to perfect on the original Spartan-II’s, but with more focus on training as independent operators. The director designed and requested a massive underground base to train her candidates as efficiently and discreetly as possible. So the Freebird HQ was made. It was dug deep into the earth, creating many different layers of invulnerability, but with as little a surface presence as possible.

     The Base worked effectively as a city, complete with markets, entertainment centers, different levels of housing, and even schools for the ONI personnel and their families stationed there. Because of the extent, no one was permitted to leave the planet and committed to see the project through.

     When the Spartans returned, there was no pomp or celebration. The only one to meet them was the Program’s AI; Baseless Accusations. He had replaced the original AI after it was retired, and didn’t share the maternal nature the first had. He was essential in preparing the team for their deployment. Even as rigid as Baseless Accusation seemed, he reserved a soft tone for the returning Spartans. The soldiers noticed that he was smiling; a rare occurrence for the AI.

    They were pulled down through the elevator all of the way to the lowest level; down through miles of depth and metal walls. The hangar was a spacious one, fitted with two Prowlers; one of which was unfamiliar to the soldiers.

      The team was met in the armory by Freebird’s director, Christian C. Waylen. The young silver haired woman clutched a holopad and beamed with excitement. Her tight pony tail bobbed as she jogged up to the Spartans. Even though they towered over her, the woman didn’t seem to care, or even notice.

      “Welcome home, Freebirds,” Waylen announced. She was the only one to call them that. Everyone else addressed them as their self-given team name; Ilos. The director then noticed the poor state of their Mjolnir, and that Jackson’s suit was absent. She frowned. “Your reports didn’t mention this.”

      “Now you know,” Jackson told her. “You have the report, I’m sure.”

       “It had to be expected, ma’am,” Chase said, removing his helmet. His hair had grown a bit since they were deployed. No one bothered to follow regulations so far from command. “We’re not engineers.”

    Waylen huffed and adjusted the holopad in her arms. “Either way, I have great news!” the director exclaimed. “Your report was reviewed, and a final test is requested before further funding can be approved. Once your armor is fixed, of course.”

        Jackson didn’t approve of her reaction. There was no concern, notice, or even admiration of the completion of their mission. No respect for how far they’d come. It was all about proving that she was better than Halsey. They had come to terms with Waylen’s detachment years ago, but it still stung. The Spartans were still technically children, and that never escaped his notice.

      “If you’ll exit your armor, I’ll get these fixed up in no time,” Waylen said, gesturing to the stations behind them. “This is such a big day! I’ve worked years towards this, and I’m almost there.”

      After leaving the armory, and making a quick stop by the infirmary for a checkup, Jackson noticed the overall down mood the team shared. Something more than Waylen’s selfishness was expected. Even a pat on the back would have sufficed.

   So Jackson decided to do something about it.

    Spending a decade in one place had let the Spartans learn every nook and cranny. They found places to hide when they didn’t want to be found, and to relax when training was just too much.

    One such place was the Lounge. The Spartans had taken an entire year to cut it out of a forgotten construction tunnel, then over the years expand it and fill it with every luxury they could acquire. It was the only place that was ever truly theirs.

     The squad leader set out to the higher levels and “borrowed” a couple bottles of Officer-brand Whiskey. It wasn’t hard to sneak into storage and make away with them. He returned to the Lounge and set it up for an Ilos celebration. Their home-away-from-home remained just how they left it, and it made the squad leader relax for the first time since their deployment.

       With the rest of the team gathered, they spent the next few hours celebrating their victory. They drank, wrestled, played cards, laughed at memories, and enjoyed their day. It was a great relief to Jackson that he could bring his family together when no one else could.

    After the sun above-ground had set, and Freebird’s personnel had gone to bed, Ilos snuck out and climbed up to the housing Chamber. They never used the lifts, but rather followed the winding construction tunnels they had unbarred and reinforced.

      They came out high above the houses, overlooking the entire chamber. At its center was the main elevator leading to all the other levels. It was massive, and allowed for three Scorpion Tanks to sit side-by-side with room to spare. The lift went all of the way to the surface and supplied the base with its resources.

      Centered all around the lift were the houses. Some were packed tightly together for the single individuals, and the family houses sat further back, much larger than the others. The largest, belonging to the Officers, sat high on the elevated edges of the chamber. The artificial sun had set, bathing the cavern in a subtle orange glow from the house and street lights.

     Ilos sat at the edge of the chamber’s edge and enjoyed the view and the chilled air. It was just as calm as they liked, with no one to notice their presence. It was no secret why Project Freebird existed. Every ONI personnel stationed in Freebird HQ knew of Ilos, but rarely saw them. Stories were told of their exploits late at night, stealing from the markets and making off with random supplies. They were known as delinquents to the security, and mischievous phantoms to everybody else.

     Perish joined Jackson at the edge and sat next to him. Perish was the level headed one, bringing a realistic voice to the squad leader’s brash decisions. He also saw more than Jackson did, and this time was no different.

       “That extra Prowler we saw is worrying me,” Perish told the squad leader.

     “We get outsiders here all the time. Freebird is an ONI program,” Jackson pointed out.

     “This can’t be a coincidence. Right as we get back, HQ gets a visitor.”

        “Well, who do you think it is?”

        Parkson-333 appeared from behind them and produced a data-pad. On its screen was a still image from a security camera taken just outside the Spartan’s personal quarters. The woman in the image was dressed in an ONI uniform with tightly kept hair, with an analyzing expression.

        The security camera’s stamped date was a month ago, when the team was away. No one but the program’s director and selected cleaning crews were allowed into the Spartan’s quarters, which was the lowest level in the base. Perish’s suspicions were confirmed, as none of them had been told of her arrival.

        “Got an ID on her?” Jackson asked Parkson, glancing back at the red haired Spartan.

        He nodded and swiped the image to reveal a crude dossier. The files were marked as highly classified, and were filled with recovered information that had formerly been redacted.

        Her name was Abers Liliana, an officer in the Office of Naval Intelligence. Parkson wasn’t able to retrieve the parameters of her deployment to Freebird, or where she had come from. Though it was obvious it wasn’t a normal report retriever, those of which frequented the director’s office to update ONI command.

        “Keep an eye on her for me,” Jackson told his Spartan, handing the data-pad back.

        “This doesn’t feel right,” Perish said.

        “I get where you’re coming from now. All we can do is wait for our next orders, though,” Jackson said with a shrug.

        “Yeah, you’re right,” the other Spartan said.

        It was as the team returned to their quarters for the first time in months did Baseless Accusations appear to them. Its avatar was of an old medieval knight wearing a large shield bearing the ONI emblem.

        “Christian Waylen has made your next mission ready for debrief whenever you are available,” the AI said. “She requested that you rest first.”

        Jackson raised a brow at the Knight. The only reason she would request such a thing, was to benefit her in some way. So the squad leader doubted that actually came from the Director herself.

        “Thanks, Acc,” Jackson said, using Ilos’s nickname for the AI.

        Baseless Accusations bowed his head and disappeared. It was then that Jackson called out to his team and gathered in the dim closet that constituted for their debriefing room.

        A single undersized holographic projection table dominated the center of the room, while miniature consoles dotted the corners. The only light came from the open doorway, which was entirely too narrow for the Spartan’s massive frames.

        All eight Spartans managed to squeeze inside, however, and gathered around the table as Baseless Accusations appeared on its surface. With his shield held under his hands, the AI bowed, then waved its hand upwards as their next target appeared.

        It was an image taken from an orbital satellite of a feeble brown skinned creature in rich colored robes surrounded by red armored Elites.

        “This is your next target; the Lesser Prophet of Fragility that information has shown will be touring the Covenant lines soon,” the AI explained.

        “That’s it?” Chase asked in a baffled tone. He threw an arm at the still image hovering in midair. “That’s like telling a blind man to find the sun!”

        Baseless Accusations dipped his head. “Information is being withheld at this time,” the AI said with a lowered tone. “This is all I was given. I am sorry.”

        “So we’re being sent against the Covenant this time?” Jackson asked with growing concern.

        “Affirmative,” Baseless Accusations confirmed.

        “Alright. Thanks for the debrief, Acc,” Jackson sighed.

        The AI bowed his head and disappeared, leaving the squad leader feeling lost and disappointed. Though the night was setting in, and the rest of the Spartans had gone to sleep, Jackson stayed awake running the possibilities through his brain.

        It was close to three in the morning when a faint light appeared from the darkened hallway. Jackson got up to investigate, and saw Baseless Accusation’s shield leaning against the wall. When he approached it, the shield swept across the ground and came to rest on a portion of the wall.

        Curious now, Jackson crept closer and brushed his fingers through the shield and made contact with a small digital access port. The squad leader returned with a data-pad and connected it to the port, and was surprised when an information packet was downloaded onto it. The shield disappeared as information scrolled down the screen.

        It was a series of stellar coordinates. Jackson looked around for the AI, but any trace of it was gone. He found himself standing in the middle of the dark hallway, alone, and wondering what had just happened.

Chapter 2

The Insurrectionist Lieutenant's response wasn't immediate. Melicia suspected that his people were hiding the loss from him. It was a tense week of waiting, watching, and listening. Everybody was beginning to feel restless, and squabbling was much more common, even with frequent sparring matches to blow off steam.

        When the Spartans finally caught word, they had almost no warning to prepare. Planted bugs and audio recorders began reporting a mass exodus of Grizer's men all headed off-world. By what they had been able to pick up, they would be moving out in three different vessels, and offloading onto a larger frigate once in space. There was no word of which vessel Grizer was on, but there was no doubt he'd be with them.

        Jackson quickly came up with a plan as they were headed for the vessel depot. There was no way to get eight Spartans into one vessel, so they'd have to divide into three teams. The launches would be staggered to avoid drawing attention, and it would be a simple matter of sneaking aboard and hitching a ride to the rendezvous. With little preparation, however, "simple" would be subjective.

     As they grew closer to the depot, Jackson began worrying about his team. It wasn't like they hadn't done solo operations before, but never for this long. The stakes were high, and there was no room for failure.

The colonist depot was an innocent port for off-world travelers to check in and rest. A simple outer colony station with rugged edges and heavy laborer’s coming home from a hard day's work.

        The Spartans nestled their worn Pelican down into a lot full of ships meant for a prism of tasks. Theirs was one of many old refitted birds sitting around the depot, so they blended in perfectly with the afternoon activity. They had secured a landing pad at the very edge of the lot, one that was free of prying eyes and cameras.

     As soon as they had appeared, the Spartans melted away into the depot and set up a makeshift listening station in between a group of tall crates. Melecia sat in the middle with a datapad hooked up to his suit, listening intently for their ship's arrival. Jackson stood near him, gazing down at the equipment with crossed arms. Both Kia and Janet were laid out atop the shipping crates watching for potential threats.

        The sun was hanging low in the horizon and the temperature had reached its peak. Inside his suit, despite the climate controls, Jackson was sweating. Though the squad leader wasn't sure it was because of the heat, or how tense he had become.

        After two hours of waiting, Melecia pointed to the sky and they all watched an unassuming transport vessel descend from the clouds and touch down onto a landing pad.

     "Team 1, you're up. Remember to stay com silent, and good luck," Jackson said, glancing over his shoulder to his teammates. Chase, Charlie, and Kia moved out of their hiding spots and disappeared into the depot.

     It was another thirty minutes before the transport lifted off, taking his Spartans with it.

     Two hours had passed before the second transport arrived. Jackson sent Melecia, Janet, and Parkson in Team 2. Just Perish and Jackson were left to wait for the final transportation vessel.

     "They've trained for this," Perish assured Jackson as he stood staring into the dusk sky. "Have faith in your team."

    The squad leader inhaled deeply to calm his nerves. If this mission was going to be a success, he couldn't waste energy on worrying. Jackson banished the thoughts from his mind as he watched the final transport descend from the night sky and land in the depot.

    "We're up," Perish said, clamping his weapon to his back.

    Jackson paused to destroy the electronics that were left, then vaulted the walls of their hidey hole to follow the shadows of the containers.

     Both Spartans navigated the maze of empty landing platforms, service booths, and vacant repair vehicles until their target was in sight. The frigate sat with its ramp open, loading boxes of supplies and personnel inside. The cockpit was tilted into the sky, leaving a perfect blind spot for both soldiers to slip past and close the gap.

     The Insurrectionists hadn't been expecting this kind of approach, and no one noticed as two Spartans clambered up the side of the vessel and broke in through a maintenance port. It was a tight fit with their Mjolnir, but the Spartans made it.

      With the personnel still loading up the cargo bay, it gave both Spartans enough time to relocate to a forgotten part of the ship near the waste storage system. It was pitch black even with their augmented vision, forcing the pair to use their headlamps set to their dimmest.

     Jackson and Perish found a spot wedged near the bottom where they would be safe when the ship took off, and wouldn't be detected if by random chance someone came down into the area. It was cramped, and even the suit's filters couldn't get rid of all of the smell.

     Neither Spartan said a word, and had gone com silent. They each knew the plan, and sat in silence as the workers finished loading up. There was a slight kick as the ship took off, and left the planet behind. Fortunately, the waste storage got air so neither had to rely on their suit's oxygen.

     It was a full two hours and thirty minutes before the ship's acceleration slowed, and the tell-tale thud vibrated down the ship signaling they had docked.

     They waited for the ship to empty before exiting and stepping foot into the much larger Frigate. Jackson immediately felt something was wrong. The entire hangar was empty. The crates hadn't even been unloaded, and there was no one there to receive it. It was far too late to abort, and with the rest of his team aboard, he couldn't just up and leave.

    Just in case, however, Jackson took the Assault Rifle from his back and held it low, ready to defend himself if and when trouble arose.

     Breaking from the hallway, the Spartans found a remote maintenance tunnel and popped open a hatch. Using an infiltration device, Perish pulled schematics for the Frigate and found the rendezvous that the team had set up previously.

    With a nod, Perish replaced the panel and picked his weapon back up. He picked up the lead and they slowly threaded their way through the ship, occasionally popping into a hallway to cross into another corridor and back into the shadows.

     Jackson's unease only grew when they found a mostly derelict ship. They heard voices drifting down from rooms, saw a shadow of someone moving within, and only occasionally an actual person. The vessel was far too quiet for how many troops they had just received.

    The Squad Leader had made the decision to retrieve his Spartans and abandon the mission when they reached the rendezvous; a former medical bay that had been turned into storage.

    Jackson gestured for Perish to cover him as the Squad leader tapped out a rhythm on the walls with his knuckles. There was nothing but a darkened room and silence until the faint sound of a return tap reached his ears. It was the corresponding response the team had set up long before being deployed. Jackson responded with the answer, and Team 2 appeared from the shadows like phantoms.

    "Where's Team 1?" Jackson asked, glancing around the room.

    "Unknown," Parkson answered.

    "Then we've got a problem," Jackson stated.

     "That's not the only one. This place isn't right. Something's up," Melecia observed.

     "Agreed," Jackson answered. "We're not leaving without Team 1."

     "Do you know if their ship got here?"

     Melecia nodded. "Picked up on it before we arrived, even read the others leaving the ship. Lost the signal after that, though."

    "What are our options here, Jackson?" Janet asked.

        Jackson went through all of the options in his head, and was failing to see any other option. Time was running out, and they had to continue with the mission.

    "We find Grizer and finish the mission," Jackson stated.

    Though the others had concerns, no one would voice them. They trusted their squad leader to know what was best.

        The Spartans held up in the abandoned medical bay as Melecia tapped into the ship's network. It had no AI, smart or dumb, so there was nothing but automated programs to stop his intrusion. This process took time, time that Jackson spent thinking about their next move. No one had survived to give a solid report about Grizer's tactics. The only thing they knew that he had killed an entire platoon of ODST's, and a Spartan. He obviously wasn't a coward, and was a solid tactician, and had serious firepower at his disposal. What would he do when confronted? He had been avoiding them so far, would he jump ship to continue the streak? Or would he stand and fight?

    Melecia stood from his spot on the ground and handed his data-pad to Jackson. "Found him. Signal's faint, but he's holed up in the armory," the Spartan reported.

    This was perhaps the worst place for a dangerous target to be. Within arms reach of every weapon on the ship. There was no backing down, though, If his team couldn't kill him, no one else could.

     The Squad Leader devised a short plan of attack, and the Spartans moved out to face down the Insurrectionist Lieutenant.

If the ship had been quiet before, it was almost derelict now. Not a single voice, nor body, or even a shadow was to be seen or heard. It was almost certainly a trap they were walking into. They would prepare appropriately, and avoid being caught by surprise.

The armory had a second tier, accessible by doors set parallel of the main entrance. Two Spartans would go up either side, and Jackson would enter the bottom floor alone.

     When they reached the entrance, the others split up and Jackson waited thirty seconds, counting each heartbeat and calming his mind, then slid open the door and cautiously stepped inside with his rifle shouldered.

    He was met by a room with a high ceiling, and the floor overhead creating a kind of low roof. The room had been completely cleared of any components to create an open almost arena-like floor.

   Dominating the center of the room was a massive powered exo-skeleton machine. It boasted two arms and a powered jackhammer that could easily crush a Wraith. Jackson had to run through his years of training to remember the name of this monster; the Cyclops. The Mjolnir's predecessor.

    Seated in the machine's neural harness was none other than Grizer. His military styled cut, jagged scar, and silver hair was a perfect match to the dossier. Except now he was grinning from ear to ear as he raised the Cyclop's massive arms.

    Behind him were two motionless suits of Mjolnir.

     "You fucked up, Spartan. Its time to add another one to my list," he laughed.

     The Insurrectionist wasted no time in powering up the jackhammer and lunging forwards, nearly pummeling Jackson with the weapon. He managed to roll around the bulky chassis and come up the other side firing his weapon. The bullets pinged off of the metal, leaving no more than a scratch in the thick armor.

     The other Spartans popped up over the railings and began raining fire down on Grizer. He stepped back to look up, and growled in annoyance at the bullets hitting his cockpit.

    "This doesn't change shit. You’re nothing but UNSC lap dogs,” Grizer jeered.

     Jackson had to think of a strategy, or he was going to die. Soon. He backed all of the way to the edge of the armory, mind racing. Lessons and lectures of the schematics of a Cyclops came to mind. The armor was thick, too thick for normal weapons fire to penetrate. They could run at 30mph, too fast to outrun.

    There was only one option Jackson could think of. Take out the fusion pack.

    Hoping his teammates would pick up on it as well, Jackson kept the Cyclops turned around and tried to keep his distance. The armored machine charged him, its footsteps shaking the ground.

    Jackson dodged out of the way, but the suit was faster and backhanded him across the room. The Spartan slammed into the wall and pain exploded around his body, blurring his vision and fogging his thoughts.

    His instincts kicked back in and adrenaline coursed through his system just in time to throw him to his feet and run back around the charging Cyclops. All the while, his teammates were raining bullets on the machine, denting the covering to its fusion pack. It wouldn't be enough, though.

     "I killed one of you, I can kill the rest!" Grizer bellowed, slamming the machine's fist into the ground where Jackson had just been. The impact made the floor jump out from underneath Jackson's feet and his tumble was interrupted. Grizer bore down on him, bloodlust in his eyes.

     Perish hit the floor behind the Cyclops and unloaded. This made grizer stop and turn on the Spartan and swipe an arm at him. The Spartan dodged around his reach, allowing Jackson to get to his feet and sprint for the back of the machine.

    Grizer saw Jackson's movement and whipped around, bringing the jackhammer to bear. It beat the air right next to the Spartan's head but missed by less than an inch. The Spartan jumped onto the Cyclops's back and almost lost his grip as the machine whipped around trying to throw him. Perish had stopped harassing it in fear of injuring his squad leader, and was circling around for a better shot at the fusion pack.

    Jackson got a grip on the armored cover and started pulling with all of his strength. He had pulled it back a few inches, exposing just a sliver, when he realized the Cyclops was running for a wall. The Spartan couldn't bail in time before he was slammed in between the Cyclops and the cold metal. The air exploded from his lungs and the Spartan felt something break. Grizer backed up and slammed him again. This time Jackson felt his armor crack, a truly damning sound that made his electronics fritz out and die.

     Before he could ram him again, Perish tackled the Cyclops from behind and started trying to pry open the cockpit. The attempt made Grizer stop attacking Jackson and back off as he tried to get Perish off.

   Jackson pulled himself to his feet, blood dripping through his fingers, to watch as Perish figured out he couldn't rip the cockpit open and relied on smashing the reinforced glass with his fist. The realization on Grizer's face was priceless as he realized how angry Perish was. The cockpit shattered under the angered Spartan's strength, and he wasted no time in widening the gap. There was a gunshot, and Perish fell away just in time to avoid being shot as Grizer disengaged the neural harness and pulled a pistol.

     The Cyclops reengaged its neural harness and turned on the others. The gap wasn't wide enough to shoot through, so the other Spartans couldn't hit their target. Jackson cursed under his breath as he pulled himself to his feet.

        Grizer, now more angry than excited, decided he wanted he was done messing around. The Insurrectionist targeted Jackson again and pinned him under his foot. The Spartan felt the Cyclops's weight bearing down on his cracked armor and crushing his ribs. The crazed look in Grizer's eyes was terrifying. Pure rage and bloodlust.

     "The UNSC has sent all seven of you to die! Say your prayers, military filth," Grizer said.

   Jackson then realized he only saw two bodies. Where was the third?

    "Seven?" Jackson wheezed. "You're missing one."

    Grizer hesitated, and his expression morphed into worried confusion. "What-"

    He didn't get to finish before a massive explosion shook from the center of the ship. The lights flickered and the ship listed, sending the Cyclops tumbling downwards and off of Jackson's chest.

Perish was there and helping the squad leader to his feet. "Move. To the hangar!" Jackson exclaimed. "Grab Chase and Charlie."

      As Melecia and Janet were grabbing the others, Jackson picked up his knife and hobbled to the crumpled Cyclops. The cockpit had broken properly, revealing a trapped Grizer. He was struggling to free himself of the mangled neural harness.

     He froze when he saw Jackson's emotionless visor appear from over the cockpit. "What worth am I to you? This ship is going down. Is it really worth it to kill me?" Grizer pleaded.

     Jackson paused, thinking back over the last eight months. The relentless chasing, ghost trails, always two steps behind their target. He remembered the endless nights of planning and executing that never quite got him close enough. The amount of times they had to relocate because Grizer had once again slipped away.

    Behind his visor, Jackson smiled. "Yes," he answered, and plunged the knife through Grizer's head.

Jackson stepped away, feeling immense satisfaction and no small amount of pride. The squad leader wiped the blood from his blade, and sheathed it. He then jogged off to join his teammates, dodging fire and falling panels as the ship fell apart around them. The corridors were quickly filling with smoke and venting air as countless explosions rippled down its hull.

    They found a transport intact and Melecia quickly got to work getting them out of there. There wasn't a doubt that Kia, their missing Spartan and savior, would get out alive. She was the craftiest of them all.

    Jackson watched from a porthole as the Frigate fell apart in the distance, internal explosions quickly dying out in the vacuum of space.

   Kia rejoined them soon after in a similar transport. She docked with them, and left the spare drifting in space.

    The Spartan team returned to their home in the mountains and began wiping any trace of their presence. Chase and Charlie woke up soon after landing after being pumped full of bio-foam.

    They then explained how Kia had decided to sabotage the reactor as a back-up plan, and how Perish had sent out a broadcast once he realized Kia was missing. That's how she knew to blow the reactor, and save the team from certain death.

    The Spartans were celebrating as best as they knew while packing up base, and everybody was in a very good mood. Jackson stared out with pride and joy as they left the planet behind and headed back to the Inner Colonies to inform Project Freebird of their success.

For a first mission, it had gone pretty well.

Chapter 1

      The call of a bird, and the gurgling of a stream is interrupted by the subtle sound of metal sliding over wood. A monocular lens slid from between two branches, and watched a single aircraft hovering over the treetops. It seemed to be waiting for something. Its engines burned bright to keep it still, and their unaware pilots could be seen within.

      Using their suit's neural link, the watcher sent a warning signal to their teammates. She hadn't seen anything to warrant calling off the attack, but something just wasn't sitting right.

     As the suit's owner changed positions; she saw it. A disturbance just under the treetops revealed two more aircraft waiting in stealth. The obvious one had been the bait, and the hidden fighters would have tracked down and killed those that took the bait.

     The watcher slid down her perch and threaded her way back to the rendezvous point. Waiting there were three massive armored soldiers; Spartans. Each were waiting for the fourth to return, their figures barely detectable against the shade of the trees.

     The shortest of them all approached the watcher with their Assault Rifle shouldered. "Code," the Spartan demanded.

     "Eclipse Jackers," the watcher responded without hesitation.

     The other Spartan lowered his weapon and turned back to the makeshift camp. "Sitrep, Janet. What's going on out there?" the squad leader, Jackson-332, asked.

     The watcher, Janet-335, answered as they stepped into the clearing. "I spotted two ambush ships guarding the first. Attacking the main target would draw their attention and jeopardize the mission," she answered.

     The squad leader thought about it for a minute, arms crossed in thought. "Does Perish know about them?" Jackson asked.

     "Negative. They got the same warning you guys did," Janet answered.

     "Kia, I want you to tell Team 2 to send someone to the main ship, and have two others take the hidden one. Kill the pilots and crew. You've got thirty minutes before we take ours," the squad leader ordered.

       A Spartan moved from the shadows and took off without another word, quickly disappearing into the dense collection of trees.

      "Janet, take Parkson and get to the hidden aircraft. Set your timers to thirty minutes," Jackson told the others. He was met with affirmative nods and the two remaining soldiers headed off into the woods.

     The squad leader turned and set off for the main ship. He was careful to stick to the shadows and move as quietly as he could without wasting time. Through gaps and breaks in the canopy, the Spartan could see the main ship hovering in the distance. It was a cargo ship, and still laden with supplies it was to unload. However, the Spartans had hijacked the convoy, and its pick-up would never arrive. They must have suspected something, and sent escorts to guard the offloading.

      As the countdown timer reached five minutes, Jackson came close to the ship's underbelly. Once the clock hit three minutes, the squad leader spotted movement at the edges of his peripherals. A close-range signal blipped in his helmet and he spotted Perish-338 appear from the grass.

     "We should have kept the flat-bed," Perish said with a frown in his voice.

      "It can be forced down if we need to," Jackson reassured.

      Once the mission timer hit two minutes, he produced the stolen all-clear signal and pressed it. The device pulsed up to the waiting ship, and it began to lower itself to the grass.

     Once it was down, the ramp lowered and two security guards stepped out, weapons sweeping the area for threats. They stayed there, looking the wrong direction as both Spartans broke out in a full sprint towards its nose. Keeping in the cockpit's blindspot, the two brought their weapons to bear and gunned down the guards.

      Just inside was the cargo bay, which was filled with floor-to-cieling with crates. Personnel had begun to unload them, and stopped cold when they saw the Spartans who didn't hesitate to shoot them dead.

      Quickly clearing the cargo area, the soldiers swept through the rest of the ship, clearing rooms and dropping bodies. The hostiles had been armed with both Covenant and pre-war weapons, proving that they were in fact insurrectionists like what had been suspected.

Jackson looked out of the cockpit window to see both ambush vessels rising out of the trees and prayed that Spartans were piloting them. When their teammate's voices flooded his helmet, Jackson was both proud and relieved.

"Ambush ship number 1 captured and secure," Parkson-333 reported.

"Ambush ship number 2 in Spartan hands," Chase-211 said.

"Have any tracking devices been located and neutralized?" Jackson asked. The squad leader glanced over his shoulder as Perish pulled a string of wires attached to a chip from the wall.

"Yes sir," Chase answered.

"Janet's getting it now," Parkson responded.

"Good work. We'll pick up Kia and Melecia, then head home," Jackson said.

The squad leader piloted the cargo vessel where Perish had left the last two Spartans, then they sent out an all-clear signal before landing to let them in. Once the final soldiers had boarded, Jackson pulled the ship up and out of the forest, then headed East out of the area. He made sure to stay low over the terrain to avoid sensors, and remain undetected.

Not a word was said for the entire two hours it took to reach their base in the mountains. It was slow going once they entered the mountains and the weather turned harsh. Wind threatened to dash them against the ragged cliffs, and the rain showed close to no visibility. It was a relief like no other when the familiar pop-up buildings and lights of their temporary "home" appeared out of the rocks. The stolen defensive turrets tracked their approach as they passed through the defensive grid and parked on the landing pad.

"Think this will get Grizer out this time?" Perish asked Jackson as he swiveled out of the pilot's seat.

"If this won't, our mission's a bust. Time's almost up," Jackson answered.

The rest of the Spartan team came to help unload the stolen supplies and stash them inside. Jackson stopped to watch his team and felt immense pride. This was their longest mission yet, but no one had ever complained or shown any hesitation to what their squad leader ordered. Ten years of training was finally being put to good use, and everybody was happy about it.

The squad leader closed up the ship once it was empty and descended into the main building. He pulled off his helmet and ruffled the jet-black hair that had outgrown regulations.

Kia-334 was in the hallway checking the manifest and matched Jackson's stride. "There's some good stuff in there," the female Spartan said. "Food, munitions, even a couple weapons. Make sure to thank Melicia, because this stuff was going straight to Grizer."

The Squad Leader stopped to consider that, and a small smile flickered across his face. It was rare that Jackson got excited about news, but this could mean the success and completion of their mission; capturing a known Insurrectionist lieutenant. It all depended on how angry this made their target.

"Give my thanks to him for me," Jackson said. "Once those supplies are sorted, get some rest. That's an order, Spartan."

The female Spartan gave him a sarcastic half-salute and returned to the storage room, leaving the squad leader to stalk off to the war room alone.

The squad leader rested his empty helmet on the holo-projector and pulled up the dossier of William Grizer. Even with months of hunting and research, the information on this man remained pitifully small. ONI suspected his hand in hundreds of operations pre-dating the Covenant war, and his body count was in the thousands. Jackson and his team had been assigned Grizer after an entire platoon of ODST's was wiped out trying to take him down.

Jackson closed the dossier he had reviewed countless times before, and left the war room to get himself some dinner.

By the time he had wandered towards the mess hall, the smells of food was wafting out of its doors and drawing the Spartan inside.

He was startled by a sudden crash and watched as Chase-211 flipped Charlie-337 over his shoulder and onto the table they were sitting at. The two started wrestling, which ended as quick as it started when the table's legs gave out and sent the quarreling men straight into the ground.

"Keep it up, and this is going straight in the trash!" Janet-335 called from the kitchen.

Jackson pulled Chase to his feet and gave him a stern look, which the hulking Spartan shrugged at. "He started it," Chase said.

"Bullshit I did," Charlie countered. "Say I cheat at chess again and it'll be more than a table broken."

Jackson smacked the back of Charlie's head, then reached down and picked the table back up. Its steel legs popped right back in place with the lock replaced.

"If you want to eat, I suggest you listen to the cook," Jackson said.

"Yes squad leader," Chase said sarcastically, then sat down at the table with Charlie.

Jackson took his place at the second table and leaned back with a datapad in hand. On its screen were the daily chatter reports summarized by an algorithm Melecia-336 had created. It picked out radio chatter, decrypted what it knew, and transcripted it into text for easy review. Information was power, and the Spartans could use any information they got.

From the kitchen, Janet poured soup into bowls and carried them out two at a time. "Squad lead gets first pick," the female Spartan said, setting down Jackson's bowl, then handing Perish his.

The rest got their food and started chowing down. Jackson, however, was transfixed on the datapad he was poring over. He didn't notice as Janet came back out with a ladle, then smacked the back of his head with it.

"Hey!" Jackson exclaimed as Janet took away his datapad and pushed his bowl closer. "I could have you court-martialed for that."

"My kitchen. I outrank you," Janet said. "Eat."

The Squad leader relented to the snickering of his teammates and sat back to enjoy his food. The soup was swimming with fresh seasoning and vegetables.

"Better than MRE's," Chase said in lieu of a complement.

"Thank today's find for that. That's not all, either," Janet said, then produced eight small bags of snack chips. She threw each Spartan one, except for Chase. "I saved these before Chase stashed them away."

Jackson enjoyed the view from the mess' window. It looked out over the entire camp and just over the camp's walls. Rain hit the window, creating streaks of moisture that traveled all of the way down. Clashes of lightning lit up the sky for brief moments of time, showing the sheet of rain that was moving through the mountains. The weather created a cozy feel that, for once, Jackson allowed himself to enjoy.

After everyone had eaten and gone their separate ways, the squad leader grabbed a thermos container, filled it with that night's soup, and grabbed the extra bag of chips. He then slipped on his helmet and stepped out into the rain. The sun had fallen completely and darkness had enveloped the camp. It was lit up by a scarce few lights surrounding each building.

Jackson found the watch tower empty, so he instead climbed the hill, slipping occasionally along the way, to find their sniper camped out under a rocky overhang.

"Brought you food," the squad leader said, handing over the thermos and chips. "Vegetable soup. With a little snack."

Kia took it and set down her Sniper Rifle at her side. "Thanks squad lead," she said.

"Pulling sentry again tonight?" Jackson asked. "Thought I said get some rest?"

Kia looked out over the camp, and the pass beyond. With the storm, visibility didn't get passed the protecting wall. The sniper had ways to get around that, though, and could see for miles with her rifle's scope.

"Yeah. Can't sleep after a score like this," she admitted.

Jackson nodded in understanding. He wouldn't be getting much rest either. Especially knowing they were so close to the end.

"I get that. Melicia will relieve you in the morning. Good luck, Spartan," the squad leader said, then climbed back down and returned to the base.

Jackson grabbed his datapad and stood in front of a window overlooking the base. He became deeply absorbed in his own thoughts. The squad leader barely noticed when Perish entered the room to stand beside him.

The other Spartan was quiet for a while. He had a distant look gazing out through the storm. "Are you ready for what's next?" Perish asked.

Jackson looked up to meet the other's cold grey eyes. The squad leader was perplexed, and sensed a deeper meaning behind his words. "For what?" he asked.

"We all know what's coming, but are you ready to make the sacrifices that may be needed?" Perish explained. "Being squad leader means getting the mission done. No matter what."

Jackson turned to leave, annoyed that Perish was trying to lecture him about his job, but then the other grabbed his arm and held it firmly. What Jackson saw in his teammates eyes was fear, something Perish rarely showed.

"I'm serious, Jackson. We've only dealt with the grunts up until now. Grizer's kill count is high, and one of those numbers is a Spartan," Perish warned.

The squad leader freed his arm and turned to leave, a new determination lighting up in his chest. "Nobody's going to die," Jackson said. "And that's an order."