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Not Exactly Human: Ch. 1: Pike's Creek
Date: 23 May 2008, 12:15 am

Chapter One: Pike's Creek

August 27th, 2552, Reach, UNSC Space, 7:56am, Pike's Creek Highway

Having been on leave from his unit for three months, First Class Sergeant Jeff Ganszo had decided to get back out into the field, preferably for one last time before he moved back to Earth.

That was part of the reason he was in his black civilian Warthog, civilian being because it didn't have a gun on the back. There was only a spare tyre where the gun would have been had this vehicle been in service.

Jeff was thirty-nine years old and had been in the UNSC military ever since he had been twenty-one, giving him eighteen years experience of service. That would be more than enough to grant him a place as a squad leader at Fort pike's Creek, the very place he was driving towards now.
Jeff had been popular with the women for his good looks, with his brown hair and green eyes, but now that he was engaged to someone back on Earth, flirting with anymore females wouldn't be possible. He would remain faithful to this someone back on Earth.

Reach was one of the last remaining military strongholds of the UNSC. Orbited by twenty orbital MAC platforms and plenty of UNSC fleet ships, it was believed that if any enemy wanted to attack the planet, they would not be able to crack the 'impenetrable' stronghold of Reach.
The planet was located on one of the major Slip-space routes, one which lead directly to Earth. That meant it was even more important in that aspect: if the Covenant assaulted the planet and won, which Jeff had a feeling they probably would eventually, they could head straight for Earth if they knew which direction it was in.

The Human-Covenant war had been waging for twenty-seven years. Jeff had fought against the aliens in often brutal situations. He had plenty of scars from past battles fought and knew what the enemy was capable of. He had watched entire worlds be destroyed by their seemingly never-ending supply of ships. The only way humanity could win a battle is if it were fought on the ground. That rarely happened.
He knew enough about the races in the Covenant from his experiences to know that most were dangerous, especially the more powerful species. All could kill you, and usually the more there were, the less chance you had of surviving the fight.

This part of Reach, aptly named Pike's Creek since the guy who had mapped the area had had the surname of 'Pike' and there was a creek nearby, was close to one of twenty-five civilian settlements on the planet. These settlements were just like large towns, usually with some sort of military installation in them as well. Usually the people who lived in them were descendants of the early pioneers or marines who were on leave. Reach had good hotels thanks to the amount of military personnel who stayed in them during their leave.

The wilderness of Pike's Creek was your typical Canadian-style forest, with the tall, close together trees and the flowing rivers and creeks. Anyone without a map could get lost in the massive unspoiled forests of the planet. They also made good training areas for servicemen.

Jeff had lived on Reach for the past year, having been stationed on a UNSC cruiser that had seen action near some planets. He had a small apartment in the nearby civilian settlement, named 'Settlement #15' since it was the fifteenth to have been founded on the planet. Jeff had a few friends there, some who were in the military.

It had been three months since Jeff had done anything remotely military-like. He hadn't even fired a gun in that amount of time, although he doubted he had lost his skills in that area. Apparently most of his superior officers thought he was a great shot at any weapon, preferably a sniper rifle.

Where he was going now was Fort Pike's Creek, a military installation in the style of a large fortress. The reason he was going was because an acquaintance of his, an ONI agent of Asian descent, Wang Chung, had recommended a position for him here. A position in the Orbital Drop Shock Troopers, or ODSTs.

Jeff had strong memories of what had happened during his last time in the ODSTs. It was the year he had first joined up. He had done so well at basic training and the advanced stuff when his commanding officer recommended him a place in an ODST squad. After what had happened during that time, Jeff had left. He had wanted nothing to do with that group again.

Things change over time, and Jeff knew he could make it back into the ODSTs quite easily with his track record of service to the UNSC. He had won a few medals during his time in the army, but Jeff had always declined any new promotions since becoming a Sergeant. He had always wanted to remain a normal grunt; he had always thought that becoming a grumpy old guy in an Admiral's uniform would be a boring way to end his career.

Since he had declined these promotions, he had built up a reputation around the planet for being a hot-head in combat. He was aware of the rumours about his apparent craziness in combat and frankly didn't care about what other people thought of him. All he wanted to do was serve a little while longer.

Jeff sat back in the driver's seat and continued following the Pike's Creek Highway, mostly a dirt and gravel road which ran near to Fort Pike's Creek.

The wilderness around him was mainly silent save for the sounds of the wind blowing through the bushes, creating an eerie rustling noise, or the faint tweeting of one of the many Earth bird species that had been introduced to the planet in its early days. He could see, surprisingly, a kookaburra perched up on a tree ahead, sitting silently and doing its 'laugh' every now and then.

It was a strangely beautiful setting, one he would hate to see ravaged by war, with plasma falling from the sky and burning away the forests and the rivers. If the Covenant ever did make it here, they would have to fight hard to protect this planet. It was worth protecting and fighting for.

Jeff had always taken it upon himself in the heat of a frenzied firefight to eliminate the enemy much to the annoyance of any other humans with him. This was why he had a reputation and this was why he had a few scars on his body.

Glancing up at the dusk sky, Jeff could make out some points of light, a few stars and a few being UNSC ships. The fact that some of these lights were moving at their own accord made him sure that they were human ships.
With a while to go before he arrived at the fort, he switched on the radio in the Warthog and started flicking through the stations, trying to tune out of the military chatter and to the civilian stations.

'We would like to welcome all our listeners back to 97.3 radio,' a radio DJ said, Jeff having found a civilian station. The DJ sounded like your typical smooth-talking radio disc jockey, the kind who would always be shooting his mouth off about this or that.

'It's another beautiful day on Reach, and I would like to say that the UNSC has ruined the beauty of this planet by placing all their Goddamn ships and stuff in orbit. I would also like to say that this many defences for one planet is way over-doing it.'

Jeff grinned. This guy obviously wasn't a big fan of the UNSC.

'The UNSC has pretty much been oppressing the human race for most of its reign, which has been, since when? World War Two? When the United Nations were born after that war, it was always known it would lead to an empire like the UNSC. The galaxy would be a better place without it, and you can blame the UNSC for pissing off the Covenant. Maybe if humanity had stayed where God had put it, none of this would be happening. This brings me to another matter: the Covenant. I would like to know what our listeners think about this so-called "unstoppable" group of alien races.'
There was a pause. Jeff continued listening out of mainly curiosity. Most radio stations on all colony worlds were like this. If you asked the average person on the street about the UNSC, they would agree it hasn't got a squeaky-clean record.

'We got Hermes on Line Seven,' the radio DJ continued, 'what have you got to say about the Covenant, Hermes?'

The voice of a typical Reach citizen, this one with a slight hint of German in his voice, started speaking.

'The Covenant?' Hermes said, 'I think they are all a bunch of fucking sissies. If they were all they were made out to be, a bunch of "unstoppable" aliens, they would have rocked up to Reach's doorstep and blasted us all to kingdom come. No, you know what I think it is?'

'What is it, Hermes?' The DJ asked. Jeff mouth the words with the DJ, having known they would be coming.

'I think it's all just UNSC propaganda. The UNSC ain't no squeaky clean government. No, it's got more dirt on it than Richard Nixon.'

'So, what do you think about the races of the Covenant? We've all seen pictures and read about them, what do you think about, the…err…Grunts?'

'Little freaks with high-pitched voices, man. I don't know how any marine could be killed by those freaks.'
They're dangerous in large groups, Jeff thought. This guy had obviously never been in combat before.

'What about those bird ones, the Jackals?' The DJ asked, 'what do you think of those, Hermes?'

'Annoying faggots with shields. The only reason they have those shields is because they can't take a stone to the arm without it breaking. They're weak. Pathetically weak,' Hermes continued.

'And the Elites? What about them?'

'Elites? Those ugly mother-fuckers?' Hermes said, 'those big bastards may be smart, strong and intelligent; pretty much all women want those qualities in a guy; but they are fucking ugly. And to top it all off, they get personal shields. What the fuck is with that? It's unfair, I say. Of course, most of it's just like what I said…'

'Propaganda?'

'Yes, propaganda, man, propaganda.'

Jeff was about to switch off the radio when he was glad to hear the next few sentences.

'That's all we have time for, Hermes,' the DJ said, 'thanks for your opinions on the Covenant and UNSC.'

'My pleasure,' Hermes said before hanging up from the radio station.

'After the next song, more callers will provide us with valuable insights into both sides of this war: UNSC and Covenant. While we're on this tone of war, how about a Vietnam War classic? Over five hundred years old folks and recently revived from old records. Edwin Starr's War.'

The song started to play and Jeff started tapping his fingers to the beat as he drove along the highway. As he began to get closer to the fort, he noticed several marines patrolling the forests and military vehicles driving along a road adjacent to the highway. He was obviously on the right track, then.

The radio DJ had been right about one thing: the UNSC wasn't as clean as they made themselves out to be. Jeff had heard of atrocities committed by the UNSC, such as wiping out towns on border-worlds which may be housing rebels. This meant killing everyone in the town, including the innocent civilians who lived there. The rebel activity in UNSC space had decreased over the years, probably because most of the rebels were either dead or fighting the Covenant.

The rebels had always been disorganized according to the official stories. They were no threat, apparently.
Jeff could see the fortress, a large grey stone and cement wall surrounding the facilities inside of it. It was positioned on top of a hill, a small section of forest around it having been chopped down.

Jeff didn't really see much point in cutting down the surrounding forest, considering if the Covenant ever did come to Reach, they would bombard it from orbit rather than send a ground invasion force.

He drove up to the main gate, guarded by three marines, one of which was waiting in a small gate-house. Upon stopping, the marine stepped out of the gatehouse and walked over to the driver's side of the vehicle.

'Can I see your identification papers and any other authorization you may have?' The marine asked.

Jeff handed him what he had asked for and sat back to wait as the marine walked into the gatehouse and picked up a head-set and began speaking into it, checking with the base to see if Jeff was actually allowed in.

A few minutes later the marine came back out, handed Jeff back his papers and signalled to the two guards at the gate to open it.

'Welcome to Fort Pike's Creek Sergeant Ganszo,' the marine said, 'park your car in Space B7. The car park is off to your left when you enter. Just proceed to reception on foot to receive further information. Colonel Ackerson has been expecting you.'

The two marines each inserted a key card into one of the two panels near the gate. This deactivated the security locks and the gate slowly slid open, revealing a few large buildings, probably with bullet-proof windows and heavily fortified with cement and steel. It was typical of these kinds of places to be like that ever since the Human-Covenant war began back in 2525.

Jeff drove on in, taking a left and passing several marines and military personnel who were walking around, doing their own thing and going about their own business. He could hear the distant sounds of gunfire from the outdoor firing range. Maybe he could stop off there and get accustomed to the weapons again. After all, it had been three months since he had last fired one.

Jeff stopped his Warthog, parking it in the corner of the parking lot and climbed out. He was in his civilian clothes, wearing a dark jacket due to the cold weather.
He started for the front door, passing a few security personnel. The double doors into the main building opened automatically, leading him through a metal detector. There was nothing on him that set it off, so he continued into the entrance lobby. It was decorated with a blue wallpaper and grey carpet, a few pot plants in the corners. The reception desk was at the far end, near a pair of elevators and near the point where two corridors began.

Jeff walked over to the reception desk and got the attention of the receptionist, a young lady in a military uniform.

She seemed to recognize him and smiled in typical customer service fashion.

'Sergeant Ganszo?' She said, 'you are him, aren't you?'
Jeff, surprised that the woman seemed to know him, nodded his head.

'Colonel Ackerson is expecting you,' the woman said, glancing at her computer screen and typing a few things in, 'although he is a bit busy. A meeting is running late, so you would be better off coming back in half an hour.'

'But I'm fifteen minutes early,' Jeff said.

'I know, but the Colonel is a busy man. I'll pass the message through that you have arrived.'

The woman typed a few more things into her computer and turned back to Jeff.

'Why don't you go get something to eat down at the mess hall to pass the time away?' She suggested.

'Which way to the firing range?' Jeff asked, ignoring her suggestion.

'Just go through that door over there,' the woman replied, pointing over to an automatic door nearby, 'it leads into the marines section of the base. The firing range is hard to miss.'

Jeff turned around to go but looked back at the woman, sure he had seen her somewhere before.

'Do I know you?' Jeff asked, not knowing what response to expect.

'Oh, I'm Jessica Watson,' she said, 'I've seen you around before. I heard you're engaged…'

'Yeah, I am,' Jeff said. He stepped over to the door and glanced back at Jessica, who had gone back to typing at her computer.

He passed through the double doors and down a short corridor which took him back outside, but into another section of the fort. There were marines walking around pretty much in every part of the outdoor area. Some were in ODST armour, but with their helmets off; others were your basic marines and some were off duty, in more comfortable clothes.

Jeff continued across the courtyard, passing a fountain and a set of outdoor tables. Marines were sitting down and eating breakfast while on the parade ground to his left, in between some barracks, Jeff could see groups of marines doing exercises while their drill instructors barked orders at them.

Three months had passed since the last time Jeff had set foot into a place like this and three months was the amount of time that had passed since he had done anything remotely athletic. He hadn't gained weight, although he had gotten a bit lazy. It was time he got back into the business of exercising daily and toning his muscles, although looking at the exercising marines kind of made him feel a little less looking forward to getting back on the job.

On the walls surrounding the base's buildings, Jeff could see plenty of guards and plenty of mounted guns. Anti-aircraft batteries were scattered around the grounds of the base and high calibre machine guns were on top of the walls. They wouldn't help much against a plasma bombardment from orbit.

He continued through the grounds of the base, passing a group of marines sitting around a table with a radio set on it. They were talking and laughing while the radio played some Vietnam War era music. It seemed that all the radio stations were beginning to get into the 'anti-war' feel recently.

Jeff turned a corner and found about five hundred meters of open ground. Closest to him were the booths which a group of ODSTs were using to fire their weapons from at distant targets. Looking at the targets, Jeff could see that they weren't very good shots. Some shots were actually hitting the cardboard cut-outs of Elites, but others were missing by at least a meter, either side of the target.

Jeff walked over to the group of about five ODSTs. They were in basic uniform, but the insignia on the arms of their uniforms, a hawk swooping down onto a mouse, made it clear they weren't any ordinary ODSTs. These five men were members of the Special Operations Division of the ODSTs, and usually only the best of the best made it into that division.

If Jeff hadn't declined so many officers, he would probably be higher up than these guys but since he had chosen to remain a sergeant, he would probably end up taking orders from these men. The squad leader, who out-ranked the other four, was probably slightly younger than Jeff and had the rank of Lieutenant. He had dark hair and brown eyes which, looking at the man, Jeff could tell they contained a wild fire, a furious personality.

The Lieutenant saw Jeff walk over and stopped firing his rifle, lowering it and placing it back on the rack of weapons to his left.

'If I didn't know better it would be crazy Sergeant Gonzo,' the Lieutenant said.

'By the way, Frank, it's Ganszo,' Jeff replied, 'and I'm not looking for any trouble.'

The other four members of the squad all turned around. All of them looked as crazy as the Lieutenant and all didn't seem to be taking Jeff's presence too kindly.

Jeff knew the Lieutenant from past experiences. He had first met him after joining up, on board the frigate which had taken him to Reach for the first time. Frank Hastings was the Lieutenant's name and he seemed to have come a long way since then. When they had first met, Frank had taken an instant dislike to Jeff, having got into a brawl with him in the ship's mess hall. That dislike was obviously still in Frank's mind, although Jeff had no problem with him.
Frank did have a problem with Jeff though. You see, Jeff had punched out all of Frank's front teeth. Frank was sporting some permanent false ones in their place. They were surprisingly white.

'What are you doing here, Sergeant?' Frank asked, stepping closer to him, 'you're not planning to transfer over to here, are you?'

'As a matter of fact, Lieutenant,' Jeff replied. Jeff was a few inches taller than Frank, so he looked down at him and tried to show that he could be intimidating as well, 'I may very well be doing that. If you have a problem, you can voice it to your commanding officer. I doubt he would care.'
Frank paused for a moment and turned to the rest of his squad.

'You hear that?' He said, 'the crazy Sergeant is planning to transfer over to here. I think we should try and show him that we don't take too kindly to people like him just barging into ODST business.'

'Oh, Christ Frank,' Jeff said, 'why don't you just let the past go? You seriously aren't thinking about trying to punch my lights out right here, right now?'
Frank turned around and glared at Jeff.

'I'm not stupid enough to do it right here, right now,' Frank said, 'because, despite what you might think about my intelligence and mental stability, I will never forgive you for punching out most of my damn teeth!'

'You started it,' Jeff said, suddenly realizing how stupid the response sounded, 'because, back then, you were nuts. And you still are. How many squad mates have you ploughed through during your time serving in the military? Do you send them into die while you hang back and make a run for it?'

'Don't push your luck,' Frank replied, 'otherwise I'm going to bleed you real quietly, mother fucker.'

'No need to get all commando on me,' Jeff said. He stepped over to a rack of weapons. 'All I came here to do right now was fire a few shots off at these targets. Besides, I hate Elites.' He nodded over to the cardboard cut-outs of Elites being used as targets. 'When I was first coming over here, I saw how you guys were shooting. At first I thought a bunch of old, short-sighted guys were firing the weapons until I saw you five.'

Frank looked like he was about to step over and punch Jeff in the face, but at the last second he stopped himself from doing it. Instead, he stepped over to the other rack of rifles and pistols and picked up an MA5B Assault Rifle.

'Let's see how good you are then, Ganszo,' Frank said, loading a fresh magazine into the rifle and clicking the bolt back, 'grab one of these MA5B rifles and we'll see who gets the highest hit percentage on the next set of targets.'
Frank pressed a few keys on the nearby control panel, resetting the targets. The cardboard Elites lowered into the ground. In a few seconds the targets would be back up, going up and down at random intervals.

Jeff picked up his own MA5B assault rifle, loaded a magazine into it and clicked the bolt back. The rifles were chambered with 7.62mm rounds and was gas-operated, coming fitted with a handy in-built computer which calculated how many shots were left in the weapon and a compass which always pointed north. This was handy if you ever got lost, although usually if you got lost you ended up getting killed if it were out on a serious mission.

Jeff had a bit of a dislike for the rifles, which seemed unable to shoot accurately for prolonged bursts of fire. He knew of better weapons that could keep their fire accurate and consistent for as long as you held down the trigger and for as long as the amount of rounds in the magazine lasted.

However, he practiced with every weapon in the UNSC that was available to a marine and had become skilled in most of them, although using a rocket launcher was beyond him. Hitting a moving target with those things was a pain in the ass.

Jeff raised the rifle and pointed it out across the firing range. Frank was standing ready as well. Jeff could see him just on the boundaries of his peripheral vision.

The first set of targets sprang up and the bright colored armour of the cardboard Elites made it pretty darn easy for Jeff to cap off rounds into each of the targets. He couldn't see how well Frank was doing, but could hear him cursing every few seconds.

Jeff finished off his magazine and quickly inserted a new one. Each set of targets in this so-called 'competition' mode allowed three extra magazines for MA5B rifles, the sensors in the metal booths counting every shot fired and collaborating with the sensors on, in front and behind each of the targets.

Jeff fired controlled bursts at each target, although he could hear how Frank was shooting: pretty much constantly, bullets peppering his targets and ripping them to shreds.

After going through two magazines, one last target, a cardboard Minor Elite in blue armour, sprang up. Jeff fired a single shot which got the Elite right between the eyes.
The bell sounded to signal the end of the 'competition' and the control panel behind Frank started tallying up the results. A thin sheet of paper began streaming out of a slot on the machine and Frank grabbed it, ripped it off and looked at the results. He swore quietly under his breath.

'So?' Jeff asked, placing the rifle back on the rack, 'did you do well, eh, Frank?'

'Screw you, Ganszo,' Frank said, handing Jeff the paper. Jeff looked down the list of statistics and found what he was looking for: Frank had a hit percentage of 59% while Jeff had one of 97%.

'Gee, Frank,' Jeff said, putting the paper into one of his trouser pockets, 'with shooting like that I'm surprised that you have survived this long in the ODSTs.'

'Whatever, Ganszo,' Frank said, 'it doesn't mean anything. Take my word, Jeff: if we ever end up out n the field together, don't expect any help from me.'

'I doubt I would need it,' Jeff said. He was relieved that he had gotten back his feel for shooting, but he would need to use something more accurate. Preferably a sniper rifle, and as back-up a powerful pistol.

'Frank, you haven't introduced me to the rest of your squad,' Jeff said, 'care to tell me who they are? Or are you too pissed off to do such a thing?'

Frank glanced back at his four squad-mates, who seemed to be grinning at the fact that he had failed pathetically against Jeff in the shooting 'competition'.

'Maybe another time, Ganszo,' Frank said, sounding a little calmer now, 'now get going before I decide to punch you.'
Jeff shook his head and started walking back for the main building. If there ever did come a time when he and Frank ended up on the same mission together, Jeff had a feeling that it probably wouldn't end too well.

He headed back to the entrance lobby and once again spoke with Jessica Watson.

'Is Ackerson ready to see me yet?' He asked as he approached the desk.

Jessica looked up from her computer screen and smiled.

'Oh, Jeff, you're back,' she said, 'he's waiting for you in his office on the third floor. Just take the stairs down that hallway.'

She pointed over to one of the hallways and started typing on her computer.

'Thanks,' Jeff said.

As he walked to the hallway, he noticed Jessica watch him walk away. Whatever work she had been dong had stopped when Jeff had arrived in the room.

Jeff paused to look at a map of the base which was pinned up on the wall, obviously there to help any visitors. On it he could make out the firing range, barracks, parade ground and other buildings part of the marine/ODST training area. The main building he was in now had each floor mapped out. The map, being an interactive touch-screen, enabled him to select a location from the list and show the quickest route to it.

He pressed on 'Offices: Commanding Staff' and the map faded into the background, now showing the quickest route to the offices that belonged to the commanding staff.

Satisfied, Jeff continued down the hallway having memorized the path. He started up a flight of stairs and continued past the second floor onto the third floor.

Now in a different looking corridor, he noticed a few signs on the walls pointing off into different directions. It shouldn't be too hard to find an office in a building like this, but after taking a right turn and throw a set of double doors; Jeff became aware he may have gone the wrong way.

There were more double doors for one thing, and each one was guarded by at least one marine. Jeff walked down to the end of the hall and noticed that one of the doors was wide open. He could see a few windows behind it, looking into what appeared to be a laboratory. He could hear voices coming from the lab.

'It's not talking,' one of them said, 'what do you think we should do?'

'Just keep subjecting it to the treatment. If it doesn't want to end up a cripple, it'll talk.'

There was the sound of what seemed to be some sort of electrical device buzzing away and suddenly there was a familiar sounding howl, quite like that of an Elite.
Stepping to take a closer look, Jeff was surprised to have the double doors close right in front of him. He felt a tap on the shoulder and turned around.

'Sorry, sir,' the marine standing behind him said, 'this is a restricted area.'

'What? Yeah, sure,' Jeff said, suddenly realizing what he was just doing could have very well gotten him into a lot of trouble, 'I'm just lost. Do you know where Colonel Ackerson's office is?'

'Down the hall, take a right. It's a door with "Ackerson" written on it,' the marine said, pointing back down the hall.

'Thanks,' Jeff said, beginning to follow the marine's directions. He took a right turn at the end of the hallway and found himself in a short blue corridor with about three doors in it. He looked at each of them in turn and found what he was looking for: the office door labelled "Ackerson".

Jeff knocked on the wooden oak door. There was a brief pause before there was a response.

'Come in,' a gruff voice said from the room. Jeff turned the old-fashioned door-knob, a by now out-dated mechanism, and stepped into the office.

It was a fairly large office, decorated with all sorts of military memorabilia and was walled with cases containing medals, trophies and special looking papers.

Sitting at the expensive wooden desk was a middle-aged man with greying hair and weary eyes. He was in a Colonel's uniform, the name badge above his left breast pocket reading 'Ackerson'.

Upon entering Ackerson looked up from the data-pad he was reading.

'Aren't you going to stand to attention, Sergeant?' Ackerson asked, 'or have you forgotten military etiquette for being out of the job for so long?'
Jeff stood up straight and saluted, realizing he must have looked like a bit of a fool.

'Sorry, sir,' Jeff barked, 'it won't happy again, sir.'

'Good. At ease, Sergeant,' Ackerson said, and take a seat.'
Jeff relaxed, dropped the salute and sat down in one of the comfortable chairs in front of the desk. He looked around at some of the trophies, some being for baseball, others for golf and a few for running.

'I didn't know you were into sports, Colonel, sir,' Jeff said.

Ackerson glanced around at his own trophies and chuckled.

'Those trophies are from a time when I was young and carefree,' Ackerson said, 'but things change, Sergeant. Especially with this God-forsaken war.'

'I understand, sir,' Jeff said.

Ackerson opened a drawer on his desk and took out a silver cigar case. He opened it took one out and held it out to Jeff.

'Would you like one, Sergeant?' Ackerson asked.

Jeff looked at it and shook his head.

'I don't smoke, sir.'

'Understandable,' Ackerson said, taking the cigar and placing it into the corner of his mouth, 'I didn't think someone like you did smoke. Not that smoking is much of a hazard nowadays thank to those medical treatments.'
Ackerson took out a lighter and lit the end of his cigar, puffing on it a few times and letting the smoke waft above the desk.

'First Class Sergeant Jeff Ganszo,' Ackerson said, looking at the data-pad and then back at Jeff, 'I wouldn't believe it myself if I didn't see it with my own eyes. You have quite a reputation on Reach. I'm aware that people call you "crazy"?'

'I am aware of that too, sir,' Jeff said, figuring out the extent of the Colonel's questions would probably be on his mental stability, 'but that's just common perception.'

Ackerson took out the cigar and held it between two of his fingers on his left hand as he skimmed through the information on the data-pad.

'ONI agent Wang Chung recommended you to me,' Ackerson said, 'which is something that doesn't happen very often. You and him must be very good friends.'

'We are, sir,' Jeff replied.

'So that must mean that you are aware of the fact that ONI has been tracking your progress for most of your life, am I correct?'

'Yes, I did know that, sir,' Jeff said, 'and it really doesn't matter. I don't know what they see in me.'

'I don't either,' Ackerson said, putting the data-pad on the desk and then puffing a few more times on his cigar, 'that information's probably stored away in some top secret file. Heck, if I don't know about it, then it must be pretty darn important.'

There was a pause before Ackerson continued. He seemed nice enough despite what Jeff had heard about him. Apparently Ackerson had gotten into some trouble with his wife and was almost transferred to the front line because of a so-called 'computer error' a few weeks ago. This had all been cleared up though and Ackerson was living a normal life again.

'Jeff, tell me, why is it that you are so keen to fight in this war?' Ackerson asked, 'are you aware of the UNSC's progress in fighting the Covenant?'

Jeff knew only too well how the UNSC was doing in the war against the Covenant. So did the entire human civilian population. The UNSC was pretty much losing.

'I heard that we're not doing too well, sir,' Jeff said. The sunlight was filtering through the gaps in the shutters on the window and was getting him in the eyes. He squinted and looked down towards the desk.

'Yes, but I would think that is an understatement of our badly we're doing,' Ackerson said, 'in all the battles that have been fought, we have only had three major victories including the recent battle at Sigma Octanus. I have no idea why you would be so keen to fight an enemy this dangerous.'

Jeff was surprised to hear an experienced Colonel speaking like this. Usually the Colonels would be the more confident ones, but Ackerson was obviously different.

'So that's why I ask you, Jeff,' Ackerson said, 'why the heck are you so keen to fight the Covenant?'

Jeff considered his answer for a moment. Ackerson must know about what happened in his first year, the time Jeff spent in the ODSTs then. But if he did, why was he asking? He was probably looking for an answer from Jeff himself, rather than from a data-pad written by some unknown person eighteen years ago.

'I hate the Covenant, sir,' Jeff replied truthfully, 'an enemy like that cannot be allowed to wipe out the entire human race just because we're infidels or something.'
Ackerson chuckled again.

'Infidels! Good choice of word, Sergeant,' Ackerson said. He puffed some more on his cigar and tapped out some of the burnt tobacco into an ashtray on the desk.

'What's so funny?' Jeff asked.

'Oh, nothing. It's just that a word like that hasn't been used for years,' Ackerson said, 'well, at least I haven't heard it been said for years. It's a good way to describe what the Covenant thinks we are, though.'

'Infidels, sir?'

'Exactly!' Ackerson exclaimed, 'and if they think that, they can stick it up their alien arses for all I care. Sergeant, you have a good sense of humour.'

'But it wasn't meant to be—'

'No need to keep going, Sergeant,' Ackerson said, his expression changing back to one of neutrality. He paused and looked back down at the data-pad on his desk.

'I've read up on your records, Sergeant,' Ackerson said, 'it seems you have passed every medical examination with amazing results. Your reflexes are amazing, your eyesight better than it should be, your strength almost that of a—'

'A what, sir?' Jeff asked.

'Never mind,' Ackerson replied, 'but I've read up on your past missions and your short time in the ODSTs. It seems you and someone else in your ODST squad were more than just friends…'

'Elise Taylor is in the past, now,' Jeff said, trying to block out the memories.

'The reports say that on your first mission in the ODSTs, a diversion mission involving infiltrating a Covenant arms factory on a world outside UNSC space, ended up being discovered and you lost the element of surprise. This resulted in the deaths of almost all of your squad-mates,' Ackerson said, 'your report on it states that Elise Taylor was killed by a golden armoured Elite which you took care of soon after.'

'I know this, sir,' Jeff replied.

'Yes, yes, I'm getting to the point,' Ackerson continued, 'you, single-handedly, took the supply of explosives from your dead squad-mates and with only two people providing covering fire, you ran into the grounds of the factory under heavy energy weapons fire and planted the explosives on the main reactor. You were wounded about five times, but not fatally.'

'Obviously, sir.'

Ackerson raised an eyebrow and looked at him face-to-face.

'You were offered a Colonial Cross for what you did that day,' Ackerson said, 'but you declined it. I would like to know why you declined the highest decoration in the UNSC.'

'A medal wasn't going to bring Elise back,' Jeff replied.

'So you left the ODSTs and returned back to the regular army. What gets me is why you want to rejoin the ODSTs?'

'Because the past is in the past and I'm ready to start anew,' Jeff replied.

'And because you enjoy killing the Covenant so much?' Ackerson asked.

'Pretty much, sir.'

Ackerson sighed and then puffed some more on his cigar.

'Sergeant, are you aware that the UNSC High Command as classed you as "unstable"?' Ackerson asked.

Jeff raised an eyebrow. He was surprised to hear this, but then again, it was UNSC High Command, They could be a bit stingy when they wanted to.

'Unstable, sir?'

'They think you're a safety hazard to both yourself and anyone else you may be with on a mission,' Ackerson said, 'and I can understand that considering on past missions you have pretty much "gone postal".'

Jeff wasn't surprised to hear about this. Sometimes he couldn't control his anger and besides, he never harmed any of his squad-mates.

'Going violently nuts in combat isn't going to earn you a good reputation,' Ackerson said, 'that's why I'm in this position now. On any other circumstances I would accept you into one of my ODST squads, but looking at your past record, I'm not too sure…'

'So, you're not going to accept me?' Jeff asked.

'Give me a chance to think it over,' Ackerson said, 'although I have been thinking about it before you arrived here. Meeting you, you seem nice enough. But I am yet to see what you're like out on the field.'

'Just give me a chance, Colonel,' Jeff said. He was getting a bit sick of having people tell him everyone thought he was crazy. Frank had obviously thought it was a bit funny, but knowing Frank's sense of humour, anything could be funny to that guy.

'As a matter of fact, Jeff,' the Colonel said, 'I'm not going to accept you. You may be one of our best, but I cannot afford the risk of having an unstable marine in one of our squads on an important mission.'

Jeff shook his head. So he was still out of a job. Pretty soon he would be out of cash too. The UNSC didn't pay you for doing nothing. They only did that after you retired on the pension plan.

'So, what am I going to do now?' Jeff asked. He suddenly felt annoyed, which was understandable.

'Jeff, I declined because I can get you into something even better,' Ackerson said. He reached into a drawer on the desk and took out another data-pad. 'What I'm about to tell you know is top secret, but I'm pretty sure a man like you can keep a secret, am I right?'

'You're right,' Jeff replied.

Ackerson leaned forward a bit in his seat and puffed once again on his cigar.

'Do you know about the Spartan II's? You should, it was made public a few years ago,' Ackerson said.
The term 'Spartan' did ring a bell. It only took Jeff a moment or two to remember.

'The genetically engineered super soldiers? The ones which make normal marines look insignificant?' Jeff replied with some disdain, 'sure I've heard about them. Every time they do something, everyone has to know about it. But if the marines do something important, it's forgotten in the foot-notes of history.'

'I know how you feel, Sergeant,' Ackerson said, 'but we're
not here to talk about the Spartan II soldiers.

'Everything I am about to disclose to you about this particular mission is top secret. I had trouble finding out myself, but I managed to get access to certain files. A mission involving all of the surviving Spartan soldiers has been organized and will be departing on August 30th. This mission is for the Spartans to capture a Covenant ship and use it to find out where the Covenant home-world is.'

'So?' Jeff asked, unable to see just what the Colonel was trying to get at. The mission didn't sound all too exciting.

'The Spartans intend to infiltrate the home-world and capture a Covenant "Prophet", pretty much a leader of the Covenant. The Spartans will be using the UNSC Halcyon-class vessel Pillar of Autumn.

'Thing is, that ship can't do the job without someone distracting the main group of Covenant forces. That's why the newly built cruiser, Winter Sunshine, has been assigned the task of distracting Covenant forces and leading them on a wild goose chase.'

Jeff thought about this for a moment. The idea of leading the main Covenant forces around on a wild goose chase seemed stupid considering Covenant Slip-space technology was more superior to human Slip-space technology.

'How the hell is the Winter Sunshine meant to avoid getting caught and blasted to pieces?' Jeff asked, 'what kind of stupid idea is it to try and outrun Covenant ships?'

'The Winter Sunshine is fitted with an experimental Slip-space drive which has been proven to be as fast and accurate as any Covenant ship's drive. They even managed to build a large Albatross drop-ship with one of the drives, which will be docked in the ship,' Ackerson explained.

'But a ship that size couldn't survive a Slip-space jump,' Jeff said, 'it'll fall apart.'

'Not this one,' Ackerson said, 'it can survive a jump. The drive, you see, is a much more smoother and efficient way of going in, through and out of Slip-space. It doesn't tear a hole in normal space to get into Slip-space; it uses the Covenant's way of doing it: merely opening an entrance up.'

'And why are you telling me all this?' Jeff asked.

'The mission won't all be flying around dodging Covenant,' Ackerson said, 'there will be ground operations on some Covenant installations as well. I'm sure you'll be a good addition to any team on those operations.'

'This all sounds like a suicide mission,' Jeff said, trying to decide whether he should accept the coming offer of being assigned to the ship or not, 'is there any guarantee that we will be able to get back to Reach?'

Ackerson paused for a moment, his expression changing to that of a frown. Jeff waited a few seconds for his answer, and it was what he had figured it would be.

'There is no guarantee that you will be able to make it back. Once the Pillar of Autumn has completed phase one of the plan, which is capturing the Covenant ship, the Winter Sunshine won't be needed anymore. Thing is, by that time you could very well be dead. The ship could have been destroyed, I don't know,' Ackerson replied, 'I am willing to get you a position as a squad leader on that ship, if you want. This could very well be the only position you could ever hope of getting because of your records and reputation. You have to make your decision today, since I'm leaving for Mars tomorrow.'

Jeff paused. If he accepted, he could very well not come back to Reach or Earth for that matter. He would still be doing his job of fighting the war if he accepted, but maybe the cost of his own life was a bit too high.

Then again, if he didn't accept he would run out of cash and chances to get back on the job.

'Get me a position on board that ship,' Jeff replied, 'I'm ready to start killing some alien bastards.'

Jeff returned home later that day with files on the mission Ackerson had given him.

His first priority was to read up on the mission, which was also a good way of passing time away. The Winter Sunshine was meant to be leaving on August 30th, in three days, from Space Construction Dock Seven. The Construction Docks were large, orbital stations where the ships were built.

He returned to his apartment which was on the fifth floor of an apartment block in the Pike's Creek civilian settlement. It was large enough for his needs, having a laundry, kitchen, bedroom, lounge room and bathroom. He had furnished it himself, although most of the furniture had come with the apartment when he had purchased it last year.

The lounge was in a basic layout, with two armchairs, a sofa and a large television set which took up most of one wall. A rack filled with movie discs, both new and old, was underneath the large screen. There weren't many stations on Reach, so he usually passed the time away on the virtual reality console in the corner of the room.

As he was making his way through the corridor that lead to his apartment, he saw one of the other tenants of the building out in the corridor watering a pot plant on a shelf along the wall. It was Gerry, a middle-aged man descended from the early Slip-space pioneers who had colonized the planet. He and Jeff knew each other well enough for him to greet Jeff as he walked by.

'Hello Jeff,' Gerry said, pausing in the watering of the plant, 'how was your day? I heard you tried getting into an ODST group o something.'

Jeff stopped and turned to face him.

'Yeah, I did,' Jeff replied, 'but they didn't want me. Turns out I'm too "unstable".'

'A shame, a shame,' Gerry said, 'from what I've heard of you, you would have been a good addition to any combat group.'

There was a pause. Jeff figured he should be getting back to his apartment and was about to say goodbye when Gerry started speaking again.

'I know it may not concern you, Jeff,' Gerry said, 'but I know a few certain people who know a few certain people, you know, connections and all, and I can find out thing not many other people in this area would know.'

'What are you getting at?' Jeff asked. Gerry was like this: always knowing about things that other people didn't, like the times that particular ships were leaving the planet and where a particular Colonel was going next.

'Have you heard of the Winter Sunshine?' Gerry asked, 'apparently that thing uses technology reverse engineered from Covenant ships.'

Jeff laughed. What a coincidence for Gerry to go on about that particular ship.

'Gerry, I'm being stationed on board that ship,' Jeff asked, 'I didn't get back into the ODSTs, but I did get into something.'

'Jeff, the technology aboard that ship is unstable,' Gerry said, raising an eyebrow, 'My friends who worked on the ship say that a Slip-space jump could very well make the ship and everything aboard it be broken down into their component molecules, thus killing the entire crew. Are you sure you want to take that risk?'

Jeff paused. If Gerry was right, which he usually was, then that was one more thing about this mission that was dangerous.

'How could you know all this?' Jeff asked, 'I'm pretty sure it would be top secret.'

'I have friends who know people,' Gerry replied, grinning, 'Reach has a small civilian population. Everyone around here knows what's going on. I doubt anyone off-world does, though.'

'Right,' Jeff said, 'well, I have to go and read up on some stuff, so I'll see you around.'

'See you later,' Gerry said as Jeff walked away.

Jeff approached the door into his apartment, slid his key card into the panel near the door which unlocked it. The door opened and closed behind him as soon as he was inside.
Sitting down on the sofa and switching on the television so it wasn't completely silent, Jeff loaded the information on the data-pads onto the laptop computer lying on the coffee table. He went to the kitchen and took out a packet of chocolate biscuits as well as a bottle of water and began reading up on the details of the mission, the ship and the superior offices.

The Winter Sunshine was a newly built UNSC cruiser, fitted with Archer missile pods, chain-guns, nuclear warhead launchers and two MAC cannons. The MAC guns could be fired one at a time, one charging as the other one fires, thus keeping an almost constant rate of fire. Two MAC guns would have taken up a lot of space on the ship, but Jeff supposed the ship needed two of the weapons to stand a chance in what appeared to be a 'suicide mission'.

The ship would be holding a crew of four hundred marines, two hundred engineering personnel and one-hundred and fifty crew members. The man leading the mission would be Captain Bob Turnwell, a highly decorated officer who was fifty-four years old and had a reputation for keeping his cool in almost any situation. He also liked to stick to schedules very tightly, often giving his crew hell if they were behind schedule or over schedule, Jeff couldn't remember if the two terms were different or the same.

Glancing up at the television, a typical cooking program was on as the chef was preparing a cheesecake. This made Jeff hungry for something sweet so he chowed down on a few of the biscuits and continued reading through the document.
Looking through the crew manifest, he recognized a few names but none were anybody he really knew all too well.

However, a few names in the ODST section caught his eye: Lieutenant Frank Hastings and the names of his squad members. Great, Jeff thought, he would be stuck on a ship with someone who would probably punch his lights out if given a chance.

Jeff started looking through the blueprints of the ship, noticing it varied a bit from the regular UNSC ships. Most rooms were your typical rooms in a ship, but as you neared the Slip-space engine, which seemed to take up the majority of space in the engineering section, rooms would become larger and with irregular shapes. There was a thick wall of titanium steel blocking off the Slip-space engine itself.

Jeff supposed this was because of the radiation, so he went searching for a picture of the drive and managed to find one buried amongst the files.

It wasn't your basic Slip-space engine. This one was a large, blue-white sphere of engine with rings of metal floating around it, obviously keeping it in place. It went up for quite a few decks. Coils of plasma energy ran along the walls, connected to the base of the sphere.

How could the UNSC have gotten hold of this kind of technology? Jeff knew of no reported ships that had been captured by the Covenant, but he supposed that this kind of information would be kept secret.

If this technology was in one ship, it wouldn't be long before it was put in others. Reading on, Jeff found information regarding the technology but hardly anything about its origin. All it mentioned of where it came from was the sentence 'Slip-space drive reverse engineered from captured Covenant ships'. If ships that belonged to the Covenant had fallen into human hands, the numbers would have to be in the very few. It would have taken years of research for the UNSC to have created something like this.

Jeff looked through the information on the ship and found that it had more habitation decks than other ships he knew of, as well as more gardens and an obstacle course for marine training.

He skimmed through most of the information, skipping the boring technical data such as the mass of each section of armour plating. Three meters of Titanium-A armour plating was more than usual. This ship would have cost a hell of a lot of money to build.

Jeff found information on the Albatross drop-ship which had been modified to support a Slip-space engine like the one in the Winter Sunshine, but on a smaller scale. It seemed that no one was willing to actually give it a try, scared that it may fall apart upon entering Slip-space. If that happened, whoever was in it would be broken down into atoms ad scattered throughout Slip-space. That wouldn't be a very pleasant way to die.

So, Ackerson had said that someone had actually tested the Albatross drop-ship. That had either been the wrong information or a lie, but Jeff was pretty sure Ackerson hadn't got his facts right.

Jeff would have to leave at about three in the morning on August 30th to get a shuttle to the Space Construction Dock where the Winter Sunshine was. That meant the night of August 29th would probably mean him going to sleep at seven o'clock in the evening. He had been able to sleep in every day for the past three months and suddenly he would have to get re-accustomed to the early mornings again. At least he was on an important mission.

That reminded him. He hadn't spoken to Iris, who was back on Earth, for three months. It was virtually impossible to send a message to anyone outside of the solar system. Earth was a fair distance away and you couldn't send Slip-space messages. Well, unless you had access to a multi-million dollar Slip-space communications probe and its launcher.

'Incoming Video Link.'

The emotionless female voice of the video phone on the wall nearby broke Jeff's train of thought. He got up and walked over to the phone. The call was coming from Jones Marshall, a long time friend.

Jeff flicked a switch and Jones' face appeared on the screen, his lounge room as the back-drop. Jones was your typical thirty-six year old African American guy who had a slight beard, brown eyes and a good sense of humour. Jones had been a rapper back in his twenties on Earth when he quit and decided to join the military to help in the war effort. Now he was a Corporal in the unit known as 'Wolf Pack', specializing in covert operations.

'How's it going, man?' Jones asked, grinning, 'you wouldn't believe the luck I've had today.'

'Yeah, hey Jones,' Jeff said, 'what happened? You finally get lucky with one of your lady friends?'

'No, not that,' Jones replied, glancing around his room, 'it's just that my commanding officer, that guy called Tunney, he just recommended me to a post aboard some new ship. I think it was caught Winter Sunlight or something…'

This was a coincidence. Jeff realized that by Winter Sunlight Jones meant Winter Sunshine. That would mean he was on the same ship as Jeff for the mission. At least he had a friend who could be with him during the mission.

'Jones, it's Winter Sunshine and today Colonel Ackerson got me a post on that same ship,' Jeff said, smiling, 'that means we're on the same ship together. On the same mission as well.'

'Yeah, Tunney told me about the mission,' Jones said, frowning, 'it sounds pretty dangerous.'

'I'm sure we'll get through it,' Jeff said, 'we always do. This time shouldn't be any different.'

Jones paused.

'Whatever you say, Jeff,' he said after thinking about his response for a moment.'

'So, on the thirtieth,' Jeff said, 'you want to meet at the mess hall on the construction dock? That way we can find out which parts of the ship we're on.'

Jones laughed.

'Yeah, we can,' Jones asked, 'but it turns out that I've been put under your command. We'll be in the same part of the ship for pretty much all of the voyage.'

'Great,' Jeff said. He paused. 'Don't worry about a thing, then. I'm sure we'll get through it. We'll return home to a hero's welcome.'

'I hope you're right, Jeff,' Jones said, 'I hope you're right.'

Not Exactly Human Ch.2: Day of Infamy
Date: 29 May 2008, 1:18 am

August 30th, 2552, Space Construction Dock Seven, orbiting Reach, 2:52am

Jeff had woken up at about midnight, left home fifteen minutes later and had made his way to the shuttle launch pad. The shuttle had taken him to Space Construction Dock Seven, a large, orbital station acting as a cage to the Winter Sunshine. The front and back ends weren't caged in, though, so the ship itself could actually fly out.

Jeff arrived on the orbital station and placed his luggage on an automatic rack which would then transport it to the ship via the luggage chutes which were connecting the ship to the station. There were other connections as well, of course.

He started wandering through the grey corridors, the floors carpeted with a soft grey carpet and pictures of all kinds of ships strung up on the walls. He had never been a fan of being on ships, preferring to keep to the ground, but right now he couldn't care less.

He encountered a few technical personnel wandering around, doing their own thing, such as examining computer panels. There weren't many marines in this part of the station, although one did brush past him listening to an MP3 player.
Jeff managed to download an easy-to-read map of the station and tried to find where the mess hall, or canteen, was. He found it, a fair walk from where he was right about now.

He put away his data-pad and started on his way to the mess hall. He looked at each of the framed pictures on the wall, most of the very first ships ever to use Slip-space. They looked rugged and were small compared with what was being made today.

It seemed the pictures were in historical order, the first one being that of a sixteenth century sailing ship. This kind of thing was typical of interior design for a dull space station such as the one he was on right now. It was to fill up the bland space that you got inside a ship which had only been built to help build proper ships.

Jeff entered an elevator and was about to close the door when a technician came running down the corridor, waving at Jeff in a gesture which obviously meant not to shut the door. Jeff didn't and let the technician aboard, who was young and dressed in the typical yellow and grey uniform which showed his was part of the engineering staff.

'Hey there,' the technician said. He looked at Jeff's uniform and saluted when he saw that he was a Sergeant. 'You must be here to get aboard the Winter Sunshine?'

'Yes, that's right,' Jeff said.

'I'm one of the technicians aboard the ship,' the man said, 'Harold Wilkes.' He held out his hand and Jeff shook it in typical greeting.

'So, Sergeant,' Wilkes said, 'you look like a seasoned soldier. No wonder they picked you to come on the ship.'

'What do you mean?'

'Nothing,' Wilkes replied. He grinned and pressed the button on the panel in the elevator for the recreational floors. 'They would have to pick the best for the job, I suppose.'

Jeff nodded. Looking at Wilkes, he realized that making new friends on the ship wouldn't be so hard after all.

The elevator started up and Wilkes glanced around. He was carrying a small case which was tucked under his right arm.

'What's in that?' Jeff asked, nodding over at the case.

'This?' Wilkes said. He held it out and opened it up. It was an old style wooden case, unlike the steel ones that so many people used nowadays.

'This mission is going to be a dangerous one,' Wilkes said, 'so you can never be careful.'

Jeff couldn't see what was inside from where he was standing due to the lid facing him, but Wilkes reached inside and took out a shiny, glistening handgun. It was an old style revolver, squeaky clean and with a black pistol grip.

'How did you get that aboard the ship?' Jeff asked.

'It wasn't very hard, I just forgot to put it in a luggage chute,' Wilkes said. He paused and held it up. 'It's a Magnum .44 revolver. Antiques by now, but you can still find them around. It was given to me by my father.

Apparently it can punch through a personal shield with relative ease, but I am yet to see that actually happen.'

Wilkes put the weapon back into the case and closed it.
Bringing antique weapons along didn't sound like too smart an idea, but if the revolver was as powerful as Wilkes made it out to be, then it would be a good addition to anyone's arsenal.

'You must be Sergeant Ganszo,' Wilkes said, glancing at the name tag on Jeff's uniform, 'what's up with the last name, anyway?'

'No idea,' Jeff replied, 'not that I really care…'

'Yeah, well, I suppose people have stranger names than that. I've heard a bit about you, considering you got all those medals and stuff,' Wilkes said, 'you must be a pretty good soldier if you have survived through as many missions as you have.'

Jeff didn't think he was that good at his job, more lucky than skilled. Too many times he had been one of the only survivors in a mission, having to watch comrades die around him.

'I'm just lucky,' Jeff replied as the lift came to a halt.

'Yeah, but I have heard about your tactics and how you often go "gung-ho" on the enemy. I mean, how could you survive taking on an entire Covenant squad by yourself? You're just like one of those Spartans…'

Jeff paused. He had never thought of himself like that before. No one had ever called him a Spartan directly, and he sure as hell wasn't one. Why would he want to be a genetically engineered freak anyway?

'Wilkes, buddy,' Jeff said, slightly annoyed, 'I'm not at all like those genetically engineered super soldier freaks. I'm an honest-to-God marine, and I'm going to stay that way for good.'

'Whatever you say, Sergeant,' Wilkes said, stepping out of the elevator. He started down the corridor but stopped and turned around. He grinned.

'I'll see you around, Sergeant,' Wilkes said.

Jeff waved back and closed the door of the elevator. It continued up a few floors before arriving at the mess hall deck. He stepped out of the elevator and found himself on a walkway looking over what appeared to be a typical mess hall, tables and chairs scattered around the room. Some were occupied by marines and technicians, but many were empty.

Looking from his vantage point, Jeff couldn't see Jones anyone amongst the tables and chairs. He would probably be here soon enough, so Jeff headed down the stairs and approached one of the fast food outlets on the far end of the mess hall.

He remembered that he hadn't actually had a decent breakfast yet so he walked over to a vending machine on a nearby wall and inserted enough money for a bowl of cereal. Taking it, he sat down and began to eat.

Geez, he felt tired. Going to bed at five in the afternoon and getting up a midnight sure had its draw-backs. He felt like he hadn't slept for more than a day.

Trying to keep his eyes open as he ate, he could remember what Gerry had said about the Slip-space drive and what Jeff had read that night which made him feel quite unsure about this mission.

The ship was a potential death-trap, and if that was the case he would expect to encounter a lot of bad-ass marines on it as well.

Jeff finished off the bowl of cereal in about five minutes and discarded it into one of the rubbish bin drones which were slowly patrolling around the mess hall.

Now he would have to wait even longer before returning to Earth, but he was back on the job, he should be grateful for that. The Covenant had done much to him in the past and he was always eager to return the favour.

Iris would be wondering why he was taking so long. She could wait, and Jeff was pretty sure she wouldn't decide to go off with another man. That would be quite unlike her, and she was after all, a Commander in the navy. She out ranked him, probably because of all the promotions he had declined.

Jeff could very well be a Sergeant Major by now, or a Lieutenant, or something more than just a regular wet-backed grunt. But he had always preferred to be on the frontline rather than in an office several planets away from it.

After another few minutes, Jeff began to doubt Jones' arrival. Perhaps he had gotten lost or something, he didn't know. But as he was about to get up and leave, Jones entered wearing his typical non-regulation dark vest and grey shirt. He spotted Jeff and his eyes lit up. He grinned and sat himself down across the table from Jeff.

'How's it going?' He said, as he sat down, 'I suppose nothing interesting has happened here since you've arrived? Since life has gotten pretty damn boring down on Reach.'

'You always ask me whether anything interesting has happened since the last time we met,' Jeff said, 'and the answer is always—'

'No,' Jones said, finishing Jeff's sentence. He laughed and reached into one of the pockets on his thick black vest, taking out a chocolate bar and opening the wrapper.

'You're eating chocolate at two thirty in the morning?' Jeff asked.

'So?'

'So, I just don't think it's that healthy…'

'It's just one single chocolate bar,' Jones said, 'big deal. You're not going all health-freak on me now, are you?'

'No.'

'Good. Keep it that way, man.'

Jones finished off the bar and discarded the wrapper into one of the rubbish bin drones as it passed by the table.

'I'm surprised you're in the squad I'll be commanding,' Jeff said, 'it's a bit lucky, don't you think?'

'Again, Jeff, so what?' Jones said, 'you always bring up crap no one else could care about. Don't question the luck involved, just take it as it comes.'

Jeff supposed that Jones was right about the luck and all. It was just a bit of a coincidence considering their history together in past missions. He didn't think any commanding officer would want them together in the same squad after what happened last time…

'I've been hearing a lot about this new ship,' Jones said, breaking Jeff's train of thought, 'how it's got technology reverse engineered from Covenant stuff. Doesn't it seem odd they would only incorporate the Slip-space engine
technology and not everything else such as the weapons and computer technology?'

'Maybe they're trying to perfect that stuff…' Jeff said.

'It doesn't add up. I'm going to find out who designed this drive from this so-called Covenant technology and have a good talk to them, since it is fairly likely that they will be on the ship,' Jones said. He paused. 'Nothing seems to add up anymore, man. Too much stuff is going down that doesn't make any sense. Is it just me, or since Sigma Octanus that there has been a sudden lull in the war?'

'A lull?'

'There haven't been any battles or anything since Sigma Octanus last month,' Jones said, 'it's like the Covenant is having trouble finding us or biding their time.'

'Do you expect a major battle every month?' Jeff asked, 'I suppose you wouldn't call that a "lull", would you?'

'Probably not. Usually in an interstellar war, stuff is happening every day.' Jones paused again when Jeff didn't respond. 'I've been reading up on stuff and looking back on all the statistics, it's amazing how badly we're doing in this war. Billons of people have died and we've only one a few battles.'

'I know about all this,' Jeff said, 'and I don't have to be reminded of it. On this new ship, we'll probably score a few more victories.'

'Yeah, I suppose…Although it won't come without a cost, man. There is always a cost,' Jones said. Saying this kind of thing was surprisingly deep for Jones.

At that moment, a familiar group of people entered the room. Jeff rolled his eyes when he saw them. As soon as they entered, the guy in front, Frank Hastings, started heading over to their table. Another argument with this guy, Jeff thought. It was annoying, but sometimes quite amusing. Then again there wasn't much you could do about a thick, angry ODST Lieutenant.

Jones saw Frank and his squad coming and turned around to face them. He always seemed to have a way of pissing these guys off.

'What the hell are you doing here, Ganszo?' Frank asked, pointing a threatening hand at Jeff, 'I thought you tried to get back into the ODSTs. Why are you here?'

'I didn't get into the ODSTs,' Jeff replied, 'but I did get a post aboard the Winter Sunshine.'

Frank raised an eyebrow.

'Well, if that's the case, I'm stuck aboard the same ship as you,' Frank said, 'and that means you better not get in my way, especially if we're out in the field together.'

'Whatever you say,' Jeff said, 'I don't know why you have such a problem with me still. What happened years ago was in the past. Maybe we could put that all behind us and forget about it?'

'Don't shovel me that crap,' Frank said, annoyed, 'Jeff, I never liked you and I never will.'

'Understandable,' Jeff said sarcastically, 'considering I punched out all your front teeth.'

Frank suddenly had an angry expression on his face. He couldn't do anything to Jeff, though. He reached into a pocket in his uniform and took out a small cylindrical plastic container. He unscrewed the lid and popped a few of the capsules inside into his mouth.

'Doping up, are you Frank?' Jeff asked, grinning.

'No, this stuff stops me from breaking your neck,' Frank said.

'I would like to see you try,' Jeff said.

Frank ignored him and put the container back into his pocket. He was about to walk away with the rest of his squad when he turned back around.

'Don't get cocky, Ganszo,' Frank said, 'you're always lucky to survive a mission. You ain't got nothing that helps you out in the field. If you're ever with me, you can consider yourself on your own.'

'That's fine with me, Frank,' Jeff said as Frank and his squad members walked away.

At about three thirty they were able to board the Winter Sunshine. Jeff and Jones took one of the air lock tubes into the ship. It was a large ship, mainly long and wide. Its engines took up most of the space on back.

Jeff and Jones were walking through the tube as marines and technicians milled past. Everyone seemed to have a job to do at the moment apart from the two of them.

'Jones, there's something about the Slip-space engine that I heard,' Jeff said as they walked through the tube, brushing past a pair of marines.

'What?' Jones asked.

'Apparently the drive is actually unstable,' Jeff said, 'so that means the moment we jump could be the last thing we ever do.'

Jones paused.

'What are the chances of anything bad actually happening with the drive?' Jones asked.

'I have no idea.'

They came to the airlock door which slid open as they approached. An MP was standing near it and Jeff and Jones flashed their identification papers at him. The MP marked their names off the roll on the data-pad he was holding in one hand.

'I heard that this ship has all the latest military weapons and gadgets on it,' Jones said, 'maybe we could go down to the firing range later, try some of the stuff out.'

'Maybe,' Jeff replied.

They entered into one of the corridors that run along the side of the ship. Helpful colour coded signs on the walls pointed to wherever, whether it be 'Engineering Service Lift A7' or 'Computer Room A3'.

'Where are we meant to go?' Jones asked as they stopped by the wall.

'We're meant to go and get our luggage first, obviously,' Jeff said, 'then we have to find our quarters. Since you're going to be in my squad, yours will be close to mine.'

'Our luggage should have been taken to our quarters anyway,' Jones said,' all we have to do is find them.'

Jeff looked down the corridor. The interior design was much more refined than that of the Space Dock, the walls with a metallic finish, most colored grey but some a brighter cream colour. The floors were mostly tiled, but some were carpeted, and this would be more the case in the living areas.

'Let's just go for a walk,' Jeff said, 'if we find anymore MPs we'll get them to tell us where we're meant to be.'
The pair of them started heading down the corridor, following it along as it ran along the side of the ship, past computer terminals, pipes and wires and turned to head more towards the centre of the ship.

It shouldn't be that hard to find their way around, but the ship seemed bigger on the inside than it did on the outside, which was a common misconception with ships like this one. There were way too many rooms and corridors in the larger cruiser ships that contributed to the fact that sometimes people actually got lost in engineering mainly, staying there for weeks on end. That's why they had vending machines down in engineering now, since getting lost there and starving to death was a very real thing. Of course, Jeff would never end up doing that.

The two of them came to an elevator where an MP was standing guard. A vending machine was nearby, so while Jones was fiddling with it and trying to get it to work, Jeff approached the MP.

'Ah…I'm First Class Sergeant Jeff Ganszo and my friend and I need to know just exactly where we're meant to be,' Jeff said. The MP gazed at him for a moment before taking out a data-pad and pressing a few buttons on it.

'Sergeant Ganszo, sir, you're meant to be on Deck Seven, Living Areas. The rest of your squad is already there,' the MP replied, putting the data-pad away. 'Just use the schematics that I hope you have on a data-pad with you to find your way there. It shouldn't be too difficult.'

'Yeah…Thanks.'

Jeff turned around to find Jones. He was still fiddling with the vending machine, hitting the machine on the side in frustration.

'What the hell's the matter?' Jeff asked.

'It's not letting me have a hot chocolate,' Jones said.
The MP glanced at Jones and laughed.

'None of the vending machines work properly yet,' he said, 'the only thing they give out is chicken soup, as well as water. I wouldn't have any of the soup, if I were you though. Heck, this ship hasn't even got an AI!'

'No AI?' Jeff asked. Usually all ships would have some sort of AI running the complicated stuff, like calculations and engine checks. No AI meant that someone had to do the hard work themselves and put their ship at a disadvantage.

'We were meant to get one yesterday,' the MP said, 'but there was a mix up. This ship's way ahead of schedule, everyone's been working hard to get it running. The paint on some of the walls isn't even dry yet.'

'Isn't that a bit disorganized?' Jeff asked.

'Go tell that to the Captain. He's the one who's been making everyone work so hard.'

Jones pressed the button on the vending machine for chicken soup and the stuff started pouring into the cup that he was holding beneath the nozzle of the machine. He stopped the stream and took a sip, spitting it out and turning to Jeff.

'Yeah, it's crap,' he said, taking another gulp.

Jeff and Jones stepped through the door ahead and followed the winding corridors of the ship along to another lift.

'I think the people running this ship are pretty crap at their job,' Jones said, 'we've got no annoying talking computer hologram thing and all the drink machines dispense really disgusting chicken soup.' He took a sip from the cup in his hand and screwed up his face with the taste.

'Then why are you drinking it?' Jeff asked.

Jones paused and looked at the contents of the cup.

'I'm thirsty for something other than water, I suppose,' he said, 'I doubt there is actually real chicken in this stuff.'

They stepped into the lift or elevator, whatever you want to call it, and Jeff looked at the schematics of the ship on his data-pad. Their quarters were meant to be a few decks up, so he pushed a button to go up three decks and the doors closed.

As the lift started moving, Jones finished off the soup and dropped the cup in the corner of the lift.

'Aren't you going to pick it up?' Jeff asked.

'When the lift's stopped,' Jones replied.

When the lift did stop, the doors opened into a wider corridor with grey-blue carpet and light blue ceilings with white panelled walls. Doors were about ten meters apart down the corridor, each one labelled with a numbered sign.

'We're meant to be here somewhere,' Jeff said, stepping out of the lift. Jones threw the empty cup into a rubbish bin drone as it was patrolling the corridor and they started searching for the right room.

Coming to a particular door labelled 'C-25/7', Jeff was sure this was the right one. To be sure, he checked the information on his data-pad.

'This is it,' he said, turning to Jones who was standing just behind him, 'I wonder if they actually stuck me with a useful squad.'

'Knowing High Command back on Reach and judging by your reputation,' Jones said, 'they probably didn't.'

Jeff stuck his pass-card into the panel next to the door. It took a few seconds to confirm his identity before the door opened. Behind it was a large room lined with bunk beds. A door was at one end as well as some tables and chairs. About seven young marines were sitting at the one table, playing cards.

Some looked up when they heard the door open and it took them a few moments to realize who was coming in. As Jeff stepped inside, the marines jumped out of their seats and saluted, obviously caught off guard.

'Sergeant, sir,' a marine said as Jeff approached the group, 'we know it's you since we all saw your picture in the files.'

'Don't bother saluting me,' Jeff said, pulling up a char. Jones walked in and dumped his bags on the top bunk of a nearby bed.

The marines dropped their salutes and relaxed.

'I'm Private Ekholm,' the marine said, 'you're a bit late.'

'I know,' Jeff replied, 'this ship is way too big. Besides, you guys shouldn't bother saluting me. I'm just like you, another marine. Just continue with the card game.'

Ekholm and the others sat down and resumed their game of cards. Jeff turned around and looked at Jones.

'What are you doing?' He asked.

Jones was skimming through his data-pad. He looked up towards Jeff.

'I'm looking through the troop manifest,' Jones said, 'seeing if anyone I know is on the ship…'
He looked back down at the pad and grinned.

'I found someone. Chief Engineer Heinrich Rommel. He and I go way back,' Jones said. 'Do you mind if I go find him?'

'No…'

'Thanks,' Jones said, pocketing the data-pad, 'meet me down in engineering later. I'll introduce him to you. He's a great guy.'

Jones exited the room. Jeff turned back to the marines.

'Just a question,' Jeff said. The marines turned to him. Jeff looked at each of their faces. They were probably just in their twenties, young and probably having no prior experience. 'Have any of you got any experience in the field?'

'No sir,' Ekholm said, answering for all of the marines, 'but we've had enough training—'

'Training isn't the same, especially if it's the Covenant you're fighting,' Jeff said. He paused. 'I'm going to go and find Jones. If anyone needs me, well…I honestly don't know where to go now. I think I'll just take a walk.'

'Be sure to be back here when the ship leaves, sir,' Ekholm said as Jeff started for the door.

Jones arrived in the engineering section after managing to find his way there. Usually engineering was at the bottom of the back of the ship and consisted of the engines, all the stuff to do with the engines, the Slip-space engine and the armaments for the ship. A massive cargo hold ran through the bottom of the ship, consisting of ramps and walkways.

Jones came into a corridor running along the main Slip-space engineering section. Windows lined the side of the corridor which looked down into the main engineering room, technicians in yellow and grey and yellow and red uniforms milling about in the large room, checking computer panels and pipelines.

As Jones went down the corridor, it began to widen out a bit and split off into different directions. One lead for the Slip-space engine itself, but you couldn't go in there without authorization and without a radiation suit.

He approached a marine who was standing guard by the door leading to the Slip-space engine, if you could call it that. It had never occurred to Jones that you could call a glowing ball of pure energy an 'engine'.

'Hey, you know where Chief Engineer Heinrich Rommel is?' Jones asked.

'He's in examining the Slip-space engine thing,' the marine replied, 'I'm afraid I can't let you in, though. Why do you want him?'

'No particular reason,' Jones said, 'he's just an old friend.'

The doors slid open and out stepped a young looking guy with dark brown hair and bright, brown eyes. He was in a radiation suit but had taken the head-piece off.

'Did someone ask for me?' The man asked with a slight trace of a German accent.

'Heinrich!' Jones exclaimed when he saw him, 'it's me. Jones!'

The man took a moment to remember who Jones actually was.

'Wow, Jones, I saw your name on the troop manifest but I didn't think you would bother looking for me,' Heinrich said. They shook hands and patted each other on the back.

'How long has it been, man?' Jones asked, 'a year? Two years?'

'I don't know,' Heinrich said. He looked back through the glass double doors and past the decontamination chamber. 'I could take you in for a tour of the drive…'

'No thanks, man,' Jones said, 'I don't like that idea.'

'It's perfectly safe,' Heinrich said. They started walking back down the corridor, turning down another one and entering a locker room. Heinrich slipped out of the suit, his uniform on underneath, and stored the suit away in the locker marked 'Rommel'.

'I was one of the people involved in designing the drive,' Heinrich said. He stepped over to a vending machine and turned back to Jones.

'You want anything?' He asked, 'like chicken soup?'

'No thanks,' Jones replied.

Heinrich got himself a cup of chicken soup and began slurping the contents. He didn't seem to mind the taste.

'That drive is based on captured Covenant technology,' Heinrich said, 'it's the result of a decade of hard work. I'm the one who's meant to be getting it to work, but it's proven to be a bit hard to work with.'

'What do you mean?' Jones asked.

'Well, for starters,' Heinrich said, gulping down the contents of the cup, 'it's a type of highly unstable plasma energy. The Covenant has obviously mastered it but we're far away from making this type of energy safe to use. If things aren't done right, this ship could blow into atoms upon entering Slip-space.'

'Sounds great,' Jones said sarcastically, 'anything else?'

'If you walked into the room where it was without a radiation suit on,' Heinrich said, 'you would be killed in less than a minute. The radiation it emits is pretty intense. Even in a suit you can only average about fifteen minutes at a time in a suit before you have to get decontaminated and take a five minute break.'

'Then why work with such dangerous technology?' Jones asked. If this Slip-space technology was so dangerous, why would they put it into a UNSC ship? Why not give the people making it a chance to make it safer?

'It was all High Command's idea,' Heinrich said, sitting down on a bench in the locker room, 'we need all the advantages we can get in this war. It could very well have taken another decade for this technology to become much safer but God knows what will happen in the next ten years of this war, if it lasts that long.'

'Right.' Jones paused. 'Have you been up to anything else other than helping get this thing to work properly? Like, I don't know…have you got a girlfriend?'

'I did, I did,' Heinrich replied, 'but it didn't work out. It's no big deal anyway.'

Jones sat down on the bench opposite Heinrich's. The locker room smelt like a mixture of disinfectant and wet paint. The benches were still wrapped in plastic and the paint on some of the lockers wasn't even dry.

'How long till we're leaving?' Jones asked.

'A few hours. About five thirty this morning,' Heinrich said. 'With this ship, we could probably take on a few Covenant ships by ourselves.'

'I wouldn't take that chance,' Jones said, 'we'd get blown to pieces.'

'If we ever needed to,' Heinrich said, 'and we probably will have to sometime during this mission. You do know that it's been considered "suicidal" by most high ranking UNSC people?'

'Yes, but I couldn't care less what a bunch of cranky old farts thought,' Jones said. He grinned. 'Have you ever noticed how like Admirals and Colonels and stuff always seem to be cranky and old? I think that's kind of funny.'

'Of course I've noticed,' Heinrich said, 'they're the ones ordering everyone else around. I suppose they can be cranky if they want to.'

'Heinrich, you want to come down to the firing range later? Pop off a few shots?' Jones asked.

'Sure, except my schedule for today's pretty full,' Heinrich said, 'how about tomorrow, maybe?'

'I suppose. Jeff will be there as well.'

'Jeff? Your friend?'

'He's a great guy. He and I go way back,' Jones said, 'you two should get to know each other.'

'You need all the friends you can get during a war, Jones,' Heinrich said, getting up and patting Jones on the shoulder, 'because one day, they may be the only ones there to help you.'

Captain Bob Turnwell was standing in front of the main view-screen as images and statistics started appearing on the screen. Engine checks, armament checks and other kinds of checks were being done and the results sent directly to the bridge. They had to be ready to leave at five thirty this morning.

Bob was your typical Captain, in his grey Captain's uniform and with greying hair and weary eyes. He had been through plenty of battles, some having better results than others. He had seen people die but having spent years in the military, he was used to that kind of thing. The deaths of comrades didn't seem to faze him anymore. Nothing did.

That's why he had the nick-name of 'Mr. Cool' since he was always calm and collected, as well as cool for that matter. He never batted an eyelid at anything, unless it was his wife. She seemed to faze him a lot. Not that it happened very often anymore, since she wasn't on Reach and never would be. She was back on Earth, doing God-knows-what. She was probably spending their lives savings on a holiday of some sort, Bob thought.

He hadn't spoken to her since he had last been on Earth, which had been more than a year ago. Being a Captain was a busy job, and there weren't many ways of contact between worlds in separate systems, unless you sent a letter or something on one of the mail freighters, but that cost money.

Bob always carried a small case on his belt which contained a small, old style antique pistol. A 'Colt' as it was once called, which was plated in silver and had a white pearl pistol grip with the name of his great-great-great grandfather etched on it: 'Dalton Turnwell'.

Bob carried it with him at all times and had killed plenty of enemies with it when he had had the chance. If there was nothing left in his rifle, he would whip out the pistol and hope to gun some aliens down.

Most battles in this war weren't ground battles. No, they were space battles which proved to put every human ship at a disadvantage. Covenant technology was far superior to that of the humans and usually space battles against the Covenant ended badly.

Marines never got much of a say in these battles. It was more the ship's personnel and the Captains and Commanders.
Bob was confident that this ship would hopefully be the first of a new generation of ships which would turn the tide of the war. He was also confident they would leave on time, which meant the Slip-space engine had to be powered up and ready to go ten minutes early, since it took a few minutes to prepare the ship to enter Slip-space.

Despite what the people down in engineering had been telling him about 'unstable' plasma coils, another result of reverse engineering which helped power the Slip-space drive, Bob knew that they would be able to successfully enter Slip-space without any harm coming to the ship and its crew. He was in command and if he was in command, nothing bad would happen.

He looked at his watch. This particular watch had been built with only one thing in mind: telling the time. Not like those new ones which could do pretty much everything but the kitchen dishes. This one was digital and displayed a set of numbers on its small screen: the time. And the time right now, according to the watch was 4:27:37am. Twenty-seven past four and thirty-seven seconds (and counting). Bob smiled. You could always rely on a coordinated watch.

He looked at the main view screen again. Putting a few fingers on some of the boxes containing statistics, he moved them out of the way and switched to a view showing what lay around the ship on the short range sensors.

A diagram of the immediate area appeared, showing nearby UNSC ships and a few civilian ships such as freighters and shuttles. The Space Construction Dock the Winter Sunshine was in protected the ship on both sides, leaving only the front and back visible. It was much like a web.

He switched to a view of the long range sensors. The Winter Sunshine had been fitted with practically every piece of experimental and/or reverse engineered technology that the UNSC had. That would be everything, considering Bob doubted simple rebels could have and experimental weapon or engine of any sort.

The long range sensors went over to Reach's two moons and well past them. The ships flying around the system were represented as dots with labels coming off of them. He could see the Pillar of Autumn a little around Reach.

Twenty orbital MAC guns were represented as bigger dots with bigger labels. These would be Reach's first and probably last line of defence if the planet was ever attacked. He doubted all these ships could hold out long to a massive Covenant fleet.

This thought got him thinking about another piece of experimental technology that the ship was fitted with. Scanning outposts were lined throughout the edges of the system, fitted with scanners which scanned Slip-space itself. The Winter Sunshine was fitted with an improved version of that Slip-space scanning technology. All he had to do was order one of the technicians to put it up on the view-screen. He doubted anything interesting would be there, though. Maybe a few freighters and clouds of space dust, but nothing interesting.

It was still worth a look though. He was about to turn to the technician off to the left, Steve he remembered the man's name as, but was interrupted by a Texan-sounding voice behind him.

'Captain Bob Turnwell!' The voice exclaimed. Bob turned around and saw a middle-aged man in a Colonel's uniform standing a few meters behind him. The man was carrying a wooden case tucked underneath his right arm while his left hand was holding a bottle of whiskey.

'Do I know you?' Bob asked, trying to find the right piece of his memory which contained the identity of this Colonel.

'Colonel Timothy Vance,' the man said, stepping forward. He held out his right hand and Bob shook hands. One question was now on Bob's mind, however.

'What the hell are you doing on this ship?' Bob asked, his voice its usual calm and collected tone, 'I don't remember anyone telling me about a Colonel coming on board.'

'I outrank you, Captain,' Vance said, 'so you will address me as "sir", do you understand?'

Before Bob could reply, Vance hiccupped and took another gulp of whiskey from the bottle.

'Why have you brought alcohol aboard this ship…sir?' Bob asked, still trying to figure out why Vance was on the ship.

'This?' Vance held up the half-full bottle of whiskey. 'This is what keeps me going, Captain.'

'What do you mean?'

'I mean that if I don't have this stuff, I become sober and actually care about this job,' Vance said, 'and hell, I don't want to be sober!'

Bob suddenly remembered where he had heard this Colonel's name before.

'Colonel Timothy Vance, once commanded an ODST unit back on Reach,' Bob said, 'you're the one that everyone calls a "crackpot". Why are you aboard this ship? When did you arrive?'

Vance just stared at him before taking another gulp of whiskey. He dropped a small bag (Bob hadn't seen it on him until now) and took out a folded-up chair. He looked around the floor for a good spot, unfolded the chair and placed it on the floor. He sat down looked back at the Captain.

'Where the hell do you sit?' He asked, 'everyone else on this bridge has a chair.'

'Again, Colonel, why are you aboard this ship?' Bob asked. He took a deep breath, trying not to let this seemingly pathetic excuse of a Colonel get on his nerves.

'You have to say sir,' Vance said, 'otherwise I might not answer.' He sounded slightly immature when he said this, as if trying to tease the Captain.

'Okay: why are you aboard this ship, sir?' Bob asked, 'are you happy with that?'

'Are you happy with that sir?' Vance said, 'that's what you have to say.'

Bob stepped forward, took a deep breath and then sighed.

'I don't have time for this, Colonel,' Bob said, 'for the last time, why are you aboard this ship?'

'Someone told me to give this ship an inspection and see if the ship, the crew and everything else to do with it is ready for the mission,' Vance said.

'I wasn't told about this,' Bob replied, 'you better not be lying to me, Colonel…'

'I'm not lying,' Vance said, raising his eyebrows and trying to sound innocent, 'I'm merely doing what those Fleet Command and High Command people back down on the surface told me to do. They even arranged a shuttle for me, which was very kind of them but I just think they want to get rid of me.'

'I can understand why,' Bob muttered under his breath. He may have been calm and collected, but he did have a habit of talking back.

'What was that, Captain?' Vance asked.

'Nothing. All I said was that they were probably doing to right thing,' Bob lied, 'now, are you going to get round to doing your job?'

'I already have,' Vance said, 'I just thought I would pop in here last and tell you what I have discovered about your ship and its crew.'

'You didn't even tell me you had come aboard the ship and instead went off inspecting things?' Bob asked, 'someone should have told me you were aboard and maybe things may have been a bit more organized.'

'It was a surprise inspection, Captain,' Vance said, finishing off the bottle of whiskey and throwing it carelessly to the metal floor. It didn't break but made a loud noise and rolled off to one side of the bridge. Vance had been watching its movements with some interest.

'That means there's either a slope in this floor or your ship's artificial gravity is off by a little,' Vance said, turning back to the Captain. 'I also know that every drink machine on this ship only supplies water that tastes like disinfectant and chicken soup that tastes like someone's taken a piss in it. Do you think your crew can live on drinks likes that?'

'It's not my fault, for one thing,' Bob said, 'we weren't supplied with everything else and the water tastes like disinfectant because we've had to put disinfectant in it. It's to kill any bacteria that may grow in it in the water tanks. Add the fact that it's recycled from any toilet flushes and you have yourself water that's only there to quench thirst and keep people alive, not to please people's taste buds.'

Vance had been staring at the ceiling throughout what Bob had just said. Once Bob was finished, Vance looked at the Captain.

'What about the chicken soup?' He asked. Bob sighed with some relief that the incompetent Colonel had been listening to some extent.

'The soup? I have no idea why it tastes that bad,' Bob replied, 'maybe some prankster did take a leak in it, I don't know. Does it matter? How many people drink chicken soup on this ship anyway?'

'I saw plenty of marines with it,' Vance said. He paused. 'Another thing: your "smart" AI which you don't have. Why don't you have it? Did someone piss on that as well?'

Bob frowned at this crude joke.

'We were meant to get it yesterday but there was a mix up,' Bob said.

'Did you get anything from this mix up?' Vance asked.

'Yes, we did. Nothing useful, but I have a list on my data-pad of what we received instead.'

Bob took out his data-pad and found the right list. He began reading it out.

'Three hundred and twenty frozen chickens, meaning we'll be having a lot of roasts available at the mess halls around the ship,' Bob said, reading from the list, 'twenty chain-saws. God knows what we'll use them for.'

'Did you say chainsaws?' Vance asked, his eyes lighting up as he raised an eyebrow.

'Why does it matter?'

'Because, you could get one and cut up a Covenant bastard with it,' Vance said, using his hands to mime holding a chainsaw and swinging with it.

'That's sick,' Bob said.

'No it's not. Why do we have to be nice to the Covenant when all they want to do is cause death and destruction wherever they find "non-believers"?'

'Infidels?' Bob said.

'Yes. I doubt anyone one hundred years ago thought we would end up waging a holy war with an unstoppable collection of alien races.'

'There's more stuff on the list. Do you want me to read it out?' Bob asked.

'Don't bother,' Vance answered. He reached into his jacket and took out a cigar. Sticking it into his mouth, he lit the end with a lighter and began puffing on it, giving himself a 'tough guy' look.

'Smoking and alcohol isn't such a good combination,' Bob said.

'Says who?'

'Says me and anyone else with some common sense in them,' Bob said.

Vance ignored this remark and continued bringing up problems he had found in the ship.

'The Slip-space drive. That's a big matter,' Vance said, taking the cigar out of his mouth and blowing out a stream of smoke, 'according to your Chief Engineer…What's his name? Something German…'

'Heinrich Rommel?'

'Yeah, that's it,' Vance said, nodding, 'he said that if this ship were to enter Slip-space right now, we would all die horribly and have our atoms scattered throughout the Slip-stream.'

'He told me all he has to do is calibrate the plasma coils to supply the right amount of power…'

'Which won't be done until lunch time,' Vance said, 'he told me that, afraid that if he told you he would probably get in trouble.'

Bob frowned. Lunch time? That was way past the schedule. They were meant to leave in just under an hour. He would have to talk with Rommel about this.

'What do you say now?' Vance asked, 'you won't be able to leave on time.'

'There's always a way around this things,' Bob said, 'anything else you want to tell me about? Is there something wrong with the walls? Did a grain of dirt catch your attention and you're going to complain about that?'

'Actually, I saw some guy come onto the ship in muddy shoes,' Vance said, 'but that's besides the point.'
He got up; put the cigar back into the corner of his mouth.

'This ship ain't ready to leave or enter combat for that matter,' Vance said, 'but, I haven't got the authorization to stop an important ship from leaving. Just be careful out in the field.'

He started walking away, stopped a few meters away and turned around.

'I'm going to get something to eat. Nobody is allowed to touch my chair, alright? I'll be back before this ship is scheduled to leave.'

He walked out of the bridge, Bob noticing he had a slight drunken swagger.

Bob turned back to the main view-screen. He decided there wouldn't be much point in using the high powered Slip-stream scanners. It would be good to see if they worked, though.

He checked his watch. Five o'clock. Half an hour till they departed the station and jumped to Slip-space. Half an hour until they embarked on a potential suicide mission.

Bob sat in Vance's fold-up chair and stared at the main view screen. To his left and right, technicians sat at computer panels doing their jobs of checking systems, stabilizing the ship's power, anything to do with the ship.
The folks down in engineering would be directly responsible for any malfunctions to do with the engines, especially the Slip-space one. Bob didn't like entrusting his life to other people, but right now everyone aboard this ship was in danger of dying horribly. If something went wrong with the Slip-space engine…Well, things would happen and the people down in engineering would be to blame.

Well, right now all he needed was something to do. Testing all this new equipment would provide some time wasting. He turned and looked at a technician sitting at a computer console behind him. This was Steve and he was the one who was in control of the main sensors and was able to relay the information straight to the main view-screen.

'Ensign, could you start tests on all our scanners?' Bob said, 'I want to see if all this new stuff works.'

'Yes, sir. I'm on it,' Steve replied, fiddling with some controls. The view-screen changed, showing boxes of statistics and code as well as images of everything the scanners were picking up. The Slip-stream scanners, however, picked up something quite interesting.

Bob got up and stepped closer to the view-screen. If he wasn't mistaken, the blobs on the scanner were gradually disappearing. That meant that whatever they were, they were leaving Slip-space.

He looked at his watch. Ten past five. Twenty minutes to go but now it seemed there was an unexpected occurrence.

'What do you make of that, Ensign?' Bob asked, turning back to Steve.

'Well, my best guess is that they are ships. Energy readings show they aren't ours,' Steve said, 'and they all seem to be leaving Slip-space.'

'Start scanning the system,' Bob ordered, 'we need to find
out just what they are.'

Minutes passed as Steve put on the results of the long range scanners. An image of the entire system appeared and there seemed to be plenty of dots closing in near one of Reach's moons. Way too many.

'How many of them are there?' Bob asked.

'Three hundred and fourteen, sir,' Steve said, 'they're definitely…'

'Incoming transmission!' Someone exclaimed from nearby. Bob stepped over to the computer station to the left of the main view-screen.

Time was seventeen past five. Bob had a feeling that leaving at five thirty wouldn't be much of an option.

United Nations Space Command ALPHA PRIORITY TRANSMISSION 04592Z-83
Encryption Code: Red
Public Key: file /bravo-tango-beta-five/
From: Admiral Roland Freemont, Commanding Fleet Officer, FLEETCOM Sector One Commander/ (UNSC Service Number: 00745-16778-HS)
To: All UNSC ships in REACH, JERICHO and TANTULUS systems
Subject: IMMEDIATE RECALL
Classification: Classified (BGX-Directive)

/start file/
Covenant presence detected on REACH system's edge coordinates 030 relative.
All UNSC ships are hereby ordered to cease all activities and regroup at rally point ZULU at best speed.
ALL SHIPS are to enact the Cole Protocol immediately.
/end file/

'Holy shit,' Bob muttered under his breath. He switched the message off of the computer screen and turned around. He looked at Steve.

'They're Covenant ships,' Bob said. He looked at the others on the bridge. Most seemed to know something was wrong and were looking at him.

'I need the Cole Protocol enacted immediately,' Bob said, 'and this ship is to be put on red alert.'

As soon as he said this, red lights around the room and the rest of the ship began flashing. Alarms sounded and he saw the expressions on some of the faces on some of the people in the bridge change to one of quiet surprise and then to a determined look. His bridge crew was determined. They were the best of the best, after all.

'Sir, we can't purge the databases from here,' a technician to Bob's right said, catching his attention, 'there are still locks on in the system. They were going to be removed when we got an AI, but since we didn't they're still there. Someone has to go down to Central Processing and wipe them from there.'

'Are you sure there's another way?' Bob asked.

'We could use the combat AI Windtalker, but even then you would have to put him into the main computer down in Central Processing. He could do it in a matter of minutes, probably seconds.'

'Then get me that blasted combat AI Windtalker,' Bob said. He looked back at the main view-screen and through the window behind it. There were UNSC ships flying around in the space outside, stars as the back-drop. However, they were all heading in the same direction. Bob realized that their ship was a sitting duck in the Space Construction Dock.

'Get us out of this dock,' Bob said.

'But the docking cables are still attached,' the technician said.

'No buts,' Bob said, 'give the order to have the cables removed once there's no one in them. We need to leave. Now.'
Bob turned back to the main view-screen, pressed a button on the computer panel to its left and opened a communications link to engineering.

'Rommel?' Bob said into the link.

'What is it? I heard the Covenant's attacking and everyone down here's a bit nervous…' Rommel's voice replied with slight radio static.

'I need you to start powering up the Slip-space engine. If the battle goes our way, we won't be needing it today. But if Reach becomes the next Pearl Harbor…' He trailed off. 'Just get that Slip-space thing online and safe to use!'

'I'll have to take a few chances, Captain…'

'Just take those chances and make sure in fifteen minutes we can use the damn thing!'

'Yes sir!'

The communications link ended and the Captain proceeded to put out an announcement to the rest of the ship. Today wouldn't be a good day for humanity.

Jeff had been sitting in one of the mess halls when a man in a Colonel's uniform had come in. He looked familiar and Jeff then remembered who the guy was.

The Colonel seemed to spot him too and so sat opposite Jeff on the same table after getting a packet of chicken sandwiches.

'Colonel, I didn't realize you would be on the ship,' Jeff said as the Colonel sat down.

'I didn't think you would be on it either, Sergeant,' Vance said, 'it's been a long time, but no see. You were good in the ODSTs. You should rejoin.'

Colonel Timothy Vance had been in the ODST unit that Jeff had joined up with months after being recruited into the military. Vance had actually been a good Colonel back then, but he always had a taste for whiskey. Now it seemed the Colonel had gone off the rails, Jeff hearing about how his marriage had broken down and how he was booted out of running an ODST unit and to a dodgy desk job.

Vance planted the large wooden case he had been carrying onto the table and began eating.

'What are you here for, anyway?' Jeff asked.

'I was inspecting the place, seeing if it was ready to go,' Vance said, taking a bite out of his chicken sandwich, 'and it sure as hell ain't ready. There is no AI, the Slip-space engine thing isn't safe to use and the paint in some places isn't even dry.'

'Shouldn't you have been expecting that, considering the entire ship and its crew is ahead of schedule?' Jeff asked.

'Well, I couldn't care less if they decided to go or not. I'm just telling them that if they decide to go, there'll be plenty of risks. A heck of a lot.'

Vance bit into the chicken sandwich; began chewing and then swallowed. He grinned and something seemed to be funny to him.

'Instead of an AI, this ship received a shipment of about three hundred and twenty frozen chickens,' Vance said, 'do you call that organized?'

Jeff didn't know whether to answer, although the Colonel seemed to think it was funny. He decided to go along with the Colonel's conversation.

'Well, there'll be more roasts…' Jeff said, but was interrupted by the Colonel.

'That's what the Captain said, I think,' Vance replied, 'or did I say that? I honestly can't remember…'

He finished off the first sandwich and started on the other one.

'How long are you going to spend on the ship?' Jeff asked.

'I'm not staying on here when we leave, I can tell you that,' Vance said, 'I'm going back down to Reach and I'll probably watch some television…something that doesn't involve potential death.'

When the alarms started going, Jeff didn't know what to think. Either something was wrong on board the ship itself or there was a problem elsewhere…

As everyone else in the mess hall started getting up and moving out of the room, Vance flicked open the wooden case but Jeff was at an angle which blocked out the contents from view because of the lid.

'Attention everyone,' the Captain's voice came on over the loudspeaker, 'a Covenant incursion force has been detected in the system and moving to Reach. The Cole Protocol has been applied and everyone is to move to their assigned battle stations.'

'Well I'll be,' Vance said, taking out an antique double barrelled shotgun from the inside of the case. He flicked it open and loaded two shells, one into the back of each barrel. Jeff reckoned that this was one of Vance's personal weapons.

Vance saw Jeff looking at the weapon and so flicked the barrels back on and pointed it at the table. He looked down the sights and then at Jeff.

'Beauty, ain't she?' Vance asked, placing the weapon back into the case.

'She?' Jeff asked raising an eyebrow.

'I call her Faith,' Vance said. He took a bottle of whiskey out of the case and unscrewed the top. He burped and then started gulping down the contents, downing a third of the bottle before taking it away from his lips.

'Why have you named a shotgun?' Jeff asked.

'Because, she and I have been through a lot together,' Vance said. He patted the shotgun which was now lying inside the case.

'Right…' Jeff didn't know whether the Colonel was either drunk or crazy. Probably both. No wonder he had been kicked out of running an ODST unit. The man had a reputation for being a slight crackpot. Now he was someone who fuelled themselves up on alcohol and had gotten very close to an inanimate object. Possibly not the kind of person you would want to rely on during a firefight.

'What else do you have in that case?' Jeff asked, getting up to take a closer look.

Vance reached in and took out about five syringes, stuck onto a plastic belt. Each was filled with a clear liquid and each was labelled 'XM20'.

'What the hell are they?' Jeff asked.

'XM20,' Vance said, 'one of the most powerful military drugs you can get. Hell, one dose of this stuff and you'll be trippin'. Two doses in a short amount of time would probably kill you.'

Jeff remembered hearing the name 'XM20' someone before. He remembered where and then realized why Vance would even bother carrying the stuff around with him.

'Isn't that stuff illegal?'

Vance laughed.

'For one thing, son, I don't even use the stuff,' Vance said, 'I got a hold of this stuff some years back. Apparently it's meant to heighten your senses and make you unable to feel any pain at all, but I'm not willing to try…'

'Well, how about I take it?' Jeff asked.

Vance raised an eyebrow.

'You sure? You're not going to go nuts or anything when you take it?' Vance said, holding out the syringes. To be safe, each syringe had a plastic cover on so you wouldn't end up accidentally injecting yourself.

'I'll get rid of it for you,' Jeff said. He probably would if he ever got the time, although Jeff had been an avid user of some of the minor military drugs that were supplied to them in his early days. The stuff that would calm your nerves or make you have a burst of energy. He never got overly addicted to them, and they had been banned (again) in 2531.

Vance handed Jeff the syringes which he placed into a small ammunition pouch on his belt.

Vance got up and started walking towards the mess hall's exit. He stopped and turned around in the doorway.

'I'll be seeing you around, Sergeant,' he said, taking another gulp of whiskey, 'right now, I have to speak with the Captain and find out the extent of the situation.'

Jones and Heinrich Rommel had been sitting in the locker room in engineering when the alarms started and the announcements rang out.

'Holy shit,' Jones said as the announcement finished, 'Covenant incursion force? In the Reach system?'

'It sure as hell sounds like it,' Heinrich said. He got up and started for the door.

'Where are you going?' Jones asked.

'I need to make sure that the Slip-space core is ready,' Heinrich replied, 'you should head to your battle-station.'

'But I don't know where that is,' Jones said.

'Then just get back to your quarters. I have to head back to the core and make sure it's ready for a jump, if we need to escape.'

'We don't know the size of the incursion force,' Jones said, getting up and walking over to Heinrich, 'it could only be small, man. That way we wouldn't have much to worry about.'

'Small? The Covenant never do small,' Heinrich said, 'how about if you help me out with the core? All you have to do is follow my instructions. I and my team will need all the help we can get if we're to get this ship ready for a possible jump.'

'Will they be difficult instructions?'

'Easy enough so you can handle them,' Heinrich said, grinning.

Suddenly, there was a lurch as the ship began moving. Jones stumbled and had to put his hands against a nearby locker to support himself. Heinrich grabbed the side of the doorway.

'We're moving,' he said, stating the obvious.

'Is that all you could get from that?' Jones said, 'it means we're going into battle.'

There were the sudden faint sounds of tearing metal as the docking tubes which had still been connected to the ship from the Space Construction Dock ripped off.

'Is the Captain nuts?' Heinrich said, 'they'll vent atmosphere.'

'They'll vent what now?'

Heinrich frowned and stared at Jones.

'Just come with me. There's work to do,' Heinrich said, 'and hopefully this ship won't be blown to pieces while we're doing it.'

Jones followed Heinrich back out into the corridor and down to the glass double doors which lead into the Slip-space core room. Heinrich flashed his identification at the marine standing guard there and the doors opened. As Jones went in to follow him, the guard placed an arm in front of him. Heinrich stopped and turned around.

'Don't worry about him,' Heinrich said, 'he's with me.'

The marine lowered his arm and Heinrich and Jones continued into a narrow corridor. Hanging from one of the walls were about three radiation suits. Heinrich took two down and threw one to Jones. He caught it and looked down with a scornful look on his face.

'I didn't think I would have to go into the core room itself…' Jones said.

'Look, there's only four other people working in that room doing a twenty man job,' Heinrich said, 'and that's because everyone else either doesn't know what to do with the core and how it works or they're tied up doing something else. Do you want to help or not? All we have to do is spend fifteen minutes in there before coming out and taking a short break in the decontamination chamber.'

'Alright, I'll do it,' Jones replied, 'as long as I don't get irradiated enough to die horribly.'

Heinrich slipped into the suit and Jones followed suit, making sure that everything on the suit was sealed. He wasn't a claustrophobic person so being in the suit didn't bother him…much. He would prefer to be out of it though.
Jones followed Heinrich through a set of double doors which went into a small, compact room. His movements were slightly restricted due to the bulkiness of the suit. As well as that, the sounds of his own breathing were amplified inside of the suit, which was quite creepy.

The doors sealed as they entered the room and steam began to vent from the walls. It was another few minutes before the decontamination cycle completed and the double doors ahead of them slid open, leading down another short corridor and into a massive room.

The room was circular and upon stepping out, the glowing, shimmering fifteen meter high Slip-space core made Jones gasp with awe. He had seen pictures, but had never expected to see it in real life.

It was one massive, hovering and glowing ball of blue-white energy. It made a continuous humming sound and rings of metal were keeping the energy in shape, their sides visible sometimes as the energy fluctuated and change shape.

'This is the Slip-space core?' Jones asked, 'it's like nothing I've ever seen before. Are you sure it's safe to use?'

'It damn well is,' Heinrich said, grabbing Jones by the arm and pulling him in the direction of a set of computer panels. Four other people in radiation suits were scattered about the room, checking panels and things.

The computer panel Jones and Heinrich were at was right at the rails that surrounded the ball of energy. Staring at the energy, it was almost hypnotic. Pretty soon Jones felt himself reaching out for it. Heinrich grabbed his arm and pulled it back.

'I wouldn't do that if I were you,' Heinrich said, 'your hand will get broken down to its component molecules and scattered throughout the core.'

'I just found myself doing it,' Jones said, 'it's weird…'

'That's because the energy affects the nervous system. Just don't look at it directly and you'll be fine,' Heinrich said, 'right now we have to get this thing stabilized and safe to use.'

Captain Bob Turnwell had known that not all docking tubes had been unattached, but there had been no time to waste. The Covenant fleet was visible now, close enough to the planet to be a major threat.

Around him, red lights flashed and technicians were talking hurriedly, flicking switches and telling things to each other.

The Covenant ships were just a mass of metallic purple blobs as they began closing in towards the planet, human ships flying to meet the attackers. Trails of plasma torpedoes and human nukes and missiles were flying throughout the area.

'Ensign, how much damage was caused by the docking cables?' He asked, turning to look at their engineering bridge crew member, a young man by the name of Ross.

Ross looked up from his terminal and at the Captain.

'We vented atmosphere on Decks 12 and 15, but only in small areas which have been sealed off and are being repressurized now. No one was lost, sir,' Ross replied.

'That's good, Ensign,' Bob said. He turned to their weapons officer, an Asian man of Chinese descent who was sitting at a terminal on Bob's right. His name was Malcolm.

'What's the status on our weapons?' Bob asked him.

'Both MAC cannons are fully charged an all Archer missile pods are ready to fire, sir,' Malcolm said.

'Be ready to target the nearest unengaged Covenant vessel on my command,' Bob ordered, 'and then fire a salvo of two MAC rounds at the target. Remember, Ensign, we have two guns. One must charge as the other fires, that way our firing rate can be constant. How many MAC rounds do we have on the ship?'

'About fifty, sir.'

'Plenty,' Bob said.

They were heading out of the Space Construction Dock, heading for rally point Zulu as was written in the message that had arrived minutes before the Covenant fleet had appeared. Earlier, when he had decided to check the Slip-space scanners, the Colonel had interrupted him. Maybe if it wasn't for that drunken fool they could have had an earlier warning.

The orbital MAC platforms, all twenty of them, were beginning to move into position. They were visible on the main view-screen as well as two of them visible through the front windows. They were pretty much just large cannons which had all the necessary facilities attached to the base of the gun itself. Reach was a blue sphere which part of it was taking up the lower left corner of the view from the front windows.

'How long till we get to rally point Zulu?' Bob asked.

'About twenty minutes, sir.'

The Covenant fleet had spread out now, traces of lasers and plasma torpedoes flying towards the human ships. MAC rounds and missiles tore towards the Covenant ships. Bob saw one of the Covenant ships, a cruiser; get impacted by three MAC rounds which slammed into one after another. The first one drained its shields; the second one blew a massive hole n its front and sent it reeling backwards. The third one hit the under-belly and then blew it back into a barrel roll, rolling upwards through space and falling into two halves.

It was quite amazing to see entire ships get blown to pieces in a matter of seconds and Bob had a feeling this entire battle was missing something. Then he remembered.
He turned around and reached into his jacket pocket. He retrieved the disc and threw it to Steve, who caught it.

'What's this, sir?' Steve asked.

'Music. It's too tense up here otherwise,' Bob said.

Steve inserted the disc into one of the nearby consoles and the song 'Blinded by the Light' by Manfred Mann's Earth Band began playing, quite loudly.

'That's more like it,' Bob said, tapping his foot to the rhythm.

'Sir, there's a pair of cruisers on an intercept course for us,' their navigation officer, Ensign Goodman, said. He sneezed and sprayed spittle across his computer console. With one sleeve he wiped it clean.

'Ensign Chang,' he said, turning to Malcolm, 'target the largest of the vessels and prepare to fire the MAC rounds on my signal. I want a follow up on the vessel with Archer missile pods A1-A14.'

'Yes, sir,' Malcolm said, keying in the commands. 'Largest ship targeted, sir. It's a cruiser.'

'Fire on my signal…'

'Sir!' Someone shouted from nearby, 'three plasma torpedoes are locked onto us!'

Bob didn't falter. Instead, he looked at the main view-screen and saw the three traces of enemy fire coming their way. One would deliver a crippling blow to the ship, two would utterly destroy it and three would finish it off.

'I want the emergency thrusters ready,' Bob
ordered, 'prepare to fire them just before impact.'

'Aye, sir.'

The three Covenant vessels were closing in on them now. Bob glanced at the main view-screen and then gave the order.

'Fire the MAC rounds!'

There were two dull thuds from beneath them as the dual MAC cannon fired. Two streaks of white hot metal shot through the void outside, both rounds slamming into the front of the Covenant cruiser which had been leading the two smaller destroyers. The ship listed to starboard from the impacts, its front half shattering into pieces, smoke pouring out as it vented atmosphere. The hulk of the ship hit the side of the destroyer to its right and both ships were sent spiralling away, smoking wrecks. The fourteen Archer missiles flared through the void, leaving smoking white contrails behind them. They impacted the remaining Covenant ship and made its shields flare, but otherwise didn't do anything else.

'How long till torpedo impact?' Bob asked.

'Thirty-seven seconds, sir,' came the reply.

'Fire starboard emergency thrusters five seconds before impact,' Bob ordered.

'Sir, that will send the torpedoes hurtling straight for Space Construction Dock Seven…'

'Don't question the orders!' Bob exclaimed, 'besides, that place would have been evacuated by now.'

'Are you sure, sir?'

'No.'

There was silence for the next few moments until there was a sudden, violent lurch from the right side of the ship. The entire ship boosted sideways, the blue-white of the plasma torpedoes rushing past, passing through where they had just been. The plasma torpedoes tried to correct their course but slammed into the Construction Dock, vaporizing most of it and sending the remains, most of which were chunks of molten metal, spiralling out into orbit above Reach.

'ETA to rally point Zulu?' Bob asked.

'Ten minutes, sir,' Malcolm replied.

The remaining Covenant destroyer had been engaged by another human vessel, a destroyer, and both were exchanging fire. Bob looked at the fight and then decided to act.

'Let's help them out, shall we?' He said. 'I want a MAC round straight into that Covenant bastard.'

'Yes, sir.'

There was a dull thud as one of the MAC guns fired, the white streak travelling through space and hitting the side of the destroyer. It rolled away as a massive hole was blown through its hull, leaving the human destroyer mostly intact save for a few pulse laser caused holes in its side.

'Seven minutes till rally point Zulu,' Malcolm said.
Just as he said this, there was a bright flash in the windows. Bob squinted and saw that one of the orbital MAC platforms had been blown to pieces. Another followed soon after as dozens of Covenant ships began closing in towards the planet.

The doors at the other end of the bridge opened and in stepped Colonel Timothy Vance with his usual drunken swagger. He walked over to Bob and then sat himself down in the fold-up chair.

'What the hell's going on?' Vance asked, taking a gulp of whiskey from the bottle in his left hand, 'I've been hearing all kinds of noises.'

'Reach is under attack by the Covenant,' Bob replied.

'No kidding,' Vance said, glancing at the main view-screen and then at the view outside, 'we're fucking screwed. I mean, just look at all of them.'

'Another MAC platform's gone, sir!' Malcolm shouted.

'See what I mean?' Vance said. 'So, until this planet's safe, I'm staying on this ship.'

Bob didn't like that idea, but it was no use trying to send a superior officer back down to a possibly doomed planet.

'What is that music?' Vance said, hearing the music that was playing throughout the bridge. The song was now onto 'Fortunate Son'. 'How old is that stuff?'

'Twentieth century stuff,' Bob replied, 'now, if you shut up maybe we can all concentrate on the battle at hand.'

'Whatever,' Vance said, 'but if I die, I'm blaming it on you.'

'Sir, two more Covenant ships,' Steve said, 'two destroyers. They're heading on an intercept course for us.'

'Yeah, let's take these bastards down!' Vance exclaimed.
Bob shook his head and stepped over to the communications console to the left of the main view-screen. He opened a link down to engineering.

'Chief Engineer Rommel, are you there?' He said.

'Yes, I'm here,' Rommel's voice replied, 'what is it?'

'I need the status on the Slip-space core.'

There was a pause and then the sound of heavy breathing.

'Give us another five minutes,' Rommel said.

'Right. I'll call back in five minutes,' Bob said, glancing at his watch and closing the link.

'You're not actually thinking of running away, are you?' Vance asked.

Bob ignored him and turned to Malcolm.

'Power up the MAC guns and fire one round at each destroyer,' Bob ordered, 'if that doesn't take them out, charge them again and fire one at each again.'

'Yes sir,' Malcolm replied. 'Guns charged and ready to fire.'

'Target each of the cruisers and fire away.'

There were another two dull thuds as the MAC guns fired. On impact, each round tore through the shielding of the Covenant destroyers and blasted a large, ragged hole through their hull. The shield had absorbed the brunt of the impact, however, and both ships continued on their course. Their lateral lines glowed blue and a volley of pulse laser fire erupted from their sides.

The ship shook violently and Bob steadied himself on a computer console. Vance just sat in his chair, obviously not at all fazed but the fact they had just been hit with enemy fire.

'Jeez Captain,' Vance said, 'trying to get us all killed?'

'Emergency thrusters starboard,' Bob ordered. He turned to Steve. 'Damage report?'

'Sustained damage from Decks Six to Nine. Breached areas sealed off, although fourteen personnel were in those areas,' Steve said, reading from his console.

Fourteen people lost. That wasn't much in the long run, but what the hell would Bob tell their families if they ever survived through this day?

'Sir, another orbital MAC platform's just been destroyed!' Malcolm exclaimed, 'we're receiving reports that a lot of our ships are being destroyed.'

'Let's make a last stand here!' Vance exclaimed, 'die like a bunch of heroes!'

'You're crazy,' Bob said. He stood up. 'Fire those blasted MAC guns again before they shoot back.'

'Yes, sir,' Malcolm replied. Another two thuds from the bottom of the ship and both destroyers were blown to pieces which scattered throughout the void.

Bob turned to face Vance. The Colonel seemed to be enjoying himself and going through that bottle of whiskey quite fast. He burped loudly and then stared at Bob.

'With all due respect,' Bob said, trying not to annoy the Colonel, 'but none of us need you to shout and commentate on this battle. If you don't want to get blasted to pieces with us,' maybe you should just…be quiet.'

Vance didn't seem to care about what Bob had to say. Instead, he finished off the bottle of whiskey and dropped it to the floor, letting it roll over to where the previous one still lay.

'I never said you had to listen to what I say,' Vance said, slurring some of his words.

Bob shook his head again and then turned back to the main view-screen.

'ETA to rally point Zulu?' He asked aloud.

'Two minutes, sir,' Goodman replied from his station.

On the main view-screen, it was clear the Covenant were winning. Blips representing human ships were gradually disappearing, first growing inside before fading away. The Covenant fleet was fairly close to the planet and Bob saw another MAC platform disappear from the view-screen. They would have to get out of here if they wanted to live through this, he knew it.

He opened the communications link to the Chief Engineer once again.

'I need that Slip-space core made useable now!' Bob said, 'do your best, Rommel.'

'It's taking longer than I expected, sir. Maybe you could send a few more people down here to help out progress would be made faster,' Heinrich replied.

'I'll send five engineering members down there right away. We're going to have to make that core safe to use in the next five minutes,' Bob said.

The link ended and Bob gave the order to send five more engineers down to the core room.

'Sir,' Goodman said, 'we're at the rally point now. There are a few vessels here, but it seems most are retreating…'

'What about the Covenant?' Bob asked. He turned back to the main view-screen. There were plenty of blips representing Covenant ships and not as much as there had been for the human vessels.

'There are twenty Covenant ships in firing range, sir,' Goodman replied, 'the rest are mopping up any resistance around the planet. They're winning…'

The bridge suddenly went quiet. Reach would most likely fall unless by some last minute miracle humanity won. They wouldn't be getting that miracle and one of the last strongholds for humanity would be no more.

'Any communications coming in?' He asked.

Steve looked up from his console.

'There are some, sir,' he said, 'I'll put them on now.'

The static filled voice of what sounded like someone aboard a burning ship came on.

'The planet's defences are being destroyed…' The voice said, 'we have no other option to retreat. Live to fight another day. There are only three MAC platforms left…Continuing the battle now is useless…I…'

The signal cut out, filling the bridge with the noise of static.

'Turn it off,' Bob ordered. The noise stopped. He stood thinking for a moment. Once that Slip-space core was ready. They would escape. They would do this despite the Colonel's complaints. He was in no state to be in charge.

'Can you find the Pillar of Autumn?' Bob asked.

Steve looked down his console, tapping buttons and reading through the information.

'No sir. Neither can I find any traces of her, meaning that she may already have jumped to Slip-space or has been destroyed completely,' Steve replied.

'Then we'll follow suit,' Bob said. Once again the communications link to engineering was switched on.

'Rommel, tell me now that the core is ready,' Bob said. He hoped it was safe enough to use. They didn't have much choice. Eventually the Covenant would actually start attacking them once the planet was a smouldering, lifeless ruin. If they were mopping up now, it wouldn't be long before they started a complete bombardment of the planet.

'You could use it now, sir, but there would a high chance of something going wrong,' Rommel said, 'there's still a few things that need to be fixed…'

'Sir, we have five Covenant ships coming for us!' Goodman shouted, 'all of them are firing a salvo of plasma torpedoes. I'm picking up ten of the torpedoes, locked onto us.'

'How long before impact?' Bob asked.

'One minutes and twelve seconds,' Goodman replied, 'there's no way we can get out of this one.'

Bob spoke back into the link.

'I'm using that core now, Rommel. No matter what's got to be done with it,' Bob said, shutting off the link. He turned to face the crew members.

'We're jumping to Slip-space,' Bob said, 'I want a randomized vector calculated and keyed into the navigational controls. We're getting out of here.'

Vance raised an eyebrow.

'You're actually running away?' Vance said, 'I didn't think you were that kind of person, Captain.'

'You don't know me very well, Colonel,' Bob said.

'Vector calculated, sir,' Goodman said, 'should we enter Slip-space?'

'Impact in forty-seven seconds,' Malcolm said.

Bob paused. There was no time to waste.

'Activate Slip-space entry,' Bob ordered.

There were a brief few seconds of nothing happening when the main view-screen switched off and a massive blue-white flash engulfed the ship. All of a sudden, there was just blackness outside. Bob felt a dizzying sensation for a few seconds before it eased.

'We're in, sir,' Goodman said, 'no trace of the torpedoes.'

Bob took a sigh of relief. He looked at Vance, who had gotten up with his case tucked under one arm.

'If this technology is all it's cracked up to be,' Bob said, 'we should be out of Slip-space fairly soon.'

Vance stepped over to the Captain and poked a finger into his chest.

'That means you're stuck with me,' Vance said, 'and that means I need a damn room.'

Jeff was hanging around his squad's quarters when Jones entered, looking exhausted and only slightly annoyed. The rest of the squad had been sitting and playing cards ever since they had entered Slip-space. That had been only a few hours ago and apparently they had suffered some damage from the battle of Reach.

'You look like you just ran a marathon,' Jeff said as Jones entered. Jones sat down in an empty chair near the table and turned to Jeff.

'I had to help my friend down in engineering,' Jones said, 'and that meant I had to go down into the Slip-space core room and fix stuff up there. Meaning I had to put on a radiation suit and listen to his instructions. Everything I did down there with him and his team helped us enter Slip-space safely.'

'What exactly where the problems with the core, anyway?' Jeff asked, 'because it seems a bit stupid installing something which isn't going to work properly.'

'It was unstable,' Jones replied, 'and I'm no expert, but I think that it wasn't built properly. Being reverse-engineered and all, I think they may have taken a few short-cuts.'

'Just who is your friend down in engineering?' Jeff asked, 'if he's involved with the core, he might be one of the people involved in designing it.'
Jones paused.

'You think he could have made those short-cuts?' Jones asked.

'It's possible,' Jeff said, 'so, who is he?'

'Chief Engineer Heinrich Rommel,' Jones replied, 'he and I were good friends until I had to come to Reach. Now I have a chance to, well, hang out with him again. You should get to know him, he's an okay guy.'

'Maybe later,' Jeff said. He looked at the squad who didn't seem to have a care in the world at the moment. He turned back to Jones.

'Do you have any idea where we're headed?' Jeff asked.

'No, it's on a randomized vector,' Jones said, 'so we could be well away from Earth by now. This new Slip-spaced core-engine thing is unpredictable.'

'No doubt the Covenant is following us,' Jeff said. There could probably be a dozen ships on their tail, having taken pursuit from Reach. That meant that as soon as they came out of Slip-space, the Covenant ships would probably be there already, or if this new Slip-space technology was as good as people made it out to be, the Covenant ships would arrive just after them.

Jeff turned to his squad. They didn't seem to pay him much attention. They looked like they needed to do something other than sit around playing cards.

'Squad!' Jeff shouted. The marines jumped out of their seats, turning to face him and saluting him. That had given them a bit of a fright.

'Go down to the nearest firing range and spend an hour and a half doing target practice,' Jeff said, getting out of his seat, 'we're heading into the unknown and we need all the practice we can get.'

'Does that mean we're heading into battle again, sir?' Private Ekholm asked.

'We most likely are,' Jeff said, 'now get going. We haven't got all day.'

The marines dropped their salutes and started out of the quarters, passing through the door and disappearing into the corridor.

Jeff turned to Jones, who was sitting down and almost
falling asleep.

'Jones, are you still with me?' Jeff asked.

Jones opened one eye.

'What?' He asked, opening the other and stretching, 'you're not going to get me to run laps or something, are you?'

'No, you look like you need a rest,' Jeff said, 'but maybe you should get me to meet this friend of yours sometime.'

'He's busy, being the Chief Engineer,' Jones said, 'but I'm sure we could have a firing range competition or something like that sometime.'

Jeff nodded and started for the door.

'Where are you going?' Jones asked.

'First, I'm finding out how long this trip through Slip-space will be,' Jeff replied, 'then I'm going to figure out whether to stay out in this ship or go into cryo-sleep.'

'Cryo-sleep? You're kidding,' Jones said with some disdain, 'I hate cryo-sleep. I would prefer to spend my time out here, thank you very much.'

'You know, I've heard stories of people going insane if they spend too much time by themselves aboard a ship,' Jeff said as the door opened.

'And you seriously think I'm going to go nuts, considering I'm not going to be by myself and only in the ship for a short time?'

'No, I'm just saying it to scare you,' Jeff said, grinning. He exited the room.

Captain Bob Turnwell sat in his office, which was located in a room join to the corridor just outside the bridge. It was that close so the commanding officer of the ship could go to and from the bridge quickly, if the need ever came by.
Bob had left the bridge a few minutes after they had entered Slip-space. He had started with reading up on any information on the Covenant and then took out a glass of old wine from 2524 and had poured himself a glass which now stood half-full on his desk.

Models of pioneer ships were stuck on one of the walls and framed pictures of family members were on the opposite wall.
Usually a Slip-space journey meant that most of the crew went into cryo-sleep, which Bob hated anyway. This time was different, however, since they would be exiting Slip-space earlier than they would if it had been an ordinary human-made Slip-space engine.

They had the Covenant partly to thank for the Slip-space technology, although looking back on the history of the creation of this new Slip-space technology, there were a few gaping holes. Bob couldn't remember hearing about any Covenant ships that were captured successfully, but if this had been the case then maybe it was kept secret by ONI or something. That was probably why this mission was deemed so top secret, but thanks to the attack on Reach by the Covenant, that mission was now scrubbed.

Earlier in the year it had been worked out that humanity's life-span was only a few months. Now with Reach gone, those months had now gone down to weeks. Things weren't looking good, but at least right now, they were safe, travelling through Slip-space and will probably wind up somewhere they had never been before. They were leading the Covenant away from Earth, at least.

He had a feeling wherever they did end up, they would have to fight. Being stuck with a Colonel unfit for command was a bit of a snag, though. Knowing Vance, he would try and take command and probably make an idiot of himself.
The right thing that High Command should have done was discharge the Colonel. That way he wouldn't be on this ship with them right now.

Wherever they were headed, there was no doubt a bunch of Covenant ships were following them. That meant they would have a few options: if they arrived close to a hospitable planet, they could evacuate there and make a better stand. If they ended up in a part of uncharted space with nothing like a hospitable planet near them, they would probably be blasted to pieces by the Covenant ships. Even if they did arrive close to a planet, there was nothing stopping the Covenant from blasting them to pieces before they got a chance to evacuate. He would have to think of something to get them all safely through all of this.

There was the sound of some static before a voice filtered in through the intercom on the wall.

'Sir, could I please enter?' The voice asked. It was Ensign Malcolm Chang, 'there's some things you need to know.'

'Enter,' Bob said. The static ceased and the doors slid open. Malcolm stepped in and the doors slid shut.

'Anything I should know, Ensign?' Bob asked.

Malcolm coughed and cleared his throat. He seemed a little edgy, but so would most other people if you were going through Slip-space and into the unknown.

'We've detected about a dozen Covenant ships on our tail in the Slip-stream,' Malcolm said, 'but they seem to be having a fair bit of trouble keeping up. Sir, we could very well have to fight them in space.'

'I know that, Ensign,' Bob said. It was a grim prospect but obviously Malcolm was in here to tell him something important, otherwise he wouldn't bother coming in.

'There's not much chance of us making a stand, sir,' Malcolm said, 'thing is, the Slip-space jump has chewed through a lot of the ships power and short circuited the MAC gun capacitors. We can't use the dual cannon anymore, sir.'

'That's not good,' Bob grumbled. There wasn't much chance of making a good stand now.

'We can't jump to Slip-space again, sir,' Malcolm said, 'the Chief Engineer warned me another jump like the one we already did could result in the ship falling apart.'

'It isn't looking good then, is it?' Bob asked. It sure as hell wasn't looking good from what he could see. He was the Captain and he seemed to be out of options.

'No sir, it isn't,' Malcolm replied, 'but there may be a positive to all of this. A way to survive, sir.'

'Then say it,' Bob said.

'The combat AI, Windtalker, has managed to infiltrate a Covenant Slip-space communications system. It seems we're going in the direction of a planet quite special to them. It is an Earth-type world from what we know,' Malcolm said, 'although we don't know the extent of the Covenant presence there.'

Bob raised an eyebrow. It was obvious what they would have to do, then.

'Have you set a course for this planet?' Bob asked.

'One step ahead of you, sir,' Malcolm said, 'although it'll be September eleventh before we arrive there. Another eleven days in Slip-space.'

'This is beginning to sound good, Ensign,' Bob said. They could evacuate to the planet after exiting Slip-space and make a more formidable stand there. 'I want everyone on the ship alerted to this fact. We may have to be ready to evacuate quickly.'

'Aren't you going to go into cryo-sleep, sir?' Malcolm asked.

'What's the point, Ensign?' Bob asked, 'an eleven day journey isn't that bad. I doubt the engineering folk will go to sleep for the journey.'

'They aren't, sir,' Malcolm said, 'they're going to try and fix the Slip-space stuff up.'

'Makes sense,' Bob said, 'anything else I should know, Ensign?'

'Well, some of the marines are planning to host an auction in the main mess hall in a few days,' Malcolm sad, grinning, 'although I doubt they would have much to sell.'

'An auction?' Bob asked, raising an eyebrow.

'Yes, sir, the items will include pieces of the ship that were damaged in the battle, about the size of your hand,' Malcolm said, 'as well as things that marines don't want anymore.'

'Who organized it?' Bob asked. At least the auction didn't involve killing and trying not to get killed.

'The ODST Major, Golding,' Malcolm answered.
Major George Golding lead the ODST forces posted on the ship and was an eccentric and likeable character, dressing up in a green-black cowboy outfit despite what people told him about regulation uniform. He was from Ohio and was an expert tracker, although that wouldn't help him if they ended up in a space battle.

'Is that all, Ensign?' Bob asked.

'That's about the extent of the situation,' Malcolm said, 'we could very well end up getting blasted to smithereens once we jump out of Slip-space. We have eleven days to plan what to do next, but we really won't know until we get out of Slip-space. This planet could be well-controlled by the Covenant.'

'I understand that, Ensign,' Bob said, 'but we'll have to take our chances. You may leave now, Malcolm.'

'Yes sir,' Malcolm said, turning around and exiting the office.

The fact that they had set a course for a possible heavily controlled Covenant planet had given them a chance of surviving the next week. They would evacuate down to the planet and work out something once they were there, but they would need to get rid of the Colonel. He was too much of a burden and wasn't meant to be on their ship. How they would do this was beyond Bob, although they could simply arrange an 'accident' to occur because absolutely no one else outside the ship would know about it.

Bob just hoped the Colonel died in a firefight. With him out of the way, they would have an easier job of making a stand on the planet without the interference of Colonel Vance.

The week went by without incident and Jeff had considered going through the uncomfortable process of cryo-sleep but had then decided against it. He didn't like the idea of lying naked in a tube pretty much frozen with nutrient filled liquid being pumped into him. It didn't seem very pleasant.

He was sitting in the mess hall, the auction now finished, as the other marines with him filed out and headed off to do their own thing. Major George Golding was preparing to leave, having spent an hour and a half as an auctioneer auctioning off items such as broken circuit-boards and pieces of the outer armour plating that had been damaged in the battle. Other things that went on sale were the personal effects of some marines who didn't want them anymore, such as picture frames and stuff you wouldn't usually want. Everything had been sold, some stuff quite cheap, and it seems that the so-called 'Major George Golding Retirement Fund' had received plenty of money.

Jeff didn't know the Major very well but judging from his broad shoulders, medium statue (about six foot and five inches), choice of outfit, his hat, his moustache and his personality Jeff could get to know him and befriend him quite easily. The Major was head of the ODSTs on the ship and Jeff had once been an ODST, albeit for a short time. His outfit, a dark, green-tinged cowboy outfit which included the jacket, shirt, trousers and boots as well as a hat showed that he wasn't one to conform. His cowboy-style hat matched the outfit completely and his Texas-look and moustache helped him look like someone who would probably prefer to be out hunting right about now.

He was meant to be an expert tracker, not that would help you much in a mainly space engagement war. He seemed like the kind who would be good at that.

'Son, could you help me move this thing?'

Jeff looked up, his train of thought broken. The mess hall was mainly empty now and the Major seemed to be having some trouble pushing a large cart along, filled with fragments of the outer armour that had been damaged and retrieved during the battle. These were obviously the ones the Major hadn't chosen to sell or simply hadn't got a chance to.

The Major was looking at Jeff, his Ohio accent helping with his hunter-style image.

'Are you just gonna sit there and stare or are you actually going to get off your ass and help me?' The Major asked.
Jeff got up and stepped over to the Major, stopping beside him and easily pushing the metal cart out of the little gap in the floor it had got stuck in.

'You're strong, son,' the Major said, 'those fragments sure are heavy.' He held out a hand. 'I'm Major George Golding.'

'Sergeant Jeff Ganszo,' Jeff said, shaking hands with the Major, 'I've heard about you.'

'I've heard about you too, son,' the Major said, 'you were once an ODST. What the hell made you quit? No one has ever quit the ODSTs, son, unless they die or get too old.'

'Sounds pleasant,' Jeff said, grinning.

The Major slapped him on the back in a friendly manner.

'You should get back into it. You're always free to come into my unit,' the Major said. He began to gradually push the cart along and towards the nearest door.

'You didn't buy anything, did you?' The Major asked,
stopping and turning around, 'I do have a few things I didn't sell which may be worth taking a look at.'

'Like what?'

The Major took out a familiar looking small wooden case from the cart.

'Where did you get that?' Jeff asked. He recognized it as the Magnum revolver case belonging to Wilkes, the technician he met when he was aboard the Space Construction Dock.

'One of the guys who was killed on board this ship when we got hit during the battle, this is his,' the Major said, 'quite an antique, son.'

He opened it and took out the shiny metal revolver inside. He examined it closely before putting it back.

So Wilkes had been one of the ones killed? Now the Major was hawking his stuff. It seemed that everyone had already moved on from the battle, seeing that hardly anyone had mentioned Reach in the past week.

'Someone died and you're already selling their stuff?' Jeff
asked.

'It ain't that bad, son,' the Major said, 'besides, it's a nice weapon. I would think a starting price of five hundred, maybe six hundred.'

'I'm not buying it,' Jeff replied apprehensively, 'it's not like you need it, anyway.'

'You never know,' the Major said. He put the case back on the cart and pushed it over to the door.

'I'll see you around, Sergeant,' the Major said as he left the room. He was right about him seeing Jeff again sometime in the future.

The eleventh of September came and Bob had spent most of the morning on the bridge. Crew members were coming out of cryo-sleep, not that Bob was one of them.

Sitting on the Colonel's fold-up chair, Bob waited for when they were going to exit Slip-space, which could be any moment now. The new Slip-space technology was meant to be as accurate as the Covenant's. He would find out if that was true soon enough, since the Slip-space technology hadn't been tested in action until now.

He turned to Ensign Goodman, their navigations officer. It was ten past ten according to Reach time on the eleventh of September. Reach time properly didn't exist anymore.

'How long till we exit Slip-space?' Bob asked.
Goodman looked up from his console.

'About fifteen minutes, sir,' Goodman replied, 'we're on course as well. The Covenant ships following us will be out just after we arrive.'

'Great,' Bob mumbled quietly. They were at risk of being fired upon once the Covenant ships appeared, so they would have to act fast enough for that not to happen. However, they needed to go through proper protocol when approaching a possible enemy world. Send down a few probes, take samples of the atmosphere and scan for enemy activity. They would need to find out whether the planet was hospitable to humans first and what the extent of the enemy presence on it was.

'What about our databases, sir?' Malcolm asked. Bob turned to him. 'If they can't be shut down from here, when will we get round to doing it?'

Bob paused. They would need the combat AI Windtalker to wipe the databases from Central Processing, and someone would have to first put the AI into the databases manually. A simple combat AI couldn't pass through all of the security locks set in place by ONI (Office of Naval Intelligence). If they had gotten a proper one when they were meant to, the Cole Protocol would have been completed already.

'I'll get someone to do it later,' Bob said, 'right now we have to find out how large the enemy presence on the planet is before we can start evacuating there.'

'What about us, sir?' Goodman asked, 'will we evacuate as well?'

This was a good question and Bob could sense the young Ensign's anxiety.

'You can if you want, Ensign,' Bob replied, 'but as the old
saying goes, "a Captain always goes down with his ship".'

'You're not actually thinking of staying on the ship when everyone else has gone, sir?' Steve asked from behind.

'This ship is my responsibility,' Bob said, 'and if I can, I will try and get it down to the surface.'

There was a brief silence on the bridge. Suddenly, Goodman grinned and looked at the Captain.

'You won't be able to do that yourself, sir,' Goodman said, 'I'll stay with you.'

'And me,' Steve said.

'As well as me,' Malcolm said.

Pretty soon the entire bridge crew had volunteered to stay on board. Bob wasn't about to stop them in a hurry. He wondered if many of them had thought about what could happen to them as the ship was blasted apart. Being disintegrated and/or vaporized didn't sound very pleasant.

'We'll be exiting Slip-space in one minute,' Goodman announced. Bob didn't really know what to expect: a Covenant armada or just a large planet to appear in front of them.

Even if they did get down to the planet, what would they do after that? They couldn't go back to Earth with the Covenant around, the Covenant would follow them straight back to Earth. That would mean the rest of humanity would be destroyed. No, they would need to hold out as long as they could. Things weren't looking too positive for them at the moment.

'Thirty seconds until we exit Slip-space,' Goodman said.

'Power up all working weaponry, including Shiva warhead launchers and Archer missile pods,' Bob ordered, 'if there is a welcoming party I want every weapon to be targeted at something.'

'Fifteen seconds,' Goodman announced.

There was a slight hum from the ship and seconds later a blue-white flash engulfed the ship before they appeared before a dark, starry back drop. A large, blue-white sphere took up most of the front windows. There were no Covenant ships in sight.

Thank God for that, Bob thought. No welcoming party. The Covenant ships following them would be in normal space pretty soon.

'I want a probe sent down to that planet on the double,' Bob ordered.

'Yes sir,' Goodman replied, 'we also seem to be detecting a lot of energy signatures coming from the planet. Some are Covenant while others are unknown.'

Some Covenant, but what could the others be? Who else could be on that planet? This seemed a bit odd.

'The probe will give us the information we need,' Bob said, watching on the main view-screen as a small blip shot forth from their position, representing the probe, 'Ensign Malcolm, I need you to scan the surrounding area. Find out where the hell we are.'

'Yes sir,' Malcolm replied, keying in commands on his terminal. A few moments later he came back with the results.

'Sir, we're well into uncharted space,' Malcolm said, 'that new Slip-space technology brought us far enough away from charted space for no surrounding constellations to be known. We're in the middle of nowhere.'

'It's not exactly nowhere with this planet here,' Bob said to himself. If they were well outside UNSC space; that meant their chances of ever getting back to Earth were even lower than before.

'The results for the probe are coming back, sir,' Goodman said, 'want me to transfer them to the main view-screen?'

'Do it,' Bob replied.

Photos and information started appearing on the main view-screen. Bob split up the important information from everything else.

It seemed the planet had Earth-like gravity and an Earth-like atmosphere. Photos of mysterious looking structures like none Bob had ever seen before had been taken by the probe. Most were overgrown in the lush jungles of the planet, but a few photos showed some out in the middle of lakes and on the sides of hills. The entire planet was dotted with the same architecture-style buildings, some emitting the energy signatures they had picked up before.

There were some minor Covenant installations as well, but there were only a few photographs of these. Apparently this was all the information the probe had sent before it had been destroyed by Covenant weapons fire. One Covenant installation looked to be built into some of the old ruins, a training ground and tank garage in one. The recognizable shapes of Wraith tanks were visible in the high altitude photos.

The planet was safe enough, with about six major continents and many tropical islands. Every continent had at least three Covenant installations on it. They would go to one fairly close to where the planet's equator would be, being fourth from the nearest star.

'I want all evacuation groups to go to this general area,' Bob said, highlighting a part of the photographic map, 'that way we can easily rally ourselves.'

'There are a few minor Covenant installations there, sir,' Goodman said, 'and it's mostly jungle as well. Are you sure this is wise?'

'It's jungle. The Covenant isn't used to fighting on the ground, let alone in thick jungle,' Bob said, looking at Goodman, 'they like to fight in space. We won't be giving them that liberty. We'll use guerrilla tactics if we have to.'

'Sir!' Steve shouted, getting Bob's attention, 'we're detecting several Slip-space ruptures a few kilometres away. It's the Covenant, sir. About seven ships: three cruisers, two destroyers and two frigates.'

Bob looked at the main view-screen. Blips representing the ships appeared, moving into position about ten kilometres away.

'It's the welcoming party,' Bob said, 'but they're late.' He turned to Malcolm.

'Are there any weapon's signatures appearing on the ships?' He asked the Ensign.

'None, sir,' Malcolm replied, 'they're not firing on us, which is strange.'

'Must be our lucky day, then,' Bob said.

Not Exactly Human Ch.3: Boarding Action
Date: 5 June 2008, 11:54 pm

Ship Master Dras Amargee stood on the command bridge of the cruiser Justifiable Light, the flagship of the part of the fleet that he was in command of. If it had been up to him, he would have fired upon the human ship which was on the main holographic view-screen now, but a rather annoying but important figure was behind him, observing him.

Dras was an Elite; at least 'Elite' is what the humans called his people. His race was properly known as the Sangheili and Dras was a rather large one for someone of his age (young for a Ship Master). He was muscular and the golden armour he wore made him look even larger than he was, creating an imposing figure which didn't really help him when it came to negotiating with the Minor Prophet sitting on the hover-chair behind him.

Dras had orange-amber eyes with a snake-like pupil running down their centre. He wasn't wearing the standard issue eye covers that most of the other Sangheili troops wore. The eye covers polarized when faced with a dangerously bright amount of light, but since he wasn't in battle, they weren't necessary.

He was young for someone of his rank and he had worked hard to get this far in the ranks of the Covenant, excelling in every form of combat a Sangheili could go through. His muscular build could easily rip a human to pieces, and he had done it many times, suffering wounds but obviously nothing fatal.

Being put in command of a small section of the fleet by the Supreme Commander, Dras had been looking forward to destroying a human stronghold world. What he hadn't contemplated on was this particular human ship which was on the view-screen now escaping into Slip-space, destroying five of his ships before doing so.

There were a few different reasons for following the human ship. One was that it could lead them straight to another human world, although Dras doubted the humans were that stupid. Two, this human ship seemed different to the others and had Slip-space technology almost as advanced as theirs, beating them to this location. Another reason was that these humans could either call for reinforcements or jeopardize other parts of the Covenant if they ever stumbled upon an important installation.

The planet which now took up most of the view-screen was one particular installation.

Dras scratched at one of his lower mandibles and noticed that one of his many sharp teeth were loose. He realized that it was probably from the knock he had suffered during the battle for the human world when their ship had been hit by enemy fire.

He would deal with it later. Right now more important matters were at hand.

Dras turned to look at the Prophet. The Prophet was an entirely different race: frail looking, with a serpentine neck and green eyes, wearing an ornately decorated and large golden headdress and red robes. His legs were crossed, his long skeletal arms resting on either arm of the gravity chair. Despite the Prophet being in control of the Ship Master's seven-strong 'fleet', Dras was beginning to find the alien rather annoying.

Dras was different to most other Sangheili. He wasn't one to bow down before a Prophet's 'greatness'. He just did as he was told and didn't do any of the over-the-top stuff like talk about the Prophets as if they were gods. No, the only gods were the ones who had the many sacred structures on the planet below.

Dras' voice was calm. It was also deep and masculine, as was the case with all Sangheili males.

'I find it strange that you do not want me to fire upon the human ship,' he said, 'it is but one ship, Exalted. How they found this world is unknown to me.'

'The world below is the problem, Ship Master,' the Prophet said, hovering close to Dras. The command bridge was deep within the Covenant cruiser, surrounded by decks and plenty of armour plating. Holographic screens went around the heightened platform, a few other Sangheili standing at their posts and ignoring the conversation between the Ship Master and the Prophet.

'If you were to fire on that vessel and miss,' the Prophet said, his malevolent eyes glaring, 'the weapons fire could very well impact the planet below and destroy either a holy ones structure or one of our installations. That could lead to your execution, Ship Master. I'm sure you wouldn't want that?'

Dras sighed.

'What if we didn't miss?' Dras asked, 'I don't see the point of your worry, Exalted. We could simply call in reinforcements and make sure there is no single trace of that ship left.'

'All the reinforcements in this region aren't available at this time,' the Prophet said, 'you should know that, Ship Master.'

'It slipped my mind,' Dras replied. He was tiring of this Prophet and his pointless worries about the planet below. There was very little chance they would miss.

'How the humans discovered the location of this world is unknown,' the Prophet said, 'although I doubt the answer will be hard to find.'

There were plenty of possible reasons the humans found their world, Dras doubting that it was just luck. The Prophet seemed to think it was.

'What do you suggest we do?' Dras asked, 'we can't just sit here and let the human vermin escape.'

The Prophet paused for a moment, thinking their options over. Dras had a slight idea what he might suggest, though.

'We shall send boarding parties,' the Prophet said, 'eliminate all humans on the vessel and take everything out of its databanks. That way we may achieve more than just making a bunch of floating, smouldering metal.'

There were plenty of flaws in that plan. It was obvious the human wouldn't leave their databanks full. They would erase everything, just like they have done in past battles.

'The humans could easily escape to the surface below,' Dras said, 'it will be hard enough to get aboard and kill every human on the ship, let alone get there fast enough before any humans escape. That is why I must question why we can't just use our plasma torpedoes. I say again, Exalted, there is a very slim chance that we will miss.'

The Prophet just stared at Dras. This Dras didn't like very much.

'It's not that hard to figure out, Ship Master,' the Prophet said, 'send some Seraph squadrons and destroy the human vessel's escape pod bays.'

Dras turned around and keyed in some commands on one of the nearby panels. Statistics and information on the human ship began flowing down the screen above the panel. He turned back to the Prophet, hoping the annoying alien was actually reading the information.

'This human ship is more heavily armed than most we have ever encountered,' Dras said, 'getting any Seraphs close enough will result in several losses. How do you suggest any boarding craft will get through? As you can see on the information we've gathered, this human vessel has two of the large weapons that are effective on our ships.'

'The magnetic shell weapons?' The Prophet asked.

'No one knows the correct term, but you can probably call them that. The human vessel also has more than the usual amount of guns and launchers,' Dras said.

'Then find a way past them,' the Prophet said, 'but under no circumstances is there to be any weapons fire from this ship or any of the others. Do you understand?'
Dras nodded.

'I understand that one of your offspring, a Minor Domo, is stationed in a desert on the planet below?' The Prophet said.

Dras suddenly remembered. He did have a young son from a mate he had long ago left stationed on the planet below. He hadn't thought about it and probably wouldn't have but now that the Prophet had mentioned it, Dras couldn't get the thought out of his head.

'You are a swordsman, Ship Master,' the Prophet said, 'I know the traditions of your people. Under no circumstances are you to go see your son.'

'I understand,' Dras said. All Sangheili males who were swordsmen could not marry, but they could mate with whichever female they wished to pass the swordsman genes onto the next generation.

However, recently Dras had fallen for a young female who worked in the medical personnel on the ship. She was in love with him also and as soon as they could, they would return to the Sangheili home-world, Sanghelios, and marry regardless of tradition.

Dras hadn't planned on ever seeing his son again and doubted that particular young Sangheili wanted to see him. Usually a swordsman Sangheili moved on after having some offspring, never seeing their own children.

'It could cloud your mind,' the Prophet said, 'I wouldn't want one of our best commanders worrying too much about his own son, possibly clouding said commander's judgment. You have to keep your mind on the matters at hand.'

'I understand,' Dras said again.

'Under no circumstances is this ship or any of the others to fire on the human vessel,' the Prophet said, turning around on the gravity chair and heading for the door, 'disobeying this order may lead to your execution.'

It seemed plenty of things would lead to his execution. Once the Prophet had left the command bridge, Dras gave the order to organize boarding parties and prepare to board the human vessel. He would be going too, with his squad of Special Operations troops.

Dras stood in the boarding craft launcher bay, about a dozen Sangheili troops in dark purple armour standing to attention near one of the boarding craft. This was his squad, and all of them had been through many battles with him. All of them were able soldiers and he cared about the lives of his squad members, unlike other Sangheili officers.

He walked in between the two sides of their formation, six on each side, their dedication communicated to him by their unwavering stares.

'We are to board the human vessel,' Dras said, as he took a look at each of his squad members, 'and while the humans are fighting our less important forces, we will go straight to their databanks and get all the information that we can. Of course there will be resistance along the way, but it should not be anything too dangerous. Is this objective clear?'

'Yes, Commander!' The squad members said together.

'Very well,' Dras said.

On the other side of the shuttle bay, he spotted someone he knew standing near a stack of crates. He would have to finish of this briefing before he walked over there, though.

'Once we have acquired everything in the databanks of the human vessel, if we get anything,' Dras said, 'we will return straight to our craft and come back to this ship. We are not to do anything else other than carry out this objective. We are to stay together as a group. Is that clear?'

The squad members nodded their heads.

'Very well,' Dras said, 'go ahead aboard the boarding craft. I will join you soon.'

The squad members relaxed and started making their way to the large purple and blue armoured boarding craft hovering nearby. Dras approached the familiar figure. It was Arna Sulfonoss. Being a female, she was a little shorter than Dras and of lighter build, her hooves more rounded and her mandibles less pronounced. She was dressed in the light blue armour of a medical Sangheili officer, which didn't have a helmet to go with it. Her eyes were light blue with a snake-like pupil running down their centre. She gave the equivalent of a smile with her mandibles as Dras approached.

'What are you doing here?' Dras asked, smiling as well. He put one arm around the female, 'the others may get suspicious.'

'I just wanted to see you one last time before you left,' she said. Her voice was shriller than a male's, as was the case with all Sangheili females.

Arna leant forward and they kissed each other quickly, slipping together their mandibles for a few seconds before pulling away.

'Don't get hurt,' she said, running a hand down Dras' chest, 'I just want you to promise me you'll return safely.'

'They're just humans,' Dras said.

'They're still capable of hurting you,' she said, 'I've heard of how the humans react in close quarters combat. They're unpredictable, some more than others. Some of their weapons are specially made for close quarters fighting…'

'I know,' Dras said, clutching one of her hands, 'and I promise I'll be careful. Even if I do get hurt, I know you'll be here to heal any wounds I may receive.'

There was a brief pause and they kissed each other again before Dras let go of her hand and started for the boarding craft.

Jeff Ganszo approached the doors into the firing range. Jones wanted to introduce him to this other friend of his, the Chief Engineer of the ship. Jones hardly ever spent any time on the firing range and so choosing to now obviously meant he had the feeling they would be going into combat soon enough.

What was also surprising was that the Covenant ships only about ten thousand kilometres away from them hadn't opened fire, at least not yet. There was nothing stopping them that he knew of.

The doors opened and behind them was a large, long room. The doors led into the small area behind the firing booths that looked out over the five hundred meter long range.

Jones was sitting in a chair talking to someone who looked about the same age as him and was in a red engineer's uniform. This was obviously the Chief Engineer. As soon as
Jeff walked in the two of them looked over at him.

'Jeff, you're here!' Jones exclaimed, 'I thought it would be fun to spend some time on the firing range. This here's Heinrich Rommel.'

Jones gestured to the Chief Engineer who got up and walked over to Jeff. He put out a hand.

'You're obviously Jeff Ganszo,' the Chief Engineer said with a slight trace of a German accent in his voice. They shook hands.

'Apparently we've come out of Slip-space near some unknown planet,' Jones said, 'and now the Covenant ships that followed us here aren't bothering to shoot at us, which is lucky I guess.'

'There's nothing stopping them,' Jeff said, 'they could have blasted us all to pieces right about now.'

'Who knows and who cares?' Heinrich said. He paused. 'They're probably planning something, so while we're still alive how about we have some fun while we're at it?'

'Jeff, they have some new stuff on this ship, not just concerning Slip-space,' Jones said.

'Speaking of Slip-space,' Heinrich said, 'Jones here actually helped us out back on the day of the battle down at the Slip-space core reactor.'

Jeff raised an eyebrow. Jones wasn't the kind of engineer-adept person and also wasn't the kind of person who would go anywhere near a potentially dangerous piece of technology.

'He did?' Jeff asked.

'It wasn't anything major,' Jones said, sounding modest, 'and it wasn't all that exciting either…'

'But if it wasn't for him,' Heinrich said, 'we probably would be scattered throughout Slip-space right about now. He was the one who fixed up the last remaining plasma coil in time.'

Jones rolled his eyes.

'It wasn't hard at all, man' he said, 'but how about we quit talking about Slip-space and get on with what we're going to do.'

Jones walked over to a large cabinet on the wall and inserted his pass-card into a panel next to it. A light flashed green on the panel and a cold, female voice, coming from the computer locking the cabinet, asked a question.

'State your purpose for these weapons,' it said.
Jones took a moment to think up a good reason.

'Recreational use,' he replied loud enough so the speakers could pick his voice up.

'Access granted. Please restrict weapons to the firing range area.'

'Shut the hell up,' Jones said quietly as the cabinet slid open. Behind it was a large rack holding an assortment of weapons, some familiar to Jeff and some he had never seen before. He saw Jones grin as he looked at the contents.

'They have all sorts of new stuff in here,' he said, pulling out an MA5B assault rifle. He placed it on the floor and started taking out one of each different weapon that was n the cabinet.

While Jones was looking at all the weapons, Heinrich turned to Jeff.

'I've heard a bit about you,' he said, 'Jones told me you only got this post since no one else on Reach wanted you, considering you "unstable" or something.'
This was mostly true, so Jeff nodded.

'They think I was a danger to the safety of others as well as myself,' Jeff said, 'but I guess being on this ship was my saving grace, otherwise I would have been stuck on the planet and be dead already.'

'Everything happens for a reason,' Heinrich said. He paused. 'Jones says you're a good shot with practically any firearm you get a hold of. Want to try out some of the new stuff they have here?'

Jeff looked at Heinrich and then at the rack of weapons Jones was standing near. He needed all the practice he could get, and a few of the new rifles looked like they needed a test run. He walked over and grabbed a large rifle, fitted with a scope and partly made with a wooden stock and grip. A grenade launcher was attached underneath the barrel and a slightly curved magazine was already loaded into the weapon.

'I've never seen this one before,' Jeff said.
Heinrich walked over and took a small booklet out of the cabinet. As he flicked through it, he seemed to find the information he had been looking for.

'It's the Kalashnikov AK-2536,' Heinrich said, reading from the booklet, 'using the large but powerful 7.92 x 29mm rounds. It is loud, accurate and powerful. It has a kick to it, though.'

'I thought the UNSC didn't want the AKs in service,' Jones said.

'Apparently they do now,' Heinrich said, skimming through the information on the page, 'since some troops from the poorer countries brought their own variants of these rifles along into combat. It seems they're very reliable.'

'Yeah, you can be sure the UNSC will cash in on any new equipment they can find,' Jeff said. He weighed the rifle in his hands; it was heavy, but usually the heavier the weapon the more powerful it was.

He placed the weapon off to the side and took out a few recognizable firearms: the M6D pistol, using 12.5mm rounds and coming attached with a short zoom scope, it was either the galaxy's largest pistol or its smallest rifle.

There was a smaller pistol but with a magazine that jutted out from the bottom of its pistol grip slightly. Heinrich saw it and looked it up in the booklet.

'The M9TE5 fully automatic pistol,' he said, skimming through the information, 'use 9.72mm rounds and holds twenty in a magazine. Its accuracy isn't that great, apparently.'

'We're pretty much meant to be testing all this stuff out, right?' Jones asked, 'which probably means we're privileged in some sort of way.'

'If the Colonel were in here now he probably wouldn't be happy with most of this stuff,' Heinrich said, 'he'd be busy cleaning his shotgun. Why the hell is he on this ship anyway?'

'Who, Vance?' Jeff asked.

'Is that his name?' Heinrich said, looking surprised, 'I just thought people called him the "Crackpot Colonel".'

'We can call him that as well,' Jones said, grinning, 'and I think he came to inspect our ship when Reach was attacked. We're stuck with him now, and I don't know if that's a good or bad thing…'

'It's not good,' Heinrich said, 'he'll probably end up trying to take command and sending us into battle so we can all get killed.'

It seemed that since the last time Jeff had met the Colonel, which had been about eighteen years ago, the man had changed. He had once been a slightly alcoholic guy who had a good sense of humour and knew how to command but now he had become what most people considered a "crackpot" or a "crazy". It occurred to Jeff that they had an oddball assortment of people on board this ship, which ranged from the so-called "Crackpot Colonel" to the deer hunting Major George Golding.

'So, you're saying with the Colonel on board we're screwed?' Jones asked.

'Not exactly,' Heinrich said, 'there's just a chance he'll try and take command and end up doing something stupid while he's commanding us all.'

'Like what?'

'Well, right now we're in a position over a planet with Covenant installations on it. Seven Covenant ships are ten kilometres away from us. He may decide to fire on the Covenant ships and they might fire back.'

'I'm sure the Captain will remain in command,' Jones said, 'I doubt he'll give up his position without a fight that the Colonel will probably lose.'

Jeff suddenly felt the ship move slightly. They were definitely moving and for what reasons were unknown, although he was pretty sure it was something to do with the Covenant.

'What's going on now?' Heinrich asked aloud, 'if we're moving, it probably means something to do with the Covenant or the Captain is happening.'

'No shit,' Jones said, 'why don't we actually start testing out this new equipment before we get ordered to do something else?'
Suddenly the Captain's voice came on over the announcement system.

'Could First Class Sergeant Jeff Ganszo please proceed to the bridge to meet with the Captain,' the Captain said, 'it's an important matter.'

'What could the Captain want with you?' Jones asked.

'Does it look like I know?' Jeff replied, stepping over to the door. He thought of asking the Captain over the announcement system why he needed to come, but then that would probably ruin the surprise, if it was a surprise.

'I need the Sergeant here on the double,' the Captain said.

'Yes sir,' Jeff replied. He turned to Heinrich and Jones.

'I guess I'll see you two later,' he said as he left the room. He heard the unmistakable thud sound of something hitting the ship, but if he was still alive it probably wasn't a plasma torpedo.

'What was that?'

The Captain stood on the bridge, pacing up and down near the man view-screen and front windows. Something had just collided with the ship but no one had mentioned anything about enemy fire from the Covenant ships nearby.

'A Covenant Seraph fighter just collided with us,' Steve said, 'only minor damage in the starboard section of Deck Six.'

So it wasn't a plasma torpedo. If it was they would have all certainly known about it.

'We have incoming boarding craft, sir,' Goodman announced, glancing at his console, 'lots of them. It seems they would prefer to take the ship without firing upon it.'

'Status on the Longsword squadron?' Bob asked. Only minutes ago they had dispatched a squadron of Longsword fighters to take out the Covenant Seraph fighters. They were being marginally successful.

'All ships register sir, so no casualties,' Goodman replied, 'but they're tied up with the remaining Seraph fighters. They can't help take out the boarding craft.'

'I want all available missile pods to target a boarding craft and open fire,' Bob ordered, 'we can't let the bastards get aboard. In the meantime I want the evacuation drill sounded and a message sent out to repel any Covenant troops that may get aboard.'

'Yes sir,' Goodman said. Familiar red lights around the bridge began flashing and an alarm began to sound. The Captain stepped over to the ship-wide announcement system and spoke into it.

'This is the Captain speaking,' he said, his voice calm and modulated, 'Covenant boarding parties are inbound on this ship. All non-essential personnel are to proceed into their evacuation groups and escape to the surface of the planet below. All combat groups are to follow boarding action Zero-Five Alpha. Good luck to you all.'

As he finished, wondering how the crew on the ship would react, a technician entered holding a small plastic card covered in micro-circuitry. He approached the Captain with the card held out.

'Here he is, sir,' the technician said. The Captain took the card and took a look at it. Engraved on the side were the words 'Specialist AI Temporary Carrier Card'.

'Thanks, Thompson,' Bob said to the technician. The technician gave a casual salute and left the bridge.
The Specialist AI Temporary Carrier Card was a specially designed device which could be put into most human computer systems. On the card held an entire AI or Artificial Intelligence if you wanted to say the full name. The card was only a temporary carrier since it was recommended to get whatever AI that may be on it into a proper computer.
Temporary Carrier Cards were known to make AIs go rampant, which was just another way of saying 'insane', if they were kept on there for too long. Too long could mean a week, a month or even a year. Each AI was different and thus the entire subject of Carrier Cards was unpredictable.

Bob chuckled quietly to himself at the concept. Jeff better be here soon, he had an important job to carry out. He was the right man for this kind of job, especially if it involved fighting the Covenant.

Bob walked over to a short pedestal near the main view-screen and inserted the card. There was a hum and a green light winked on. The twelve inch tall grey-blue holographic image of a twentieth century American marine appeared, holding an M1 Garand rifle.

'Thank God I'm off of that thing,' the hologram said. He looked up. 'Oh, hey Captain.'

'Don't get too comfortable, Windtalker,' Bob said. Why they called him Windtalker was unknown to him, but he guessed t had something to do with one of the many wars in the twentieth century.

Windtalker was a combat AI, specialized in combat which made him sometimes simple minded. He was a 'smart' AI, but was only mainly specialized in the one thing. Sure, you could ask him mathematics problems and get him to calculate ship courses, but he wouldn't have the speed and efficiency of a non-specialized computer AI.

'I just want to know for sure you can't get past the security systems,' Bob said, 'is there a way around them?'

'I've tried and tried again, Captain,' Windtalker said, resting the M1 rifle on his shoulder, 'but I'm not good at hacking ONI security. It's beyond my operational capabilities.'

Another disadvantage of a specialist AI was that it was either specialized in hacking or wasn't. Windtalker wasn't specialized in hacking, that was for sure.

'I have someone coming down to get you to Central Processing,' Bob said, 'a very reliable marine, according to his records. From Central Processing you should be able to purge the databanks.'

'Don't you mean "wipe" the databanks?' Windtalker asked.

'Whatever,' Bob said.

For a brief moment Windtalker's hologram went dark blue, returning to its original colour a few seconds later.

'You guys are sure deep in it,' the AI said, 'you have plenty of Covenant boarding craft heading your way.'
Bob turned to Malcolm, who had been taking a sip out of a cup of coffee. Malcolm looked up.

'I want every Archer missile pod firing at something Covenant,' Bob said.

'Alright sir,' Malcolm said, putting the coffee down. He keyed in some commands on his console and there were distant thuds as the missile pods along the ship opened. On the main view-screen about seventy blips appeared, heading for the incoming Covenant boarding craft.

'Sir, our missile capacitors are down,' Steve said, 'the Slip-space jump took out more power than we first thought. We can't use the Archer missiles again, sir.'

Typical, Bob thought, make them pretty much defenceless against incoming Covenant ships. Bob watched with some satisfaction as the missiles streaked through space, colliding with the Covenant boarding craft, flashes of light appearing ahead. Some of the blips representing the boarding craft disappeared but the majority of them were still intact.

'Status on our nuke launcher, Ensign Steve,' Bob said, turning and looking at the young Ensign, 'can we use those?'
Steve looked at his console, keying in buttons and reading the information.

'No, sir,' Steve said, 'we only have power to our main and auxiliary engines, life support and everything other than our weapons and Slip-space systems.'

'Why's that?' Bob asked.

'The design of this ship put the power systems for Slip-space and weapons together.'

Whoever designed this ship had obviously made a fatal error there.

'How long until the first boarding craft arrive?' Bob asked.

'About two minutes,' Steve replied.

It was now or never. They would all have to help repel boarders and then evacuate to the planet below.
The doors into the bridge opened and in stepped First Class Sergeant Jeff Ganszo. He approached Bob and saluted.

'First Class Sergeant Jeff Ganszo reporting for duty, sir,' Jeff said.

'Just drop the salute,' Bob said, 'no time for that stuff.'
Jeff dropped the salute.

Bob took a good look at the marine. Apparently he was thirty-nine years old, but he looked like someone in their late twenties. He also looked like he had been having some good rest during the Slip-space voyage and seemed refreshed and ready to fight.

Windtalker looked at Jeff and raised one of his holographic eyebrows.

'This is the guy?' Windtalker asked, 'if I didn't know better, this is the one everyone thinks is crazy or unstable.'

Jeff frowned.

'I'll be more than willing to rip apart that AI piece by piece,' Jeff said. Windtalker just laughed a convincing, human-like laugh.

'Look, you two are going to have to work together,' Bob said, 'we have Covenant boarding parties inbound and no doubt some are after our databanks. Due to unforeseen circumstances, someone is going to have to erase the databanks directly from Central Processing.'
Bob looked straight at Jeff.

'That someone is you, but you'll need Windtalker to actually carry out the procedures,' Bob said. He removed the Carrier Card from the pedestal and the surprised looking hologram of Windtalker disappeared. The Captain handed the card to Jeff.

'Sounds a bit easy, sir,' Jeff said.

'Sir, Covenant boarding parties are now on decks seven through to twelve,' Steve announced, 'more on their way.'

'You'll have to deal with any of those Covenant bastards you encounter,' Bob said, 'and I can guarantee a group of their best soldiers is on their way to Central Processing.'

'Is that all, sir?' Jeff asked. He didn't seem afraid at all, but Bob realized he had probably done this kind of thing plenty of times before.

'There are a few things I want you to have,' Bob said, taking out a small wooden box. He held it out to Jeff. 'Take this. It's mine, but for now you can have it.'
Jeff opened the box. Inside was a single pistol with a pearl-handled grip and the name 'Dalton Turnwell' engraved into it. He seemed surprised by the offer.

'I really can't, sir,' Jeff said.

'Marine, thing is, I'm not evacuating,' Bob said, 'that's why I'm giving it to you. I'm confident you'll survive to get off this ship and to the planet below. I would prefer it if this pistol survived the fight. Who knows, we may meet again on the surface.'

'You're not evacuating?' The marine sounded surprised.

'A Captain always goes down with his ship,' Bob said, 'and I'm going to do just that. This ship was meant to be the start of a new era in human ship design, but that ain't going to happen and we'll be stuck with the crap we have till the end of this war. I would prefer if I saw this ship down till the end.'

'I understand,' Jeff said, nodding. He strapped the box onto his belt and took out the pistol. He checked the magazine and saw the silver bullets that were loaded inside.

'Silver bullets, sir?' He asked, raising an eyebrow, 'I doubt the Covenant have werewolves.'

'It's an old Turnwell tradition,' Bob said, 'silver bullets tend to give you more satisfaction when you fire them. Don't worry, that gun can use the M6D ammunition if needed.'
Jeff twirled the pistol in his hand and holstered it, all in one smooth move. Bob noticed that he seemed different than most other Sergeants around.

'Anything else, sir?' Jeff asked.

'Just call me Bob, Sergeant,' Bob said. He stepped over to a small bench nearby where a marine issue helmet was laying. He picked it up and flicked the green HUD on it down. He turned to Jeff.

'This is the new Aswalt 7T54 Marines All-rounder Tactical Heads Up Display,' Bob said. He handed the helmet to Jeff. 'It's only a prototype but it can do practically anything.'

Jeff slipped the helmet on. It was surprisingly comfortable, although he always preferred not to wear a helmet. It was an old tradition of his that began on his very first mission, back in the ODSTs. Wearing a helmet just made your head a larger target.

One eye had the HUD in front of it. Information about the environment in view started appearing, telling Jeff that the room was made out of a steel composite, the glass of the view-screen made out of a specially made computer glass and that Captain Bob Turnwell was standing in front of him.
The information came thick and fast and Jeff started to feel nauseous. He flicked the HUD up and back into the helmet.

'You'll get used to it,' Bob said, seeing the way Jeff had reacted to the HUD, 'if you want, you can stick Windtalker in the helmet and have that irritating AI speak through your mind or something like that. It seems the helmet can monitor brainwaves and that Windtalker can get right into your mind. Not a very pleasant thought.'

'Damn right it isn't,' Jeff said. He was sure not going to stick that annoying combat AI into his head. 'With all due respect, sir, I prefer not to wear a helmet.'
Bob nodded in understanding and just shrugged.

'Do what you want, Sergeant,' Bob said. He paused. 'Before you go, just one more thing. It's about the Colonel.'

'The Colonel?'

'Yes,' Bob replied, 'he's too much of a burden. What I'm suggesting is that we get rid of him somehow, preferably when we're down on the planet.'

Jeff didn't know what to think.

'The Colonel is an old friend of mine,' Jeff said, 'are you suggesting we bump him off?'

'I'll speak to you another time,' Bob said, 'just get moving.'

Jeff saluted and turned around, walking out of the bridge.

Red lights flashed around the ship's corridors and marines and men in tech uniforms rushed about. There weren't any signs of the enemy just yet, although Jeff could hear the muffled thumps of distant explosions in other parts of the ship.

He had been selected to take an annoying AI and use t to wipe the databanks because of some 'unforeseen circumstances'. In other words, since the ship hadn't been completely ready, the security locks in the ships' systems were still there and no one could get past them.

He wondered what it would be like to have the AI in his helmet, monitoring his brain waves and knowing what he was thinking. It didn't sound too much of a good thing to him, especially with this seemingly annoying combat AI.

Whoever had called it Windtalker obviously had an over-active imagination. He had heard the name somewhere but couldn't remember where.

He passed a group of marines who had opened a large cabinet on the wall. Inside was a rack full of rifles and one of the marines were dealing the weapons out. As Jeff walked through the corridor, making sure to not look too casual, he began to notice a lot of gun racks being brought out. In a time of war, it was commonplace to see guns practically everywhere you went. Especially now, considering they were at war with a group of alien races.

Jeff realized he didn't know the way down to Central Processing but when he realized he had left his data-pad in his quarters, which contained the handy map of the ship, he had no other choice but to get the AI to show him directions.

He had the feeling that the prototype helmet system was somehow connected to his neural interface, something all marines got implanted into their skull. It made them able to be monitored, to link up with the systems in many kinds of UNSC equipment and also able to link to their HUDs, if they had one.

Jeff stopped by a door, taking out the Carrier Card. The door opened and a pair of marines rushed out holding rifles and almost knocked him over. He was about to say something but by the time he recovered the marines were already well down the corridor and turning a corner, putting them out of sight.

Jeff couldn't put away the thought that the Captain was planning to knock off Colonel Vance. The Colonel had been good friends with Jeff during his brief time in the ODSTs. Now it seemed not many people aboard this ship liked him. Despite the fact that the Colonel would probably try and take command, a thing the Captain probably wouldn't like, Jeff wouldn't have any part in a scheme to get rid of the Colonel.

He wondered what Jones and Heinrich were doing right now and if Lieutenant Frank Hastings had been killed yet. Probably not yet, although Jeff would be glad once that guy was gone, dead or alive. Hopefully they wouldn't meet each other on the surface, considering that Frank was unpredictable and would probably attempt to kill Jeff first chance he got.

As marines and tech crew raced past and in and out of adjoining rooms, Jeff prepared to slot the tiny card into his helmet. First instant it became annoying and unhelpful and he would remove it.

He slotted the card into the helmet and felt a slight buzzing sensation in his head as the combat AI wired into his neural interface.

'I don't want to be put on that damn card again,' a familiar voice said. The voice seemed to be coming from his very mind but at the same time it was in his helmet. It felt weird.

'Look, all I want is directions to Central Processing,' Jeff said, 'nothing else.'

There was a pause as Windtalker considered his options.

'I sense that your heart-rate has suddenly gone up and that your body temperatures are increased,' Windtalker said.

'I asked you a question, so answer it,' Jeff ordered. He felt like taking the AI out of his head but then that would deprive him of the needed directions to Central Processing.

'Alright, alright,' Windtalker said, 'don't get your balls tangled up. You're currently in Section Two of the Command Deck. You'll be better off taking the elevator at the end of this corridor to the Computer Station Decks. Is that so hard?'

Jeff rolled his eyes and started down the corridor. He thought it would be wise to talk some sense into the AI.

'Windtalker, if that's what you really want to be called,' Jeff said, 'thing is… you're annoying. At the first hint of you becoming more of a burden than a help, I'll remove you out of my head and crush the very card you're stored on.'

'You wouldn't seriously do that,' Windtalker said, some uncertainty coming into his voice, 'that would be millions of bucks worth of military technology destroyed and I doubt you could pay for it.'

'It wouldn't be that hard to make it look like an accident,' Jeff said, 'besides, everyone else has other things to worry about rather than a pesky computer program like you.'

There was a pause. Windtalker was obviously attempting to think up something to say. Combat AIs weren't good at their come-backs.

'Who said I wouldn't be a help to you?' Windtalker said.
Jeff approached the lift. He would be glad to have the AI out of his head as soon as possible.

Major George Golding, prior to the alarms being raised, had been in his office, flicking through a five hundred page book which he had picked up at a second hand book-store on Reach only a few weeks ago.

A Soldier's Guide to the Jungle, written in 2347 by a former Admiral who had fought in his fair share of battles. Of course, he was long dead by now and this particular book he had written was hard to find throughout UNSC space. It chronicled the events the Admiral, a Sergeant during the time the book is set, went through while helping quell rebel activity in the jungles of Africa. It was quite different to anything fought during the Human-Covenant war. The battles fought during the twenty-fourth century at determined rebel forces in the lush jungles of the African continent had been harsh, trying battles for both sides.

The UNSC forces at that time in that campaign area had had to avoid craftily made booby traps set up by the rebels and the dangers of a hidden enemy. There were also the natural dangers of the jungle to begin with, from venomous snakes to parasitic insects. The weather had been hot and humid and often the soldiers would have to hastily erect a tent in the middle of the jungle, being too far from their base camp to go back.

Apparently most people involved had voted against using defoliant sprays to deny the rebels the foliage to hide in, learning from the mistakes of Agent Orange and Agent Blue far back in the Vietnam War.

George was up to the seventh chapter, being twelve in the entire book, when Lieutenant Frank Hastings entered the office.

George looked up, closing the book and placing it on the desk. The Lieutenant was a good ODST, but far too aggressive to be reliable during a firefight.

'What is it, Lieutenant?' George asked. He leaned back slightly in his chair, straightening his cowboy-style hat. Screw regulation uniform, he thought, the UNSC uniforms all looked like crap anyway. Being a Major, he could usually get away with what he wanted as long as it wasn't anything too serious.

'I just wanted to speak with you about some of this new equipment,' Frank said, 'for one, the new ODST armour. I…I'm just not sure about it.'

George raised an eyebrow.

'Son, that experimental armour is almost as good as the stuff those Smartans get,' George said.

'It's Spartans, sir,' Frank said. George noticed the whiteness of the Lieutenant's front teeth. How the hell were they so white? He couldn't even get his own that clean.

'Whatever they're called, son,' George said, 'that armour
is almost as good as theirs. What's your problem with it?'

'The entire damn manual,' Frank said, throwing a somewhat thick booklet onto the desk, 'take a look at page five, the caution section.'

George didn't know what to think of Frank and his problem with the prototype ODST armour. It was state-of-the-art technology, from the same people who reverse-engineered the Slip-space technology on the ship.

George picked up the booklet and turned to page five. He skim read through the information on the page and didn't have any problem with it at all. The new Mark III ODST Regulation Armor had been put out into proper service for the first time, aboard this very ship. There was nothing wrong with it, George having been reassured by ONI and its spin-off organizations that everything about this new ship and its equipment was safe. Although when he thought about it, all that fuss caused by that damn Slip-space core did lead him to believe that maybe not everything was as safe as it should be.

'What about page five, Lieutenant?' George asked.

'The fact that it mentions that the armour's metal is "regenerating",' Frank said with a hint of disbelief in his expression, 'for one, I find that hard to believe. Regenerating armour ain't possible.'

'Well, I don't know a lot about this new stuff but I would take this booklet's facts as truth,' George said, 'what I don't see is what problems you have with it.'

'It says right there on the page that there is a slight chance the armour could regenerate and mold to the human flesh,' Frank said, 'I don't like that idea.'

George read through the page again and found what the Lieutenant was talking about. Sure, there was a slight chance of that happening if the gel under-layer and bodysuit was penetrated as well.

'That's if everything underneath is penetrated,' George said, 'and believe me, there isn't much chance of that happening.'

'Major, I would prefer to wear the normal armour,' Frank said, 'I like to rely on something that doesn't do everything for you. This armour seems to have everything in it but the kitchen sink.'

'It's only experimental,' George said, 'and we have none of the usual stuff on board. You better get used to living with all this new equipment, since in the long run it'll help us win this war.'

There was a pause. Frank picked up the booklet from the desk and was about to leave when George popped a question which had been bugging him for a while.

'How do you get those front teeth of yours so white?' George asked.

Frank gave an annoyed expression. He opened his mouth slightly and tapped the strangely white teeth.

'They're not real ones,' he said, 'they're false. Almost twenty years ago I got into a fight with someone and they punched them all out.'

'Really, son?' George said, raising an eyebrow. Must have been one hell of a lucky punch. 'Who'd you get into a fight with?'

'Jeff Ganszo,' Frank replied.

'Oh…' George paused. That was some surprise. Jeff didn't seem like that kind of person, regardless of what others said.

'Surprised?' Frank asked.

'Kind of, yeah,' George said.

Red lights in the corners of the room suddenly began flashing. George looked around and Frank seemed a bit surprised.

The Captain's voice came over the ship-wide announcement system. George had been expecting something like this, especially since they were deep in uncharted space.

'This is the Captain speaking,' the Captain announced, 'Covenant boarding parties are inbound on this ship. All non-essential personnel are to proceed into their evacuation groups and escape to the surface of the planet below. All combat groups are to follow boarding action Zero-Five Alpha. Good luck to you all.'

George glanced at the Lieutenant once the announcement was over.

'You better get into that well-liked armour of yours, Lieutenant,' George said, grinning, 'you're going to need it.'

'What about you, sir?' Frank said, 'you're an ODST as well. Shouldn't you get into your own suit of armour?'
George paused. He was an ODST, hell he was the leader of the ODST division on the ship. He could at least make himself be part of them, but then he thought against it. Better to distinguish himself from everyone else so his men could recognize him. He was yet to try on the experimental armour himself, though.

'No, Lieutenant,' George replied, 'I'm the Major and I want you to be able to distinguish me from everyone else. Besides, I don't need any fancy-pants armour. I got myself Ol' Painless right here.'

He pulled open a drawer on the desk and took out a large, scoped pistol which was slightly over a foot long. Frank had never seen anything of its type before. The pistol was dark in colour and didn't seem to have a magazine loaded into it.

'I was expecting something bigger than that,' Frank said.
George raised a surprised eyebrow. He picked up the weapon and slid open a small hatch on the back of the weapon, loading in a single, large bullet into the back and closing it.

'Never underestimate Ol' Painless, Lieutenant,' George said, 'it could blow most of your head clean off.'
George stood up and holstered the weapon. He gazed at the Lieutenant, thinking of what to do next.

'So, if it's boarding action Zero-Five-Alpha, that means we should be repelling the boarders at their points of docking,' George said. The radio on the table suddenly came on, filled with static but the voice was easy to make out.

'We need someone at bulk head door seven, on the double!' The voice exclaimed, 'Covenant boarding craft are beginning to dock!'

'Looks like we're needed,' George said.

Frank nodded and the two of them rushed out of the office, arriving in the soft, carpeted blue hallway. Fire erupted from some pipes in the wall down the corridor, results of the ship taking collisions from Covenant Seraph fighters.
ODSTs in the experimental armour came running down the corridor armed with rifles. They saluted to the Major as they ran past and the Major nodded when they did.

The armour, unlike the normal ODST stuff, was a blue-silver colour, its metal giving off a metallic sheen. The visor was entirely black on the outside and you could see the armour actually shifting shape in the light. George had no idea what it was made out of, but if it could regenerate itself that would be an invaluable asset during combat.
George and Frank started down the hallway, turning a corner into a large hall with walkways above. Tables and chairs had been flipped over to use as barricades and several men in ODST armour stood waiting behind the barricades, all centred on looking at a single, grey door.

Frank walked over to a crate near the wall where several
rifles had been placed upon. He picked one up, loaded it and went over to the group behind the barricades.

George took a look and counted about seven ODSTs now that Frank was standing with them. The barricades were set up in a semi circle formation, all facing the bulk-head door.

There was sudden metallic creaking sound followed by a hollow thud. Through the left wall and past three meters of armour plating was the vacuum of space and the noises that George had just heard indicated that a Covenant boarding craft had docked.

'I want all fire directed onto the blast doors!' Someone shouted, 'don't let up until nothing's left moving!'

George took a position behind a metallic crate, raising Ol' Painless and peering through the scope. The weapon used large, high powered explosive rounds, much like the ammunition the M6D uses but on a larger scale. The weapon had a heavy kick to it and only held one bullet at a time; not that reloading would be a problem considering it was quickly and easily done.

An uneasy silence fell across the room. George stood, the pistol raised and the scope at an adequate zoom level. As soon as that door opened, the tallest living thing behind it would be his first target.

'They're breaking through the barricades!' A voice from George's radio shouted, 'we can't hold them!' The signal cut out and silence fell across the room again.

George was used to this kind of thing, but even so a few beads of sweat trickled down his brow. Either he was feeling the tension or the temperature control in this part of the ship was malfunctioning.

'Is something going to happen or what?' One of the ODSTs said aloud, lowering his rifle and looking at the others.
Suddenly, the door erupted outwards in pieces, followed by smoke and fire as the charges behind it went off. The ODSTs behind the first barricade were knocked backwards and a splinter of hot metal from the door impaled one of the ODSTs. Blood spilled out across the blue carpet. George stood his ground, looking for a target through the smoke. He had seen people die in more horrible ways than that during his time in the military.

The ODSTs opened fire, the entire room filled with a cacophony of gunfire. The smoke began to clear and George spotted the first hint of movement. It was the blue metallic glint of a Minor Elite's helmet.

He had been briefed on the estimated ranks of all the known Covenant species, and the blue armoured Elites were the lowest ranking ones the UNSC knew of in the Elite species.
George guessed the aliens had a proper name, but everyone called them 'Elites' and it would probably stay that way.
George got a good glimpse of an Elite's head through the scope. The smoke was clearing while return fire from the Covenant forces in the doorway was beginning to pepper the room. The barricades were beginning to get scorched and the ODSTs were forced to crouch behind them.

George counted three blue armoured Elites n the doorway, several of the smaller and irritating Grunts in the front. Those little five foot tall aliens were slow, weak and only dangerous in large groups. They wore some sort of methane life support pack which you could ignite if you were lucky enough. You could watch the aliens burn because of the very gas that keeps them alive if the pack with ignited.

George fired; the recoil of the shot making the weapon buckle back and lose his aim. He watched as an Elite's shield flashed and then drained because of the bullet. The Elite stumbled back a few steps, clutching at its chest.

The Covenant aliens were beginning to get into the room, so seeing that the Elite wasn't dead yet, George slid open the latch on the back, shook out the spent casing and loaded in another one. He quickly flipped the latch back and peered through the scope again.

He got the head of the now unshielded Elite in his sights and fired. Purple blood and bits of brain erupted outwards as the bullet impacted the Elite in the right eye. The alien fell backwards and slumped against a wall behind it.
Blue and green plasma bolts singed the crate he was crouched behind, so he ducked his entire body behind it and loaded Ol' Painless once again.

'Hold them back!' Someone shouted.

As he sat loading Ol' Painless, an ODST with an MA5B assault rifle stepped back into his view, firing the rifle. After a few seconds, the rifle stopped firing despite his fingers squeezing the trigger, instead an empty clicking sound coming from the weapon. He went to eject the empty magazine but the front of his helmet erupted in blood as a blue plasma bolt impacted there.

The ODST stumbled backwards and fell against a pair of crates, the rifles lying on top of them falling off and scattering about the floor.

George peeked up above the crate and counted more enemies storming in through the bulkhead door. The ODSTs were holding out fairly well, but George could see that they wouldn't hold out forever.

He raised Ol' Painless again and blasted another blue armoured Elite. He watched with some satisfaction as a large hole was blasted through its breastplate and into its chest, dark purple blood spurting outwards. The Elite fell backwards and slumped onto the floor.

George noticed the many Grunts storming into the room and realized it would be a waste to use Ol' Painless on the little aliens. He stepped back a little, making sure he was still safely in cover and grabbed an MA6 Sub-machine gun, a relatively lightweight and compact weapon built along the same principle as the MA5B but using smaller rounds and holding forty in a magazine.

He kept Ol' Painless in his right hand, opening the latch and shaking out the spent casing. He bent his head down and grabbed another round with his teeth off of the ammo belt strapped down his shoulder and across his chest. He loaded the round into the back of the weapon and then shook the weapon so the latched closed.

He raised the MA6 submachine gun and squeezed the trigger, peppering a group of three Grunts nearby with submachine gun rounds. They were cut down fairly easily and he started on another Grunt a little further back.

A pair of blue armoured Elites raced in through the door, plasma rifles firing. George managing to side-step some of the plasma fire but a bolt singed on the metal of the ammunition belt and burned right through it. He felt the heat against his skin but it didn't burn him, being absorbed by the armour vest he wore underneath his jacket and shirt.

Only slightly annoyed, George raised Ol' Painless and blasted a round through the skull of one of the Elites. The force of the shot propelled the alien a few feet backwards.
The ODSTs, which included Frank, were peppering the enemies that were flowing in through the door with suppressing fire. There seemed to be a heck of a lot of them and George didn't like the look of our things were turning out.

George began the process of reloading Ol' Painless while at the same time released the spent magazine of the MA6. Loading in another round into Ol' Painless, he quickly finished off the other Minor Elite with a shot to the throat and then finished loading the MA6.

He began peppering a squad of Grunts with rounds as they stormed in through the blasted away door. How he hated the Grunts, bloody annoying things they were.

He watched as another ODST was cut down in a hail of plasma fire, the front of his armour's chest regions melting away and burning right through to the flesh, probably burning away a few bones and internal organs as well.
Frank glanced over at George.

'We're taking casualties!' Frank shouted above the noise of the fighting, 'how long should we keep this up?'

'As long as we have to!' George replied. He ducked behind the crate as another squad of Grunts moved into the room, their plasma pistols firing away. Bolts of green energy scorched holes into the metal of the crate.

Another ODST was cut down in a hail of plasma fire and another two Elites ran into the room. There were about four ODSTs left standing and they were beginning to back away, firing their weapons but retreating at the same time.
George stood up and fired off another round from Ol' Painless, hitting an Elite and completely draining the alien's personal shield. He finished him off with a volley of MA6 rounds.

'There's too many!' An ODST behind him shouted, 'we've got to pull back!'

'Fuck this,' Frank said, getting up. He started sprinting away from the firefight, turning a corner. He stopped and looked at George.

'Come on, we'll lock them in here!' Frank shouted.
George looked at the several Grunts and Elites storming into the room, most of them gunning for him now considering that everyone else was retreating.

He hated to leave a firefight but even he had to know his limits. They would have to keep holding off the boarders and pulling back when they began suffering too many losses.
George fired one last shot from Ol' Painless and blew a Grunt's head apart with it, fluorescent blue blood spraying about where it stood.

The Elites and Grunts started pursuing, George following the fleeing ODSTs as the enemy trailed behind them. He spotted Frank standing by a control panel at the wall. He was going to close the blast doors but was waiting them to get through first.

Further down the corridor, marines crouched and stood in wait, rifles raised. Two frightened technicians in yellow uniforms ran across the corridor holding pistols. George had the feeling they didn't know how to use them very well.
Behind them, a volley of plasma fire cut down another two ODSTs. The new armour was helping only slightly against single, non-critical hits, but by the looks of it, getting pummelled continuously by a whole bunch of plasma fire didn't help too much.

George got past the line of the blast doors as the rest of the ODSTs behind him were cut down in a hail of plasma fire. Frank flicked the switch and the large, metal and thick plexi-glass doors began to slowly descend. An Elite, followed by several Grunts, came down the corridor and began firing.

Frank ducked behind a part of the wall jutting out from the rest. The doors came down and prevented anymore plasma from getting through.

George peeked through one of the door's small windows and saw an Elite standing behind it.

'Haha!' He laughed, giving it the finger from the window before turning to look at the others.

'What do we do now?' Frank asked. The marines behind them eased up a little, standing up and wiping the sweat from their foreheads.

'Get someone, anyone, on your radio and check the ship's status,' George said, 'we have to find out how everybody else is faring.'

Frank took out his small radio and began fiddling with the controls, attempting to get someone on the signal.

'We have boarders on Decks three to twelve and fifteen to twenty-one!' A voice on the radio crackled, 'we can't hold them off much longer! We have to evacuate!'

'Boarders on the Recreational Decks!' The Captain's voice announced over the ship-wide announcement system, 'we need a security team there now!'

George paused to think about it all for a moment. They didn't stand much chance fighting off an overwhelming Covenant force in the ship. They would evacuate, just as the Captain had ordered earlier. He supposed that some people would want to remain on the ship and fight, though.

'We're going down to the Pelican bays, everybody!' He exclaimed, 'so there ain't any point standing like a bunch of morons here. If you want to live to fight another day, follow me!'

George knew his way about most of the ship, and besides, there were usually helpful signs about the corridors pointing people in the right directions.

He started down the corridor, Frank and the group of marines following. George checked Ol' Painless, loading the weapon and then holstering it. He reloaded the MA6 submachine gun and kept that held in his left hand as he and the others progressed through the ship's corridors.
Near another blast door, a set of panels flew off the wall, followed by bouts of flame and smoke. The ship was getting damaged from all the fighting occurring inside and outside of it.

They turned into a narrow corridor, following it along and passing the bloodied corpses of some unfortunate marines who had come through a little earlier. George could hear weapons fire nearby and at the end of the corridor he could see a group of marines fighting it out with an out-of-view enemy.

George directed the others through a corridor turning right off of the one they were in, bringing them round to the rear of the Covenant group.

Here, George counted about three Elites and several Grunts, busily fighting the marines at the end of the hallway and not yet noticing the humans who had snuck up behind them. The marines spread out and opened fire with their rifles, bullets filling the air and cutting a swathe through the Grunts easily.

George readied Ol' Painless as a disgruntled blue armoured Minor Elite charged at him. As the alien closed, he fired, making it stumble backwards, clutching at a large hole that had been blasted in its chest. It didn't seem to be dying, so George stepped over and kicked it in the head, knocking it backwards and flat onto its back.

He watched as one of the other Elites fell under the combined assault rifle fire.

The last one was crouched behind a Covenant stationary shield. These were simply shields that were about eight feet high and were set up to provide troops more cover. George emptied an MA6 magazine into the Elite, killing it.
He reloaded both of his weapons and then holstered Ol' Painless. The marines were all mostly fine, although one had suffered a plasma blast wound to the leg.

The quickest way to the nearest Pelican bays was through a large service elevator not too far from where they were. It would be interesting to see how many Covenant troops would be in their way.

George and the marines continued through an adjoining corridor and into a large room with emptied racks of rifles that ran along its centre. A bloodied but alive marine sat slumped against the side of one of the racks, coughing up blood and obviously in no condition to continue on.

George and the marines continued into another large corridor, this one with a group of about three yellow and grey uniformed technicians armed with pistols trying to hold off a large group of Grunts with two Elites. They seemed relieved to see the marines arrive.

The marines scattered about, taking cover behind some of the makeshift barricades. George stood casually amongst the marines. He enjoyed his job, despite the obvious dangers. Peering through the scope of Ol' Painless, he got the head of one of the Elites in his sights and fired, blasting a hole clean through its head. It slumped and almost landed on a nearby Grunt.

The marines as well as Frank had taken up firing, assault rifle fire peppering holes into the Grunts and flaring off of the Elite's personal shields. One of the Grunt's methane life-support packs ignited, flames billowing off of the small alien as it rolled along the floor, shouting stuff in its high-pitched voice which was obviously in some kind of alien language.

A marine to the left of George caught a plasma rifle bolt in the head, his helmet only covering up to the top of his head and not the face. Blood spurted out across the back of the barricade he had been standing behind and a now faceless corpse landed next to George.

Ignoring it, George opened fire with his MA6. The lift was at the end of the corridor, but in their way were plenty of Covenant Elites and Grunts. He cut down a few Grunts before having to reload. He checked his ammunition supply for both of his weapons, finding that he was low on ammo for Ol' Painless. MA6 magazines were easy to find around the ship, so he didn't worry about them too much.

He remembered the Magnum .44 revolver he was going to sell at the auction a day or two before and realized that the small box it was in was strapped onto his belt. He would use that if he ran out of ammo for Ol' Painless, which wouldn't be for a little while yet.

'Die, assholes!' Someone shouted, sweeping their assault rifle fire along a line of three Grunts and filling the aliens with lead.

George stepped out of cover and began to move forward, an Elite coming out of an adjoining corridor. It turned around and prepared to fire its plasma rifle, but George was faster and blasted a hole in the Elite's throat. It made a deep, gargling sound and slumped onto the ground.

'I'm already sick of these guys,' he said, stepping over the Elite's corpse. The others followed, eradicating a few straggler Grunts that were running about and shouting in their high-pitched voices.

George couldn't help thinking back to his times out hunting deer and other game back on the preservations on Earth and the few that were on Reach. Thing was, the Covenant were smarter and they shot back.

He and Frank walked over to the elevator. The marines decided to stay back and remain on the ship for a little while longer, despite the fact it didn't sound like such a good idea.

Stepping aboard the maintenance elevator, which was just a large metal platform with grating, George pressed the button for the Pelican bays as explosions erupted in the shaft above them. Frank looked up and shook his head.

'This ship isn't holding up too well,' Frank said, ejecting an empty magazine out of his MA5B assault rifle and loading in a fresh one.

'How about you just keep quiet for now, son?' George said, checking the magazine in his MA6, 'there's bound to be plenty of those alien bastards in the Pelican bays.'

The elevator started to descend at a steady speed, eventually stopping at a large bulk-head door. The door slowly opened into a large hallway, makeshift barricades cluttering its space and a group of a few Grunts and a single Elite standing guard.

As soon as the doors opened the group of aliens had turned around and George and Frank dived to the floor as a volley of plasma fire shot overhead, passing through the space where they had just been standing.

George raised Ol' Painless and fired at the single blue armoured Elite, depleting the alien's shield and making it stumble backwards, stunning the Elite.

Frank jumped up into a crouched position and fired a wild volley of assault rifle fire. The Elite was peppered with high calibre rounds and slumped to the ground, dark purple blood seeping out of the wounds and onto the floor.

It was a simple matter to finish off the few Grunts that were now running around wildly. Once they were dead George got up and he and Frank continued through the corridor, a colour-coded sign on the wall pointing them into a corridor labelled 'Pelican Bay A9'. Moving through the corridors, the sounds of a large firefight grew in volume and the corpses of marines were becoming more frequent.

George approached a glass and metal door which went out onto a walkway overlooking the large Pelican bay. Looking through the window, he could see troops in ODST armour on the walkway firing down at the Covenant forces below. Judging by the colours on the shoulder patches on the armour, they were part of Frank's squad.

'It's your men out there,' George said, 'so we can gather them and get to hell down to that planet. You know how to fly a Pelican?'

'Err…' Frank paused.

'Damn, we haven't got any pilots,' George said. He grinned just as he stepped through the door. 'I'll fly us there. If I can drive a car I can fly a Pelican.'

'You sure about that, sir?' Frank asked.

'Don't worry Lieutenant, I do have some experience,' George replied.

'You do?'

'Yeah, a flight simulator computer game. Now let's get in there and help those men out.'

Frank had no other choice but to follow the confident Major out onto the grey steel walkway. There was only one Pelican docked in the bay, big enough for three, and Covenant Grunts and Elites were all over the ground floor of the bay, a Covenant boarding craft having burnt its way through the thick glass of the bay doors.

George walked over casually to the ODSTs busy firing at the Covenant enemies below. Plasma and bullets filled most of the air in the bay but George didn't have much of a problem with that. Instead, he approached the highest ranking troop there, a Sergeant, and tapped him on the shoulder.

'We're taking this Pelican out of here,' George said, 'Captain's orders. You're all welcome to come, if you want.'

George couldn't determine the Sergeant's features through the face-plate but he had sensed they were a mix of relief and determination.

'We've got to clear these rats out first, sir,' the Sergeant replied, pointing to the Covenant troops taking cover amongst the metal crates below.

A marine with the recognizable medic arm patches came into view, dragging an ODST along, the helmet of the ODST's armour having been taken off. A large, bloodied hole had blown in the front of the soldier's chest.

George ducked down behind the walkway's railing as a volley of plasma fire pummelled their position, some of the ODSTs taking hits but otherwise standing their ground. He started towards the medic, who was preparing to give the half-dead ODST an injection. It looked like a hopeless case though.
George placed a hand on the medic's shoulder. The medic seemed exhausted but was still keeping up doing his job.
The half-dead ODST wasn't conscious and it didn't seem he would ever wake up, judging by the wounds he had received.

'Leave him, it's no good,' George said as the medic turned around.

'No, he still has a chance,' the medic said, removing plates of armour of the ODST's left arm. He cut away the gel under-layer and bodysuit underneath, exposing bare skin on the arm and then stuck the needle through the skin.

'What's your name, son?' George asked.

'I'm PFC Alan Reynolds,' the medic replied, 'and I'm obviously a damn medic. Now leave me alone.'
George placed a hand on the ODST's neck and checked for a pulse. There was none.

'He's dead, Alan,' George said, 'now get back into the fight.'

Alan looked at him but continued trying to revive the ODST, injecting him with some more liquids. Minutes passed without result and the medic slumped against the nearest railing.

'Help us out, Private,' George said, 'we're going to escape to the planet below and hopefully not end up losing as many people as we would if we stayed on this ship.'
Alan glanced at him and ran a hand through his hair.

'Fuck it, I never expected this,' he said, 'I thought I could help people but the weapons the Covenant uses just do too much damage…'

'That ain't your fault,' George said, 'now get a weapon and help us clear this bay of assholes.'

'So we'll be shooting Frank?'

George laughed. It was good to keep some humour in the mix, despite the fact they were in the middle of a firefight.

'Probably not.'

George left the medic to his own devices, turning around and surveying the Covenant forces below. There were a few Elites and plenty of Grunts, using the metal crates scattered across the floor of the hangar as cover. A few corpses of some unfortunate ODSTs were on the floor as well.
George peered through the scope of Ol' Painless and spotted one of the Elites, a Minor in rank, peering around a crate. George fired, blasting a hole through the alien's skull and making it fall backwards a few steps.

He reloaded Ol' Painless as an ODST with a large machine gun in his hands, the majority of the weapon resting on one soldier, came running in. He was cut down in a swathe of plasma fire and the portable mounted machine gun went clattering across the metal of the walkway.

George checked his ammunition for Ol' Painless. It wouldn't be long before he had none left on him, and ammunition for Ol' Painless was hard to find on UNSC ships, considering it was a kind of ammunition not used very much by the UNSC.
He holstered the large pistol and crouched behind a crate, gradually making his way to the fallen mounted gun. He picked up the heavy weapon and made his way back to a gap in the railing, setting up the weapon and lying prone on the walkway.

He peered down the weapon's sights, loading a large cartridge of ammunition into its side. He pointed the weapon at a group of Grunts and opened fire, the weapon having hardly any recoil thanks to the mount.

The Grunts were easily ripped to pieces by the weapon, the life support pack on one of them detonating in a small but powerful incinerating explosion which blew the Grunts standing nearby away, tossing their small bodies around like rag-dolls.

'That's the way it's done!' Someone shouted.

George kept the trigger held down as he cut a line of fire through the Covenant troops on the floor below. It was over in less than a minute but every Covenant soldier on the floor lay dead, riddled with bullet holes caused by the high calibre rounds.

Satisfied, George got up and dismounted the steaming weapon. Resting it on one shoulder, he looked at Frank and the other ODSTs.

'What's the matter, men?' He asked, seeing how exhausted they were, 'I thought you all liked this kind of thing?'

'How about we get down to the planet and do it some more?' One of them said.

'That's the spirit, son!'

George wiped the sweat off of his brow and he, Frank, the medic named Alan and the rest of the ODST squad climbed down onto the floor below. A few of them kicked about the bodies of Elites and Grunts while others wiped off a few straggler Grunts at the end of the room.

Stepping into the back of the Pelican, George approached the door leading into the cockpit. If he remembered correctly from his time of the flight simulator game he had on his computer back on Reach, he would need to put in the command to open the bay doors and start the engines.

He stepped into the small cockpit and sat himself down in the pilot's seat. In front of him was a view looking out into space through the glass of the bay doors, the blue-white shape of the planet taking up most of it. He activated the panels and controls in the cockpit by flicking a switch to his left. Looking back, he saw that the surviving members of the group were aboard. Flicking a switch to close the rear ramp and sealing the ship, he took a look at the main console.

He selected the command to open the bay doors and very steadily the large door in front of the ship slid open. Crates and corpses in the bay were sent flying out into space due to the vacuum created.

George took a deep breath and placed a hand onto one of the main moving controls, setting the main thrusters to medium and moving the ship out into space.

Remembering the Captain's orders about going to one particular part of the planet, he keyed in the information for the course and the ship began to fly towards the planet.
In the room behind the cockpit it seemed that most of the ODSTs had forgotten about the previous firefights and were talking about normal things and doing what they usually did: brag.

George smiled to himself. It seemed they could very well be the first humans ever to set foot upon this planet, not that it would be that great considering the Covenant had some installations on the surface. More rats to clean out, he thought.

Ship Master Dras Amargee stepped out of the boarding craft and into a relatively large, carpeted hallway. The air was mainly oxygen and carbon dioxide mixed with the smell of smoke and burning flesh.

Human ship design wasn't entirely clever, their command bridge always being easily exposed to direct fire and their engines quite large targets. It just made the job of killing them easier, but thanks to the Prophet they had to come aboard and risk their lives eradicating the humans aboard the ship.

In the hallway there weren't any humans, luckily enough, just a few bloodied corpses of some. This area had already been cleared out by the spearhead parties and the humans had already begun to flee the ship according to reports, anyway.

He remembered his orders: find the human databases and take everything from them. Hopefully there would still be something left inside of them considering that the humans always erased everything off their databases during an attack.

He glanced at his squad who was coming out of the boarding craft behind him. There are about twelve in his squad, all the best of the best. One of them in particular caught his eye.

'Keras, come here,' Dras said to the young Sangheili soldier. He looked up at Dras and walked over.

Keras Forlumee was their stealth specialist, possibly the stealthiest soldier Dras knew. He was brilliant at what he did, sneaking around and the like. Dras had some special orders for him which may determine the success of their mission.

'What is it, Excellency?' Keras asked. He was the youngest of the group, being young to be in a Special Operations squad but was the best at what he did.

'I need you to find and secure the human commander of this vessel,' Dras said, 'it is integral to the success of our mission. If the databases are empty, maybe the human commander may have some information.'

'Are you sure, sir?' Keras asked, 'wouldn't it be better if I just killed him?'

'No, I wouldn't do that,' Dras said, 'we need him. Then once we're finished with him, we can kill him.'

'I understand, sir,' Keras said. He activated his armour's active camouflage systems and disappeared from view, appearing as only a faint, smooth shimmer against the wall. He ran down the hall and disappeared out of sight around a corner.

Dras turned to the rest of his squad. They still had their orders, and considering that much of the human crew would be busy fighting other troops to worry about a single squad of Sangheili soldiers, this mission could very well be their easiest yet.

First, they needed to find their way to the databases. Finding out a ship's schematics was easy, hacking into practically any computer console on the ship and getting all the information you needed about the ship's schematics. They couldn't access to the proper databases though thanks to some powerful human security measures in their computer systems.

Dras looked around the hallway. There were a few adjoining doors in this hallway and Dras knew they needed to start somewhere. He directed half his team to the nearest door, which was some sort of storage room. One of the computers in there was still operational, so while somewhere was attempting to access the ship's schematics, he and the rest of his squad began to scout the immediate area.

Around a corner at the end of the hallway were the corpses of a few Grunts, otherwise known to the Sangheili as Unggoy. The bloodied corpse of a Major Domo Elite lay in a doorway and upon entering the narrow corridor; Dras could smell the humans nearby. Some were hurt, he could tell by the red blood stains on the floor.

He signalled to his team that there were enemies ahead and they activated their armour's active camouflage systems. Becoming nothing but clear, shimmering figures in the air, they made their way through the narrow corridor and into another large hallway.

Here were about four humans in grey armour plating, armed with the usual human weapons that weren't so much a threat unless a Sangheili was hit by conjoined and accurate fire.
As they entered, the humans began to move down the hallway, oblivious to the presence of the squad of Elites behind them. Dras and his squad tracked the humans along when suddenly the voice of one of Dras' squad mates infiltrated his helmet's radio systems.

'Sir, I've downloaded this ship's schematics,' the voice said, 'it's different in design to other human ships we've encountered. I'm sending them to you now.'

On Dras' data-pad, information began streaming down the screen. He ignored it, since it was camouflaged as well and there wasn't much point to looking at it if you couldn't see the screen.

One of the humans they were following glanced behind and looked straight at Dras and the others. His eyes suddenly widened and he turned right around.

'I can see them!' He shouted, 'they're right fucking there!'

Dras turned off his active camouflage and the others quickly followed. Rifle fire glanced off his personal shield but Dras simply raised his plasma rifle and cut down the first human, the armour the human was wearing not doing a lot to help absorb the weapons fire. The other three were cut down as well, the fight being over seconds after it started.

Stepping over to the bodies, Dras kicked one gently to see if it was still alive. It wasn't, so he took out his data-pad and looked at the information a squad mate had sent him.
The ship's schematics showed that the databanks main frame room, known as 'Central Processing', was located several decks down towards the back end of the ship. That meant they would have to find a human elevator of some sort.

He put the data-pad away and watched as a pair of his squad mates rolled over a human corpse that had landed face down. The first thing they saw was the grinning face of the human male underneath and the grenade in his right hand.

The explosion knocked Dras backwards and sent the pair that had been closest to the explosion slamming against the wall, bloodied and missing a few limbs. The human was scattered about the hallway and the other Sangheili dived to the floor in an impulsive move.

Dras should have remembered from his experience that some of these humans did get a bit suicidal when they knew they would die. This was the first time anything of that kind had happened before, so he couldn't blame his two squad mates for not knowing.

He slowly got up. They would continue, but Dras had no idea what he would tell the families of those two squad members. It wasn't much of a glorious death they had been in.

'Come on,' he said, gesturing to the others to follow, 'don't touch anymore human bodies. Just leave them alone.'

They continued on through a narrow corridor. The sounds of a firefight nearby could be heard but they weren't meant to be drawing attention to themselves unless absolutely necessary, at least until they got what they needed from the databanks.

Captain Bob Turnwell stood on the bridge as the ship buckled from another fighting colliding with it. Crewmen Goodman, Malcolm, Steve and Turner were the only other people left on the bridge. Everyone else had headed off to evacuate.

Bob turned to Steve.

'How are our security parties holding up?' Bob asked. It seemed that a lot more Covenant boarding parties had arrived than originally thought.

'A few decks have gone silent; otherwise everything else is alright,' Steve replied, glancing at his console, 'but as more and more personnel begins to leave, the Covenant will be all over this ship in no time.'

'Understandable,' Bob said, 'but hopefully they won't be in the bridge until we're down on that planet below.'

Bob stepped over to a small table near the main view-screen and picked up the three small data discs that lay on it. These discs were a security precaution, full of false information that was to be loaded into the databanks in place of everything else if there wasn't enough time to carry out the Cole Protocol. Thing was, there wasn't much use to them until the information they would be replacing was gone; otherwise you would have two lots of information about the same thing in the databases.

Bob hadn't remembered to give them to Jeff, since it was impossible to install the false information from anywhere else but Central Processing. He was confident Jeff would get the job done, having read his service record and knowing fully well he could do any job you gave him.

The discs could also be used as a bit of a bargaining tool if Bob was ever captured, but he doubted that would happen. After all, he was Bob Turnwell and a Turnwell never fell into the hands of the enemy, no matter what war it was. His great-great-great-great-great as many greats as it took to reach the one that served in the Second World War served in the Pacific theatre and never surrendered himself to the Japanese, instead fleeing when everyone else was and ending up living in the jungle by himself until the war ended.

The Covenant didn't take prisoners, Bob knew that, but if they ever ended up doing it for whatever reason, he would rather die. He wouldn't be confined to an uncomfortable cell and forced to do as the enemy told him. Knowing the Covenant, being a prisoner of theirs wouldn't be very pleasant.

Bob would remain on the bridge with the four loyal crewmen and hopefully take it down relatively softly, saving all the supplies and equipment stored aboard the ship.

According to the information on the view-screen, boarders had breached the recreation decks and the living decks, some making it down to engineering but being held off by whoever was down there. He would make sure everyone aboard apart from him and the four crewmen were off of the ship.
At least, he would hope most people were off of the ship. Everyone would have to rally themselves in the area he had told people to go to. It was the area which should have the least amount of Covenant soldiers on it. That was what he hoped, anyway.

Bob pocketed the data discs and watched as a pair of Longsword fighters flew past the front windows, pursuing a single Seraph fighter. Those Longsword pilots would probably go down to the planet themselves now that the ship was being overrun with the Covenant.

There was a tapping at the door and the intercom on the wall came on. A familiar Texan voice spoke through it.

'Let me in damn it!' Colonel Vance shouted through the intercom.

Bob looked at Steve.

'Should I let him in, sir?' Steve asked.

'Better do as he asks,' Bob said, 'don't know why he would be coming here, anyway.'

The doors unlocked and slid open. The Colonel, in his green Colonel's uniform with the bands from medal he had won on it, stepped into the bridge, that large wooden case of his tucked under his left arm. He stepped over to the Captain.

'Why haven't you evacuated yet, Colonel?' Bob asked, 'too busy drinking?'

'Don't get smart,' Vance said, 'I've been killing some Covenant sissies. I just came here to get my chair.'
Bob rolled his eyes. He watched as the Colonel folded up the fold-up chair and slid it into its narrow canvas bag. He slung the bag round one shoulder.

'Why would I want to evacuate anyway?' The Colonel asked, 'there's too much fun to be had up here.'

'Evacuate, Colonel,' bob said, 'that's an order.'

'But I'm your superior and you can't tell me what to do,' Vance said.

'You're unfit to be a Colonel, Vance,' Bob said, 'so I'm doing you a favour and telling you to evacuate.'
Vance paused. He looked a little annoyed, but had obviously had an idea that something like this would happen between him and the Captain.

'Alright then, boss,' he said, 'I'll just have to kill some Covenant sissies on my way to the escape pods.'

'Damn right you will,' Bob said, grinning, 'now, you could leave the bridge so I can lock the doors again.'

'Afraid some alien will just come in and whack ya?' Vance asked.

'Precisely,' Bob replied, gong along with the Colonel's comment, 'now just leave, Colonel. There's nothing else that can be done on this ship.'

'Aren't you leaving?' Vance asked, starting for the door.

'I'm taking this bird down to the planet below,' Bob said, 'it'll save the supplies and practically everything else on this ship. Do you have a problem with that, Colonel?'

'No, I don't,' Vance said, 'just have a fun time committing suicide.'

Vance left the room. Bob turned to Steve, but before he ordered the Ensign to lock the doors, he noticed something in front of a panel in the wall. A shimmer in the air, something peculiar.

'Is something wrong, Captain?' Steve asked.
Bob turned away from the anomaly and looked at Steve.

'Just lock the doors, Ensign,' he said.

Keras Forlumee had looked directly at the human commander. He could have been discovered, but there weren't a lot of places to hide in this command bridge.

Once the human had lost interest, Keras started for the door. It was gradually closing, so he squeezed through the shrinking gap and back out into the corridor.

His orders were to secure the commanding officer, but considering that there appeared to be two commanding officers on the ship, he was unsure of which one to secure.

The one in the grey uniform and colourful bands back on the command bridge had been the first one he had seen and was going to kill everyone else on the command bridge and secure the human, but when the older looking one in the dark green uniform wearing plenty more colored bands walked in, Keras suddenly had no idea which one to choose.

He had decided to go for the one in the green uniform, and he could see the human walking down the corridor, about to turn a corner. He started following the human, tracking him all the way to a white tiled corridor with three different doors space apart from each other.

Colonel Timothy Vance had the urge to take a leak, and quite conveniently the toilets were nearby. Entering the men's toilets, he had known he was being followed the very moment he had left that bridge. He knew this from experience out in the field and so he would take his leak hopefully without interruption.

Keras followed the human into a white tiled room with several white things bolted into the walls shaped like sinks but not quite sinks. There were sinks on the opposite wall, though.

Two cubicles with wide open doors were nearby and Keras stood by the doorway as the human stepped up to one of the white sink-like things, unzipped his pants and began to urinate.

Not interested in watching, Keras turned away and began thinking about home and how glad he would be to be back there.

The Colonel finished urinating, zipped up his pants and stepped over to one of the sinks, placing his wooden case on another sink on his left and watching his hands.
In the large mirror on the wall in front of him, he could just make out the Elite that was standing behind him, camouflaged but quite noticeable against the shiny white tiling.

The Colonel knew he would have to time this right, so bringing the wooden case in front of him and out of view of the Elite; he opened it and took out the three hundred year old double barrelled shotgun with a wooden stock. He flipped it open and loaded another two shells into it, having fired a few off earlier. He held the shotgun in his right hand, turned on the tap and cupped his left hand, collecting some water.

He swivelled around and threw the water at the Elite. It splashed off of its mostly invisible figure and the Colonel pointed the shotgun.

Keras only had time to deactivate his active camouflage systems before the human blasted him in the face and abruptly ended his life.

The Colonel looked down at the corpse of the Elite with some satisfaction. Half of its face was missing, which was amusing in some way. Purple blood had spilled out across the white tiles. The Colonel bent down but when he sniffed, the smell of the blood, which was like fresh tar, made him stand back up.

'You guys sure are ugly,' he said, loading a fresh shell into his shotgun and placing it back into the case. He turned off the tap, shut the case and carried the case with him as he walked back out into the corridor. Before he did make it to the escape pods, he would drop by the mess hall and pick up a drink, preferably whiskey.

First Class Sergeant Jeff Ganszo had been making his way to Central Processing, trying to avoid as many firefights as he could and also trying not to pay much attention to the voice in his head. Windtalker had been talking to no one in particular since Jeff had put him in the helmet and was beginning to get tired of it.

'So, I heard you were considered "unstable", Sergeant?' Windtalker asked as Jeff walked through a narrow corridor. A few corpses of some unfortunate marines were scattered about the corridor as well as the body of a blue armoured Elite. Sensing that there may very well be enemies up ahead, Jeff un-holstered the Turnwell Colt pistol and loaded in a fresh magazine into the weapon.

The weapon had a bit of a kick to it and a loud, recognizable gunshot sound. It held about eight rounds in a magazine and there was plenty of the .45 ACP ammunition in the case that had come with the weapon.

The narrow corridor went left and came out into a larger hallway with grey steel flooring. Jeff slowed down his pace and peeked around the doorway down both sides of the hallway.

Two stationary shields had been put up at one end of the hallway and a group of a few Grunts and one blue armoured Elite were standing guard.
Jeff heard Windtalker sigh.

'Looks like there's no way past these guys,' he said, 'you better know what you're doing. I count three Grunts and two Elites, the other being just behind that half open door at the end.'

Jeff glanced down at the enemies and saw the door behind them was half open and could make out the bottom half of a crimson armoured Major Elite, the door obviously jammed and unable to open the full way.

'What I suggest is that you use a grenade,' Windtalker said, 'I know I would.'

'I haven't got any,' Jeff replied, which was true. He wasn't carrying any grenades on him.

'Then you'll just have to shoot them all,' Windtalker said.

'No shit,' Jeff replied, leaning around the doorway with the Colt pistol in his right hand.

He took aim at one of the Grunts, fired off a few rounds and took it down, repeating the process on the other two Grunts. Plasma fire scorched holes in the side of the doorway and the blue armoured Elite took cover behind a stationary shield. The Major Elite behind the door crouched and came into the hallway.

Jeff took cover in the doorway and reloaded the pistol, ejecting the used up magazine and inserting a new one. He leaned back around the doorway and began firing at the exposed Major Elite, four hits taking down his shield and a bullet through the skull after that.

Jeff hated Elites. There were reasons for this, but most he had forgotten. He just hated them and got some satisfaction from killing them. They were the main enemies in this war, being in command of the ships and the fleets.

The Minor Elite came out of cover from behind the stationary shield and fired the plasma rifle it had in its right hand. Jeff couldn't tell whether it was male or female, considering he had never seen a female before and guessed most Elites were male anyway. Not that it mattered, he would kill them regardless.

He gunned the Minor Elite down and went across the hallway and through another narrow corridor. He could hear weapons fire coming from somewhere up ahead.

'There's an elevator close by,' Windtalker said, 'but there are enemies as well.'

'Why don't you stop stating the obvious and shut up?' Jeff said, coming out into another hallway. The bodies of a few dead Grunts were scattered throughout this hallway and a door leading into a familiar room was ahead.

Jeff entered the mess hall to find about seven marines fighting it out with a large group of Grunts and Elites at the other side of the mess hall. Tables and chairs had been overturned in the fight, some being used as cover. Discarded fragmentation grenades were lying on the floor nearby, so Jeff rushed over and picked a few up, clipping them onto his uniform's belt.

'Watch out!' Windtalker shouted.

Jeff looked straight ahead and saw a Major Elite standing only a few meters away, plasma rifle raised having somehow snuck up past the other marines.

Instinctively Jeff rolled to one side, the pistol in his right hand firing away. The bullets glanced off the Elite's personal shield before it finally collapsed, the next shot getting it in the chest. The Elite fell to its knees and then onto the floor, its head landing close to Jeff.

He glanced at it and shot the corpse in the head just to be sure it was dead, getting up and reloading the pistol. He looked at the enemies on the far end of the mess hall, which was pretty much a mess itself. Discarded food lay on the floor next to overturned tables and food trays had been carelessly discarded on the floor.

The marines were slowly moving forward, firing their assault rifles and keeping up a constant stream of firing, bullets bouncing off the personal shields of the Elites and just making them angrier.

'We're pushing them back!' A marine shouted, 'don't stop now!'

Jeff raised his pistol and began firing, cutting down a Grunt and a Minor Elite, jumping over a table and sliding across the smooth floor and firing away the remaining bullets in the current magazine as he slid. He cut down another two Grunts and reloaded, now lying on the floor, the momentum that began his slide having worn out.

'Nice one, sir!' A young marine said, stopping near Jeff. The marine crouched and began firing his MA5B assault rifle, peppering the remaining Grunts with high calibre rounds and taking the little aliens down.

Jeff got up and crouched behind an overturned table that was in front of him. He looked down the sights of the Colt and gunned down a Minor Elite standing at the far end of the mess hall. Jeff continued through the mess hall with the marines, helping eliminate a few straggler Grunts before coming to a door in the far corner.

'The lift is through another few hallways,' Windtalker said, 'I'm getting some information that the Covenant's trying to break through to the command bridge. They're taking heavy casualties.'

'The Captain knows what he's doing,' Jeff said, 'he wouldn't let the aliens onto the bridge. What we should be worrying about are the damn databases. We have to get there before any Covenant soldiers do.'

Jeff stepped out into another large hallway, found it clear and went across into another narrow corridor. He lowered his pistol and continued to an door which slid open and put him face to face with a Minor Elite.

The Elite roared at him in the typical fashion of the species. Jeff went to raise the pistol but the Elite swung and knocked it out of his hands, sending it clattering down the corridor.

'You were meant to shoot it!' Windtalker exclaimed.

'Just shut the fuck up, damn it!' Jeff shouted, ducking below another swing that the Elite made. Jeff rolled off to one side and kicked out with one leg, catching the Elite across both legs and knocking it over.

Jeff reached over and picked up the Colt, getting up and firing it repeatedly into the Elite's head until there was only a purple bloody pulp left. Almost breathless, he reloaded the weapon and kicked the body of the Elite off to the side.

'Couldn't you have at least warned me?' Jeff asked.

'I was too busy thinking about something else,' Windtalker said.

'Like what?' Jeff asked, continuing through the narrow corridor and into another large hallway. A lift was at the far end and no other enemies seemed to be in sight.

'Where to direct you to next,' Windtalker replied. Jeff rolled his eyes and stepped aboard the lift, pressing the button for Central Processing.

The lift started up and began to descend. There may be enemies in Central Processing, so Jeff reloaded the Colt and made sure it was at the ready if he ever did meet any enemies.

After about half a minute the lift stopped, opening out onto a cat walk looking over large banks of computers. Jeff stepped out and looked around, making sure the room was clear of enemies.

It was clear for now, so he started along the cat walk, heading for a ladder that was on the other side of the room and went down to the computer banks below.

'Which one do I go to?' He asked Windtalker, coming to the ladder and beginning to climb down.

Down below, Jeff could see a large door which obviously led back out into other parts of the ship. As he was climbing down, the door open and two technicians in yellow uniforms came in, firing pistols at an unseen enemy through the door. The two technicians were cut down in a hail of plasma fire and upon seeing this; Jeff took out his pistol and held it at the ready as he came to the bottom of the ladder.

'There's a large group of Elites coming this way,' Windtalker said, 'about ten of them.'

'Ten?' Jeff asked. That was a heck of a lot to be in the same place at once.

'Must be an entire squad,' Windtalker said, 'you better hurry up.'

'Then which computer terminal do I go to?' Jeff asked.

'Just place me into that pedestal over there,' Windtalker said. He obviously meant the short pedestal near the large white pillar with the computer in it which was on the other side of the room. Jeff hurried over and took the AI out of his helmet and inserted him into the pedestal. The holographic image of Windtalker appeared.

'This shouldn't take long,' he said.

The door nearby opened and Jeff watched as about four
Elites in dark purple Special Operations armour came running inside. The Special Operations Elites were the more bad ass types and were more experienced and capable warriors, their armour coming with stronger shields.

Jeff took cover behind the white mainframe computer as plasma rifle fire peppered the surfaces around him. He leaned out of cover and fired at the nearest Elite, having to unload an entire magazine into it before he brought it down.

Reloading again, he watched as another two Elites rushed into the room followed by a golden armoured Elite, most likely a Commander of some sort. They were obviously after the data stored on the computers.

'How long, Windtalker?' Jeff shouted above the noise of the fighting.

'Give me a few minutes!' Windtalker replied, 'there are still some security measures I have to get past!'

'I may not have a few minutes!' Jeff shouted. He managed to take down another Special Operations Elite when a glowing blue plasma grenade landed next to him.

He dived off to one side as the grenade went off, blue-white flame shooting upwards and outwards and scorching a large hole in the floor. Jeff felt the heat against the side closest to it but managed to avoid taking any damage.
He reloaded as he slid along the floor, resuming firing and taking down another Elite. He slid right behind a computer mainframe and got up, reloading his pistol again and taking out a fragmentation grenade. He took out the pin and prepared to throw it.

Ship Master Dras Amargee hadn't expected so much trouble from a single human, he and his squad having made it to the ship's main computer room without much incident. Now they were attempting to kill just the one human, who was proving to be a bit of a hassle.

Three of his squad members had already been killed and the two that were with him now weren't proving to be much help.

'Just move in and kill it!' Dras ordered, 'I'll go to the main computer!'

He and his two squad members were about to move when a familiar looking round object bounced nearby and came to a stop near Dras. Realizing what it was, he dived and was sent flying an extra three meters by the force of the explosion, which drained his shield and killed the other two squad members.

Dras felt a sharp pain in his side and lay dazed on the floor, struggling to regain his senses. He felt along his side and found a long shard of sizzling hot shrapnel sticking out of the side of his stomach. He ignored the pain and slowly got up, only to find that the human was closer now, his weapon raised and pointing at Dras.

Dras reached for his plasma pistol which was holstered but the human, who was obviously a male, simply fired a shot. Dras felt a sudden pain in the right of his chest and put a hand there, able to feel his own blood begin to spill out. He was suddenly short on breath and could feel his strength leaving him. He fell forwards and was only thinking about Arna when he lost consciousness.

Jeff was about to empty another round into the golden armoured Elite's head when a shout from Windtalker got his attention.

'It's done!' Windtalker shouted, 'the databanks are empty! Now let's get off this ship.'

Jeff walked over to Windtalker and took him out of the pedestal, placing him back into his helmet. They would have to head for the escape pods by now, so the best way to go about that would be to head back into the elevator.

Jeff climbed back up the ladder and onto the catwalk, entering the lift and taking it down to the nearest escape pod bays. The lift opened up into a white walled corridor, one wall lined with locked doors, which signified that the escape pods there had already launched.

Making his way through the corridors, Jeff encountered some groups of marines who were obviously there trying to escape as well. Continuing through the deck a little more and encountering some small Covenant groups, Jeff eventually ran into a group of about nine ODSTs in the new silver armour.

A group of about two Elites and four Grunts were behind some makeshift barricades ahead and the ODSTs were doing their best to clear out the enemies. Jeff helped them gun down a few of the Covenant aliens before he decided to jump over the barricades and try his luck in finding an escape pod.

He kicked a Grunt in the head and found an un-used and still docked escape pod. The last remaining Elite in the corridor was taking cover behind a nearby stationary shield, so Jeff just threw a grenade and flushed the Elite out of hiding. Gunning him down, Jeff entered the escape pod and gestured to the ODSTs to follow.

Getting strapped in, he and the ODSTs prepared to leave the ship.

The entire cruiser shuddered from torpedoes launched by the Seraph fighters buzzing around outside. Jeff wondered if the Longsword fighters were still out there, because if they were that would lessen the chance of the Seraph shooting down escape pods.

A female ODST sat herself down in the pilot's seat and, obviously knowing how to fly the thing, flicked a few switches and prepared to launch the pod from the ship.

The door at the back of the pod closed and sealed shut.
Jeff hated the idea of being launched in a stupidly small craft and into a planet's atmosphere, but there was no other way readily available. Besides, it would be better once they were down on the planet below.

'Hold on!' The ODST exclaimed. There was a sudden lurch and the thrusters propelled them out of the ship, on a direct course for the planet below. Jeff closed his eyes and waited for the inevitable crash.

Major Adros Demargee, who just happened to be a close friend to Dras Amargee, had heard about his friend and the squad making their way to the human ship's databanks. He thought they could use the extra help and so he and the two Minor Elites who were under his command had begun on their way to the ship's computer room.

Adros was about the same age as Dras but hadn't been in as much action as the Ship Master, but had always been a close friend, ever since their days in the War College on Sanghelios.

Adros was about average height for a Sangheili and had amber eyes with the snake-like pupil down their centres. During the battle on the ship, his forces had taken heavy casualties from the surprisingly strong human resistance. He had heard that the Prophet on board the flagship had forbid Dras to have their ships fire upon the human ship, since they were in orbit near a holy world which once belonged to the holy ones themselves.

Having made his way through the ship and only taking light wounds, Adros arrived at the mainframe room and found most of Dras' Special Operations squad lying dead in the large room. He felt a sudden pang of regret that he wasn't there to help them out, walking around now and checking if they were all actually dead or just incapacitated.

When he came to Dras' body, he was expecting to find his friend dead, since the wound he had received appeared to be close to the location of one of his hearts. He was about to check for a pulse when he heard Dras speaking quietly to himself, obviously in a daze.

'No…Arna…Don't hurt her!'

Adros exchanged glances with one of the minors. He knew that Arna was a female medical officer on their ship, but why Dras was talking about her in his near-death state was unknown to him.

'He'll die if we don't get him back to the ship for treatment,' Adros said to the Minor standing behind him, 'I'm curious to know which human, or humans, managed to kill most of them.'

Adros picked up the half-dead Dras, who was still muttering to himself, obviously having some kind of dream or near-death experience.

'I love you, Arna…' Dras said.

It was fairly likely Dras was speaking the truth there, considering Adros had seen him together with that medical officer far too many times for them to be just friends. He had always sensed something between the two but had never really taken much notice of it.

The Minor helped Adros carry Dras out of the room. They set up a makeshift stretcher and ordered a group of Unggoy to get the Ship Master back into a boarding craft and back to the cruiser. The group of about five Unggoy slowly walked off all holding part of the stretcher; Adros surveyed the situation they were in. They were taking heavy casualties in all parts of the ship they were attacking, especially in the assault on the command deck. The humans weren't giving up easily, and he knew that groups of them were already escaping the ship. This mission was only a slight success, but they hadn't even been able to get any information out of the computers. The only way it had been a slight success was that they had killed quite a few humans.

A Minor approached Adros, clutching a wound that was in his side. Purple blood dripped onto the floor but he was ignoring it.

'Major, we're taking too many casualties,' the Minor croaked, coughing up some blood, 'there's no point in us staying here any longer.' He coughed again and fell forwards. Adros caught him and felt the Minor's muscles relax. Checking the Minor's pulse, he found none.

Another casualty, Adros thought. Around him Minor Sangheili and Unggoy were transporting wounded back onto boarding craft. The entire hallway was a makeshift medical bay.
Adros rested the body of the now dead Minor on the floor. He looked around at the weary troops and made his decision.

'We're moving out,' he ordered, 'gather anymore wounded and head back to your boarding craft.'

The troops nodded and the Unggoy left the room, carrying stretchers of wounded Sangheili. The Minors gathered their equipment and proceeded to leave as well.

Looking back at the corpses of the Dras Amargee's Special Operations squad, Adros was very curious to find out who killed most of them. Very curious indeed; and maybe Dras might have an idea if he made it through the rest of the day.

Jones Marshall and Heinrich Rommel had fought their way through the ship and now, in an escape pod corridor, were desperately trying to search for an un-used escape pod.

When the alarms had been raised, they had still been in the firing range. This meant they had access to all the new equipment and had only been two eager to take a powerful AK-2534 rifle each as well as an M7E Covert Silenced Pistol as well. The M7E used high calibre rounds but was fitted with a muzzle suppressor which made the weapon relatively quiet.
The ship shook again and Jones almost stumbled, putting a hand on the wall to balance himself.

'We have really got to get the hell off of this ship,' he said, standing back up, 'it's going to fall apart.'

'I don't think it'll fall apart,' Heinrich said, 'I just suggest we find an escape pod before the Captain pilots this ship into the planet's atmosphere.'

Jones looked through the locked glass and metal doors that would otherwise lead into an escape pod. There was nothing behind it but another glass and metal door leading into the blackness of space.

'They've all been taken,' Jones said, 'that's kind of obvious. What do you suggest we do now?'
Heinrich looked around the hall, not at all worried.

'We just keep looking,' he said.

They continued through the hallway and turned a corner, coming into another escape pod corridor, this one with a man in a green Colonel's uniform holding a wooden case under one arm and a bottle of whiskey in his free hand. A group of marines were fighting it out with a group of Covenant soldiers at the far end, but the man in the Colonel's uniform didn't seem to notice this. He stood drinking whiskey and crouching to avoid enemy fire every now and then.

'Is that the Colonel?' Jones asked.

'Must be,' Heinrich said, 'I think we would be better off getting into an escape pod without him.'

The Colonel saw the two of them coming and waved at them to come over.

'There's one last escape pod past those Covenant sissies!' He shouted, 'now come on!'

Jones and Heinrich exchanged glances and went over to the
Colonel.

Jones raised his rifle and fired at the Covenant soldiers at the end of the corridor, taking down some Grunts before some return fire made him crouch.

The ship shuddered and they felt movement. The Colonel took another swig from his whiskey bottle and looked around.

'The ship's moving,' he said, stating the obvious, 'I think we should get into that escape pod right about now.'

The marines began to move forward, finishing off the remaining Covenant soldiers. The Colonel began following them and Heinrich and Jones didn't have any other choice, following the marines to the escape pod.

Stepping inside and strapping themselves into a seat, the Colonel walked in and found there weren't any seats left. The pilot glanced behind at the passengers.

'Why don't you sit down, sir?' He asked the Colonel.

'Just get us out of here,' the Colonel said, 'I would prefer to stand, anyway.'

The doors closed and sealed shut. The main thrusters fired and the entire pod went spiralling out of the side of the ship, heading for the planet below. The Colonel clutched hold of two seats, one with each hand.

As they were flying down towards the planet, Jones managed a glance through one of the windows back at the Winter Sunshine. The ship was getting hit by torpedoes from Seraph fighters but it was gradually heading for the planet, blue-white explosions erupting from parts of the ship. It was suicidal, taking the ship down like that. The Captain must really want to see it down till the end.

Jones glanced at Heinrich, who didn't seem to be worried at all by anything that was happening around him. Jones looked at the ceiling as fire began to rush past the view-screen. They were entering the atmosphere of the planet, the entire ship shuddering and shaking all over the place. It had been one heck of a long day, but things were only just beginning, considering they would have one hell of a fight on their hands on the planet below.

Not Exactly Human Ch. 4: Rite of Passage
Date: 12 June 2008, 3:29 am

Unknown location outside of UNSC space, September 11th. George Golding's Mission Clock: 00:27:27.

The Pelican shook wildly as it passed through the planet's atmosphere, sweat running down George's brow as the interior warmed up.

Most of the ODSTs had removed their helmets to help with the heat. Frank was sitting opposite George and had a hand clutching one of the metal hand-holds on the ceiling. He had a rifle rested across his lap and his mind was obviously on something else, since he seemed to be staring at the floor.

George disliked being aboard Pelican drop-ships. The things were known to get shot down quite easily, especially by the Covenant. There was nothing stopping a Covenant gun emplacement on the surface firing upon them and probably blasting them out of the sky.

The ship buckled and George had to grab a hand-hold nearby to avoid being flung across the inside of the ship. He used his free hand to reach into his pocket and retrieve a packet of bubble-gum, ripping a piece out of the packet and putting it into his mouth. The fruity flavour was of some relief and he believed he looked a little more imposing while chewing it.

Frank gestured at George, obviously wanting one. George passed the packet around and once it returned there was none left. Looking at it, he raised an eyebrow.

'Y'all just a bunch of slack jawed faggots,' he said, discarding the empty wrapper onto the floor, 'you could have at least left some for me.'

Only a short while ago George had traded places with one of the more experienced ODSTs as pilot, and now that particular ODST soldier's voice came through the doorway on his left.

'We're coming down out of the planet's atmospheric cover,' the pilot said, 'I've selected a nice landing spot in a small clearing big enough to fit the Pelican.'

'What about the terrain?' George asked, 'what's it like?'

'This area's mainly jungle,' the plot replied, 'jungle that's been left to grow crazily for what looks like a long time. I suggest we get out some machetes if we're going to go through it.'

It seemed they would all be partaking in some jungle warfare at some point, considering the Covenant had a presence on the planet and would be trying to intercept them. From what George knew, the Covenant preferred to fight the humans in space since they were almost guaranteed a victory. On the ground, especially in thick jungle, George was sure they wouldn't fare all too well.

Only twelve days the battle for Reach had occurred and had ended in a definite defeat for the humans. They could very well have been the only ship to escape, although he had heard that there was a chance that the Pillar of Autumn had escaped as well. With that ship's inferior Slip-space drive, they wouldn't be coming out of Slip-space for another few days.

It seemed funny that the Winter Sunshine and all the experimental technology aboard it would end up crashing and burning into the planet. After that, it would probably be lost forever. Only twelve days ago it had finished being built; now it would crash and utterly trash itself.

The ship stopped vibrating as they descended through the atmospheric cover and down to the planet, probably a really long way up. Now they could easily be shot down if the Covenant had any gun towers in the area, but there was less chance of that happening than of them landing safely.

George looked at the others. They were exhausted from the fighting up on the Winter Sunshine but they wouldn't receive any breaks here. Setting up camp when they landed and scouting the area was the obvious way to go, and being in command, that's what George would be ordering them to do.

He un-holstered Ol' Painless and checked his ammunition supply. He only had a few rounds left, so until he found more he wouldn't be using Ol' Painless.

He checked his MA6 submachine gun's ammunition supply. He would trade it in for something else when he had the chance, considering it wasn't much of a powerful weapon.

He remembered the old revolver he had acquired back on the ship and unclipped the wooden case that contained it off of his belt. He took the weapon out, flicked open the chamber and loaded in six of the powerful .44 rounds. Flicking it shut and giving the chamber a good spin with one hand, he holstered the weapon on his belt and dumped his MA6 on the floor for now. He took out all the .44 ammunition from the case and placed it in one of his ammunition pouches that were on his belt as well.

It better be good at shooting stuff, he thought.

The others in the Pelican were checking their weapons as well. One of them opened a large hatch in the floor in front of him and revealed a rack of sharp bladed steel machetes. He started giving them out along with their holders, George clipping it onto his belt and sliding the machete into it.

Maybe if he ever got the chance, he could let a Covenant bastards taste some cold steel. Those Elites seemed to enjoy close combat, so he may very well end up cutting an Elite up with one real good.

'Are there any supplies on this Pelican?' He heard Frank ask. George looked up and glanced at the several small hatches in the walls.

'Start looking,' he said, 'I wouldn't want to starve to death in the jungle.'

Frank started opening all the hatches he could reach, finding some supplies such as packets of nutrient bars and sachets filled with fresh
water. He began to hand them around, each soldier taking some.

If it was a lush jungle they would be landing in, there was sure to be animal life, some of it edible. Some hunting may very well take place and George would be that man for the job, having hunted deer and other game before both on Earth and on Reach, where deer ran wild thanks to the early settlers who had introduced them to the planet. They didn't run wild anymore, though.

'Area scan indicates a few Covenant patrols nearby,' the pilot announced, 'that means they've probably seen us, unless the jungles too thick for them.'

More fighting, George thought. The Pelican ride had barely been a break, shaking about wildly as the ship had passed through the planet's atmosphere. Most of them were exhausted, but George was used to long periods like this without rest.

'ETA to touch-down five minutes,' the pilot said, 'get ready, people.'

'Alright,' George said, looking around at the others, 'we'll be setting up a camp in the landing zone. The fuel supply for this Pelican's gone low, so we can't fly anywhere else. There may very well be Covenant patrols, most likely small in size, coming our way so we'll get some of us to get moving up ahead and scout the area. Radio contact on encrypted channels only.'

The troops nodded and some began testing their radios. George flicked his into the appropriate channel. The plan would be simple once they were on the ground: set up a strong defensive position and get someone to scout out the area. He would prefer to be one of those scouts, having the necessary experience. The camp they set up at the landing zone would be only temporary, the Pelican leaving once it dropped them off to search for other humans and find some extra fuel.

George realized he had left his copy of A Soldier's Guide to the Jungle back on the Winter Sunshine. Some of the information in that book may very well have been useful to them, although George was sure he could remember some things. Such as how to make the many kinds of booby traps talked about in the book.

He grinned smugly as he thought to himself about planting a trip wire grenade and watching as an unsuspecting Elite triggered it off. It would make quite a mess but they were aliens, not humans, and it was always a lot easier killing something that wasn't the same species as you.

It would be like hunting deer, striking from out of what seemed to be nowhere. George could get to like jungle warfare, especially if it was against the Covenant. He was fairly sure none of the Covenant species were adapted to a jungle environment.

The ship buckled and George watched as one of the ODSTs was flung out of his seat.

'We just took a fuel rod cannon shot in the side,' the pilot announced, steadying the ship, 'we've been spotted by what seems to be a patrol a few hundred meters away from the landing zone.'

'This is it then, people!' George announced, standing up and grabbing a hand-hold in the ceiling, 'as soon as we're out on the ground, I want two mounted guns set up and a portable kitchen set up as well. I feel like some eggs.'

It was his duty to rally the exhausted troops he was stuck with. Frank didn't seem very exhausted, but knowing that guy he was too eager to start killing things to bother with exhaustion.

George felt the Pelican begin to descend, the familiar sound of the auxiliary thrusters firing which had a quiet, whirring noise. He held his Magnum in his right hand while his left clutched the hand-hold.

The Pelican stopped moving and the rear ramp opened up, opening out into a small clearing with long, thick grass and shrubs. They were atop a small hill which looked down onto a thick jungle canopy, native bird-life visible flying over the canopy. It was about dusk on this part of the planet and stars were gradually appearing.

Even from atop the hill George could see a large, temple-like structure in the distance, built into a hill. It was at the farthest reaches of his vision but would be the better place to go to.

'Okay, go, go, go!' George shouted. The ODSTs began rushing down the ramp and out onto the top of the hill. Frank was the last of before George himself ran off.

There were no enemies in sight, and now that he had a full degree of vision of the area, he could already make out more structures on the horizon. This area was filled with them, and they definitely weren't Covenant.

Most Covenant structures had the blue and/or purple metal the aliens favoured. These ones were greyer and from what he could see, had highly detailed architecture to them.

'Area's clear!' Someone shouted.

Glancing around, the area was indeed clear. Two ODSTs went back onto the Pelican and retrieved the needed equipment, throwing the metal crates out of the Pelican and then stepping out themselves.

As the Pelican lifted off and the scent of its fuel faded away, George could smell the immense abundance of plant life, the scents of the flowers and the grass, the feel of the air which was high in oxygen.
The area had a tranquil feel, and the little shiny water stream at the base of the hill added to that feeling.

The pair of ODSTs who had taken the crates out of the Pelican had already opened them and had begun setting up a defensive perimeter, digging holes and surrounding them with sand-bags. One of them began setting up a portable kitchen, consisting of a battery powered stove and table.

George turned to Frank, who was standing nearby, looking out over the jungle.
'Frank, you and I will do some scouting in the next ten minutes,' George said, 'right now I'm hungry.'

He stepped over to the stove and found a carton of eggs stored in one of the crates in a hard case so they wouldn't get damaged. For one, they were better than the crappy military stuff and another thing was that it was hard enough to find them in the UNSC. Eggs were more a civilian food.

George took out a pair of them and switched on the stove, which heated up in a few seconds. He cracked the two eggs on the side of the stove and paired the yolk and whites into the stove. Once they were done, which only took a few seconds, he took a plastic plate from one of the crates and placed the cooked eggs on it.

'Where did you get those?' Frank asked as George came back from the stove, 'you can't exactly find that kind of food in a Pelican all the time.'

'There's always a carton stored in with the stove,' George said, 'I know this from experience. It lets the soldiers have one or two decent meals before they have to rely on military rations.'

'I didn't know that…'

'Now you do,' George said, finishing off the two eggs and throwing the plate back into the crate. The other ODSTs were also making their own food, and considering it was about five o'clock, it may as well have been their dinner.

George snatched a pair of binoculars from Frank, who had been using them, and zoomed in onto the jungle below. There was nothing of interest, but as he stated scanning the structure on the distant hill, he noticed that there were several visible Covenant Ghost vehicles parked outside of the structure. Zooming in and switching on thermal vision, several Covenant troops were easily spotted amongst the vehicles, glowing orange thanks to the thermal view mode.

'That, Lieutenant, is where we should be heading,' George said, giving the binoculars back to Frank, 'that Covenant camp is in a strategically important piece of land. We could use that very structure as a base of operations.'

'Are we still going to scout the area?' Frank asked, 'that was the original plan, right?'

'Screw scouting,' George said, 'once everyone's ready, we're heading straight for that structure.'

'Well, more things to kill,' Frank said, 'we'll get moving in the next ten minutes, I think.'

Frank walked over to the other ODSTs. George stood looking out onto the jungle. This place was an un-spoilt paradise, sparsely populated by Covenant forces. It would be a shame to see it all end up a battle-scarred wasteland, but that's would could very well happen. All they had to do was find a way to communicate to the rest of the UNSC fleet and take control of this world.

If the Covenant had bases amongst the ancient-looking structures, this world was obviously important to them. Making them lose control of it would be a crippling blow to them, and humanity needed a victory after what happened at Reach.

Now that Reach was gone, it wouldn't be long before the Covenant swept through what was left of the Inner Colonies and head straight for Earth. At least that was the most likely thing to happen.

Here, they could at least make some sort of a stand. George looked up at the dusk sky and noticed a large white light slowly moving across his view. That had to be the Winter Sunshine beginning its descent, since there was nothing left to do on that ship except escape to the planet. The Captain was brave, but a tad suicidal, deciding to stay on the ship as it came down. He could at least use an escape pod to get off of the ship, but it seemed that the Captain was taking the old saying seriously. 'A Captain always goes down with his ship.' Heck, if George was a Captain he would have escaped at the first sign of trouble.

George scratched at his moustache and noticed some movement in the shrubs ahead. He took out his Magnum revolver and went to take a closer look.

There was no wind, so it couldn't be that. Everything in the jungle except for the birds flying in circles above it was still. The stream nearby obviously wasn't, but otherwise there should be no self-moving trees.

As he neared the bush, it moved again and he caught a glimpse of something metallic. He raised his Magnum and shot three times into the bush, the shots ringing out loudly throughout the valley. Birds in nearby trees fluttered away in fright noisily and he realized he had probably alerted every Covenant soldier in the area to their presence.

The ODSTs behind him looked at him strangely. Frank walked over, his rifle at the ready.

'What is it?' Frank asked, coming up behind him.

George knew there was something in those bushes, so he put a finger to his mouth to represent silence and slowly began to creep forwards, revolver at the ready.

When he came to the bush, he moved part of it out of the way. Lying dead behind it was a single orange armoured Grunt armed with a Plasma Pistol, three holes in the front of its body. So the Covenant were already coming to them, George thought. They would have to leave now to avoid being surrounded.

He turned to Frank and the other ODSTs.

'Pack up everything and only take the essentials!' George ordered, 'the Covenant's already coming to us! We have to leave, now!'

The ODSTs picked up their weapons and didn't bother to pack up the portable stove. The sand bags were left alone as well and the group gathered behind George.

George took one last look at the area. They would have more cover in the jungle, so he waved the group forwards.

'Down into the jungle, stick close and follow me!' He ordered, beginning to jog down the hill.

He suddenly felt his right foot get caught on something and was sent flying forwards, landing in some wet ferns and hitting his shoulder against a small log.

Ignoring the pain, he got up and found himself standing underneath the jungle canopy. Looking up, thin streams of sunlight filtered through the thick canopy. If it weren't for those streams of sunlight, the entire place may as well have been entirely dark.

Behind him, he could hear the footsteps of the other ODSTs. They obviously hadn't noticed him tripping over.

Seeing that the Magnum revolver was still in his hand, George shrugged off the pain in his shoulder and scanned the area in front.
Thick shrubs and bushes were practically all around, thick tree trunks completely flanked by the smaller plants. The ground was slightly spongy and wet and when George looked down he saw what appeared to be a green and long caterpillar scurrying away from him along a leaf.

There weren't a lot of natural jungles like this left on Earth unless you counted the nature preservations which had been built once
pollution levels had started to decrease a few hundred years ago.

George could learn to like this place. It was an almost un-spoilt paradise. All you had to do was clean it out, in this case cleaning out the Covenant.

He looked behind and saw Frank and the other ODSTs coming up behind him, looking around with their rifles at the ready. He nodded to Frank. The area was clear, at least, that's what he could gather. Anything could be hiding amongst this thick, lush jungle.

George turned to look at Frank, who was standing a few meters away.

'Have we got any thermal gear?' George asked, 'like goggles? Otherwise we could be snuck up on by these Covenant bastards from the bushes.'

'The ODST armour has thermal view,' Frank said, 'but we don't have anything else like it.'

'Right, then,' George said, looking at the other ODSTs, 'if you see anything strange, shout out. We have a bit of a walk ahead of us, men.'

George started on through the jungle, pushing shrubs and bushes out of his way. The others followed, everyone walking at steady pace to traverse the thick jungle and tricky terrain.

Native insects buzzed around, obviously curious as to why there was a new species wandering about the jungle. George suddenly felt a slight sting on the side of his neck and managed to flatten the large mosquito that had started to bite him. From what was left of it, which was flattened across the palm of his hand, they were yellow with orange stripes and were larger than most George had seen.

George hated bugs that could bite and the fact that this was a jungle that was probably filled with them didn't help matters either. He made a mental note to himself to find some bug repellent sometime later.

He wiped what was left of the mosquito on a nearby leaf from a large palm bush and continued on through the jungle. The others followed in a spread out formation, so if one of them was gunned down from a hidden enemy, everyone else would know where the shot had come from and could act quickly enough so that hopefully no one else would get hurt.

George looked down at the wet, spongy ground and noticed a faint trace in the mud. Bending over, he took a closer look. This was definitely the hoof print of an Elite, and they continued along the same path as the ODSTs. Two pairs of smaller prints were nearby, obviously Grunts.

George held up one hand so the others stopped. Having experience from tracking game while hunting, George noticed the prints headed off into some nearby bushes. Following them along quietly, they went to the small stream. As soon as passed through the shrubs, he saw a crimson armoured Major Elite and a pair of Grunts standing by the stream.
The Elite seemed to be filling up some sort of container with the water while one of the Grunts was holding a large, purple Fuel Rod Cannon. It was obviously the Grunt that had tried to shoot them down earlier, unless there were more in the area.

George headed back to where the others were and signalled to them silently to take the right flank. He would be going in on the left and probably wouldn't need their help, although someone would have to take down the Grunts while he took care of the single Elite. There may very well be more in the area, but they had the advantage of surprise.
He snuck back through the bushes and found the Elite drinking from the container, his back turned. At least, he was sure it was male.

George snuck up a bit closer and ducked behind some shrubs when the Grunt with the Fuel Rod Cannon glanced in his general direction. George remained still, daring not too move. He slowed his breathing and stared the Grunt right in the eyes, but it didn't seem to notice him. This was good, considering a well fired Fuel Rod Cannon shot could blow him to pieces and leave nothing but a black smudge on the ground.

The Grunt turned back around and so George crept around the bushes and raised the Magnum .44 revolver. He got the Elite in his sights and noticed movement in the bushes down the stream a little. The ODSTs had taken position.

George had three bullets left in the Magnum, which should be enough, but he reloaded the weapon anyway, hoping the noises it made weren't noticeable. The sound of the water stream seemed to drown the noises of the Magnum out.
He raised it again and fired at the Elite, the shot ringing out throughout the jungle. It hadn't had its personal shield on so the bullet pierced the armour on its back and spurted out dark purple blood. It fell forwards and landed into the shallow stream, getting swept down a few meters before stopping against some rocks.

The ODSTs opened fire and mowed down the pair of Grunts which had only just started to react.

The fight was over as quickly as it had started, so George placed a fresh round in place of the one he just fired into his Magnum. He stepped out of the bushes and walked over to the alien corpses. Stepping over to the Elite's corpse, he checked the body for anything useful and took the water canteen which was still clutched in the alien's right hand.
A Plasma Rifle was holstered on some of the armour covering the right leg, so George took it off and then kicked the Elite's body so it gradually began to flow down the stream.
Frank and the ODSTs came out of hiding and walked over to him. George unscrewed the cap on the blue Covenant water canteen and sniffed the contents. Nothing seemed to be wrong with it, so he took a gulp from it and handed it to Frank. The others had their own, which they were now filling up.

George looked at the Plasma Rifle he had acquired from the corpse of the Elite. It was a complicated looking weapon, but the basis of it was clear: it fired energy of some sort at a rapid rate and tended to overheat if you fired it for too long. There was apparently no way to charge energy pack, so once it was out of power you had to dump the weapon. This could be quite inconvenient, but George preferred the firepower anyway. It seemed far more effective on the Covenant than your basic human rifle.

George started following the stream, which seemed to be taking them in the general direction of the structure. He noticed that the medic, Alan, seemed to be holding up fairly well, a change from what he had been like back on the Winter Sunshine.

George didn't notice anymore tracks left by the Covenant, which was a good sign. Maybe the three they had killed only minutes before had been the only patrol in the area.

The structure which was under obvious Covenant control would make a good base of operations, if they could take it. There seemed to be a heck of a lot of Wraith tanks at the structure, at least from what George had seen through the binoculars earlier.

Time passed and they were eventually able to witness the large shape of the Winter Sunshine, a mere orange streak in the sky, go thundering through the high-up clouds and disappear out of sight. Several smaller streaks followed, obviously escape pods.

'Wow,' Alan said, watching the spectacle, 'I wonder if the Captain's alright?'

'Knowing him, he will be,' George said, 'but that's not our problem right now. Our problem is the structure not too far from here. We take that and we'll have ourselves a nice looking base.'

The jungle undergrowth started to get a bit thicker and so George and the others whipped out their machetes and began to cut away anything that was too hard to move out of the way, such as thick branches from small shrubs and leaves that hung down and tended to get into one's face and otherwise be a major irritation.

As they began to near the structure, George began to notice more Covenant tracks. Covenant soldiers had been through here quite recently, on their normal patrols and making sure the area was clear of enemies.

They could take out each patrol covertly, not all patrols obviously, but only the ones they encountered. There was a chance that they could arouse suspicion and thus have Wraith tanks coming after them, although the jungle may very well be too thick for the bulky vehicles.

As George was summing up his options, he noticed that the ground cleared out up ahead, the stumps of burnt away trees visible in a clearing covered with thick undergrowth. The Covenant had begun deforesting the jungle around the structure, obviously in a bid to make ground forces more visible.

This could give any vehicle the chance they needed to attack, and that meant that George and the ODSTs could end up fighting Wraith tanks. He had no idea how big the force of Covenant soldiers stationed in and around the structure was, but he was sure they were outnumbered and outgunned. They would have to use more covert tactics.

'There's something up ahead,' an ODST said, stepping up behind George, 'I can see it.'

George took a look through the undergrowth ahead. He couldn't make out anything.

'What do you see?' George asked the ODST, 'is it Covenant?'

'I'm on thermal vision,' the ODST said, 'and I can see part of what looks like a group of enemies…I can't make out much through all the undergrowth, though.'

George had to be sure, so he stepped over to the undergrowth and cut some of it away. He was lucky enough to notice the glowing blue-white plasma grenade land on the palm plant to his left.

'Holy shit!' An ODST behind him shouted.

George dived off to the right, landing in the damp spongy dirt. The grenade went off behind him. He felt its heat on his back and managed a glance back to find all the plant life in the blast radius had just burnt away, leaving undergrowth half scorched. A hail of plasma fire came from all around and George realized it was an ambush.

To state the obvious, Alan shouted out, 'Ambush!'

Now that the Covenant knew they were there, they would be better off heading for the structure now and killing every Covenant soldier they found.

George got up and spotted an orange armoured Grunt off to his left. He raised the Plasma Rifle and fired, blue blasts blowing holes into the Grunt's side before it had a chance to fire back.

Frank and the others had scattered around the area, some taking cover behind trees. The enemy seemed to be all around, plasma fire coming from all directions. George spotted a pair of blue armoured Minor Elites coming down the way George and the others had entered the area from.

He fired the plasma rifle at them, the plasma eating away at the pair of Elite's personal shields. After cutting down the two Elites, he crouched behind a nearby log and began to lay down suppressing fire on the trees ahead as Grunts tried to break into the group of humans.

The entire area was a cacophony of weapons fire. One of the ODSTs set up a mounted gun which he had been carrying around with him and started riddling the trees ahead with bullets, ripping off splinters of woods and cutting down some Grunts and Elites.

The groups of enemies began to lull and George waved forwards towards the deforested area.

'That's where we're going!' He shouted, 'don't you guys go all soft now!'

He started up the short slope which cut through some undergrowth, running into a Grunt. The little alien raised its Plasma Pistol but George swung with the Plasma Rifle and caved in the alien's skull.

He kicked the corpse down the short slope and then took out his machete, cutting away at the thick branches and fronds that got in his way.

On the deforested clearing, a large, metallic purple Wraith tank hovered at the far side. The ancient structure was up the hill only a few meters away. A large open courtyard looked out from the structure over the jungle, which would be the perfect place for a Pelican landing zone.

George glanced behind him and saw Frank, Alan and the ODSTs making their way over to him.

The ODST at the mounted gun was still firing away at some enemies coming from his right. He cut down a few Grunts before dismounting the weapon and putting it over one shoulder. He started to run towards the group but a Minor Elite jumped out from some nearby bushes and used its Plasma Rifle to club him across the head.

George swivelled around on his spot and blasted the Elite with a volley of plasma rifle fire. The Elite stumbled backwards and went rolling down the slope, very little chance of it getting up again

George watched this occur with some satisfaction before the ground he stood on shook and a blue-white explosion filled one side of his vision. The force of it knocked him over but otherwise left him unscathed.

The Wraith was firing, its plasma mortar launching a large, blue-white ball of spiralling plasma energy high into the air. The mortar blast went over the clearing and landed about seven meters from George. A shockwave went out from the base of the explosion and a two meter wide smouldering crater was left in the ground.

George looked at the others, who were scattering out across the clearing. A group of Grunts was nearby and were the first to cop the combined fire from the human troops, being cut down in a hail of bullets.

'I need an M19,' George said, 'take that bastard out!' He ducked as another mortar swirled overhead and scorched away most of the trees behind them.

The deforested clearing had been purposely made so any ground troops would be easy targets. The entire area within a one hundred kilometre radius from the hill had been cleared, and looking up at the courtyard balcony which went around the structure, he could see the faint figures of what appeared to be the bird-like Jackals with sniper weapons at the ready.

One of the ODSTs came running over holding an M19 SSM rocket launcher, nicknamed the 'Jackhammer' due to its appearance. It was double-barrelled and held two 105mm high explosive rockets at a time.

'Here you are, sir,' the ODST said, 'We only have four rockets for it, though.'

George holstered his Plasma Rifle and took the Jackhammer launcher.

'Just keep that Wraith distracted,' he said, 'I'll sneak around to the right flank.'

He started through the clearing, which was devoid of trees but still had its share of undergrowth. Moving from cluster of undergrowth to cluster of undergrowth, he managed to avoid being sniped by the Jackals at the balcony and also managed to avoid being noticed by the Wraith.

He came to within seventy meters of the Wraith according to the range-finder in the rocket launcher's scope. Zooming in as far as the scope could and swearing to himself when he realized this was one of the earlier models which didn't come with a lock-on system, he fired, the rocket's recoil knocking it both backwards and upwards at the same time.

The rocket stayed on target and the Wraith pilot obviously didn't see it coming since it impacted into the side of the tank and sent it backwards a few meters, blasting away the armour plating on the damaged side.

George proceeded to aim again but the Wraith turned around and fired in his direction. George lowered the rocket launcher and sprinted off to his right, diving in amongst some undergrowth as pink beam rifle shots whizzed past. These were from the snipers, which they would have to take care of soon enough.

He stayed prone for a few seconds as the Wraith fired again, the mortar landing only a few meters away. As the heat from the explosion died down, he crouched up and got the Wraith in his sights. There was a chance it would move out of the way, though.

He fired anyway, the rocket speeding through the air, leaving a brown-ish contrail. The Wraith didn't have time to move, the rocket slamming straight into the already damaged area.

There was a blue, fiery explosion as the top of the Wraith blew apart, purple-black metal flying out across the clearing. The corpse of a Minor Elite came flying out, charred and still burning from the energy explosion.

George glanced over at the ODSTs, who had seen the
destruction of the Wraith tank and were moving out into the clearing.

'There are snipers up on that balcony!' George shouted, 'Take them down!'

One of the ODSTs had an S2-AM sniper rifle and managed to fire three shots at the snipers, gunning a few of the Jackals down before a pink beam rifle shot blasted a hole in his armour's face-plate. George shook his head and made his way over to the group of ODSTs.

There were a few parked Wraith tanks at the base of the hill, underneath the shade of the large courtyard balcony. A few Elites and Grunts were starting to come out of the large doorways at the base of the structure.

It would be a stupid idea to let any get into the Wraith tanks, so George picked up the dead ODST's rifle and loaded a fresh magazine into it. The weapon only held four rounds, but George had worked with single shot rifles before so this should be a piece of cake.

He zoomed in with the scope on one of the Jackals. Jackal snipers never carried energy shields around with them, so he didn't have to work his shot through the shield's gaps. All he had to do was aim and shoot.

He was almost put off by the pink beam rifle shot that breezed past the right side of his head. He took a deep breath and fired three shots, each one hitting a Jackal and taking it down. That was all the snipers taken care of, so he moved his sights down across the deforested clearing and at the Elites and Grunts preparing to commandeer the Wraith tanks.

He zoomed in on a Minor Elite, fired and blasted a large hole in the alien's skull. He waved his troops forward and loaded a fresh magazine into the rifle.

Zooming in, he gunned down the last two Elites that were in the Wraith tank area before moving forward himself. The ODSTs were firing their rifles at the distant Grunts in the Wraith tank area before they themselves were actually there.

At the base of the hill, where the structure started, were several entrances, all leading into the one massive room with stairs and strange geometrical patterns engraved on the walls and floors. The architecture was sleek and refined, mostly a grey metal and stone composite.

Entering the structure, a group of Elites and Grunts were up at the top of the room which sloped upwards, stair wells there to aid anybody who wanted to get right up to the top.

There was plenty of cover, resulting from the design of the room which incorporated many seemingly pointless parts of the walls jutting out more than the others. It was as if this place had been built by somebody who enjoyed making majestic looking structures and wasting their time building seemingly pointless things, such as the short columns with flat lights in the top of them that were set up around the base of the room.

George ducked behind one of the stone columns, Frank, Alan and the ODSTs scattering around the room and peppering the enemies at the top with combined rifle fire. He wondered how much ammunition they had left, since it was as if they hadn't stopped firing those weapons since they landed on the planet.

During the pandemonium, George switched on his radio and attempted to get in contact with any other humans who may have escaped to the planet. There would be plenty of others, but they may be in battles of their own.

'Does anyone read me, over?' He said, trying to get his voice over the noise, 'this is Major George Golding from the Winter Sunshine and we're attempting to take a structure that could very well serve as a UNSC base of operations. Just trace this signal to find it.' He set the message on loop, so it continuously looped on all frequencies. He put his radio away and leaned around the short stone column, his Plasma Rifle at the ready.

Some of the Grunts and Elites were lying dead and Frank, Alan and the ODSTs were gradually moving up the room.
George got an Elite in his sights and let forth with a volley of plasma fire, having to stop the shooting when the rifle overheated in his hands and became intensely hot. He let the thing cool down, blue-white waste energy flowing out of the weapon. The Elite, whose shield had drained, had taken cover behind a part of the wall that came out in a ring which covered the entirety of the room.

George resumed firing once the plasma rifle had recovered from overheating. The Elite leaned out from around cover and fired back, but was unlucky enough to get a plasma rifle shot in the neck. It fell backwards and slumped against the wall.

George got out from cover and started up the sloped room, gunning down any Grunts he encountered as he went. Coming to the top, there were two doors at both the left and right side walls. Frank, Alan and the ODSTs seemed to be at the right-hand door so George walked over to them.

As he approached, Frank turned around.

'The door ain't opening,' he said, 'there's some sort of holographic control panel near it but I'll be damned if I knew how to work it.'

George took a look at the stone/metal door and then at the small holographic control panel on the wall to the door's left. He approached it and keyed in a few random 'button's, although being holographic, there wasn't much in the way of buttons. More like 'keys'.

Suddenly, the door opened into a long, grey-stone corridor with some sort of plexi-glass as its flooring.

Frank walked over to him with a mixed look of surprise and slight disbelief on his face.

'How did you do that?' He asked.

'To be honest, son,' George said, 'I have no idea.'

That was the truth on George's part. It's as if he just knew how to use the panel, although he wasn't entirely sure if this was the case or if it was just a bunch of lucky guesses.

They went into the corridor and followed it along to a large door with red lights on towards its centre. A group of stationary shields had been set up and a few Grunts stood guard. Easily taken care of, George and the squad made their way over to the door. Another holographic panel was in the wall, so George used his gut feeling to work it and quite luckily the door opened.

Behind it was a massive room with about three high levels. Above them were walkways and other things typical of the structure's design such as more of the short columns. White lights were in the floor providing illumination as well as a large skylight in the ceiling.

Elites and Grunts were scattered around the room, some on the walkways above. Upon entering, a hail of plasma fire began raining down in and around the human group.

George dived behind a stone column as the others found cover as well. He leaned around it and scanned the enemy positions. There were quite a few Grunts on the walkways above, so he went for them first, cutting a few of them down with his Plasma Rifle. While he was doing this, he didn't notice the Minor Elite that came up behind him.

Feeling the wind completely knocked out of him, he stumbled forwards. Turning around, he saw the Elite and now it had raised its rifle, pointing it at George's head. Before it got a chance to fire, it was peppered with rifle fire from the ODSTs. It snarled angrily and returned fire, but its shield failed and several bullets hit it in the chest, penetrating its armour and spilling dark purple blood.

George got up and kicked the Elite's corpse away. He gunned down a few more Grunts that were up on the walkways before taking out a fragmentation grenade, pulling out the pin and throwing it towards a group of Grunts and a single Minor Elite.

The Elite managed to get out of the way the fastest, the grenade detonating and sending the bodies of the unfortunate Grunts flying about the room like stumpy rag-dolls.

The ODSTs began to press forward, mowing down the Grunts up ahead. Ramps went up to the next level and George came out of cover and started up them. Stairs didn't seem to be all too common in this structure; smooth ramps were preferred by the looks of things.

Passing a corner on the second level, George entered a medium sized room where Covenant uplink crates had been set up. These crates had screen and pretty much everything you needed to communicate on the Covenant signals. A few Elites were standing in the room, weapons at the ready thanks to all the noise that was being made out in the other room.

George began firing his Plasma Rifle, cutting down a Minor Elite before the other Minor Elite in the room returned fire. George stepped behind a crate and leaned around it.
The Elite had done the same, leaning around its cover and firing bat George.

The blasts merely dissipated on the crate's metal, so he took out another grenade, armed it and rolled it towards the Elite's crate. It detonated and sent the crate and the Elite flying across to the far side of the room.

Frank, Alan and the ODSTs had come in. George pointed them in the direction of a sort of stair-well leading up to the next level, except it didn't have steps but rather was more of a ramp. He started up it, finding a Grunt standing on the landing halfway up to the next level.

George whacked the Grunt in the face, knocking it off the stairwell and letting it fall to the ground and probably get killed, although he wasn't sure. Nevertheless, it didn't really matter and he and the others continued up to the next floor.

Coming into what appeared to be another medium sized room where some Covenant made furniture had been set up. An Elite had sat down on an alien chair and seemed surprised when the humans entered. George just shot the alien in the skull considering it hadn't activated its personal shield.

Continuing into a large room overlooking the ground floor room, this level went out onto the wide, open courtyard that looked out above the jungle. A horse-shoe shaped Covenant drop-ship was parked on it, and making some quick calculations in his head, George reckoned that the courtyard was big enough to hold five Pelican drop-ships and still have room for personnel and maintenance crew equipment.

This level seemed to have yet even more Covenant troops on it, Jackals coming down the stairs on both sides of the room, activating their shield gauntlets and making it very easy to see them thanks to their orange and yellow energy shields. A few Elites were scattered around and George felt every alien weapon in the room get trained onto his squad.

'Scatter!' He shouted, diving off to one side. He went sliding across the floor, Plasma Rifle firing as he went. He cut down a few of the Jackals before coming to a stop behind a short stone column. He got up, glanced at the others who had scattered and taken cover, and then cut down a pair of Grunts which were trying to come up alongside his cover.

He fired at a group of Jackals who had created a line of shields to make a stronger formation. George, taking out his last fragmentation grenade, armed it and threw it so it looped up into the air and landed just behind the formation.

The Jackals scattered but weren't quick enough, all five of them being blow away by the grenade's detonation. Their shields switched off as soon as they died and a corpse landed close to George. He ignored it and so continued along the room and outside into the courtyard.

The Covenant drop-ship was just taking off, its main turret firing in his direction. George easily moved out of the way of the slow moving pink-purple plasma blasts. The drop-ship took off and flew off of the open courtyard and out of view, hardly making a sound.

The courtyard was pretty much devoid of life, so George went back inside and went up the stairs to the third and highest level in the structure.

He came into a fairly open wall, small water falls coming down from the ceiling and falling against the back wall, landing in a large rectangular pool. Standing by it was an Elite in armor shaded a dark mix of purple and violet. It was obviously a more bad-ass Special Operations Elite and seemed to be in charge of the forces in and around the structure.

George raised his Plasma Rifle and opened fire. The Elite rolled out of the way and opened fire with the long, rifle-looking Covenant Carbine that had been slung over its back.
The single shot it fired connected with the Plasma Rifle in George's hands and set it flying out of them, now a useless piece of junk with a hole running through its center.

'Crap!' George exclaimed. He went to grab his Magnum revolver, but he had a feeling it would meet the same fate as his Plasma Rifle did, so he took his hand away from the weapon and tried to think of something quickly.

He suddenly remembered he still had his machete on him. Sliding it out of its holder, he held it up, making sure it glinted in the sunlight streaming through the windowless holes in the wall.

'Come get me, ugly!' George exclaimed, holding the machete up menacingly. He wasn't entirely sure on how to actually use the weapon in a fight, though. He doubted the Elite would bother fighting him hand-to-hand, anyway.

He was surprised when the Elite stood up and dropped its Carbine. Most people in the military did know how Elites had an over-inflated sense of honour, so it shouldn't have been much of a surprise when it took out a small, metallic cylindrical object and the two pronged glowing blade of an energy sword appeared from it.

George was beginning to feel uncertain about what he had just got himself into. The machete wouldn't be much of a match to the energy sword, but maybe he could take out his Magnum while the Elite was too busy trying to fight him.

'Come on ugly,' George said, 'you chicken?'

The Elite obviously didn't care much for what he said, but the alien rushed him anyway, charging with the energy sword drawn. George side-stepped out of the way but the Elite was quicker and done one, smooth back-hand movement with the sword as he went past, the sword slicing through the metal of the machete and leaving George with only half a blade.

He swore, throwing the machete away and pacing back a bit. The Elite turned around and seemed to be smiling with its mandibles, but you could never really tell.

George went to reach for his Magnum but thought against it. He needed the perfect opportunity to do it, and now obviously wasn't the right time.

The Elite came at him again and George narrowly avoided having the sword plunged through his chest, diving and rolling out of the way. As he dived, he kicked with both legs and got the Elite in the stomach, making it stumble back only briefly before it recovered.

George went sliding along the smooth floor and into the pool of water. He clambered out and got up, the Elite coming at him once more. This time, George went off to one side of its sword arm and grabbed the arm, bending it at an awkward angle and hearing a few loud snapping sounds as bones broke.

George had trained hard for most of his life, which distinguished him from other marines for being considerably stronger. This Elite was a heck of a lot stronger than he was, but George knew where most of its weak spots would be and bending an arm at an awkward angle often resulted in broken bones.

The Elite roared in pain but still managed to knock George off his feet, sending him sliding across the floor for a few meters. Recovering, he jumped back up.

'That hurt, didn't it?' George asked, hoping the Elite could understand him; otherwise there wouldn't be much point to saying anything to the alien.

The Elite's right arm hung limp now, but its left arm was still fine, as well as the rest of its body. It picked up the energy sword with its left arm and roared angrily. George didn't move an inch, although he did start to reach for his Magnum.

Before he could, the Elite started to close in, not fast like the other time but more cautious, probably because it knew what George could do to it. George kept looking into the alien's eyes, knowing that the moment he stopped looking the Elite would rush him.

This gave him the chance to un-holster his Magnum. Upon seeing this, the Elite charged at him, knocking George over and sending the weapon sliding across the floor and well out of reach.

'Shit!' George exclaimed, getting up. The Elite was already up and was advancing on George, totally ignoring its broken arm. If George's eyes were working properly, and he was sure they were, then he could see a part of a bone jutting out in a gap in the Elite's armor. Purple blood was dripping out. How the alien managed to do anything with an injury like that was beyond him.

George stepped back, trying to get as close to the revolver as possible. There was some Covenant furniture set up in the center o the room, including what appeared to be a Covenant desk. He jumped on top of it and rolled off the side, landing on his feet and turning his back on the Elite.
Where was everyone else? He could use Frank's help right about now, but the ODSTs were probably busy in some other part of the structure.

He glanced around and saw the Elite pacing towards him, pushing the desk out of the way and carelessly knocking the objects that lay on top of it onto the floor. Glass Covenant data-pads smashed into minute pieces on the smooth, intricately designed floor. George realized that information on those pads could have come in handy.

He was only a few meters from where the Magnum revolver lay, but the Elite was pacing towards him quite quickly, the energy sword in its left hand held up in a position which looked like it was ready to be swung.

The desk was still close by and George had a sudden brain-wave. The desk certainly wasn't bolted into the floor, so he grabbed it, dragged it towards him and before the Elite could react he pushed it with all his strength towards the Elite.

It slid along the floor and made contact with the Elite's legs, totally bowling the alien over. The Elite fell over the top of the desk and flat onto its chest, the fail-safes in the energy sword activating and destroying the weapon as it flew out of the alien's left hand. The desk quit moving and the Elite howled in agony, unable to move its legs at all.

'How lucky was that?' George said, casually walking over to where the Magnum revolver lay and picking it up. He checked to see if it was loaded (it was) and he strolled over to the Elite, standing in front of the alien.

Both of the Elite's legs were broken by what George could tell and it lay there, looking up at him and pushing itself up with its one good arm. It looked into George's eyes without a hint of fear. These damn aliens weren't afraid to die.

'You put up a good fight, ugly,' George said, clicking back the hammer on the revolver with one thumb, 'but you didn't bet on a bit of improvisation on my part, did you?'

George grinned. Prolonging the agony on an enemy was always better than just shooting that enemy. What was more frightening than getting shot was the fact that you were going to get shot.

He realized that he had been chewing gum all this time and so spat it out, the blob of the sticky substance landing near the Elite.

'Are you going to say anything, or can't ya speak English?' George asked. He pointed the Magnum straight at the Elite's head. The alien attempted to get up, but let out a gasp of pain when it tried to move its legs.

George was spending way too long pondering on whether to kill the alien, but he guessed if the Elite didn't like it he should keep doing it.

The Elite muttered something in its guttural, deep, warbling tongue. George tightened his grip on the Magnum's trigger.

'Aren't you going to kill me, cowardly human?' The Elite said, its deep voice sounding a bit forced due to the language.

'Oh, so you can understand me,' George said. He pulled the trigger on the Magnum and a spurt of dark purple blood splattered across his sleeve and part of his jacket. The Elite's body fell flat onto the floor.

As this happened, Frank, Allan and the ODSTs ran into the room. George looked out them, rolling his eyes at the time they had decided to arrive.

'Where were you people?' George asked, lowering the Magnum, 'I could have used some help.'

'We were busy clearing out the place,' Frank said, 'you look like you took care of yourself, though. Is that a Spec Ops Elite?'

George looked at the corpse of the Elite and then back at the others.

'It is, Lieutenant,' George said, grinning, 'and I killed him.'

'What now, sir?' Alan asked, 'are we just going to leave?'

'No,' George said, turning around and stepping over to one of the windows. He looked out at the jungle and vibrant landscape. 'This will be our base of operations. I want you guys to start setting up communications equipment and defensive measures. I want every surviving human from the Winter Sunshine to use this structure as the base of operations. I also want someone to do an autopsy on that corpse over there.'

He turned around and pointed a finger at the Special Operations Elite's corpse.

'An autopsy?' Alan asked, 'why?'

'So we can work out something that hurt the bastards,' George said, 'the more you know your enemy, the more of an advantage you have. But first, I want more personnel here. I'm calling this place "Camp Golding", because I'm the most important person here.' He laughed at his little joke, but he was sure the name would stick.

Captain Bob Turnwell stood confidently on the bridge of the Winter Sunshine, music playing and his four loyal bridge crew members sitting at their stations, working frantically to set the ship on a suitable course for the planet.

According to what Steve had told him, they would go around the planet twice at high speeds, gradually descending before they came crashing down in an area near the continent that Bob had ordered everyone to attempt to land on.

This meant they could either end up landing in water and hopefully get to one of the ships specially designed for when that happened or they landed on islands. Bob hoped that they landed on islands, since at least they would have some land to run around on and hopefully set up a camp before organizing something more permanent.

The ship was large enough to survive a crash, although he didn't know what it would feel like if you were aboard the ship. Probably be sickening, but a Captain always goes down with his ship. And if you happened to survive going down with the ship, that particular Captain was free to do as he pleased.

Bob glanced around the bridge. The red lights were still flashing from the alarms that had been set off earlier. The smell of smoke was all throughout this part of the ship, having taken hits from Covenant Seraph fighters. The ship was holding up pretty well considering the damage it had taken, which was even better for Bob and his four crewmen. No good going down with your ship if it couldn't survive going down anyway.

'We've made one orbit around the planet already, sir,' Steve said, 'our altitude is slowly decreasing and we're heading along the right course.'

'That's good, Ensign,' Bob said, 'keep it that way.'

'There's still some Covenant forces on the ship,' Malcolm said, 'but every other human apart from us that hasn't been killed has left.'

That was good. Everyone who had survived to go down to the planet had gone. No other human being apart from Bob and the four crewmen was left on the ship. That meant on the planet the human forces could make a formidable resistance to the Covenant. Bob grinned. Things were actually going right for once.

Bob began to think about home, which had been Reach for the past year and a half. He had been married, his wife living in San Francisco on Earth. God only knew what she got up to when he was away, and there was the fact that Bob may not ever see her again.

War did this to people, tearing families apart and destroying friendships. But Bob had a duty, and that duty was to fight the Covenant no matter what was happening to him. He was sure they could it one place at a time. This planet was a sure fire first place to start.

'Captain, should we eject the supply cargoes?' Ensign Turner asked, 'that way any of our guys down there might be able to salvage them.'

Bob thought about this for a moment.

'No, we'll leave them alone,' Bob said, 'once this ship is down they can send salvage teams to the crash site. It'll be easier than hoping that none of our stuff falls into the hands of the Covenant.'

'I understand, sir,' Turner said. He fiddled with some controls at his station, constantly calculating the ship's trajectory.

Bob looked out the large windows in front and could see the planet took up the lower half of the view. They were descending at an alarming rate, but he guessed that by the time they got through the atmosphere they would have lost all their engines.

'About one minute till we enter the planet's atmosphere,' Goodman said, 'putting heat shields up.'
The exterior of the windows was suddenly covered up by sheets of thick metal which extended out of the outside armor plating and covered up the windows. This was to protect them from the heat that would smother the ship once they entered the planet's atmosphere. On the Winter Sunshine every situation had been accounted for and something had been built on the ship to combat those situations. The people who made this ship were geniuses.

Bob stood waiting for the moment that the ship began to plough though the planet's atmosphere, knowing that large ships like these weren't made for that kind of thing. The ship could be ripped apart, but he had confidence in the ship and his crewmen and hopefully it wouldn't come to a ship that was falling apart.

Seconds passed, but they felt like hours, and Bob's mind began to wander. He realized that if this ship crashed, every piece of experimental technology could very well be lost forever. This was the only ship that had the experimental Slip-space drive, the only ship that carried the experimental ODST armor, the only ship that had a dual MAC cannon utilizing a new kind of power cells, the only ship in the whole UNSC that had these things.

He tried to think of other things that were only on this ship but he wasn't aware of any others. This technology could help humanity win the war, but if it was all lost on this unknown world humanity may not stand much of a chance.

His mind wandered to the Battle for Reach and the small part they had played in it. Maybe if they had stayed a while longer they could have blasted away a few more ships, but they had been pushing their luck even when they left the Space Construction Dock. The Winter Sunshine had never been ready to leave; even the Colonel had said that.
Now went humanity's last chance of survival in the war.
There was little chance they would be able to make it off the planet without getting shot at by the Covenant ships. They would have to take control of the planet, inch by inch, kilometre by kilometre.

'Ten seconds till we enter the planet's atmosphere,' Steve announced.

Bob grabbed hold of one of the handle-bars on the wall. They were there so people like him didn't fall over when this ship took damage or lurched wildly, whatever the case may be.

The ship suddenly started to shake and vibrate, the crew grabbing hold of whatever they could to steady themselves. Dull thuds could be heard throughout the ship as major systems failed and explosions occurred. This ship had never been built to enter a planet's atmosphere and come out of it in perfect condition.

'Status report?' Bob asked, letting go of the handle-bar.

'We've lost our auxiliary engines,' Steve said, 'and our main ones aren't holding up too well. We have breaches on Decks nine and twelve, but nothing too severe.'

'It won't matter much longer, though,' Bob said. He was right about that. Once they were in this planet's breathable atmosphere, a few hull breaches were nothing.

Bob looked at the main view-screen as sparks flew from nearby panels, unable to take the heat. Systems were failing throughout the ship. He remembered the discs filled with false data and so clutched them tightly after finding them in his pocket.

The image on the view-screen was a flickering scanned view of the regions they were passing over. It went by fairly quickly, but Bob could make out the solid shapes representing structures in the wired views.

Panels fell off the ceiling revealing the raw circuitry within. Sparks and smoke billowed out and wires broke, dangling from the ceiling and shooting out sparks. Bob ducked out of the way of one as a nearby panel exploded, sending shards of glass flying out across the room. He pulled some shards out when they got stuck in his uniform.

'We've lost nearly all our major systems,' Steve announced, 'auxiliary power's trying to kick in but it isn't working too well…'

'Damage report, give me the specifications,' Bob ordered, steadying himself against the side wall.

'The damage report system's damaged,' Steve replied, 'I'm not getting too much now.'

Bob stumbled across the room to the Captain's console where everything on the ship could be accessed and put up on the main view-screen if necessary. The console screen itself was broken, sparks flying out. Not much was going right as they passed through the atmospheric cover of the planet.

The main view-screen was able to give one last set of scrolling information before it flickered off. The shaking stopped and the entire interior of the bridge went silent.
Bob looked at Steve.

'Are we through?' Bob asked.

'From what this console's giving me,' Steve said, glancing at his intact console station, 'I'm pretty sure we are.'

'Do we still have power to any of the engines?' Bob asked.

'Nope,' Steve replied, 'we're drifting now. I don't know where we're going to end up landing.'

There was no familiar hum of the ship's systems working around them. It was entirely quiet; the only noises were the ones being made by the sparks flying out of most of the broken computer screens as well as the ones from the wires hanging out of the panels in the ceiling.

Bob could relax a little. He could see the others were already, but fairly soon they would end up being part of
what Bob thought could end up a fairly spectacular crash.

'Do you know how long we have till we crash?' Bob asked.
Steve looked up, taking a gulp from a bottle of water in a holder next to him.

'Maybe only a matter minutes, maybe seconds. I don't know, but I can tell you we're well over the ocean.'

'So, there's no land underneath us?' Bob asked.

'Not now,' Steve said, 'but according to the scanners and information we have, there should be some where our angle of trajectory will take us to crash.'

Bob sat against some broken consoles and took a few deep breaths. Now was the time they should be getting ready for whatever may await them outside the ship.

He got up and looked at the four young Ensigns, who did look tired after everything that had happened today but also looked willing to serve. He could tell this in their faces.

'Start getting ready,' Bob said, 'get weapons, supplies, whatever. We need to prepare ourselves for what could be out there.'

Suddenly, there was the incredibly loud noise of creaking metal followed by a massive thud which shook the ship tremendously. Bob was sent flying forwards, the four young Ensigns falling out of their seats. The main view-screen smashed and the metal plating over the windows dented and some broke away, revealing a view of what seemed to be several palm trees and white sand.

Bob didn't get much of a glimpse before the next violent lurch sent him sliding across the room, smashing against a wall and lying there momentarily dazed.

The room began to vibrate as the ship dragged along the surface from its momentum, doing it for what seemed like an eternity before it came to an abrupt halt.

Bob slowly regained his senses and climbed back onto his feet. Wires and panels hung from the ceiling and most of the computer screens in the room were smashed out, sparks flying forth from them. He found the four young Ensigns sprawled across the floor. They were all alive but Turner had received a cut to the forehead. They slowly got up and glanced around the wrecked ship.

Bob stood and looked at the group. He then looked back at the door leading into the bridge. Hopefully there wouldn't be any nasty surprises behind it, such as Covenant boarding parties from earlier.

'Okay, like I said,' Bob said, 'we need weapons, supplies and any other necessities. That means we're going to the armoury.'

Bob approached the door and found that it was locked as he had done so before, but the computer lock was broken. This meant he would need to pry the door open with something. Part of it had slipped open during the crash but only about an inch wide bit of space was between the door and the doorway.

He turned to the young Ensigns.

'Turner, give me a hand over here,' Bob said, pointing to Turner who was rubbing the cut on his forehead.

'Right, sir,' Turner said, sounding as if his deep thoughts had been abruptly broken. He stepped over and stood next to the Captain. Both of them put their fingers through the gap and pulled hard, budging the door another few centimetres before Malcolm came over and began helping as well.

Eventually the door opened enough for them to squeeze through one at a time. The corridor outside was a mess, panels from the walls all over the floor and scorch marks were all over the carpet. The corpse of a marine who had been killed earlier lay nearby.

Bob and his group started down the corridor. The interior of the ship had radically changed since the last time Bob had been out of the bridge. Everything was a total mess and somewhat dirtier, which was kind of what you would expect after a crash landing. This could be the very last time Bob would be on the ship, and despite his entire time serving as Captain of the Winter Sunshine totalled about twelve days, Bob couldn't help but feel part of him was missing already. All the experimental technology that was on board this ship could be lost forever unless someone actually made it off this planet and back to UNSC space alive.

He started down the corridor, knowing his way around the ship fairly well. The group of Ensigns followed. They would go to the armoury, pick up some weapons and rations and then leave. There could still be Covenant soldiers on the ship, and now that they had crashed on the planet there could be more on their way. A large UNSC cruiser crashing down didn't go unnoticed very easily.

'Come on,' Bob said when he noticed the group trailing behind, 'we have to get off this ship.'

They continued through more corridors before arriving in a wide hallway with a few scorch marks in the carpet. Here, a large sign on the wall pointed them in the way of the armoury.

Following the hallway, they came to a double door which entered into a medium sized room with several automatically opening cabinets. Seeing that it was the armoury, Bob inserted his pass-card into the panel by the door and unlocked it. Stepping inside, he turned to look at the group.

'Alright, only take one weapon and plenty of supplies,' Bob said, 'who knows how long we could be spending by ourselves.'

The Ensigns nodded and went about collecting military grade rations and taking an M6D pistol each. Bob took one as well as packing a backpack full of rations and a radio with some batteries. He doubted there was anyone n range, but when someone did get in range he would prefer to be able to contact them.

He looked it the group consisting of Ensigns Malcolm, Steve, Turner and Goodman. This was probably the most action they had seen before and he was surprised at how well they were holding up.

'Where to now, sir?' Goodman asked, loading a magazine into his M6D. He holstered the weapon, a small pack filled with rations slung over one shoulder.

'We find an airlock and get the hell off of this ship,' Bob said, 'I'm keen to find out what it's like outside.'

They headed back out into the corridor. It was surprisingly quiet, the only noises being a faint whistling sound as a wind blew through the corridors of the ship, coming in from a nearby hull breach.

That was when Bob heard it: the familiar footsteps of a group of Covenant soldiers, and it sounded like they were coming from around a corner up ahead.

Bob un-holstered his pistol and gestured to the others to get ready. The sounds of fighting would no doubt bring in other Covenant soldiers, but if they had to fight, they would fight. Once they were outside there was less of a chance of them being found.

Bob gestured the others back round the corner. He went as well, only peering around the wall.

From around the corner came one Major Elite followed by three ordinary Grunts. They didn't seem to know that the Captain and the young bridge crew members had ducked back behind the other corner.

The group of aliens was heading straight for them, but Bob signalled the others to keep back. The Major Elite was at the front of the group and as he walked past the corner, Bob struck him in the back of the head with the butt of his pistol. The alien hadn't activated its personal shield and so crumpled into a heap on the floor. The Grunts,
surprised, started running around and waving their arms before one actually bothered to shoot, plasma scorching the wall near Bob.

Bob and his group just cut the aliens down in a hail of pistol bullets. Bob reloaded and signalled to the others to start following him again.

They rushed down the corridor and followed it along before
turning into a narrower corridor. The corpse of an Elite lay sprawled in the corridor and two Grunts were up ahead.
Bob merely picked them off from the other end of the corridor before he and his group continued on.

If memory served Bob correctly, the entrance into a maintenance access way was meant to be nearby, leading along the side of the ship. There would be plenty of airlocks in it which had been used by maintenance crews to go outside the ship (in proper environmental gear) and fix up whatever problems may be on the ship's exterior.

The corridor went into another large hallway. Bob followed it along, the group of young Ensigns keeping close.

The maintenance access way entrance was just up ahead, but when Bob rounded the corner he almost ran into a blue armored Minor Elite which had been standing guard there.
The alien roared right in his face and Bob instinctively clubbed it in the head with his M6D pistol. The Elite's shield flared and the alien struck a retaliating blow, knocking the wind out of Bob and sending him flying two feet backwards.

The Ensigns opened fire, gunning down the Elite under the combined pistol fire. Bob got up, regaining his breath. He looked at the Ensigns and then at the Elite's corpse.

'I'll try and make sure that never happens again,' he said, approaching the metal door that lead into the maintenance access way. It opened as he approached and he stepped into a narrow metal tunnel, pipes and wires running along the side walls. The Ensigns followed and they started through the maintenance tunnel.

It got increasingly dark, so Bob took out a small flashlight and used some duct tape from his backpack to attach it to the bottom of his M6D. He switched it on and a stream of light illuminated the dark interior of the tunnel.
It winded along the side of the ship before they came to a junction where about three airlocks were on one wall. Two were open, giving a view of what appeared to be a beautiful tropical beach.

Bob stood looking at the view for what seemed like a long time. The ship had crashed right on a large tropical island. Thick green jungle started a short way from the beach. Waves were splashing up against the shore and birds flew high overhead. Thing was, there was at least a twenty meter drop from the airlock to the ground below.
Bob looked down and shook his head.

'Damn, we'll have to climb down,' he said. He opened his backpack and took out some rope he had scavenged from the armoury. It was long enough for about ten meters, but he was sure the soft sand would cushion the fall they would have to take from the last ten meters.

'We have to climb down there?' Turner asked; his eyes wide. He didn't seem too keen on doing it.

'Don't worry, this rope will go most of the way down,' Bob said, 'the sand should cushion the fall from the remaining height.'

Bob tied a strong double knot around a handle bar on the wall, making sure there was nothing wrong with the metal bar. He threw the rope out of the airlock and it dangled down the side of the ship.

He looked across the side of the ship. There were large, scorched holes blasted through the armor, created by Covenant Seraph fighters earlier. He had a feeling he wouldn't be returning to the ship anytime soon, so he took one final look around the inside of the ship before starting down the rope.

Once the Captain was at the end of the rope, he jumped down the last ten meters, landing only slightly painfully in the soft sand below.

The others followed and soon enough they were standing on the beach, looking out to sea. There were other islands in view and they seemed to have landed on the biggest one. The front of the Winter Sunshine was in the water. It had left one large trail behind it as it had dragged along, ripping up trees and flattening the lush undergrowth.

Bob took in the scene, noticing how there were chunks of armor blown away on the ship's hull. They should start heading into the jungle now, before any Covenant welcoming parties decided to arrive.

He took out the radio and placed the batteries inside. Switching it on, he began broadcasting on all frequencies but couldn't reach anyone. They were probably too far away from any other UNSC personnel to get a good signal. The planet didn't have any satellites, so they would have a limited communications range most of the time.

Bob put the radio away, making sure he took the batteries out to conserve their power. He looked at the group, who had sat themselves down on the sand. The water splashed up to only about a meter from them. It was quite a beautiful place, but when Bob looked up and saw a Covenant drop-ship moving in their direction from a fair distance away he realized it wouldn't be quite the paradise anymore in a little bit more time.

'Let's get moving,' he said. The group picked up their bags and Bob started into the tropical jungle which was about twenty meters from the shoreline. The others followed and they began pressing through the lush undergrowth. It was hot and humid, but luckily Bob and his group had packed plenty of water and supplies.

God only knew how long it would be before anyone other than the Covenant found them.

They followed a narrow sandy trail along for a few minutes before the familiar whine of a Covenant Banshee, a typical scout-craft for the aliens, could be heard. Native birds fluttered out of nearby trees in fright as the small craft flew overhead.

Bob and the group ducked into some nearby undergrowth and waited for the craft to pass overhead. Evading the Covenant was gong to be harder than Bob originally thought.

Another Banshee followed the previous one seconds after. Bob stepped out of hiding and gestured to the group to start following.

They started along the trail again, coming to the base of a short cliff. Vines hung down the cliff face and it was only about fifteen meters up, so Bob grabbed one of the vines, tested its strength by tugging on it and started climbing.

The others followed after him once Bob had safely climbed on top of the cliff. He looked around and up ahead saw what looked to be a Covenant encampment, although there were no Covenant soldiers in sight at the camp.

'Take it easy up ahead,' he told the group, 'something doesn't add up.'

They went along the small trail into the encampment. Polyhedral tents which were fairly large were scattered around a small clearing. Smaller rounded tents were in the mix as well. Bob guessed the larger ones were for the Elites while the smaller ones were for the Grunts. There was no sign of any enemies, although there could be some inside the tents themselves.

Gesturing to his group to check out the nearest polyhedral tent, Turner and Malcolm walked over to the entrance. It was a sliding door, which they pulled at. It slid open, revealing a large bed in the center and a suit of crimson Elite armor on a rack on the wall. Otherwise there was nothing else there.

'This doesn't seem right, sir,' Turner said, glancing over at the Captain, 'where did everyone go?'

Bob looked around. The only noises were the rustling of nearby bushes as a wind billowed through the clearing. Native bird species were tweeting, but otherwise it was quiet.

'We should just get going,' he said, 'I don't think it's a good idea to stay here for much longer.'

As he said this, there was movement in the undergrowth ahead. Bob raised his pistol and started towards it when a hail of plasma fire came from their front and their sides. He dived forward, landing behind a tent.

A Banshee flew overhead, a large green blast of energy coming from its front. The Fuel Rod Cannon blast landed close to Bob, detonating in a burning green explosion, sending dirt flying upwards and raining down nearby.

Bob looked behind and saw his group moving into the cover. He watched as Goodman was hit in the shoulder by a Plasma Rifle shot, a few Elites coming out of the jungle behind them.

Bob realized it had been a set-up all along. He got up and started moving for the next tent, more and more Covenant soldiers coming out of the surrounding jungle. The situation looked hopeless when a Covenant drop-ship came overhead, hovered for a moment before descending down into an open spot of the clearing.

The side doors opened and a group of Grunts and a pair of Elites jumped out. They saw Bob and opened fire.

Bob rolled behind a Covenant crate, the plasma fire dissipating on the smooth metal. He remained there for about half a minute when he noticed that the Covenant soldiers were beginning to close in on all sides.

The four young Ensigns, well three considering Goodman lay on the ground with an irreparable head-wound, weren't faring all too well. A pair of Elites were coming up behind them. Seeing this, Bob opened fire, taking down one of the Elites and making the other one take cover behind a crate.
Bob considered his options. If he surrendered, they would just shoot him anyway. If he stayed to fight, he would probably get killed anyway. He didn't have a lot of choice, so summing up his remaining courage; he stood up and began moving for the nearest tent.

Plasma fire zipped past from practically all directions. He came to the large tent and took cover behind it. As he sat crouched behind it, he didn't notice the Major Elite come up behind him and press its Plasma Rifle against his head.

'Don't move, human,' the Elite said. Bob turned around and looked the Elite in the eyes.

If the Elite wanted him dead, it would have shot him already. Maybe luck was on Bob's side, he wasn't sure. He would find out soon enough, though.

'Are you the commanding officer for the human vessel?' The Elite asked, not wavering at all while holding the weapon.

'Yes,' Bob replied, unsure of what else to say, 'why?'
The Elite raised the weapon and brought in down on Bob's head, sending him into unconsciousness before he could react to the coming blow.

Lights…

All he could see were a large amount of flying white lights amongst a back-drop of darkness. He felt he was here, but at the same time felt he wasn't here. It was strange, until the black backdrop went away revealing that of what appeared to be the interior of some sort of Covenant installation, he wasn't sure. Streams of water were coming down one of the walls and through large, built-in hole sin the floor that were over a large pool.

He saw Arna, kneeling only a few meters away. He tried to move but couldn't. It was as if his brain couldn't send the signals to the muscles.

He tried to speak but couldn't. He watched as Arna turned around. Blood was across her chest and she seemed to be dying. His felt his hearts beat faster and a significant amount of anguish. Arna was hurt and there was nothing to do…

'Please wake up,' a soothing voice called out from seemingly nowhere, 'don't die on me now. Wake up, Dras, wake up…'

The image abruptly disappeared revealing one of what Dras Amargee usually saw when he shut his eyes. He opened them and found himself looking up at a dm light in a blue-purple metallic ceiling. The beautiful face of Arna Sulfonomee was looking down at him.

Dras tried remembering how he got here but he had no memory of the events that incorporated in how he had come to this particular room. He was lying on a soft bed in what was obviously the officer's sickbay for Sangheili.

He was out of his armor and bed sheets went up to his waist before wires had been stuck onto his chest and bandages stuck on his wounds, which included the one in his chest and the other in his side. He put a hand up to his mandibles and noticed that he had lost a few teeth, although they would grow back soon enough.

'You're awake!' Arna exclaimed. She put a hand on Dras' chest, 'you almost died. I…I did all I could…'

Dras started to remember how he had received the wounds. A human, more resilient than most, had sent him in a daze onto the ground from a grenade explosion. That had been followed by finding a painful shard of hot metal shrapnel in his side before the human had stepped over and shot him in the chest. He put a hand to where he had received the wound.

'Who brought me here?' Dras asked, sitting up. Arna forced him back down gently.

'Try not to move too much,' she said, 'I'm still not sure about some of your injuries.'

She paused and looked Dras in the eyes.

'Your friend, Adros, he managed to send you back here,' she said, 'you do remember what your flagship is?'

'Yes, the Justifiable Light,' Dras said. He looked at Arna and placed a hand on her side. She seemed slightly upset.

'How close was I to dying?' Dras asked.
Arna paused. She didn't seem too keen on thinking about this matter.

'One of your hearts was damaged by the projectile,' she said, 'I managed to save it but you came close to death. As soon as you came aboard I volunteered to try and fix you up. Your hearts stopped beating twice but I managed to revive you both times.'

Dras suddenly realized what had happened only moments before. The vision he had, with Arna, had been part of some sort of near-death experience or dream. Knowing about others who had experienced the same thing, often there would be premonitions in them. If this were true, that meant Arna would die.

'Arna, I don't want you to go down to the planet,' Dras said, trying to sound as calm as he could manage, 'I sense that something may happen to you.'

Dras was sure that Arna wasn't going to go down onto the surface of the planet anyway, but he had to be sure.

'I've already volunteered to lead the medical teams in one of our more important installations,' she said, 'why do you think I'll get hurt?'

'Because I saw it,' Dras said, suddenly feeling uneasy now. He sat up. 'Don't go down there, please.' He put a hand to Arna's face. 'Just don't—'

He felt a sudden pain shoot through the injured side of his chest. He groaned and fell backwards into the bed.
A look of worry crossed Arna's face.

'Take it easy,' she said, 'just calm down. You don't want to put too much pressure on your injured heart.'
Dras lay still, keeping a hand on Arna's face. The pain subsided and he breathed heavily.

'Just listen to me,' he said, 'I saw you die, Arna. I was sure it wasn't just a dream. It meant something…it meant something would happen to you.'

'I wouldn't believe every dream I had,' Arna said, giving the equivalent of a smile with her mandibles, 'besides, I know how to look after myself. I'm adept in four of the seven sword…'

'…fighting styles,' Dras said, having heard it before, 'I know that, but this is different. I just don't want you to get hurt, Arna. You have to listen to me.'

'I'm sorry,' Arna said, 'I've volunteered and I won't step back from that position now. I have lives down on that planet to save from the humans. I saved your life. I would think you would give me more leverage because of that.'
Now she was being difficult. Dras sighed and couldn't help feel a sense of worry for her.

'Just be careful,' Dras said, 'I want you to take a sword with you when you go down there.'

'I'll take what I need,' Arna said, 'and a sword is one of them. I would have thought you would do better on the human ship, rather than almost end up dying.'

'Whereabouts are you going?' Dras asked. He had to be sure.

'An outpost near the disabled cruiser, Justifiable Light,' Arna replied, 'why?'

'No reason,' Dras said, 'I just wanted to know.'

Dras remembered the face of that one human male. How he would have liked to disembowel that particular human, but that probably wouldn't happen…for at least a while.

'I just let my guard down,' Dras said.

'You never let your guard down,' she said, leaning forward so their heads were almost touching, 'why did it happen on the human ship?'

'There was only one human,' Dras said, moving a hand along Arna's side, 'but it…I mean, he, I'm sure it was a male of the species, he wiped out most of my squad. This I don't understand. It's not meant to happen, especially because of one human.'

'Well, maybe next time you see this human, you should…'

'Kill it?' Dras said.

'Exactly,' Arna said, sounding like she wanted something from Dras. She stood back up.

'I would also be careful if you encountered that human again,' Arna said, 'if he almost killed you now, he could kill you completely next time.'

Dras sat up slowly, clutching his chest wound.

'I'll make sure that human's head is no longer on its body, if I ever encounter it again,' Dras said, 'it almost killed me and took me away from you.' He looked at Arna and gave the equivalent of a smile with his mandibles.

'I need to speak with someone, about something urgent,' Dras said, changing the subject, 'can I leave?'
Arna looked at him and seemed to run her gaze down every length of his body.

'Just take it slowly, Dras,' she said. She leaned forward and the two of them locked mandibles in a kiss, Dras reaching around her head and pulling her towards him. They stopped and Arna stood back up, seemingly pleased with herself.

'You can leave if you want,' she said, 'I have other things to do anyway. Just don't push yourself too hard until your wounds heal.'

She started for the door, which opened as she approached. She took one last look behind at Dras.

'Maybe later we can get together?' She said, 'I don't have to leave till much later today.'

'I'll find you,' Dras said. She nodded and walked out of the room. The door closed behind her.

Dras slowly climbed out of the bed, looking around the medical room. A table with surgical implements was nearby, some covered with dark purple blood. He had a feeling that was his blood. He wondered what Arna had had to do to save him. He still felt a dull, throbbing pain his chest every time that heart beat.

Dras would make sure he found that human, although the Prophets seemed to look down on personal vendettas. He wasn't dead, and he should be grateful for that, but the human that had harmed him and killed most of his squad wouldn't get off lightly.

The planet they were orbiting was an outpost world, rich with Forerunner buildings. Here the Covenant had been searching for Forerunner technology and artifacts. They were yet to find anything useful, though.

There was one artifact, however, that Dras himself had made sure t would be found. He knew from ancient texts what it did and he was the only one who knew how it worked. It would be a vital asset to him and Arna when they left.
Dras got changed into his armor, noticing that it wasn't a new suit but a cleaned and slightly damaged one, a ragged hole in one part of the breast plate. Perhaps the crew was getting a bit stingy on supplying new suits of armor.

He thought about the raid on the human ship. Most of it had been a failure. He hadn't been able to access the databanks and get the information required. There had only been light human casualties to a large amount of Covenant ones, and since the Prophet had ordered them to raid the human ship rather than just destroy it, everyone would be blaming him. Including Dras.

If the Prophet had listened to him about just destroying the human ship, maybe they wouldn't have to worry about humans on the planet now and tell mainly Sangheili families about their lost loved ones.

He scratched at the bottom of one of his mandibles while in thought. He did hope that there was information about the artifact's location by now. He was making sure only he and his most trusted friends knew about it. If the Hierarchs ever found out what he was doing, he would be executed for sure.

Dras, being the commander of this relatively small fleet, was in charge of alerting the families of Sangheili soldiers (since they were the only species that had close-knit families) about their lost loved ones. He noticed that someone had left him a data-pad on a table by the door. He picked it up and began to read through the names of the deceased soldiers.

He put the data-pad away and stepped through the door. A few Grunts walked past in the corridor outside, ignoring him. Two Jackals were on patrol down the corridor while two Minor Sangheili soldiers were standing nearby, one leaning on the wall and talking to the other. They were obviously taking a break.

Dras stepped out of the medical room and the two soldiers saw him and stood to attention. He nodded to them before signalling them to be at ease.

He knew his way around most Covenant ships, since they were all mostly built around the same design. Each kind of ship, including frigates, destroyers and cruisers had a relatively same design for each class. This made it easier to build them, though.

He wasn't sure about human ships, since the one they had raided seemed to be quite different than other ones he had encountered. Its Slip-space technology was at the same level as theirs and some of the humans he had encountered had been using different equipment than usual. He would have to find out what the status of the human ship was now.

He made his way down to the command deck where he could see Major Adros Demargee standing in his place, ordering the bridge crew around. As he approached, Adros saw him and stood to attention.

'Ship Master, you're alright!' He exclaimed, 'everyone thought you would die…'

'I didn't, Major, and that's what matters now,' Dras said. He looked around. The few Sangheili that were on the bridge didn't seem to have noticed him come in.

'What's the status on the human ship?' Dras asked, looking at the screens at the front of the deck. There didn't seem to be much on them except for boxes of information and statistics.

'It's gone down to the planet, Ship Master,' Adros said, 'we weren't able to take control of it. Soon after you were injured we pulled out most of our forces.'

Dras shook his head. This meant there would be a lot of humans down on the planet, and a planet was often a big place and would be heard to find anyone on it if you were looking for a small minority group.

Most likely the humans would group up so they could fight better. Dras looked at Adros, who didn't seem quite so worried.

'Are there troops down there looking for the humans?' Dras asked.

'Yes, but a lot of humans made it off the ship. We didn't eliminate many of them.'

'I want all our efforts concentrated on finding and destroying those humans. I want every one of them dead,' Dras ordered, 'I don't care how long it takes or how many soldiers will be needed, but we cannot let these humans escape.'

'Would you like me to signal more ships here?' Adros asked.

'Yes, but they would take too long to get here,' Dras said, 'this planet is holy and must not be defaced by the humans. We cannot simply destroy the planet, although that would make our job a lot easier.'

'I understand, Ship Master,' Adros said. Since they were both on duty, military etiquette applied and that meant they addressed each other with their ranks rather than names. He and Adros were good friends and that's why Dras had him as second-in-command.

'Major, is there any news on the artifact?' Dras asked; his voice only loud enough so Adros could hear it, 'I haven't heard much from the excavation team.'

'They're close to finding something,' Adros replied, 'if we both go down to the planet's surface we can take a look for ourselves. Are we going to go?'

'Yes, but not to the excavation site,' Dras said, 'first, I have some important business to attend to on this ship. Have you heard much from the Justifiable Light?'

The Justifiable Light was a cruiser which had gone down to the planet for repairs, having had its systems disabled during the battle on board the human ship. Dras suspected it was a human computer program or something along those lines, so now the ship sat hovering a few hundred meters off a jungle clearing.

Adros stepped over to a nearby panel and started keying in commands. Information appeared up on the screen above it, Adros reading through it. He looked back at Dras.

'I've just received some information concerning the human ship,' Adros said, 'it's crashed on a tropical island close to the continent where much of the human forces have been detected. Some of our troops there say they have captured the human commanding officer. This is according to your original order, Ship Master.'

'Where is the human prisoner now?' Dras asked.

'They're taking him over to an outpost near where the Justifiable Light is. Do you want to go over there and interrogate the human yourself?'

Dras paused for a moment. The human would talk if he was interrogating him, but Dras had a few other things planned first.

'No, not now,' Dras said, 'like I said, I have other things to do.'

He remembered what Arna had said about her going to that outpost. He would go there soon enough, when Arna left. He had to be sure she was safe.

Now Dras would go and start sending the messages to the families of fallen Sangheili. After all, being Ship Master, it was his responsibility.

Jeff couldn't remember much about the landing, except there had been a failure in the chutes as they came thundering down over the jungle landscape. Now he lay sprawled out on the grass as a few marines were standing around, checking their weapons and firing at distant targets.

He could feel a pain in his neck and his left arm as he slowly sat up. The escape pod lay half buried in the ground about ten meters in front, a few dead marines lying on the grass outside of it. Someone had obviously dragged him out of the wreck, and he was certain of this fact when he noticed a marine sitting on a rock just behind him.

'You took quite a knock to the head, sir,' the marine said, 'there's only about six of us now, the others died in the crash. Our radios went as well.'

Jeff glanced at the marine, who looked to be in his twenties and seemed exhausted. Jeff then looked down at himself to check for any injuries. Something had a cut through his left trouser leg and had made a nasty gash in his left leg. His helmet lay on the ground next to him. He realized that Windtalker was probably still on it, so he
picked it up and put it on his head.

'Finally, someone actually notices me!' Windtalker exclaimed, sounding relieved, 'I was afraid I would be stuck down there forever—'

The AI didn't finish talking, Jeff ejecting the card holding the AI out of the helmet and put it in his pocket. He didn't need that AI talking into his head every minute of the day.

The other four marines were standing at the edge of the small clearing, firing their rifles into the nearby jungle. It was dusk by the look of it and looking around, Jeff could see they were in a valley, a waterfall at the far end. Birds were flying up overhead, the entire area providing a tranquil feel.

Where the other four marines were, he managed to catch a glimpse of a blue armored Minor Elite come falling through some bushes, riffled with bullet holes. The marines stopped firing, one of them searching the dead Elite's corpse for anything worthwhile. He found nothing and the group returned to where Jeff and the other marine were.

Jeff looked at the marine who had helped him out of the escape pod, despite the fact that Jeff couldn't remember it.

'What's your name?' Jeff asked.

'I'm Private First Class Clive Jacobsen,' the marine replied, 'and you're First Class Sergeant Jeff Ganszo.'

A lot of these marines seemed to know who he was, which surprised him considering he had doubted how many people actually cared about the so-called 'heroes of the UNSC'.

'Where are we?' Jeff asked, getting up. He saw Bob Turnwell's silver pearl-handled Colt pistol lying on the ground near where he had been lying, so he picked it up, checked the magazine that was loaded into it and holstered it.

'Where on the planet's surface, about a kilometre off from the area the Captain wanted us to land on,' the Private said, 'that means we have to get out of this valley and try and contact any other humans who may be in the area. We have no radios or means of communication, so we're going to have to improvise.'

Jeff checked himself for a radio and found his where he had left it. The thing was crushed and useless, however, so he threw it on the ground and took a look around.

They would have to scale the not-so steep sides of the valley and try and find other humans who may be in the area. This would be difficult, considering some of the jungle was probably so think you could walk right past somewhere who was behind some undergrowth and wouldn't even notice them.

'We'll have to take it easy,' Jeff said. The five marines, including Private Jacobsen, had sat down on some nearby rocks and boulders and were all waiting for Jeff to give them an order. He could tell by the way they were looking at him.

Jeff summed up the situation in his mind: they had crashed
in a jungle area on an unknown planet, only being six of them against an unknown amount of enemy forces. They had no means of communication, although Jeff could probably use Windtalker for this. He was stuck with a group of inexperienced young marines and he outranked them all. They were his responsibility for now, and he had to make sure they made it safely to the majority of the human forces which may be on the planet as well.

'Okay, which direction is the specified area?' He asked, turning to the marines, 'I wouldn't know, I just woke up.'

'It's West, sir,' Jacobsen said, pointing to the nearest side of the valley, 'if we had any working radios we could contact the others, but we don't and we have to find them ourselves.'

'I know that,' Jeff said. He took a look at the corpse of the Minor Elite.

'Has any other contact with Covenant forces been made in this valley so far?' He asked.

'No, although they're probably on their way to check out the crash,' Jacobsen said.

Jeff paused. They should get moving before anymore came. It wouldn't be too hard to get out of the valley.

'Let's go, then,' Jeff said, 'get your stuff and we'll get moving.'

The marines started gathering their things, loading packs full of supplies and ammo and checking their weapons. The sides of the valley were covered in jungle as was the rest of it, and if he wasn't mistaken he could hear the sound of water rushing down a stream.

The marines grouped up behind him, their rifles lowered but they were still alert.

Jeff wondered if Jones and Heinrich were okay, but knowing Jones they would have been the first ones on an escape pod. Hopefully they weren't dead, but Jeff was confident they were alright.

It wasn't often you ended up on an unknown planet scattered with ancient ruins, alien in origin. Jeff could see a ruined structure up on the side of the valley several hundred meters down to his right. It was made out of what looked to be a grey-marble like stone and the architecture was well designed, containing mainly symmetrical shapes and design. They could go and check it out, but he wasn't sure on whether or not it would be a waste of time.

'Let's move,' he said, 'I don't think we should stay here much longer.'

As they began to move into the thick jungle, the familiar whine of a Banshee engine could be heard over the quietness of the jungle. Jeff looked up at the dusk sky and could see a pair of Banshee scout-craft coming over the valley.

The marines obviously spotted them too since they had raised their weapons and were preparing to fire once the craft came close enough.

Jeff signalled them to lower their weapons. There wouldn't be much point shooting at it if the pilots of the two craft hadn't seen them.

Jacobsen and the marines went prone onto the ground, crawling into the jungle. Jeff moved behind some undergrowth as the pair of Banshees circled overhead a few times, gradually descending until they only cleared the top of the jungle canopy by a few meters.

The two scout-craft flew right over but didn't seem to notice the humans who were hiding amongst the jungle. Jeff realized they had an advantage when it came to hiding.

Depending on the amount of Covenant forces in the area, they would have to take it slowly so they didn't alert any of the enemy. Jeff knew that the Covenant were still formidable enemies on the ground, not just in space battles.
Once the Banshees were out of sight, Jeff came out of hiding and Jacobsen and the other marines came out of their hiding places as well.

'We'll take it slow,' Jeff said, 'if anyone sees anything suspicious, just shout out, okay?'

The marines nodded and followed Jeff into the jungle, pushing through undergrowth and around the trunks of tall, possibly one hundred year old trees.

The terrain was your typical jungle terrain, with logs, sticks and leaves covering up most of the ground. Bugs scuttled into hiding as the humans treaded by. Jeff wasn't keen on finding out if the bugs could bite or not, remembering that most tropical diseases were spread by insect species. This was one of the disadvantages of being in a jungle like this one.

After about five minutes Jeff stopped the marines, having come to a small gap in the jungle which had been cleared down by something other than nature. A few tree stumps were scattered around and in the center was a large, purple-blue metallic Covenant gun platform. There didn't seem to be any Covenant aliens around, but often in the jungle, there was more than first met the eye.

'Stop here,' Jeff said quietly, putting a hand up signalling the marines to stop. He started forward, Colt pistol at the ready, as he moved out into the small clearing.

He kept low and moved quietly, heading for the gun platform. If there was an important piece of military hardware out in the middle of nowhere, the Covenant obviously had something important nearby.

Jeff came to the large gun and tried to think of what to do next. He didn't have any explosives to destroy the gun, but he could always sabotage it. He found the corresponding control panel for the gun and used the butt of his pistol to smash it out.

That's when a pair of Minor Elites came onto the clearing from the jungle to his left. He heard one of the marines shout and he turned around, saw the pair of Elites ready their Plasma Rifles and raised his pistol.

He fired the first shot, the bullet bouncing off of the personal shield of one of the Elites. The alien ignored it and opened fire, a plasma bolt hitting Jeff in the chest.

Luckily Jeff had been wearing the standard-issue armor of a UNSC marine, but since it was only smoothed over metal plating which didn't do much to absorb plasma, that part of his armor melted away. He felt heat against his skin and fell backwards, momentarily stunned.

Ignoring the pain in his chest he got back up, fired another three rounds and dived behind the mounted gun. The other marines had opened fire now, rifle rounds tearing through the jungle and making contact with the Elites. One of the Elites fell in a hail of bullets, the other taking cover behind a Covenant crate.

Jeff was at an angle to fire at the Elite, emptying a Colt magazine into the alien before it fell.

Pausing to reload, Jeff looked down at the hole burnt in the chest plating in his uniform. Most of the blast had been absorbed, leaving a smouldering, ragged hole that was hot to the touch. His skin that had been underneath was partially reddened but otherwise unharmed.

The marines rushed over. Jeff got up and looked around, making sure there were no other Covenant soldiers nearby.

'Are you alright, sir?' Private Jacobsen asked, 'you took a direct hit.'

'I was lucky,' Jeff said, 'besides, I shot the bastard first.'

Jeff had been lucky, considering without the minor armor plating he would have been killed. Too often had Jeff been 'lucky' in a firefight, but he guessed it was just who he was.

'What do we do now, sir?' Jacobsen asked.

'We're not out of the valley yet,' Jeff said. They were close to starting up the side of the valley, though. All they had to do was find a means of contacting anyone else who might be in the area.

That's when Jeff remembered the AI Windtalker, who was currently on a holding card in his pocket. That AI could probably find a way of communicating, but Jeff would do it later when there was less Covenant around.

'We better get moving,' Jeff said, shrugging off the wound he had received from the plasma bolt, 'since I doubt the Covenant slack off when it comes to hunting humans.'

Jeff didn't like the fact that he and his group were the ones being hunted by the Covenant on the jungle landscape. He preferred it the other way round.

Not Exactly Human Ch. 5: Landing
Date: 24 June 2008, 12:00 am

Note: I've already written something like twenty chapters of this. I've stopped for now and am busy working on The Last Ranger, but progress is slow. Been caught up playing Battlefield 1942 and Battlefield Vietnam.

Unknown planet, Turnwell's selected region. According to Colonel Vance's out-of-sync mission clock: 41:27.90

Colonel timothy Vance burped loudly as the escape pod shook around him and the others, fire shooting past the front window as they thundered through the planet's atmosphere. The whiskey bottle he held in one hand was almost empty, so he decided he would at least try and conserve the stuff. There probably wouldn't be much down on the planet.

There were about thirteen of them in the escape pod, including the pilot who was sitting at the front, struggling to keep the ship under control. There was an African-American man with a small, styled beard sitting behind him and another guy in a Chief Engineer's uniform sitting to his left. Everyone else was your basic bunch of rag-tag marines in battered uniforms, mostly exhausted.

Vance always had the feeling he should never have volunteered to do the inspection for the Winter Sunshine, having that distinct sense that something would happen. Well, something certainly did happen and now here he was, hurtling down to the surface of an unknown planet in a dodgy escape pod that didn't seem to be holding up too well.

He would have left Reach a day before the Covenant attack if he hadn't volunteered to do the inspection. He was a down-and-out Colonel about to retire and so High Command got him to do the dull jobs.

He had been looking forward to leaving for Earth, which wasn't as populated as it used to be thanks to interstellar travel, but those plans had been blown to shit now. It looked like he didn't have much of a choice on where to go now.

Whatever it was like down on the planet, he wouldn't be going anywhere quickly. What everyone in this escape pod deserved was a short break, and he would be the one to give him that short break, being the highest ranked person in the pod.

'Touch-down in two minutes,' the pilot said.

'Yeah, we'll probably blow apart,' the man in the Chief Engineer's uniform said, 'the pod ain't holding up very well.'

Vance rolled his eyes and then took another gulp of whiskey. He was almost finished now, and being mostly drunk was what kept him going in situations like these. He would have to rally everybody in this pod together, that is, if they survived the crash.

'I say we start getting ready, people,' Vance said, 'after all, who knows what's down there?'

The pod stopped shaking and the flames that had been shooting across the front of the pod disappeared. For a moment they were freefalling before the thrusters kicked in again and they were thundering through the clouds.

From the color of the sky through the front window, it appeared to be dusk. Vance couldn't see much from where he was sitting, though.
About thirty seconds later the thrusters stopped, letting the pod glide from the momentum created for a short time before t started to free-fall, rushing across a lush green landscape. There was a sudden lurch as the chutes activated and they slowed down, hopefully enough so the ship wouldn't blow apart when they hit the ground.

Vance looked at some of the other people in the escape pod. Most seemed fine, although the African-American guy had his eyes closed, muttering something under his breath. Vance just shook his head and went back to trying to catch a glimpse of what awaited them through the front window.

So far in the past twelve days, hardly anything had gone right. Reach was probably a smoldering ruin by now and most of the UNSC fleet was probably a wreck too. For all they knew the Covenant could be at Earth, although something told Vance that wasn't the case.

Only today had things actually gone slightly their way, since the Covenant ships hadn't fired upon their ship and instead had decided to board it. A stupid move on the Covenant's part, since they took heavy casualties and Vance knew for a fact that human casualties had been very light.

Now they would probably survive the landing but get shot at by Covenant ground troops. Vance had never liked the idea of putting his life in the 'hands' of a ship, but right now he was probably going to have to do that.

About thirty seconds after the chutes came out there was a sudden rush of dark green shapes in the front window before the entire ship lurched and bounced violently, shaking Vance in the harness holding him in his seat. He watched the pilot fall forwards, blood smearing across the front window. He could feel that the pod was now dragging along, crashing through trees and lush undergrowth before coming to a stop about twenty seconds later at the edge of a two hundred meter drop.

It took everyone about a minute to gather their senses. Vance was the first one out of his seat, taking off his harness and grabbing the box containing his shotgun, Faith, off of the wall, having strapped it to the wall earlier. He checked if there were two shells loaded into the weapon, and when he saw there was, he tucked the small box into a backpack and slipped it on.

The others were beginning to get up as well. Vance began gathering up supplies and putting them into his pack before stepping over to the door at the back of the pod.

Trying the release lever on the side, he found it was jammed. He saw the door was open about an inch from the bottom. He bent down, slipped his fingers through and pulled up the door, which came up quite easily.

Behind it was thick tropical undergrowth and tall trees, creepers winding up some of the tree trunks and strange insect species scuttling on some parts of the ground.

Vance hadn't been too many jungles so this all seemed a bit new to him. The sounds of birds singing and bugs making chirping noises filled the area. It was a beautiful looking place and Vance was the first to step out of the escape pod, followed by the African-American man and then the guy in the Chief Engineer's uniform.

He remembered that Bob had told him the name of the Winter Sunshine's Chief Engineer. It was Heinrich Rommel, so knowing this meant he didn't need to ask the guy his name. He looked at the marines as they came out of the escape pod. They all looked young and inexperienced, which was just his luck. Getting stuck with rookie marines in a hostile environment wasn't a good thing when he was concerned. He could get zapped at any moment with a rookie watching his back.

Hence the reason he decided to lead this group along. They needed a means of communication, so he snatched one of the small radios attached to the side of a marine's helmet, took it off and began fiddling with the controls.

'Hey!' The marine exclaimed, realizing what the Colonel had just done with his radio.

'Don't complain, Private,' Vance said. He found what he thought was the correct frequency and began speaking into it.

'Does anyone read this signal?' Vance said, trying to get an open signal. There was just static on the other end of the radio. He was ether out of range or no one else was around to hear him.

'Getting anything?' Heinrich asked.



'What does it look like?' Vance said, lowering the radio. He switched some of the controls so it was on a different frequency, but otherwise all he was getting was static and empty channels.

'Couldn't the Covenant lock onto that signal and find us?' The African-American man asked.

'I doubt they're listening to us, Jones,' Heinrich said.

'What do we do now, sir?' A marine asked, turning to Vance, 'we're stuck out here.'

Vance looked around. There was always that small structure in the distance they could go to. They could get a better signal if they were on top of it, although Vance wasn't too keen on risking his life for a radio signal.

'Next clearing we reach, we'll set up camp,' Vance said, 'we'll wait for them to come to us. Someone's got to set up chemical flares so they know where to find us.'

'I'll do that,' Heinrich said, taking out a bunch of dull blue plastic sticks. He twisted the ends of each of them and they began to glow a bright blue color, providing some illumination. He dropped a pair of them outside the escape pod.

Vance looked at how close they had been to falling off the cliff in the pod. The drop was about two hundred meters, the view quite breathtaking. He could see right out to the horizon from where he stood. The escape pod was only a few inches away from going over the edge, so they had been lucky.

'We must be on some sort of plateau,' Jones said, 'that would explain why we're up so high.'

'Let's move, people,' Vance said, realizing he was out of whiskey and had no other bottles, 'we're sure to find other human begins around here somewhere.'

Vance started through the undergrowth, pushing leaves and branches away as he walked on through. Jones, Heinrich and the other marines began to follow.

He had no idea where he was going, but if he led them through the jungle they would hopefully find a clearing. He suddenly felt like one of the early inter-system explorers after the introduction of Slip-space technology. They had landed on planets and had had to chart the entire thing out. They would have had no idea where they were going the first time around.

Vance just went with his gut feeling and tried to make sure he didn't turn, otherwise they may end up going around in circles. Most parts of this jungle looked the same and it would be an easy matter to get lost.

Vance glanced behind at the others. Most did look tired, but there wouldn't be any point in stopping now. There could very well be Covenant forces on their way to check out the crash and they couldn't take the chance of being discovered, since they were underpowered and would be outgunned and clearly outnumbered.

Jones was a few meters behind the Colonel and had noticed that Vance didn't seem to know what he was doing. They had no maps, no navigation equipment of any sort but the middle-aged and slightly drunken Colonel Timothy Vance seemed to insist they all follow him into the jungle. Jones was beginning to question his leadership skills.

Heinrich didn't seem to have a problem with the Colonel. Lately he hadn't seemed to have much of a problem with anything, as if he had been expecting it all along. He was walking alongside Jones to the right, AK-2534 rifle slung across his shoulder. Jones was carrying one of those rifles and an M6D pistol for back-up.

The other marines, which consisted of nine young men with weary faces, were just behind, slowly marching on through the lush jungle. Jones had never been to a jungle quite like this one before. Most of the ones on Earth were in protected areas and there hadn't been many jungles on reach, mainly North American style wilderness.

While Jones was thinking about this, he suddenly almost fell over when his foot didn't step completely onto a large log on the ground. He fell forwards but was able to prevent himself from falling by putting his hands out onto the log. He got up and continued along, the Colonel up ahead pushing away branches and leaves.

The air was filled with the sounds of bugs, frog-sounding creatures that didn't seem to be in sight and birds. Looking up, Jones could make out some sunlight through the thick canopy as it filtered through the gaps in between the leaves. It was getting to be evening now, and if he judged correctly, it was the equivalent of five thirty in the evening on a regular Earth day. Stars were coming into view, and since there were obviously no civilizations on the planet, this meant that there would be a heck of a lot of stars visible since no city lights would be there to dim them.

'Hold here!' Vance exclaimed, the sound of his voice breaking Jones' train of thought. They all stopped, Heinrich un-slinging his rifle and switching the safety off.

Vance stepped forwards to a line of undergrowth which seemed to be on the edge of a natural gap in the jungle populated by some slight undergrowth. For a few minutes Vance scanned the area out of Jones' sight. He raised his shotgun, stared down the sights and fired, the shot ringing out throughout the jungle.

For a second Jones thought the Colonel had fired at nothing in particular until there was the sound of a Grunt squealing.

There was movement to Jones' left. He turned around, raising his rifle. He wasn't quite ready for the Major Elite that jumped out of the nearby undergrowth, landing only a few feet away from him, doing a roll and ending up back on its hooves (feet if it were human).

Jones pulled the trigger but in response the weapon made a clicking noise. He tried to think of what just went wrong with the rifle when he realized he hadn't switched the safety off.

Jones reached for the little switch when the Elite jumped at him. A hail of rifle fire followed and bullets ricocheted off of the Elite's shield.

Jones was knocked over by the force of the Elite's large body slamming into him. He found himself half-winded and lying in the soft dirt on the floor of the jungle, his rifle still in one hand.
He rolled over so he was on his back and found the Elite standing over him, about to strike with a plasma rifle it held in its right hand.

On the edge of his vision, Jones watched as Heinrich stepped over and hit the Elite in the chest with the butt of his rifle. The alien's shield gave out and the Elite stumbled backwards only slightly. Jones raised his rifle an emptied half a magazine of the large, armor piercing rounds into the Elite's chest. Dark purple blood sprayed onto him, ending up on his face but he ignored it for the time being, watching as the Elite stumbled backwards as if surprised before crumpling into a heap on the ground.

Jones got up and looked around. Some of the marines were firing into the jungle off to his left at unseen enemies. He spotted some movement in the direction they were shooting, so he raised his rifle and fired.

There was a squeal as the Grunt taking cover there was perforated with the rifle rounds. Jones glanced at Heinrich, who was looking around, alert and with his rifle at the ready.

'You saved me back there, man,' Jones said, nodding over to the corpse of the Elite.

'Don't worry about it,' Heinrich said, 'no need to thank me.'

Vance, who was up ahead, turned around and waved at the rest of the group.

'I think that's the last of them,' he said, 'it was only a small patrol.'

'Maybe we should head for that structure we saw earlier,' Heinrich said, reloading his rifle.

Vance raised an eyebrow.

'To that structure? Maybe, but if we encountered Covenant here we'll encounter Covenant there. It's just a bit suicidal, that's all. I prefer to live,' Vance said, 'so that's why I'm suggesting we set up camp in the next good-looking area that has plenty of space. In the meantime I want someone working on a ways of communication.'

'I'll do that,' Heinrich said, taking out a small radio, 'I can modify this and hopefully be able to emit a signal that has a further range.'

'Then do it, Chief,' Vance said. He opened up his sawn-off shotgun and ejected the two spent shells that were inside, placing two new ones into the weapon and closing it. Why a Colonel would even bother with an antique weapon like that was beyond Jones.

Vance started to walk on through the jungle, so Jones and the others began to follow. They didn't have much of a choice really, considering the Colonel completely outranked all of them. They would have to follow his orders as long as they were with him, which could be a while judging by what was happening now.

Heinrich began fiddling with the radio he was carrying as they continued on through the jungle. Jones came up alongside him.

'Do you think the Colonel knows what he's doing?' Jones asked, 'he seems a bit…'


'Drunk?' Heinrich said, looking up from the radio, 'so what? If he gets killed we don't have someone around to tell us what to do. If he doesn't know what he's doing, it's not like it really matters? How long could we possibly be stuck out in this jungle for anyway?'

'You're right on some points,' Jones said, 'but this is a large planet. We don't even know how far we are off of the Captain's specialized area.'

'We shouldn't be that far,' Heinrich said, pulling a piece of plastic off of the radio, 'I'm pretty sure the plot knew what he was doing.'

'Yeah, that would explain why he's dead,' Jones said.
Heinrich patted him on the back.

'Look on the bright side,' Heinrich said, 'you couldn't have asked to crash on a more beautiful planet. If you thought about our situation and took out the parts about aliens that want to kill us, a possible supply shortage, low ammo and a guy who clearly doesn't know what he is doing leading us we're actually on a nice planet. I mean, as if you haven't wanted top experience a jungle before?'

'I prefer my own home to a hot, humid jungle,' Jones said, 'there's too many bugs here.'

'You don't like insects?'

'I don't like insects that are big and that bite. Everything else is fine unless they're annoying, like flies.'
Heinrich grinned, pushing through some palm fronds as they walked on.

'So, you're not an outdoors man, Jones?'

'Not really,' Jones replied. He paused. 'You seem to be enjoying yourself. Is it okay if I ask why?'



'This is possibly the most exciting thing that's happened for years in my life,' Heinrich said, 'there's plenty of Covenant aliens on this planet and it's our job to get rid of them.'

'Yeah, getting in a firefight is exciting,' Jones said, 'if you try not to think about the fact that you could get killed or maimed. Or if you ignore the fact that people around you are dying.'

'Always look on the bright side, Jones,' Heinrich said, beginning to fiddle with the circuits and wires inside his radio. He had gone into his 'concentration mode' and usually interrupting him would result in him swearing at the person who interrupted him.

They went on through the jungle, crossing some rough terrain. It was hot despite the fact it was beginning to get dark. The sun was starting to set and more stars were becoming visible in the near cloudless sky.

'Damn,' Heinrich muttered to himself.

'What's the matter?' Jones asked.

'It's just more difficult doing this than I first thought,' Heinrich said, 'especially when I'm on the move. Once we set up camp I'll get back to work on it. I need to concentrate in an easier environment.'

'Hey, Colonel,' a marine said. The Colonel stopped and turned around.

'Yes?'

'Where the hell are we going?'

Colonel Vance paused. He took a while to answer, and it was pretty much the answer Jones had been expecting.



'I don't know, son,' Vance said, 'but we'll end up somewhere. Like I said, next clearing and we'll set up camp, if that's alright with you bunch.'

'You were right about him not knowing where he was going,' Heinrich said.

Vance started walking again, the others following him. Jones noticed a whining sound which gradually increased volume. He looked up and watched as a Banshee flew overhead, blotting out streams of sunlight as it flew over.

'Shit,' Vance said, seeing it fly over, 'looks like we'll have to keep a low profile.'

'No shit,' a marine said.

'Don't get smart, marine,' Vance said, pointing an accusing finger at the young marine.

'Sorry sir,' the marine said.

Vance looked around and realized that they were making much progress. Jones noticed up ahead there was a large waterfall coming down a cliff, falling into a large, blue lake.

'How about we try and find a cave,' Jones said, 'set up camp in there.'

'Good idea,' Vance said. He stepped through some undergrowth which then led out onto the bank of the lake. Unsurprisingly there was a Minor Elite and two Grunts standing by the lake, oblivious to the presence of the humans.

Jones and Heinrich stepped over to Vance, who was summing up their options in his mind.

'There's three of them there,' he said, 'if I can get close enough, I can blast them.'

'With that antique?' Jones said, raising an eyebrow and nodding towards the Colonel's double-barreled shotgun.

'Don't underestimate Faith,' Vance said.

'I'll just plug them from here,' Heinrich said, 'we can take them out easily. We outnumber them and we can just lay down combined fire. They won't know what hit them.'

'Alright then, how about we just kill them?' Vance said, 'rather than just standing around talking.'

Jones and Heinrich crouched down and raised their rifles. The other marines started moving around to the left flank as Jones and Heinrich readied their rifles.

Vance was moving along behind the undergrowth, making sure he wasn't spotted. He took a position about ten meters behind the three aliens. He put up a hand to signal everyone else to stop as he raised his shotgun.

'Let 'em have it!' Vance shouted.

Jones and Heinrich opened fire, quickly followed by the marines. The Grunts were cut down in a hail of gunfire, the Elite rolling off to one side as it realized what was going on. Under the combined fire the Elite's shield failed and the alien was sent stumbling backwards into the lake, peppered with bullets. It fell into the water, floating up to the surface and remaining there.

Jones and Heinrich got up and walked over to Vance and the marines.

'This is a nice place,' Jones said, looking at the waterfall and the lake.


'The water's fresh, so we won't have to worry about a water shortage,' Vance said. He looked towards the waterfall. 'There better be a cave or something here, otherwise there would have been no point in coming here.'

Jones started towards the cliff-face, going along a thin set of boulders which went behind the waterfall. There was a cave here, and it went into the cliff for about fifteen meters, leaving plenty of room for him and the others. It would provide perfect protection from the Covenant patrols, which seemed to be searching the area quite thoroughly. Jones waved over at the group and they walked over.

Jones stepped into the cave and sat down against the wall. It had been a long day, and all he would need now was some rest. Vance, Heinrich and the marines came in, Vance taking one good look around the cave before he reached into his backpack and took out a folded up portable chair.

'Well, this place seems alright for now,' he said, unfolding the chair and placing it near one of the walls, 'but to make sure we're not risking ourselves being found out, there's going to be watch duty shifts. Two hours each, in pairs. Jones and Heinrich, you two are first.'

Jones raised an eyebrow. More work, he thought.

'Why me?'

'Because I said so,' Vance said, sitting down. Two of the marines set up a small portable table and a few chairs, one of them taking out a pack of playing cards. A few of the other marines sat around the table.

'Come on, Jones,' Heinrich said, 'it'll be a good opportunity for me to work on this thing.'



Jones went back outside and sat next to Heinrich on the bank of the lake. There wouldn't be much to do unless they were actually found by the Covenant.

Heinrich began fiddling with the radio again. He was good at working technology, and you would have to be if you were Chief Engineer on any ship.

Jones looked around the area and could clearly see the structure up on a hill overlooking the entire valley. It didn't seem to be populated and looked ancient, having been untouched for centuries. He wondered who could have possibly built it without leaving any other trace of themselves behind. It definitely wasn't Covenant.

'Who do you think was here before us?' Jones asked, 'like, our probe found all these structures scattered across the planet. Who do you think built them?'

Heinrich looked up from what he was doing and turned to Jones.

'Well, the Covenant certainly didn't build them,' he said, 'it would be more likely if another race of aliens did. This planet was obviously important to them, but not important enough to set up full fledged cities, otherwise we would have been able to find said cities.'

'Yeah, but what kind of aliens were they?' Jones asked, trying to get a picture in his mind, 'they were obviously intelligent, intelligent enough to build majestic looking structures like the one on that hill.' He pointed over to the large ancient structure.
Heinrich glanced at it.

'Judging by that building, they were obviously a race of aliens who liked refined, mathematical based architecture. That building is symmetrical, and I can also say it contains a lot of angles important in mathematics.'

'Really?' Jones raised an eyebrow.

'If you had done as many engineering courses as me, you would notice them too,' Heinrich said. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small pair of binoculars. He looked at the building through them for about a minute, carefully examining the building.

'There's all sorts of geometric patterns etched into some of the surfaces,' he said, putting the binoculars back into his pocket, 'these aliens were capable of everything we are, but possibly capable of things only we could imagine.'

'Are you sure?' Jones asked.

'I'm just making assumptions based on what information I have now,' he said. He paused. 'I'm curious to find out whether those aliens are still alive and on this planet.'

'Do you think they would be friendly?'

'Let's hope so,' Heinrich said, 'we're already doing pretty bad fighting the Covenant.'

Ship Master Dras Amargee stood in front of the mirror, looking at himself with thoughts running through his mind.

Not much had gone right since they followed the humans to the planet, and as a result of this they had lost many troops and Dras had almost been killed. He stood with his armor off in front of the mirror, trying to decide whether he should take off the dark blue bandages that had been put on his wounds.

He didn't know what to think of the vision he had had earlier, but he was sure it had some kind of meaning. It could possibly be a premonition of Arna's death, and he couldn't bear to think about this. He would protect her, whatever the cost.

He could still feel some pain in the wound in his chest, but whatever Arna had done to it was making it heal faster than normal.
Dras reached for the large dressing that had been put on the wound and slowly started to peel it off, feeling a stinging sensation as he did. Arna had told him earlier to change the dressings every few hours, so he would do that now and check up on how the wound was healing.

The other one in the side of his stomach which had resulted from a large piece of shrapnel getting stuck there had turned out to be only a minor wound. This one was bandaged up as well with a longer lasting, more durable dressing.

Dras had peeled off the large square blue bandage. It stunk of chemicals, having slowly released them into the wound to help heal it. He looked at the ragged hole that had been torn through his flesh in the mirror. It had healed enough so it wasn't bleeding anymore, and he could see the little incisions Arna had made to remove the projectile.

He would get back at the human that had done this. Maybe not today, but he would. He knew he would. He would make sure it happened.

Dras threw the used bandage into a nearby waste disposal chute and picked up a new one that was wrapped in a disposable clear wrapping.
He took it out, noticed that it stunk even more so with chemicals and gently placed it over the wound.

He stood for a few minutes, staring at himself in the mirror. He knew they would have to act to make sure the humans didn't survive on the planet, and every Covenant soldier on the ships and down on the planet below was under his command.

He got dressed into the leathery under-layer that went underneath his armor before he got back into his golden yellow armor. It had been custom fit for him, which was a privilege that Sangheili over the rank of squad leader received.

Making sure it was all on correctly and fit snugly, he started for the door. His quarters were large, mainly because he was the commander of the ship. There was a bed on one side while the other had tables and chairs as well as a food processing unit that prepared meals and beverages.

He was about to leave and return back to his duty aboard the command deck when an irritating beeping sound caught his attention. It was the alert panel on the wall, showing that there was an important message for him.

Pressing a button, the screen displayed the message. He was wanted in the Prophet's chambers to discuss the matters at hand. Obviously this meant the Prophet would start telling him how to do his job again. Dras shook his head and switched off the panel.

He unlocked the door in his quarters and stepped out into the corridor. A pair of Kig-Yar (Jackals) walked past, chatting in their bird-like chittering language.

Dras started for the Prophet's quarters, which were located deep within the ship for maximum protection, not too far from the command deck. Along the way a few Sangheili soldiers nodded to him as he walked past them, acknowledging their commander. He nodded back, knowing how important it was to be friendly to his own troops. They were all good soldiers; otherwise they wouldn't be on the ship.

Taking a gravity lift down to the command deck, Dras made his way to the Prophet's chambers, the entrance being a large set of double doors at the end of a large hall. A few Honor Guards stood outside, and a familiar Sangheili Major was standing nearby, leaning against a wall in a casual manner.

Dras hadn't been here too often and was grateful he wasn't, since whenever he was here it was always something about the Prophet disliking his command methods. It didn't seem to be all that different this time, but Dras wouldn't know until he was actually in the Prophet's quarters.


As he started down the hall, the Major, Adros Demargee, waved at him to come over. Dras walked over to the Major. Usually the Major wouldn't be down here unless he was wanted by the Prophet as well.

'Adros, what is it?' Dras asked.

Adros didn't seem all too happy. He nodded over to the double doors leading into the Prophet's chambers.

'I just had to speak with him,' Adros said, 'he's not too happy. He wants to speak to you, and from what he told me, he thinks you're not doing your job well enough.'

Dras just shook his head.

'Out of all of the Prophets, we get stuck with the most annoying one,' Dras said. He sighed. 'What did he say?'

'He wants me to start working harder otherwise I might be replaced,' Adros said, 'apparently there are a lot of good Majors down on the planet below…'

'What else?'

'He's annoyed by the fact that most of the humans are now on the holy planet,' Adros said, 'he's planning to have you removed from your position if you don't prove your worth.'

'I'll deal with him,' Dras said, 'is there anything else I should know?'

'A group of humans, about twelve of them I think,' Adros said, 'they've taken over one of our command posts down on the planet. They took over a set of structures that we had been using as a supply depot and refueling point for our tanks and drop-ships. A friend of yours, a Special Operations officer, he was the commander there.'

'Teras?' Dras asked, remembering how he used to know this Sangheili officer, 'he was there?'

'Apparently our scout craft discovered that a group of humans had attacked the command post and had taken control of it. There are no reported survivors from the forces stationed there. That means…'

'Teras is dead,' Dras said, finishing Adros' sentence. Teras and he had been good friends when they had been at the main War College on Sanghelios. Dras felt a pang of regret that he couldn't have done anything to help his old friend.

'Try not to annoy the Prophet too much,' Adros said, 'like I mentioned, he may try and remove you from command of this mission.'

'I understand,' Dras said.

He glanced over at the double doors. It seemed that the Prophet wouldn't be too happy. At least he knew why.

'I'll see you soon, Adros,' Dras said. The Major nodded and started out of the hall.

Dras walked over to the double doors. The pair of Sangheili Honor Guards that were standing guard there stepped in front of them, putting their pikes in a sort of arch to stop him from entering.

'You do know who I am, right?' Dras asked.

'New security measures were put in place yesterday,' one of the Honor Guards said, 'it doesn't matter what rank you are, everyone must be checked before they enter.'

Dras felt a sharp sting in his arm and looked to his right to find a medical officer had just stuck a syringe through a gap in his armor.

'What was that for?' Dras asked as the syringe came out, filled with his own blood.

'DNA testing,' one of the Honor Guards set. The medical officer stepped over to a panel in the wall and squeezed the contents of the syringe onto a small clear slide. Slipping it through a slot in the panel, information regarding what was in it started appearing on the screen. The medical officer turned around and nodded.

'Sorry for the inconvenience Ship Master,' one of the Honor Guards said, 'but your identity checks out okay. Since we know you, we won't be subjecting you to a full body search for any possible weapons.'

Dras couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief. He would have to speak with someone about these new security measures.

The Honor Guards stepped off to the sides, one of them keying a few commands into a holographic panel into the wall. The double doors slowly slid open, revealing a large, dimly lit chamber behind.

'Have a good day, Ship Master,' one of the Honor Guards said.
Dras nodded and stepped inside, the doors closing behind him. It was quite dark, the only light being from a small bench, an energy sword lying on it.

Dras waited a few seconds to see if anyone would come, and when no one did he continued further into the chamber.

He almost ended up punching a blue armored Sangheili officer in the face when he had come up behind Dras and placed a hand on his shoulder. The officer just managed a weak smile with his mandibles when he saw Dras' clenched fist.

'Sorry, sir,' the officer said. Dras recognized the officer as Rezus Armenee, an aide to the Minor Prophet aboard the ship.

'Where's the Prophet?' Dras asked.

'In his quarters, through the next door,' Rezus said, 'he's not too happy about the way you took care of the human vessel.'

'I was just following his orders,' Dras said.

'You tell that to him, then,' Rezus said. The lights came on and the door ahead opened into a slightly less large room. Sitting in the center on his floating chair was the Prophet, a frown on the alien's face.

Dras stepped into the room and the door closed behind him. The Prophet gazed at him, the alien's eyes showing some malevolence.

'Ship Master, it has come to my attention that your forces failed to eliminate the humans,' the Prophet said, leaning forward slightly. Dras didn't move, standing his ground. He couldn't let the annoying, frail alien annoy him.

'Your forces boarded the human ship,' the Prophet said, 'and failed to prevent the humans from escaping to the planet. They're probably down there now, defacing the holy Forerunner structures. All because you and your troops couldn't kill a bunch of humans.'

'Your Excellency, they were surprisingly ferocious fighters,' Dras said, 'and there were a lot of them. I myself was almost killed—'

'I am aware of what happened with you on board the human vessel,' the Prophet said, 'a single human managed to injure you and kill most of your squad. A single human. How could that happen?'

'This human, he, well…' Dras struggled to find something about the human that could help him describe it. There didn't seem to be anything special about the human.

'What about this human?' The Prophet asked, expecting Dras to have no good answer.

Dras didn't have a good answer.

'It was just a human,' Dras said, realizing it, 'a single human…'

'Which you in turn failed to kill,' the Prophet said, 'which I find strange considering your almost perfect combat record. You've won many awards and been promoted many times, but that situation on the ship…Well, I am beginning to doubt your fighting abilities…'
Dras decided he would just go along with what the Prophet said for now.

'You could have gotten all the information about the humans from their ship's computers,' the Prophet said, 'but you couldn't even do that. I am thinking of contacting High Charity and having them arrange you to be transferred…'

'Excellency, I won't let the humans escape again,' Dras said. He wanted to remain on this mission, as well as find the human that had almost killed him and also make sure that Arna was safe.

'That's not the point,' the Prophet said. The alien paused.
Just to let you know, I have ordered the crew to take this ship down to a particular installation. In this installation, the human commander is being held captive. As well as that, this ship needs minor repairs. It'll be positioned about two hundred meters over the plateau, a kilometer from the installation. The human was carrying information discs and says they contain the location of the human home-world.'

The Prophet reached into a small hatch in one arm of his hovering chair and retrieved two small, shiny round objects.

'These are what the human says contains the information,' the Prophet said, 'I am putting you in charge of making sure that other humans don't manage to rescue their commander. I also want you to take all the information off of these discs and store it onto our computers for later research.'

'So you're not going to replace me?' Dras asked, taking the discs.

'No, I'm giving you one last chance,' the Prophet said, 'and don't fail this time.'

There was a pause before the Prophet said something else.

'There's another matter: a group of humans has taken control of an important outpost used as a landing zone for scout craft and drop-ships, as well as a supply depot. I am leaving it up to you to decide whether it should be taken back or left to the humans. Let me say that leaving it to the humans will make them stronger, no doubt.'
Dras nodded. He was surprised the Prophet would even want to give him a second chance. He wasn't one to turn down this kind of thing.

'How long till we are near the installation?' Dras asked.

'Not long. I suppose you wish to interrogate the human prisoner?' The Prophet asked.

'Yes, of course I do,' Dras replied. He put the discs into a small 'pocket' in one of his armor plates and bowed his head slightly to show respect.

'I won't fail you again, Excellency,' Dras said.

'For your own good you shouldn't,' the Prophet said. The doors opened and Dras started back out.

Everything seemed to be fine now. The past failures had been almost forgotten about and now he could concentrate on what had to be done: re-take the outpost on the planet, interrogate the human prisoner and find out what was on the data discs.

Dras made his way out of the main hall and back into a corridor. He would head back to his quarters and store the discs there until later. He had other things to do.


Arriving back at his quarters, he found the door unlocked. No one else apart from Arna and Adros knew the code to get into his quarters, so he wasn't too worried about the unlocked door. He stepped inside and found Arna sitting on one of the chairs. She was in the regulation robes of an off-duty medical officer so that anyone hoo saw her knew that she was qualified in medical fields.
She looked up at Dras as he entered.

'I…I heard you were speaking to the Prophet, so I came in here to wait for you to return,' she said.

'Arna, what are you doing in here? It would seem a bit suspicious if anyone saw a medical officer in the Ship Master's quarters,' Dras said, placing the data discs on the corner desk, 'besides, you haven't been in my quarters for a while.'

Arna seemed only a little worried. Dras could sense she was happy about something and also a little shy.

'Anyone who saw us in here together would just think I'm checking on your wounds,' she said, 'besides, how are they?'

'They're fine,' Dras said, stepping closer to Arna, 'now, did you want to tell me something or is something wrong?'
Arna stood up and stepped close to Dras, putting a hand just below each shoulder.

'I'm in here because there's something important I need to tell you,' she said, 'it's private, only between us, and I thought your quarters would be the most private place.'
Dras turned around and locked the door. Turning back to her, he placed a hand on the side of her neck.

'What is it?' Dras asked.

'I…I've wanted to tell you this for a while, but I didn't now whether it was the right time or not,' she said. She paused, a long silence before she spoke again.

'Dras, I'm pregnant,' she said. She looked at him, giving the equivalent of a smile with her mandibles.

Dras didn't know what to think. He leaned forward so they were touching foreheads, one of his hands going on her abdomen.

'You are?' Dras asked, just trying to be sure.

'Yes, and it's definitely yours,' she said.

'How long has it been?' Dras said, 'I can't notice anything different about you…'

'About three months,' she said, 'I'm sorry if it's a bit of a shock…'

'Don't worry about that,' Dras said. Dras was surprised, but then he wasn't surprised at the same time as well.
Arna sat herself down on the bed. She looked up at Dras.

'I think it might be a male,' she said. Dras sat down next to her.

'Once were back on Sanghelios,' he said, touching foreheads with her again, 'we'll get a nice house and we'll raise him together, teach him everything he needs to know. I'll stop serving for the Covenant once we're back. I'll be a good father and I'm sure you'll be a loving mother.'

Dras remembered his other son that was apparently serving as a Minor on the planet below. That son was from a long gone relationship, an unwanted child in what had been a turbulent relationship. Arna knew about this and didn't seem to have much of a problem with it.

There was a short silence before Arna leaned forward and they locked their mandibles in a 'kiss'. Dras put one arm through her robes and slowly undone the knots keeping them on. Arna brought Dras down with her so they were lying on the bed. She grabbed at his armor plates and began taking them off.

He ran a hand down her beautiful, slender body. She helped him remove the leathery bodysuit that he had been wearing underneath his armor. She was at least a head shorter than him but she moved up in the bed so their heads were level. Dras moved closer, feeling the warmth of her body against his. She set the pace, putting a hand on Dras' back and pulling him forward ever closer. Dras removed his mandibles from hers and ran them across her chest, taking in her beautiful physique and feeling the warmth of her skin. One of her hands went down to his waist, pushing the lower half of his body forwards slightly. Dras moved in, feeling her twitching beneath him. She began to move with Dras, her muscles tensing and relaxing with each movement. He could feel his hearts thudding wildly in his chest as he pressed his body against hers.

Their movements had warmed the bed's mattress, Arna's breathing at a faster pace than normal. Their eyes met once more, this time Dras moved alongside her in the bed, letting her climb on top of him.

She let him in once more, trying to fight off her exhaustion. Soon they were lying side by side in the bed, Arna soon falling asleep, the only other noise being Dras' slow, easy breathing as he wrapped an arm around her.

Not Exactly Human Ch. 6: Settling
Date: 3 July 2008, 4:52 am

Jeff and the group had been trekking through jungle for a while now. All their radios weren't getting any signals and Jeff wasn't about to put Windtalker into his head again. Not yet. They would wait a while. There was bound to be some other humans around here somewhere.

He took a glance at the group walking behind him. They were all tired and weary, as well as dirty. Night was beginning to fall and he wasn't sure it would be safe to camp out in the jungle or not.

Jeff stepped atop a small boulder and was able to look through the trees and undergrowth ahead towards a small water stream. The sounds of the jungle at night were getting quite loud, with what sounded like crickets chirping and the growls of native species. No one would be able to tell from the sounds of the jungle and the sounds of any Covenant troops which may be sneaking up on them.

Jeff took his water canteen off his belt and took a few gulps of water. Despite the fact it was becoming night time, it was still quite hot and humid and he could feel himself sweating underneath the standard-issue armor plating and uniform he wore. He would be glad once they were off this planet, although that probably wouldn't be for a long time. There were Covenant ships orbiting the planet and Covenant ground forces all over it. No one would be leaving the planet anytime soon.

Besides, even if they got a ship they couldn't go straight to Earth without risking leading the Covenant there. Things weren't looking too good on the matter of leaving the planet.

Jeff put his water canteen away and started down towards the stream. The marines followed, slowly but gradually. He had to show them not everything was bleak, otherwise they would lose morale. Morale was already low after the destruction of Reach.

'Refill your water canteens in that stream,' Jeff said as they came alongside it, 'we'll take a break here. Right now we have to figure out a way of communicating with any other humans who might be nearby.'

The marines nodded, sitting down by the stream and refilling their canteens.

Jeff sat on a boulder and took off his pack. He opened it and looked through the rations he had scavenged from the crashed escape pod. There were your basic nutrition bars, some flavoured as generic fruits like strawberry and apple. They didn't taste all that good, even with flavour, but they gave you all the nutrients you needed to survive out in the field.

There were a few ready to eat meals packed in heated packaging. All you needed to do was open them, press the heat button and they would heat up. He would save those for later since he wasn't feeling too hungry.

He un-wrapped a mango flavoured nutrient bar and bit into it. It was chewy and had strange after-taste, but it would do for now. Hopefully someone had set up base camp and was storing supplies there. That was if someone had set up base camp. Otherwise there would be isolated pockets of humans that could easily be eliminated by Covenant ground forces. They would need to group together and get organized if they were to survive.

Jeff refilled both his water canteens at the stream and went over to where PFC Jacobsen and the marines were, sitting as a group along the stream. Most were too exhausted to say anything.

'Sir, whereabouts are we headed?' A marine asked, breaking the silence, 'we don't seem to be heading anywhere.'

'We're heading out of this area and hopefully will be able to find other humans,' Jeff said, 'I know it sounds a bit like I don't know what I'm doing, but neither does anybody else. We just have to survive and find any other humans.'

'I understand sir, but what makes you think there won't be more Covenant soldiers along the way we're headed?'

Jeff paused. He didn't know that, and that was what made it dangerous.

'I don't know that, and do you?'

'No, sir, I don't,' the marine replied.

'That's why we're just going to keep heading our way out of this valley and we'll try and find any other survivors from the ship, otherwise we'll just set up camp.'

With those points covered, Jeff sat down with the marines. One of them was falling asleep, head slowly dropping forwards. Jeff would leave him for now since he was feeling pretty tired himself and he could understand why that marine was falling asleep.

He summed up their options. They didn't have many and those they did have weren't all that great and organized. Once they were out of this valley Jeff would reawaken Windtalker because he had a feeling the AI could help.

A few minutes passed before Jeff got up.

'Let's get moving,' he said, 'there shouldn't be that long a walk out of the valley.'

They would be safer outside the valley since they could easily be surrounded while down in the valley, which, in essence, was just a giant 'ditch'. Ground troops could easily come down from both sides of the valley and they would be caught in the middle, making an easy turkey shoot for those ground troops.

They followed the stream along before it turned and flowed down towards one end of the valley. Once this happened, they headed off into the jungle.

Jeff wished he had some form of bladed object to cut through the thick branches and undergrowth that often got in his way, but then again he doubted there were many of those available on UNSC ships.

They pushed on through the jungle, coming close to the edge of the valley when Jeff put up a hand to signal the group to stop. They stopped, crouching low in the undergrowth as Jeff stepped forward to take a look at what caught his attention.
There was something shiny through the trees up ahead, a metallic shimmer that was an easy attention getter. He needed a closer look and so stepped through a line of undergrowth that went out onto a small deforested clearing.

The shiny thing was a Covenant gun emplacement, a plasma cannon mounted behind a bullet-proof purple metallic shield. The gun was protected on all sides, the shield acting as a sort of bunker. The Grunt standing behind the gun hadn't yet noticed Jeff yet, so using this to his advantage he went prone on the ground and started to sneak around the clearing.

He signalled to the others to follow. As they went around the clearing and out of the mounted gun's field of fire, Jeff could see a few large tent structures positioned behind it. The place seemed mostly deserted save for a few Jackals and Grunts standing around the small camp.

Either they could sneak past it or clear it out. If they cleared it out they wouldn't have to worry about anywhere sneaking up behind them later on.

Jeff once more signalled the marines to stop. He un-holstered the Turnwell Colt pistol, loaded a fresh magazine into it and crouched low, sneaking over and going behind one of the polyhedral tents that the Elites favoured.
The Jackals, who had their good eyesight and hearing, didn't seem to hear Jeff and he breathed a slight sigh of relief. He wouldn't want the entire area alerted to the presence of a small group of humans.

Jeff snuck around the side of the tent, finding the door open and the tent empty. A pair of Jackals was off to his right, their backs turned. They were both chatting in the screeching, bird-like tongue the aliens spoke. It was getting on his nerves.

He started sneaking towards them, making sure there were no other enemies in view. He would try and take care of as many as he could before the marines moved in and secured the area. He knew how exhausted everyone was and would try and make their job easier.

He came up behind the Jackal to the right of the other. He stood up, pulled the alien back, grabbing its head and twisting it at an awkward angle. There was a loud cracking sound and blew flew out of the alien's mouth.

The other Jackal turned around but before it could shout out and alert its allies nearby, Jeff hit it in the face with the butt of his pistol and then followed up with two quick kicks, breaking the alien's fragile frame easily. It fell backwards and crumpled into a heap.

Jeff looked around, letting the body of the Jackal with the broken neck drop to the ground. He could see a pair of Grunts standing on the edge of the clearing, looking out into the jungle but they obviously hadn't heard anything and so no one was alerted.

He continued past another of the tents and found a Covenant uplink crate. It was more or less a purple metallic crate with a screen and communications devices. A blue armored Minor Elite was standing near it, facing an angle so it couldn't see Jeff.

Jeff started towards it. He would have to do this right, since any wrong move and the Elite could easily get the better of him. He would take the chance that it hadn't activated its shield so he started behind it.

The Elite shifted on its spot and Jeff stopped. It didn't turn around and instead started fiddling with the controls on the uplink crate. Jeff continued forwards, coming straight behind the large alien. He grabbed its throat, pulled it back and twisted its neck. It was harder to do on the Elite than it was on the Jackal, obviously, but he managed it nonetheless and the alien fell with its head at an unnatural angle.

Jeff kicked the corpse and found a Covenant Needler weapon holstered on the alien's corpse. This alien weapon was loaded with pink crystalline shards which, when fired, homed in on the target and embedded themselves on it, detonating after a few seconds. They were deadly when clustered in large groups and Jeff could remember watching people get literally blown to pieces after several of the shards had clustered on them and detonated all at once.

Jeff made sure the weapon was loaded when he heard a shout. One of the marines was waving at him from the side of the clearing, pointing at the sky. Jeff looked up and spotted a Banshee heading along at a direct strafing run for him. Screw stealth, he thought, diving behind one of the tents.
Plasma bolts rained down upon where he had standing before the Banshee pilot turned his craft around and started to repeat the process.

By now the marines had begun firing, mowing down the Grunts closest to the mounted gun. A few Elites had come out of the tents and had begun firing at the marines who were crouched among the undergrowth.

Jeff kept his Needler in his right hand and took out his Colt pistol with his left. The Banshee was heading back and had opened up with its dual forward-firing plasma cannons. Jeff took a deep breath and stepped out from behind one of the tents, opening fire with his Colt.

The bullets glanced off the Banshee's armor, Jeff opening fire with his Needler at the same time. Most of the crystals merely bounced off the armor but some found their way onto the Elite piloting it, detonating and stunning the pilot momentarily.

Jeff rolled out of the way of the incoming Banshee. The pilot didn't have a lot of time to pull up and so smashed into one of the tents, breaking it into several pieces and destroying everything inside. There was a large explosion and a large fireball erupted out of the ruined tent, pieces of the Banshee scattering around the area.

Jeff got up and took a look at the destruction. The remains of the Banshee and the tent were smouldering and the charred corpse of an Elite in what used to be crimson armor lay amongst the wreckage.

Jeff reloaded his Needler and holstered the Turnwell Colt pistol. The marines had moved into the camp and were finishing off the last few enemies.

Once the camp was clear he and the marines grouped back together near the burning remains of the Banshee and tent. They would check if the camp was completely clear before moving on.

Jeff searched through the few remaining tents and found lying on one of the alien beds inside a small Covenant data-pad, its screen made out of a strong but thin glass-like material while the bottom of it which had all the buttons and controls was made from the usual purple-blue metal.

He pressed a few of the controls and the device came on, strange alien symbols running along the screen. He could get Windtalker to translate this; there may be something worth checking out on it.

Jeff went back outside and found the marines sitting near the burning and wrecked tent having a few drinks from their canteens.

'I think we should get going,' Jeff said, 'as soon as we're out of this valley I'll get out Windtalker and maybe he can help us with our communications problem.'

The marines slowly got back onto their feet and put away their water canteens. A few groaned at the fact they would have to stat walking again.

They started back into the jungle, trekking along when they started up the sloping ground that went out of the valley and towards more flat land.

As they moved up, Jeff could see a few Banshees flying over
the valley, looking for them. He and his group should be safe for now being under the cover of the jungle.

Moving out of the valley, they arrived in a small area that winded through open clearing and thick jungle, a large set of hills on one side. Fallen trees were scattered around and would provide decent enough cover if they ever found themselves in a gunfight.

Jeff spotted a small well covered area nearby which could serve as a temporary stop-off point for them. He pointed the group over to it and they once again ended up sitting around in this spot, some of the marines even falling asleep.

Jeff took out the AI Carrier Card and put his helmet back on. Inserting the card and feeling a slight buzz in his skull, he felt like throwing up when Windtalker's voce could be heard right inside his head.

'Please, I don't want to go on that card again,' the AI said, sounding worried, 'it'll drive me insane.'

'Probably for the better,' Jeff said.

There was a pause before Windtalker replied.

'If you don't like me, why did you still bring me back out?' Windtalker asked.

'Because I need your help,' Jeff said, somewhat reluctantly. He would be glad to give the AI to someone else once they found any other humans.

'Oh, so you've come crawling back just because you need my help,' Windtalker said, 'how sweet. What do you want?'

'Most of our communications equipment doesn't work and I was thinking, maybe you have some way of communicating?'

'Of course I do,' Windtalker said, 'and I can also translate that data-pad in your pocket.'

'How did you know about that?'

'I'm in your head, remember?' Windtalker said, 'so, do you want my help or not?'

'Sure,' Jeff said, 'just stop reading my mind.'

'Right,' Windtalker said, 'I don't suppose if it's alright if I ask one question?'

'What?'

'What's it like living in New Mombasa?'

Jeff ejected the card from his helmet and was prepared to crush it against a nearby rock when he realized that probably wouldn't be such a good idea. He shook his head and inserted the card into his helmet again.

'I really got worried then,' Windtalker said, sounding a bit too happy, 'you could have seriously damaged me. As if you would want to hurt your old pal Windtalker?'

'For one thing, we're not pals,' Jeff said, 'now just try and get a signal to anyone who could be anywhere nearby, who is human. I'm not exactly one to speak to a Covenant alien.'

'Alright, that shouldn't be too hard,' Windtalker said, 'I guess you didn't know about the advanced audio technology in your helmet, then.'

'What technology?'

'An advanced communications device is in your helmet,' Windtalker said, 'now; I can simply use this and start scanning all the frequencies for any clues of who might be on the channels. It shouldn't take too long.'

'How come the Captain didn't mention the communications device in this helmet?' Jeff asked, 'he told me everything else…'

'He must have missed a point, then,' Windtalker said, 'and now that you know, you can probably work out how to use it yourself, but knowing you, you'll probably struggle with it…'

'Could you shut up and get on with it?' Jeff said, already tired of the AI.

'It's already done,' Windtalker said, sounding once again way too happy with himself, 'say hello to Major George Golding who's on the channel.'

'Hello? Sergeant?' The Major's voice came on over his helmet's radio.

'Major?' Jeff asked, 'is that you?'

'Of course it is, son,' the Major said, 'who else could it be?' He laughed.

'I'm not sure, Major,' Jeff said, 'so, what's your status?'

'My status? My status is fine. It just so happens my group's taken control of a Covenant outpost, some old structures of some sort. It's called "Camp Golding", after yours truly.'

'So, it's what, our base of operations now?' Jeff asked.

'Of course it is,' the Major replied, 'there are already some groups of marines and personnel here. We have a few Pelicans and some Warthogs, nothing too fancy just yet. I suppose you want pick up?'

Jeff looked at the marines. There were bound to be other groups scattered nearby.

'Pick up everyone else other than me,' Jeff said, 'I'm going to look for any more survivors. I'll contact you when I'm finished.'

'By yourself? I'll send a few of my ODSTs down there to help out. I'll get a Pelican there as soon as possible to pick up the marines and drop off the ODSTs. This is Golding reporting out.'

The radio went silent and Jeff switched it off.

'We'll stay here until the Pelican arrives,' Jeff said to the marines, 'there's enough room for it to land.'

Jeff sat himself down on a nearby boulder. It was about ten minutes before the Pelican arrived, touching down nearby. About three ODSTS in the new chrome armor came out, the marines stepping into the back of the craft in their place.
The ODSTs stepped over to where Jeff was sitting and saluted.

'Corporal Patterson reporting for duty, sir!' The ODST exclaimed.

'Just drop the salute,' Jeff said, 'we're here to look for survivors, not waste time with this pointless military stuff. Now let's get moving.'

'Yes sir,' the Corporal said, the three ODSTs dropping their salutes, 'sorry sir.'

They started along through the jungle and small clearings, taking it slowly and trying to keep as low a profile as possible. Jeff was thinking whether he should of asked for a means of transport, although it would be impossible to fit any vehicle through the jungles of the area.

As they progressed through the jungle, pushing through undergrowth and branches, Windtalker abruptly broke the silence of the area with his voice.

'There's a signal,' he said, 'it's probably some survivors. It's not too far from here, but judging from how it seems dampened I would say there in a structure or underground or something.'

'Thanks,' Jeff said.

'Your welcome.'

'Now shut up,' Jeff said. The AI fell silent, obviously deterred from speaking for now.

Jeff and the squad continued through some jungle before coming to a short drop which overlooked a river. The river flowed down to the left and a stone structure was on the other side, its side etched with organized, geometrical patterns. A few columns jutted out from the roof of the structure which looked to be only the top of something larger, most of which was probably underground.

Looking around, he saw a short slope leading down to their side of the river and he directed his squad down it.
There was a flash of blue in his peripheral vision and he dived to the ground as plasma bolts flew overhead, a group of Grunts being lead by a single crimson armored Elite on the other side of the river.

Jeff raised his Needler from his prone position and opened fire, the needles homing in on some of the Grunts, sticking to them and detonating, blowing large holes in the small, stubby forms of the Grunts.

The ODSTs opened fire, cutting down the rest of the Grunts. The Elite dived into some nearby undergrowth and lay prone, firing with its Plasma Rifle at the ODST squad. Jeff saw one of the ODSTs take a hit, the regenerative armor quickly repairing itself with the ODST only suffering a minor burn.

The Needler wasn't a lot of help so Jeff put it away and took out the Turnwell Colt pistol, getting up so he was crouched and firing at the Elite, only partly visible through the undergrowth. He saw the alien's shield flare.

The Elite rolled and opened fire, Jeff returning fire while ignoring the plasma bolts that flew around him. The Elite's shield failed once Jeff had emptied the magazine and the squad opened fire, bullets ripping holes in the ground near the prone Elite before one caught it in the back of the head and it lay still.

Jeff and the squad moved down to the bank of the river, one of the familiar horse-shoe shaped purple-blue Covenant drop ships flying overhead as they came down to the river. It stopped over some trees a few hundred meters away and descended, disappearing out of sight for about half a minute amongst the jungle before it ascended and took off in an easterly direction.

This obviously meant more Covenant troops were on their way. Jeff took one final look around the area and saw an escape pod lying down the river on the other side, a thick plume of smoke coming from the engines.

'They must be in this structure,' Jeff said, pointing to the small structure across the river. It had an opening in one side which seemed to lead to a downwards ramp leading underground. According to Windtalker the nearest group of humans was in a structure close by and this was the obvious one to check out.

Jeff went to the entrance and looked inside, down the ramp which went deeper underground. It was getting dark now, night falling on this part of the planet. The ramp was surprisingly well lit, small lights embedded in the stone in the floors on each side of the gradually descending corridor.

Jeff started down it, getting one of the ODSTs to keep a tab on what was behind them as they went down.

Jeff was surprised at the intricacy of the patterns etched into the floors. They formed patterns and were well organized. Whoever had built this place had put a lot of effort into the structures they built. He was aware that there were plenty more on this planet thanks to the information the probe they sent from the Winter Sunshine earlier sent them.

Following the descending corridor, it opened up into a large room, looking much the same in design with the walls and the columns. Lights were embedded in the floors along the sides and there were a few pyramid-like formations in the center of the room.

On the far side of the room a pair of Jackals stood at the alert. Jeff directed the ODSTs around the left flank as he went around the right.

The Jackals were easily brought down into the combined fire before Jeff and the ODSTs moved through the open doorway the Jackals were standing near. They followed a hallway past a corner and into another room. Here, about five marines, one of then in a Sergeant's uniform and two men in technician uniforms were waiting.

Satisfied that they had found the missing group of humans, Jeff approached the Sergeant. The marines seemed to be on the alert, a few dead Grunts lying near the open doorway across the room.

'I'm glad somebody was actually looking for us,' the Sergeant said as Jeff approached, 'there were thirteen of us but six of us were gunned down outside. The Covenant has this area fairly well secured.'

'Do you think it's safe if we head back to way we came?' Jeff asked, 'a drop ship only came by a few minutes ago…'

'We'll head through here,' the Sergeant said, pointing over at the open doorway, 'we came in from there. I'm not sure if there are any enemies that way, but there's only one way to find out.'

The group headed out through the open doorway, following a hallway as it turned corners and started to gradually ascend before they were outside, this time on a hill surrounded by more of the structures, most of them made up of large, metallic pipes which went in and out of the ground.

Jeff looked around the area and could see the river a fair way behind, Covenant Grunts and Elites entering the structure through the entrance by the river. Looking down the hill and into the jungle below, he could see a few Grunts and Elites taking position amongst the undergrowth and trees.

'They're surrounding us,' Jeff said, 'we'll have to get the ones that come through this exit, as well as the ones at the base of the hill.'

'You want me to call back-up?' The Sergeant asked, 'all we need is a Pelican with a really big gun.'

'Do it,' Jeff said. He turned to the ODSTs.

'Plant some charges in that hallway,' Jeff said, pointing at the exit of the structure, 'make sure nothing comes out of it.'

The ODSTs nodded and went back into the structure, some unpacking C12 charges.

The marines and the Sergeant opened fire on the Grunts and few Elites that were amongst the jungle at the base of the hill. The Sergeant was talking into his radio, asking for a Pelican to get here. Hopefully none of the Covenant ground forces in the area had anything capable of taking down a Pelican.

Jeff crouched down and noticed a few Grunts moving up along the river towards them. He opened fire with his Needler, taking the Grunts down. Reloading, he watched as a Pelican drop ship came over some hills off to his left, the rocket pods located on both its wings opening fire.

Rockets whooshed through the air and zoomed down to the Covenant infantry in the jungle. Dirt, leaves and splinters of wood erupted into the air as the rockets made contact with the ground, the Covenant ground troops disappearing from view.

The Pelican began to descend at the side of the hill, the marines and two technicians clambering aboard. The three ODSTs came running out of the hallway as they were followed by a thunderous explosions, smoke shooting out through the open hallway and the ground shaking beneath Jeff's feet.

The Pelican drifted off, its engines hardly making a noise. Jeff got up and surveyed the area. The jungle in front probably had few stragglers left in it after the rocket strike, but it would be their safest bet to continue on. Jeff tapped his helmet and tried to get Windtalker's attention.

'Hello, Windtalker?' Jeff asked, 'are you still there?'

'Why wouldn't I be?' The AI replied, 'it's just that you don't seem to want me talking…'

'You don't know when to shut up for one thing,' Jeff said. He paused. 'Are you picking up any more signals from UNSC personnel around here?'

It was a few seconds before Windtalker responded, obviously checking the airwaves.

'As a matter of fact, I am,' he said, 'just follow the river upstream. That Chief Engineer guy, Rommel, he's sending out a strong signal from somewhere up the river.'

Jeff raised an eyebrow. If Rommel was there, Jones would probably be as well. That meant they were fine, although if it was just Rommel on the signal that could mean anyone with him could be dead…

He doubted that fact, though.

'Anyone else?' Jeff asked.

'No, not that I can tell,' Windtalker said, 'although there's one other thing: whoever's leading the Covenant here is doing a pretty intelligent thing.'

'Why?'

'Because he's encrypted the Covenant battle-net,' Windtalker replied, 'but since I'm such a marvel of computer technology, I've managed to hack into it and I've also managed to decrypt most of the important crap, like…'

'Like what?' Jeff asked. He wasn't too sure what the AI was getting at.

'Like the fact that the leader of the Covenant forces seems to be after you,' Windtalker said, 'there's been a description sent out throughout the battle-net letting everyone know to be on the lookout for you.'

Jeff was surprised. He was actually wanted by the Covenant. It made him feel somewhat special considering they now all seemed to be watching out for him.

'Is that true?' He asked.

'Yes, and that's not the only thing: I've managed to get into the profiles of practically all the high ranking Covenant officers, most of them being Elites, and I've discovered that there's a Prophet on board their flagship.'

'A Prophet?'

'Yeah, one of the big main guys of the Covenant,' Windtalker said, 'if we can capture this Prophet alien guy, we may be able to interrogate it and find out loads about the Covenant. As well as that, I've discovered the fate of the Captain.'

'Where is he?'

'He's being held in a Covenant outpost on a plateau about fifty kilometres eastwards,' Windtalker said, 'and the flagship, the Justifiable Light is hovering over the outpost under minor engine repairs. We have everything we could want in the one area.'

'Tell this to the Major when we get to Camp Golding,' Jeff said, 'he'll organize something.'

Jeff looked at the three ODSTs, who had been standing around waiting for him to say something. They were eager to do their job, he was sure of that.

'We'll be following the river upstream,' Jeff said, 'so just stick together as a group.'

Jeff and the ODSTs started down the hill, entering the thick jungle and moving through it so they were close to the river. The rocket attack had left large craters in the ground and the corpses of a few dead Grunts and Elites lay scattered about them.

Moving along the river and pushing through bushes and other forms of underbrush, Jeff was able to see a waterfall down the river, a large lagoon below it. It was a fair walk and he reckoned that this was the area Windtalker had mentioned.

Pushing through the jungle, they came to a small area where a few cut down trees were located. A pair of Minor Elites sat on a purple metallic bench at one end of the small cleared area, talking in their native, guttural tongue. They hadn't noticed Jeff and the three ODSTs yet, so holding up a hand to signal the ODSTs to stop, Jeff went down low and started to move around the two seated Elites.

Coming up behind them, he thought of what to do next. He would get the ODSTs to open fire on them while he fired from behind, staying low so the ODSTs wouldn't shoot him by accident.

'Fire, now!' He shouted.

The Elites barely had time to react before they were peppered with rifle rounds from the hidden ODSTs, slumping where they sat and falling silent.

Jeff got up and pushed one of the dead Elites off the bench. Switching his Needler for the dead alien's Plasma Rifle, he nodded to the ODSTs that the Elites were dead and it was safe to get up.

Continuing through the jungle, they finally came close to the waterfall and found that the humans taking shelter there were under attack by a group of Grunts and Elites scattered along the banks of the river. Rifle fire was coming from a familiar figure in a yellow and grey technician's uniform who was crouched behind some boulders on a ledge running near the waterfall. Marines were scattered across it and were laying down constant fire on the attacking Covenant soldiers.

Heinrich was the familiar figure and seemed to notice Jeff and the ODSTs arrive since he waved at Jeff before immediately resuming firing at a pair of Minor Elites on the other side of the lagoon.

Jeff directed the ODSTs to the left flank while he took the right. There were a few Grunts on the banks nearby and Jeff gunned them down with his Colt pistol before moving along the banks.

He came to the pair of Elites, both of them with their backs turned, busy firing upon the humans on the ledge. Jeff fired quickly and repeatedly into the back of one of them, bringing the alien down. The other turned around but its shield failed as it took combined rifle fire from the people on the ledge. Jeff fired a shot in the Elite's throat. It put a hand there, making a gargling sound as it fell onto its knees and then fell forwards onto the ground.

Jeff moved along the banks, taking down the last few remaining Grunts. Eventually the area was cleared of the small Covenant presence and the people in the ledge and those that had been in the cave behind the waterfall came out to greet Jeff and the ODSTs.

Jeff was glad to see that Heinrich and Jones were okay. They approached him, the slightly swaggering Colonel Timothy Vance standing a few meters behind them, leaning against a boulder and mumbling to himself.

'I didn't think anyone would find us,' Jones said, 'but Heinrich managed to conjure up some sort of powerful signal emitter or something…'

'It was just some modifications,' Heinrich said, 'I'm glad you came. I was afraid we would be stuck with the Colonel for, well…as long as we spend on this planet.'

'Did someone mention me?' The Colonel asked from where he was.

'No,' Heinrich replied, not even looking back at the Colonel. He grinned.

'So, what now?' He asked.

'I'll get a Pelican to pick us up and take us back to base camp,' Jeff said, 'apparently Major Golding and his squad have taken control of a Covenant outpost in some ancient structures. It'll be our base camp from now on.'

'Well, let's get the hell out of this jungle,' Jones said. He lowered his rifle and wiped the sweat off of his brow. He glanced up at the early evening sky and then back at Jeff.

'I'm not surprised that you're still alive,' Jones said, patting Jeff on the shoulder, 'you know how to look after yourself.'

'I just do what I usually do,' Jeff said. He wasn't exactly sure what it was that kept him alive through everything that had happened to him through his military career, but every time Jones had asked he had said the same thing.

'I just wing it,' Jeff said.

Major George Golding had set up an office where the Special Operations Elite he had killed earlier had had its desk. He was using that desk right now. It was kind of higher than the ones he was used to, but it would do.

Ever since they had started broadcasting for any other humans to get to Camp Golding marines, technicians and just plain anybody who had escaped the Winter Sunshine had been arriving, bringing with them crates of supplies, fresh water, weapons, equipment, Warthogs, a few Scorpion tanks and about three Pelicans. There was plenty of room in and around the set of structures for all the survivors. George had set up a bunk in the corner of the large open room, using some portable radiators as a heat source and a few fans as his office's 'air conditioning'. The fans were on now; set up so one was on each side of his desk and another behind where he was sitting. It was still hot despite the fact it was getting to be night time. The Captain had wanted them to all land in the one particular area, and that area had happened to be near the planet's equator.

This meant they wouldn't be getting a lot of rain but they would be getting a lot of sun and heat.

He had a stack of papers in front of him, partly because they didn't have very many data-pads and so had to use the equipment they had to make old fashioned print-outs on paper. They weren't using proper paper, either. They were using paper towels and other forms of hygienic papers since they had no proper paper.

The stack of paper towels piled on the purple-blue metal desk were concerning the amount of supplies they had. Thanks to the many mix-ups that the Winter Sunshine had gotten into back at Reach, they were now the lucky owners of over two hundred frozen dead chickens, a few chainsaws and more basic food supplies. One of those chainsaws was currently lying upon a small wooden table near George. They had obviously been for the loggers at Reach in the Pike's Creek wilderness but now they were here and George had decided to put them to good use. He had already sent a few people outside to start clearing the forest around the structures so they had a more open view of the area.

A technician walked into the room, dressed in the yellow and grey technicians uniform they all seemed to wear.

'Major, a Pelican's just landed on the balcony,' the technician said, 'there's a guy there who needs to talk to you.'

The balcony was the large outdoor courtyard which overlooked the jungle. It was big enough for most of their Pelicans to land and be refuelled and repaired and would be the base's landing strip.

'Who is it?' George asked, 'is it the Sergeant?'

'He was a Sergeant, so I suppose it's the one you're looking for,' the technician said, 'should I let him speak to you?'

'Yes, just bring the man in,' George said. The technician left and Sergeant First Class Jeff Ganszo came in, holding the prototype helmet in one hand.

'Here,'' he said, putting the helmet on the desk and sounding irritated, 'you can take care of the AI that's in that helmet. I really don't want it anymore.'

George raised an eyebrow.

'So, you made it here,' the Major said, 'I guess you found some survivors?'

'About twenty-five,' Jeff said, flicking a catch on the helmet. A small plastic card covered in circuitry popped out of a small slot in the helmet. Jeff let it fall onto the table.

'Whoever built that AI must have wanted it to be annoying,' Jeff said.

George picked up the card and slotted it into the portable AI pedestal on the desk. It was a holographic image projector to be precise and was usually used to project an AI.

'I also managed to find the Colonel,' Jeff said, 'he's outside looking through some supply crates. The guy's probably looking for alcohol.'

'What about the Captain?' George asked as the image of Windtalker, a World War Two American GI, appeared from the projector.

'That's what I wanted to talk to you about,' Jeff said, his tone lowering, 'he was aboard the Winter Sunshine when it crashed, and that ship is apparently about fifty kilometres east from here.'

'What the Sergeant is trying to say,' Windtalker said, 'is that I've found out that the Covenant has captured the Captain and murdered the other commanding staff that was with him. He's being held in an outpost about sixty kilometres north-west of here, on a plateau amongst some light forest and grassland. There's the Covenant flagship hovering over it as well, the Justifiable Light it's called. That means if we want to rescue the Captain, we'll have to do it so the entire complement of Covenant troops on the ship doesn't come down and ruin the rescue mission.'
George paused for a moment, obviously thinking about all of this.

'Is there any way to the outpost without alerting the Covenant?' He asked.

'I can play around with their signals and, if we flew a Pelican there, I could make them think it was one of their own.'

'How does in the next two hours sound?' The Major asked.

'I could do it now…'

'No need,' George said, 'we'll give everybody some rest.' He turned to Jeff. 'You'll be leading that rescue mission, Sergeant.'

'But I just got back—'

'Don't complain, son,' George said, 'you're the most able man for the job. Get some rest.'

He switched off Windtalker and put his hand into a small tray that had been placed on the desk. From it he took out a thick, hardcover book titled A Soldier's Guide to the Jungle.

'Sergeant, if we're going to be fighting in jungle and forests,' George said, 'maybe we could take a few ideas from this book here. You know about the Vietnam War, don't you?'

'Not really…'

'It was back in the twentieth century, fighting Communism in Vietnam. Wasn't a very popular war, but I've been thinking about it and I believe it's possible we could gain the upper hand on the Covenant by using the tactics employed by the Vietcong soldiers in that war. Same goes with the rebels in this book.'

'I don't think I know what you're getting at…'

'Traps and guerrilla tactics,' George said, 'we have the environment on our side. I don't think the Covenant is quite used to organizing ground engagements and they obviously don't want to toast this planet. I've gotten some of my men to start setting traps up in the jungles around the base. Trip wires with grenades, pit traps, you name it.'

'And why are you telling me this?' Jeff asked.

'Because if you're going to be going out there tonight against a large Covenant force, you may want to read up on how to set up these traps. They're in this book right here.' He slid it along the desk. Jeff picked it up and flicked through it.

'Another thing before you go,' George said. He got up and walked over to what looked to be a few objects covered in a black tarp about nine feet across. Stepping over for a closer look, he noticed that it was just the one object and seemed to be bumpy in places.

'What is it?' Jeff asked.

'Before I answer that, just answer this question,' George said, 'do you know anyone authorized in, say, surgery? Medicine even?'

'Why?'

'Because I've gotten my medic friend Private Alan to set up a bit of a chemistry set in a back room. We're going to start making homemade weapons, and I want to find something that will hurt these bastards a lot, something along the lines of gas.'

He lifted up part of the tarp and Jeff could see the empty stare of a dead Special Operations Elite, a large hole in the front of its head.

'Why are you keeping that?' Jeff asked. The Major was probably used to this kind of thing from hunting deer and other game, but keeping a dead Elite wasn't something you would usually do.

'Say, where's that Chief Engineer guy?' George asked, ignoring his question, 'if he's an engineer, he would probably know how to handle a scalpel.'

'You want an autopsy done on that thing?' Jeff asked, raising an eyebrow, 'why?'

'So we find out what they're vulnerable to,' the Major said,
putting the tarp back over the Elite's head, 'that way we have the upper hand in a fight. As well as an Elite, I've got a few dead Jackals around the back.'

'I'll talk to Heinrich,' Jeff said, 'but I don't think he's the kind of person you're looking for. Haven't we got any doctors?'

'No, we're short on medical staff,' George said, 'Alan would do it but he gets sick just looking at the hole I blasted in its head. I want to find out if there's anything they're vulnerable to. I would prefer to make nerve gas that affected them and only them, if you get my drift…'

'I understand,' Jeff said, 'why not just stick with normal nerve gas?'

'We haven't got much of the stuff and it affects us humans. I don't want to let some off and then end up killing myself with it.'

'Is that all you wanted to talk about?' Jeff asked.

'Well, this place was belonged to the Covenant,' George said, 'it acted as a supply depot. You want to see what kind of supplies they kept in here?'

George walked over to a crate near the small pool of water at the back of the room. Opening it he took out a small blue wrapped package which glinted in the light. It smelt kind of sweet.

'I have no idea what this is, but Frank assures me it tastes alright,' he said, unwrapping it and taking off a chunk of what appeared to be a thick, white looking meat. 'You want some?'

'Frank? He's here?' Jeff asked. He probably shouldn't be too surprised that Lieutenant Frank Hastings escaped from the Winter Sunshine. Despite the fact that the man was a loose cannon, he could get through a fight.

'So, do you want some?' George said, putting a piece in his mouth and chewing. 'It's chewy. Hell, it tastes like lemonade.'

He put the package back into the crate and looked at Jeff.

'The Lieutenant doesn't seem to like you much,' he said, 'apparently you knocked out all his front teeth. Must have been one hell of a punch.'

'Yeah, he was asking for it,' Jeff said, 'I'm over it, but it seems Frank isn't.'

'I don't see what's so bad about having fake teeth that are twice as strong as the ones that grow in your mouth originally. It's like having fake legs that run twice as fast as the ones you had originally. I wouldn't care too much.'

'Is this all, Major?' Jeff said, wanting to leave so he could take a nap, 'I'm feeling kind of tired.'

'Yeah, you can go Sergeant,' the Major said, 'just don't forget to tell your Chief Engineer friend about the offer to do the autopsy. I'm sure he wouldn't mind. It's not like we're cutting open a dead human, am I right?'

Not Exactly Human Ch. 7 Pt. 1: Rescue
Date: 8 July 2008, 1:07 am

Time passed since landing according to Sergeant Jeff Ganszo's Mission Clock— 2: 37: 23.90

Jeff had slept for one and a half hours, and since it had been only a short nap, he wasn't feeling any less tired than he had been before. He yawned, able to feel how sore his muscles were now that the adrenaline had stopped flowing through his system. It was always the same: he didn't feel very tired in the middle of a firefight, but he would always feel it afterwards.

He was sitting in the back of a Pelican which was on its way to a position several hundred meters from the Covenant outpost where the Captain was meant to be locked up, captured by the Covenant. In all his experience he hadn't know the Covenant to take prisoners, no matter what rank they happened to be.

The other men sitting in the back of the Pelican included Jones and Heinrich, both of them having volunteered for the mission. There were six other marines, a few Jeff hadn't seen before but most that were with them were ones he had seen on the Winter Sunshine and at Camp Golding.

A lot had happened since they had come to this planet, and that had only been two and a half hours ago. It seemed it would always be like this, considering there would always be something happening. There would always be Covenant soldiers to kill, always be a mission to complete. To Jeff, it was all getting a bit monotonous.

The Pelican's engines were hardly making a nose; the only discernible sound they seemed to be making was a faint high pitched whirr.

On Jeff's lap sat an S2 AM sniper rifle. It was a large and long black metal weapon with a large scope and a large magazine, despite the fact that it held only four 14.5mm sabot rounds inside of it. He would have to complain about the magazine size when, or more like if he got back to UNSC space. Sure, four of the high calibre rounds could kill at least four Minor Elites if you didn't miss, but he preferred his firearms to hold more than just four bullets.

He had cleaned the rifle prior to boarding the Pelican so it was in pristine condition and had very little chance of jamming. His backup weapon was the Bob Turnwell's Colt pistol which he would give back to the Captain once they found him. He still had plenty of ammunition for it since it could take M6D rounds as well, and they were common.

Loading a fresh magazine into the S2 Am sniper rifle, he pointed it at an angle towards the floor and looked through the scope, making sure everything was in good condition. The scope could zoom in up to 10x which was enough for a distant target. The more heavy duty sniper rifles he had seen could zoom up to 25x.

The scope could also be switched to night vision which would be needed in the night time conditions outside. The Pelican's bay door was open and the cold night air was billowing in. They were flying over what looked to be forest reminiscent of what was in the Pike's Creek area on Reach. Grassy plains rolled out beneath them and for some reason hardly anyone in the Pelican had said a word. Jeff could see that they were all tired, but they had to find the Captain before he disclosed any information about Earth, about anything to do with humans.

Jeff doubted the Captain would give away anything and would rather die first. This was why they had to hurry, since the Captain may end up having to bump himself off to avoid disclosing information to the Covenant.

One of the marines sitting closest to the door which went into the Pelican's cockpit, a Corporal, suddenly reached into one of his pouches and retrieved a small disc which he slipped into the small sound system in the wall nearby. A centuries old song suddenly started playing quite loudly throughout the ship and most of the passengers shifted in their seats and began talking.

'What is this crap?' A Private said, 'it sounds old. Real old.'

Jeff tried to remember where he had heard the song before. It was familiar, but at the same time it wasn't.

'Why can't ya see.../What'cha doin' to me? / When you don't believe a word I say…'

'Haven't you heard of the King of rock and roll?' The Corporal replied. He had a typical southern American accent. Jeff had noticed a lot of the higher ranking officers from the Winter Sunshine did seem to have accents like these.

'Who?' The Private asked.

'Elvis Presley, big in his time and still was popular years after he died,' the Corporal said, 'besides, everything was so quiet in here I was beginning to think everybody had died or something.'
Jones, who was sitting on Jeff's left, turned to him.

'You know, the only reason I volunteered for this was because you were leading the mission and, being such a good friend, thought I should stick with you,' he said, 'but now I feel kind of exhausted, you know.'

'I know how you feel,' Jeff said, 'but we have to keep going. No use just sitting around and doing nothing. The Covenant could whack us at any second.'

'Well, I guess saving the Captain is important,' Jones said, 'I find it hard to believe he let himself get captured.'

'I doubt he had much of a choice,' Jeff said. He paused. 'So, you ended up stuck with the Colonel on the same escape pod?'

'Yeah, that's right,' Jones said, 'although, despite what people say he's not a bad guy. He just likes his shotgun too much and drinks too much. He's going to have trouble getting drunk since most of our alcohol is still on board the ship.'

'I used to know him, from my short time in the ODSTs,' Jeff said, 'but he's changed. The one major mission I did during my ODST time was botched so badly it resulted in the deaths of everyone other than me. I ended up wounded and stuck on a small forest moon under control of the Covenant for a week. I was lucky…'

'You don't have to talk about this,' Jones said, his grin fading, 'I know about most of it anyway. How about we just get…well, focused, I suppose, on what we're going to have to do tonight.'

Jeff nodded, although he had gotten over what had happened during that mission eighteen years ago. Now things were different.

'ETA till touchdown fifteen minutes,' the pilot announced from the cockpit.

They had the element of surprise for now, mostly thanks to Windtalker being able to hack the Covenant battle-net and cover their Pelican's tracks to make it look like a Covenant drop-ship. Hopefully that would enable to get them close to the Covenant base before they get found out.

Jeff had listened to what the Major had said earlier and had read up on how to set up the more simpler of the booby traps described in the Major's copy of A Soldier's Guide to the Jungle. They would all be nasty surprises for any Covenant soldier unfortunate enough to fall into one, or walk into it depending on what kind of trap it was.
He took a glance out the back of the Pelican and could see a few distant lights, most likely Covenant patrols and encampments. The Pelican was slowing down now, closing in on their landing zone.

According to what the Major had told him before they had left, a few scouts had been sent out to this area to see what it was like. None had returned for obvious reasons and it was their secondary objective to find any of the missing scouts. The area had been nicknamed 'Hell's Passage' due to the unpredictable terrain and the Covenant presence there.

In the distance Jeff could make out the Covenant cruiser the Justifiable Light. Small blue pinpoints of light were on its sides and a blue shaft of energy came from the center of its base, obviously the ship's gravity lift. The Covenant base was a few hundred meters from the base of the ship, part of it visible among the rocky outcrops. There were plenty of Covenant vehicles parked outside of it but the forest was too thick for the vehicles to be used effectively.

The Pelican flew over some sets of large, jagged rocks and was starting to fly away from the Covenant base and the ship to a designated landing zone in a small clearing surrounded by jagged rocks.

'Only a few minutes now folks,' the pilot announced.

Heinrich, who was sitting across from Jeff, loaded a fresh magazine into his AK rifle and looked up at Jeff.

'So, since we don't really know each other,' Heinrich said, 'I suppose we should start asking each other questions so we get to know each other better. If we're going to be together for as long as we're on this planet, we should know about each other well enough.'

'Go ahead,' Jeff said, 'I'm always willing to make new friends.'

'Right, for starters, why did you join up?' Heinrich asked, 'I joined up because my father had been an engineer before he went missing in action when I was about twenty. I'm thirty-seven now, if you're wondering.'

'Missing in action?'

'He was assigned to a destroyer and he and some marines had to go and attempt to liberate a command post on a nearby planet from the Covenant. Some members of the squad returned but they don't report of seeing him get killed, so he's "missing in action". What about your parents?'

Jeff thought for a moment. He hadn't seen them for a long time, and there was only his father left anyway.

'I only have my father, who lives down in New Mombasa,' Jeff replied, 'my mother died when I was young, young enough not to remember her very well. My dad raised me by himself. He owns a hydroponics dome outside the city. It's good business, fresh fruit and vegetables for a city like that which is pretty much in the middle of the desert.'

Heinrich nodded, taking all this in.

'So, you live in Kenya, since Mombasa is in Kenya, right?' The Corporal said, obviously having been listening to the conversation, 'at least, I'm sure it is…'

'It isn't Kenya anymore, it's the East African Protectorate,' Jeff said, 'since Kenya, Tanzania, Somalia, Uganda, Malawi and Mozambique formed into one large country in 2527. You should work on your geography.'

'What's the capital?' Jones asked.

'I have no idea,' Jeff replied.

'We're coming down now folks,' the pilot announced, 'get ready to disembark.'

Jeff's train of thought broke, now concentrating on the mission at hand. He picked up his sniper rifle as the Pelican descended into a small clearing surrounded by jagged rocks, natural passages in between some of them.

The Pelican hovered about half a meter off of the ground, the marines nearest the bay door jumping out onto soft grass. Heinrich went out, followed by Jeff, Jones and the remaining marines including the Corporal.

Jeff's radio hissed and the voice of the Pelican pilot came on.

'Once you have the Captain, you just radio in and I'll pick you guys up,' the pilot said, the Pelican ascending and flying out of view.
Jeff took in the area around them. All they had to do was move through the naturally made passages and into the forest, eliminating any Covenant threats they encountered and hopefully not alerting the area's entire Covenant force.

The marines spread out, Jones stepping over to one of the narrow passages winding through the jagged rocks. He took a look down the passage and turned around.

'This way's clear,' he said, 'and according to our intelligence, it leads out onto some grassland.'

'That means there's not much cover,' the Corporal, Jackson, said.

'There's forest as well,' Jones replied, 'we're not going to be too exposed. I don't think there are a lot of aliens this far out anyway.'

'Alright, we'll stick together as a group making sure there is always someone watching our backs. PFC Roberts, you're on our tail,' Jeff ordered, pointing at one of the marines, 'make sure nothing sneaks up on us.'

'Right sir,' the PFC replied, stepping into position behind the main group.

'The base is about a kilometre away through some tricky terrain, as well as some forest and grassland,' Jeff said, 'and we don't want to make it too obvious that we're here. We'll eliminate any Covenant patrols we encounter and sabotage and disable any mounted guns we come across, but we don't want any of the bastards running off to sound the alarm, which means we want every Grunt and Jackal eliminated. I doubt the Elites would run off. If I say or signal you guys to stop, you guys stop. Is that understood?'

'Yes sir,' a few of the marines replied. Others just nodded and Jones just looked at him and grinned.

'What's so funny?' Jeff asked him.

'It's just it's been a while since I've been put under your command,'
he said, still grinning, 'and for some reason, the way you tell people what to do is kind of funny.'

'How about we just get on with rescuing the Captain?' Jeff said, shaking his head.

One of the marines stepped over to him. Jeff watched him approach, unsure of what the marine had to say.

'Sir, I have a question,' the marine asked.

'Fire away,' Jeff said.

'How are we meant to be stealthy and whatever if we have weapons that make really, really loud noises?' The marine asked.

Jeff paused for a moment. That was a good point, but they really couldn't do much about it.

'The brass doesn't issue the lowly Navy and Marine Corps with silencers. That's Special Ops stuff,' Jeff answered, 'if you wanted a quieter weapon, I suggest next time you bring your own silencer.'
The marine nodded before he stepped back over to where he had been standing before.

Making sure everyone was ready to go, he walked over to where Jones was standing and looked down the narrow natural passage which winded through the rocks.

'I suppose this is the most obvious way to go,' Jeff said. He cleared his throat.

'Okay, we're moving on!' He shouted, 'let's go! Just try and keep quiet. We don't want any curious Covenant soldiers finding their way to us.'

The others readied their gear as Jeff started through the narrow, rough passage. Rocks and sand crunched under his feet and he was beginning to think that any nearby Covenant patrols could hear that.

The path twisted and turned through the rocks until it eventually came to a stop and they were forced to climb over the large rocks before finally coming to an open clearing walled in by rocks with a few scattered trees and some undergrowth. At the end of it, near a natural pass which lead out of the clearing, was a Covenant Shade, a large mounted gun which hovered slightly over a small platform when activated and hence gave it a three hundred and sixty degree angle of fire.
Putting a hand up so the others following would stop, Jeff un-slung his sniper rifle from his shoulder and crouched amongst the long grass. The marines did the same and Jones and Heinrich stepped just behind Jeff.

'What is it?' Heinrich asked.

'There's a mounted gun there,' Jeff said, 'I can also make out a Grunt sitting at its controls.'

He zoomed in with his sniper rifle's scope and switched on the night-vision function.

Standing near the shade, casually walking along was a Minor Elite. He was able to get a good look at it through his scope. As well as the Elite there were two Grunts asleep on the ground nearby, curled up with their heads resting on their arms.

He directed half of the marines along the right flank amongst some trees and undergrowth which went around to the Covenant position at the end of the clearing.

Jeff switched on his radio.

'Don't fire until they return fire,' Jeff said, 'that way we can catch them off guard.'

Getting positive responses from the marines on the right flank, Jeff took a deep breath and steadied his aim with the rifle. Years of training and natural ability took over as he caught the Elite in between the crosshairs of the rifle's scope.

There wasn't very much wind in the area and the target was only a hundred or so meters away, so this should be an easy kill. The Elite didn't know it, but pretty soon it would be suffering from a massive head injury.

He tightened his grip on the trigger, made sure his aim was steady and squeezed. The rifle bucked backwards slightly, a white smoking contrail tracing its away across the darkened night-time landscape. The bullet entered through the side of the Elite's head, blowing a chunk of it clean off. Purple blood and bits of brain followed the shot and the alien's corpse crumpled to the ground.

The sleeping Grunts awoke with a start, and totally surprised at the fact that their squad leader now lay dead, started to run around waving their arms wildly and shouting in their high pitched voices.

The Grunt in the turret swung it in Jeff's direction. It opened fire; light purple blasts in neat looking triangles of three flew across the canyon, a few flying over Jeff's head. The marines on the right flank opened fire, peppering the Grunt in the Shade with rifle rounds, silencing the mounted gun.

Jeff, Jones and Heinrich as well as the remaining marines moved up the clearing, the marines on the right flank coming out of hiding and moving down to the natural passage which lead out of the clearing.

A few Covenant made lights were on the ground, providing some illumination to the otherwise dark area. Looking up at the night sky, Jeff could see plenty of stars as well as a few of the planet's moons. It all seemed so tranquil, despite the fact the planet was under Covenant control in most parts.

Jeff noticed some movement up the passage and a pair of Elites, one in blue armor, the other in red as well as some Jackals came into view, opening fire with their plasma weapons.

Jeff rolled behind a boulder, loading a fresh magazine into his S2 AM. He leaned around the boulder and fired at the first Elite that came into view, the crimson armored Major. He fired, the alien's shield ailing as soon as the bullet impacted. The Elite stumbled back, groaning as purple blood sprayed out of its new chest wound.

Jeff fired again before the Elite had a chance to recover, the shot getting it in the head. The Elite fell backwards and slumped against a boulder.

Jones and Heinrich had brought down a few of the Jackals with combined rifle fire while the marines were all firing at the other Elite, who had taken cover behind a boulder and was probably waiting for its personal shield to recharge.

Jeff ran over to the boulder, stepped around it and managed to catch the Elite off guard, pressing his rifle into its side and firing. Dark purple blood spurted out of the wound and covered his rifle, the Elite howling in pain as it fell, most probably dead. Jeff kicked it in the head just to be sure and when it didn't respond he continued a little way down the passage.

The others followed. For Jeff it had been a while since he had done this kind of thing, a proper mission. Sure, he had killed plenty of aliens before but that had been quite some time ago. Maybe he should start collecting trophies, he thought, starting with the helmets of Elites.

He went back to the two dead Elites and managed to slide off each of their helmets, clipping them onto his pack. This would be a nice start to a probably good collection, if he ever made it back to Earth. He remembered the golden armored Elite he had shot back on board the Winter Sunshine. That Elite's helmet would have looked nice on his mantelpiece back at his place on Reach. He remembered that his place on Reach probably wasn't there anymore. That meant he would have to start thinking about where he should purchase a new home. Once again this involved the fact that he would have to get back to Earth alive.

He made sure everyone else was following as he walked along and through the passage. It took them out into a larger area, tall trees and undergrowth taking up most of the space here.

Jeff crouched so he wasn't much higher than the undergrowth. The others did the same as they slowly began to make their way through the forest.

Jeff, leading the group, noticed a Minor Elite and a few Grunts were on patrol, walking around in a repetitive pattern. Using his watch to time how long it was before they came back into view, he told the others to hold their position while he went ahead to plant a trap.
He didn't have much trap worthy equipment on him, so he took out a fragmentation grenade and a length of wire, moving over to a set of trees the Covenant patrol went past. Picking up a small stick, he tied the grenade to it and stuck it into the dirt so it was only just visible. Hopefully the patrol wouldn't notice, though.

He attached the length of wire to the pin and pulled it so it was just on the verge of arming the grenade. He tied the wire to another stick he stuck into the ground, making sure it ran across the small length of space the patrol went through. The Elite, leading the small patrol, would hopefully be the first to step through it.

Jeff went back to the group, checking his watch. There was only about half a minute before the patrol returned, if they kept to the same way.

He wasn't let down when the group came back into view, the Elite looking kind of bored as he strolled in typical Elite fashion at the front of a trio of Grunts, who seemed a bit bored as well. Patrols were never much fun if nothing was happening, Jeff knew that. Being in the Marine Corps you would have to do patrols, no matter where you were.

'What are we waiting for?' Heinrich asked, 'we don't we just blast them?'

'I want to see what happens,' Jeff replied.

'What? What's going to happen?'

'I put a little surprise for them amongst the trees,' Jeff said.

The Elite stopped and looked around. He was only about half a meter from the trip wire and maybe he had heard Jeff and Heinrich's voices.

Satisfied that there was no one else around the Elite continued, stepping right on top of the trip wire. There was a click and suddenly the Elite disappeared amongst a shower of dirt and flame as the grenade detonated, shaking this part of the forest. A few disembodied limbs flew out of the explosion and a scorched Elite helmet landed in the bushes near where Jeff and the others were hiding.

Jeff went over and picked it up, putting it with the others. The Grunts that had been with the Elite started running around now that their squad leader was dead. They were cut down in rifle fire from the marines.

Continuing through the forest, they began to notice that tree stumps from cut down trees were getting more and more frequent. They were obviously nearing some sort of Covenant camp since they weren't close to the Covenant base just yet.

Jeff made sure no one was missing from the squad, glancing behind him at the squad members. They were all looking their normal selves, not exactly exhausted but not exactly energetic. Heinrich was near Jeff.

'What is it?' He asked, seeing that Jeff was looking at them.

'I like to keep tabs on my squad members,' Jeff replied, 'by the way, do you know how far till we actually get to the Covenant base?'

'It could still be a kilometre away since we've only been encountering small Covenant patrols,' Heinrich said, 'or I could be wrong. It shouldn't be hard to spot the base anyway. It's most likely to be partly underground.'

'Yeah, that would be the obvious way to build a base in the jungle,' Jeff said.

They encountered a few more patrols which were dealt with the same as the previous ones, eventually coming to a cleared area where a few Covenant Shades were positioned. A few Elites were on patrol, Grunts manning the Shades as well as some Jackals that were wandering around.

Jeff noticed that there was a ledge which ran up alongside the clearing and overlooked the Covenant encampment. He signalled the squad to stop.

'I'm going up onto that ledge over there,' he said, pointing over to the ledge, 'you guys spread out throughout the bushes. Once they return fire, if they return fire, you guys open up on them. I'm going to take as many down as I can from the ledge.'

'Just you and that rifle?' The Corporal asked, 'once you kill one of them they'll all be shooting at you. You'll probably get killed before we have a chance to suppress their positions.'

Jeff raised an eyebrow.

'I know exactly what I'm doing,' Jeff said, 'and it's a heck of a lot better than a full frontal assault. There's a lot of aliens there I'm just itching to kill.'

'Don't worry about a thing, Corporal,' Jones said, sliding the bolt back on his AK rifle, 'of all the people here, Jeff is probably the one who knows exactly how to get the job done in the most efficient way. You just follow your orders, okay?'

The Corporal nodded and he and a few other marines disappeared through some bushes, getting into position. Jeff started up onto the ledge, moving along and using the shadows as cover. There wasn't much light where he was and so he shouldn't be very easy to shoot if the Covenant soldiers fired at him.

He crouched near a boulder and loaded a fresh clip into his sniper rifle. He raised the rifle, looked through the scope and counted the amount of enemies. Three Elites, two Minors while the other was a Major. There were three Jackals and three Grunts, a Grunt in each of the shades. He would take out the mounted guns first since they could easily cut him to pieces if they all decided to fire on his position.

Taking a breath to steady his aim he got the first Grunt in his sights which was in the nearest Shade. He fired, the Grunt slumping in the gunner's seat. He quickly brought the next Grunt in his sights, gunning that one down and the next, all before the enemy could react.

At first they didn't seem to notice where he was and were looking around, unable to see him. He fired again, a Minor Elite copping the shot in the middle of its chest. It stumbled backwards before it fell, trying to recover. It didn't.

Plasma bolts started flying past Jeff, some hitting the ground near his feet. He stood his ground, rifle fire colliding with some of the Jackals and the Elites.

He loaded a new clip into his sniper rifle, raised it again and fired again, taking down another Minor Elite and the Major. All that was left were the three Jackals and they were too busy taking fire from the marines concealed in the undergrowth to pay much attention to Jeff. He was simply able to plug a bullet into them from behind.

Once the dust had settled and the others had stopped firing, he jumped down off the short ledge. Jones, Heinrich and the marines came over.

'I always knew you were good with that thing,' Jones said, nodding towards the sniper rifle in Jeff's hands, 'but that was just amazing. You got them down all really quickly. How do you do it?'

'I just shoot,' Jeff replied, 'it's nothing that hard.'

'I couldn't do that at all,' Jones said, 'sure, I can handle the rifle but I wouldn't be able to shoot stuff that quickly.'

'How about we just get on with the mission?' Heinrich said, 'I doubt the Captain's having a good time.'

'Yeah, well, what I don't get is why they captured him,' Jones said as they started walking through another naturally made passage, 'wouldn't they just kill him?'

'They obviously want something from him,' Heinrich said, 'maybe the location of Earth?'

'I doubt the Captain himself would know the exact coordinates,' Jones said, 'I know I don't. It's not exactly something I take notice of.'

The forest continued through to another large area, although a few Covenant observation towers had been set up overlooking the treetops. There were about three scattered throughout the area. They weren't exactly towers, they were rather platforms. There was a base which projected a gravity shaft which appeared as a transparent blue colour. The platform floated a few meters above the platform, held up by the gravity column. In each of the towers was a Jackal without a shield, most likely armed with a sniper weapon instead.

The forest would provide cover; all Jeff had to do was get into one of the towers and use it as a vantage point to take down the others. Getting his squad to stop, he started for the nearest tower, using the forest as cover.

'You guys watch the ground for enemies,' Jeff said as he started for the tower, 'there are probably enemy patrols around here.'
Jeff started moving towards the tower, keeping an eye on the Jackal sniper in the tower, who currently was looking in another direction.
Jeff dived onto the ground at the base of the tower as plasma bolts flew close by, a Minor Elite standing about twenty meters away having opened fire with its Plasma Rifle.

The squad opened fire and more enemies, mainly Grunts and Jackals, began coming out of the undergrowth. Bullets and plasma began flying practically all over the place as Jeff crawled onto the base of the turret and managed to blast the Elite with his sniper rifle.

He got up, stepped into the gravity shaft and felt a strange, weightless sensation as it propelled gradually up through the hole in the center of the platform's floor and then onto the platform itself.
The Jackal, having heard him, turned around and before it could react Jeff had brought the butt of his sniper rifle onto its skull, caving it in and watching with some satisfaction as it brains spilled out, purple blood spilling onto the floor of the platform. He picked up the corpse with one hand and pushed it off the side of the platform, letting it drop to the forest below.

The Jackals in the other two observation towers had their attention to him, so he raised his rifle and gunned one of them down, the other which was a fair distance to his right firing its sniper weapon, a pink beam of energy grazing the armor plating on Jeff's right shoulder. He simply fired a shot which blasted open the Jackal's head, the alien stumbling backwards and falling out of the tower.

He aimed at one of the Elites on the ground below, busy shooting at the rest of the squad. He fired a shot which entered through the back of its head, blowing its helmet off. The Elite abruptly fell forwards and crumpled into a heap on the ground.

Jeff turned his attention to a pair of Jackals who were taking rifle fire from the marines. He had a straight shot past their shields, so he took the chance and blasted each one down.

He reloaded his sniper rifle, noticing that there were only a few Grunts left now. They weren't too keen on fighting alone and started to run away. The marines just mowed them down once their backs were turned.

Jeff went back down the gravity lift. Why the Covenant simply couldn't use ladders was beyond him.

Jones and Heinrich came over, the marines moving up through the forest and keeping watch.

'Well, I suppose they're well alerted by now,' Jones said, 'it would be hard not to notice us.'

'Let's just get moving and maybe they won't be able to find us,' Jeff said, 'we'll find them instead. I like it better that way.'

They continued through the forest, entering a small gorge which had only a few sparsely scattered trees. At the end of the gorge was an obvious Covenant encampment, and counting the amount of enemies could see, there were about four Elites, a lot of Grunts and several Jackals. They were getting close to the base; that was for sure.

To make things a little more complicated, Jeff could see three Covenant Ghosts parked near the paroling aliens. These were small; one-seater scout-craft armed with dual forward firing plasma cannons and were in the typical Covenant metal colour of purple. The craft used hover technology so they didn't actually touch the ground when in use and could traverse tricky terrain this way. They were called Ghosts because of their ability to quietly enter battle and evade attacks ghost-like.

Jeff thought about how they should deal with this group of enemies. A full frontal assault was out of the question but possibly the only way to do this right. Even if he sniped a few of them, there was always going to be an Elite left to get in one of the Ghosts. There wasn't a lot of cover in the area and the Ghost pilots would use this to their advantage.

'You guys,' he said, pointing at Jones and about half of the marines, 'go around the left. Everyone else around the right. Try and use the shrubs and boulders as cover and go along the sides. Get as close as you can and if they see you, open fire.'

The groups moved off into position, Jeff running over to a boulder and crouching beside it. He took aim at a Major Elite who was standing close to one of the Ghosts. He waited for the others to get into position, getting spotted and drawing the fire and leaving Jeff free to snipe.

He fired, the Major Elite stumbling backwards and clutching at its new chest wound. He quickly fired again, finishing the Elite off. A Minor Elite started running towards one of the Ghosts but Jeff simply took aim and shot it through the head as it ran, the Elite stumbling forwards from its own momentum and tumbling for a few meters.

A Major Elite had jumped into one of the Ghosts as the Grunts and Jackals were getting mowed down by the combined fire from the humans positioned on the sides.

The Elite piloting the Ghost opened fire on the group where Jones was, forcing the humans to take cover, going prone. Jeff watched as one of the marines was cut down in the plasma fire and another quickly followed, the Ghost evading all of the grenades that were being thrown at it.

Jeff got the pilot in his sights and fired, depleting the Elite's shield. He reloaded his sniper rifle and took aim again, the Ghost now firing in his direction. Another Elite, a Minor, had climbed into another of the Ghosts.

Jeff was about to fire when he was forced to dive out of the way of the vehicle. The pilot turned it around and prepared to fire. Jeff rolled behind the boulder as the plasma cannons opened fire, scorching the rock.

The Ghost sped past the boulder, and Jeff, taking a deep breath and making sure his timing was right, jumped at the Ghost and managed to land right on the front of it, face to face with the Elite. His rifle out of the way, Jeff started to continuously punch the Elite in the face, making sure the alien's shield didn't have a chance to recharge. The Elite let one hand go from the Ghost's controls and grabbed Jeff's right hand.

Jeff couldn't let go of the Ghost with his left hand and so wasn't ready for the head-butt he received from the Elite, which dazed him and sent him tumbling off the moving vehicle. As he fell, he pulled a fragmentation grenade out of one of his uniform's pouches and armed it, managing to stick it between the Elite's back and the seat of the Ghost.

The vehicle exploded into a large fireball, consuming the Elite and sending smouldering pieces of metal flying in all directions. All that was left was a scorched shell of the Ghost, which exploded in a blue-white fireball when whatever powered it overloaded.

Jeff now lay on his back on the ground, slightly dazed and with a sore head. He slowly got to his feet and could see that the other Ghost had been taken care of, the Minor Elite that had been piloting it now lying dead next to the vehicle. The Grunts and Jackals lay dead nearby and Jones, Heinrich and the surviving marines, now only down to Corporal Jackson and four others came over to Jeff.

'That was crazy what you did,' Jones said.

'It almost didn't work,' Jeff replied, grinning.

Major George Golding sat at his desk, having just come back from the toilet. He doubted whether you could call a hole in the ground a 'toilet'. He liked to call it a 'shit-hole', since it damn well was one.
Being in charge of the entire base, he was expected to do all kinds of paperwork and organize his troops. Right now there was no paperwork and the troops were organizing themselves, dawdling around the base as if they were at home. Some had set up poker games while others had started drinking contests with the salvaged supply of alcoholic beverages.

George didn't really care what his men got up to. They weren't bound under many laws now that they weren't in UNSC space so they could do what they want as long as it didn't endanger anyone. None of the activities going on around the cap had just yet.

He was flicking through a troop manifest when the Colonel walked in, bottle of whiskey in his left hand and the double barrelled shotgun he liked so much slung over one shoulder. George had deemed the Colonel unfit to command and the Colonel himself hadn't had much of a problem with that, letting the Major take charge.

It had been only about ten minutes since the Colonel had come into the office, despite the fact it wasn't a proper 'office', more like a desk in a large room.

'What is it Colonel?' George asked, 'you run out of whiskey again?'

'No, it's just that a few of your ODSTs say they've spotted something about a kilometre from here, in the jungle,' the Colonel replied, 'say it looks like a crashed Covenant fighter or something. It wasn't there an hour ago, that's for sure.'

'Is it a Covenant fighter?' George asked, noticing the Colonel was slurring most of his words. He did this a lot, by right now it was more noticeable.

'I don't know,' Colonel Vance replied, 'they haven't actually gone close enough to be sure.'

'Why not?'

'They think it's booby trapped or something,' Vance replied, 'well, it is booby trapped. One of your ODSTs had his leg blown off when he triggered off a hidden plasma grenade.'

George raised an eyebrow. The Colonel sounded like he had no idea what he was talking about.

'Where is he now?' He asked.

'In the medical wing,' Vance replied, 'he's in bad shape. Your medic, Alan, is trying his best…Poor guy's bleeding to death…'

'You're not a very reliable source of information, you know that?' George said, getting up.

'Where are you going?' Vance asked.

'I'm going to this crash site,' George replied, starting for the room's exit, 'if it's been booby trapped then there is obviously something important in there.'

George left the Colonel and began his way outside, passing through rooms where marines had set up tables and chairs and was either eating, drinking, playing cards, talking or doing a combination of the four.

He came to the ground floor and passed through the medical wing, coming across Private Alan who was busy trying to keep an ODST alive. This particular ODST was missing his left leg; by the look of it the leg had been totally incinerated.

George had become hardened to this kind of thing throughout his time in the military and had seen people who had pretty much had their guts blown out so this was something only minor compared to what could happen to you.

'How's he doing?' George asked as he approached.

Alan looked surprised to hear the Major's voice. He turned around.

'I've stopped all the bleeding but he won't be able to fight for as long as he's only got the one leg. We don't have the equipment to build an artificial one and we may be able to find that equipment on board the Winter Sunshine,' Alan explained.

'He'll be fine Alan,' George said, 'now, how does accompanying me to this crash site sound?'

Alan raised an eyebrow.

'Why?'

'Because if anyone gets hurt you're the only medic we have,' George said.

'Well, this guy should be alright,' he said, glancing at the unconscious ODST who lay on the hospital bed, 'so I'll come. It's not like there's anything better to do anyway.'

Alan followed George outside into the large clearing. The wreckage of the Wraith tank George had destroyed a few hours ago was still there and was still letting off a plume of black smoke. A few of the marines were dragging the corpse of the Elite that had been piloting it off of the clearing and into a pit that had been dug nearby. In it were most of the corpses of the Covenant soldiers that had been killed in the fight for the base except for the ones which lay wrapped up in George's office, put on ice so they didn't rot and stink up the place.

George approached one of the marines who was loading the pit and was just about to kick a Grunt's corpse into it.

'What are you doing?' George asked, 'I don't remember authorizing this.'

'You didn't,' the marine replied, 'the Colonel did. He told us to burn the bodies except for the ones you want to research. So that's what we're doing.'

The marine turned around and looked towards another marine who was standing nearby, carrying a large steel can.

'You got the gasoline?' The first marine asked.

'What the hell does it look like I've got?' The other marine replied, stepping over to the side of the pit. He tipped the can and began pouring gasoline over the corpses. At the same time he was trying not to stumble and fall in.

'You know about the crash site?' George asked the marine.

'Yeah, why?'

'Which way is it?'

'North-west,' the marine replied, 'there should already be people there now.'

George and Alan continued across the clearing and into the jungle. They passed a few patrols and after about a kilometre they came to where what appeared to be a half buried and wrecked Seraph fighter lying in a small clearing. There was nothing stopping George from going straight to the crash site and he was about to start on his way towards it when he noticed a pair of ODSTs crouched behind a fallen tree, every now and then looking towards the crash site.

George approached them, wondering why the hell they weren't moving forwards.

'Soldiers, why the hell haven't you secured the crash site yet?' George asked, 'the area seems clear. What's stopping you?'

One of the ODSTs looked up at the Major, resting his rifle in his lap.

'There's an Elite there sir,' the ODST replied, 'some bastard in chrome armor. He's wired plasma grenades to go off all around the crash site. He doesn't want anyone getting in.'

George looked around. He certainly couldn't see any plasma grenades until he took a closer look at a spot a few meters from where he stood. He could just see a grenade jutting out of the dirt, a thin length of wire going across to a tree stump nearby.

'Chrome armor?' George asked, 'what rank's that?'

'We don't know sir,' the ODST replied, 'but he's definitely a pilot.'

'No shit,' George said, 'explain to me why this fighter crashed here? No one's told me how yet.'

'We saw it coming and used one of the Covenant gun emplacements against it to take it down. We think it was scouting out the area for a possible counter-attack.'

'You think?'

'We don't know sir,' the ODST said, 'if you want, maybe you can politely ask the Elite why he was flying over here.'

George looked at the crashed Seraph fighter and then at Alan who was standing nearby.

'Alan, you're coming with me,' George said, 'we're going to find this Elite.'

'What about the traps?' Alan asked, sounding nervous.

'Fuck the traps,' George said, stepping forwards a little, 'they can't be everywhere. I doubt he has enough grenades.'

Alan reluctantly followed the Major as he went down low and began closely examining every part of the ground ahead of them.

George felt through the dirt, making sure there was no nasty surprises waiting for them. It was a bit dark in the jungle so he took out his flashlight to help provide better illumination.

About ten meters from the crash fighter he found a plasma grenade hidden just behind a fallen branch. He tried to think of anything he had that may be able to cut the wire and defuse it when he remembered he always carried around a pair of scissors with him.
Time and again he had reminded his troops to always carry scissors with them; they would always come in handy. It was one of his golden rules.

He took them out and put a hand on the grenade, putting a few fingers on the wire closest to it and then cutting the wire halfway across. He pulled the wire quickly so it wouldn't go slack and set off the grenade.

Picking up the grenade, he noticed that the wire was attached to the small button that armed the grenades, but this time the button was jutting out, the wire tied to a small latch underneath it. He untied it, making the grenade safe and disarmed.

'We're almost home free Alan,' he said, getting up. There was only blackened dirt around most of the crash Seraph fighter, most of the trees near it having been brought down.

George stepped over to the side of the crashed fighter, noticing the hatch on its roof was opened. Walking around, he suddenly felt something cold and hard pressing into his back.

Turning around very slowly, he found himself face to face with a chrome armored Elite who was pressing the firing end of a Plasma Rifle into him.

Completely unfazed, George grinned. He could see Alan standing a few meters behind the Elite, holding an M6D pistol at the ready.
Looking down a little, George could see the Elite had its left hand clutching a nasty looking wound in the side of its stomach. Dark purple blood was slowly oozing out and judging by the Elite's shallow breathing, he guessed it wasn't feeling a hundred percent.

'So, you're hurt,' George said, 'quite a place you set up here with the grenades.'

Alan fired, the Elite suddenly tensing as the bullet hit it in the back. It looked at George before stumbling against the side of the crashed fighter, dropping its Plasma Rifle. It slumped against the metal and looked up at George, quite obviously very angry.

George thought for a moment what he should do with the alien. It was still alive and with some medical treatment would end up feeling quite well again.

He stepped over to the Elite and crouched so he was face to face with it. It wasn't in any state to try and lash out at him, so he made sure he was as intimidating as possible to the alien.

'You're now our prisoner,' George said, reaching into his pocket and taking out a small booklet that all UNSC officers were issued with. 'You're now bound under the Fifth Geneva Convention which was hosted back in 2529, under the "Extraterrestrial Prisoner Treatment" section. Since us humans are kind enough to take prisoners, you will have the right to speak, the right to a clean cell, the right to enough food to keep you alive, the right to enough water—'

'What are you doing Major?' Alan asked, 'shouldn't we just kill him?'
George shut the Geneva Convention Booklet and looked at the young medic, thinking over his answer.

'He'll be an important asset,' George said, 'a pilot, shot down over enemy lines. He'll know a lot about the enemy's airborne forces. And I've never captured an Elite before. This is bound to be interesting.'

The Elite seemed to have an idea of what was going on and appeared to be about to say something before it coughed up some purple blood instead.

'What was that ugly?' George asked, sounding as intimidating as possible, speak up, I can't hear you.' He kicked the Elite in the side and the alien groaned, keeling over and losing consciousness.

'Alan, would you make sure he doesn't die?' George said, turning to the medic.

Alan stepped over and knelt beside the Elite, taking out a first aid kit and examining the alien's wounds.

'I have no idea how to treat an Elite,' Alan said.

'Hence the reason I wanted you to do that autopsy.' George paused for a moment, thinking. 'You were once a vet, right?'

'How did you know that?' Alan asked.

'It's in your file. You were a veterinarian before you joined up. Now, use your veterinary knowledge to treat him. It shouldn't be too hard.'

'Treat him like an animal?'

'Exactly. Radio the base and get some guys to come down here with a stretcher. I want that Elite conscious and talking in an hour.'

Alan nodded and proceeded to talk into his radio, opening up a communications link with the base.

George started on his way back to the base, satisfied that that job was done. An Elite as a prisoner, which was certainly new for the UNSC. Sure, they had found a few in the past but only after successful ground engagements, and there had never been too many of those.

It surprised him how very little they knew about their enemy. What they needed was more prisoners. None of the Covenant soldiers would surrender, so they would have to make them surrender. Or just capture them. Either way, they got prisoners.

George arrived back in his office to find the Colonel still there and looking through one of the Covenant supply crates that were at the back of the room. Windtalker's hologram was on the pedestal near the desk, watching the Colonel with some slight amusement.

'Vance, what are you doing?' George asked as he entered the room.

'Seeing that you liked this stuff so much, I decided to work out what was so good about it,' Vance said.

Before he could continue, Windtalker interrupted, looking grim. Well, as grim as a hologram could be.

'I've just been surfing the Covenant battle-net,' he said, 'it seems they recovered some data discs off of the Captain when he was captured.'
George walked over to the hologram. Data discs? From the Captain? That didn't sound like good news.

'Why did the Captain have data discs on him?' George asked, 'it doesn't sound like him at all.'

'The Covenant believes they hold all the necessary information to find more human worlds, including Earth,' Windtalker said. Vance had stopped rummaging through the crate and had walked over to Windtalker as well; holding a bottle of whiskey in one hand and smelling like alcohol.

'Why would the Captain have the discs on him?' George asked again, 'it's a violation of the Cole Protocol if they have information concerning humans on them.'

'It doesn't make sense,' Windtalker said, 'but if the Covenant's planning to have a look at what's on the discs and find something, it certainly isn't going to be much of a good thing for us. I suggest the best course of action is a recovery mission.'

'We already have a squad on its way to rescue the Captain,' Vance said, hiccupping once he had finished the sentence, 'couldn't they do it?'

'Take too long,' George said, 'we need those discs back as soon as possible. Where are the discs now?'

'On board the ship Justifiable Light, hovering over a clearing near the Covenant base that the Captain is being held in. Either we send a new squad or we get the one already there to do it.'

George thought about it for a moment. The sooner they got those discs back, the better off they would all be. He turned to Vance.

'Go get Lieutenant Frank Hastings,' George said, 'bring him here. We'll be sending in him and his squad.'

Vance nodded and left the room, returning a few minutes later with the Lieutenant. The Lieutenant was still in what he had been wearing ever since they escaped from the Winter Sunshine and seemed a bit tired.

'Major, you wanted me?' Frank asked, George trying not to stare at the Lieutenant's unnaturally white front teeth. Trying to avert his eyes away from the teeth and to the rest of the Lieutenant's face, George gave him a brief rundown of the situation. There were data discs that possibly contained information regarding Earth's location in the hands of the Covenant and it was imperative they retrieve them.

'What about the Sergeant's squad?' Frank asked, 'can't they do it?'

'They're busy,' George replied, 'and if possible, you could link up with them. Otherwise get you and your squad aboard that ship and make sure the discs are found. If both squads got on the ship, maybe the job would be done quicker and easier. Now get moving. There's a Pelican outside waiting for you and your squad.'

'Yes sir,' the Lieutenant said, giving a slight salute before turning around and leaving the room.

'Can you really rely on him?' Vance asked.

George raised an eyebrow.

'I can't rely on you, so maybe I'm better trying my luck with the Lieutenant,' George replied, grinning.

'Up yours Major,' Vance said, turning around and walking out.

Not Exactly Human Ch. 7 Pt. 2: Complication
Date: 23 July 2008, 10:37 pm

'Incoming!'

Jeff was caught off guard when Corporal Jackson shouted this from behind. He was caught even more off guard when a plasma mortar blast landed a few meters to his left. He felt its heat wash over him, the shockwave knocking him over and leaving him sprawled amongst the grass.

Coughing up some dirt he had breathed in when he fell, he rolled onto his back and put his rifle up to the ready, jumping back up onto his feet. A Covenant Wraith tank was at the other end of the clearing they were in, now having fired another mortar. A group consisting of a few Grunts and two Elites was standing near it, their weapons firing at the group of humans.

Plasma flew past Jeff as he dived behind a boulder, the plasma mortar landing where he had just stood. The blast was close enough to throw him off balance. He clenched his teeth and could feel blood in his mouth. He realized he must have bitten his tongue, although he didn't feel any pain there.

He looked back at the group. Heinrich was crouched, firing towards the Covenant soldiers.

Things had been going fine since their last encounter and were at the fringes of the Covenant base, purple metal walls impeding their progress. There would be an entrance and that would have to be close by since they had almost gone right around the entire base, which lay nestled by a cliff-side, part of it going into a jagged rocky mountain.
This obviously meant the Covenant had been on this planet longer than first thought, the ancient structures on it probably important to them. From what Jeff had gathered the structures were possibly thousands of years old and were definitely not Covenant. They were important to the Covenant and were possibly part of their religion, considering that was what started the war in the first place.

Jones and the Corporal were crouched among the grass behind him, trying to lay low. The remaining marines, now about four of them, were scattering, another plasma mortar landing nearby and throwing up a large amount of dirt.

He looked towards the Wraith. The Covenant was well alerted to the presence of the humans by now and had obviously called in the big guns, which meant Wraith tanks.

Jeff knew his squad weren't equipped to take on enemy tanks, but there was always a way around these things. He could try to get on the tank but that was dangerous. Not only did the Wraith tanks have devastating plasma mortars, they also had plasma cannons to defend against infantry that came a bit too close.

'Jones, Corporal, cover me!' Jeff shouted, 'make sure that tank doesn't pay attention to me!'

'Don't tell me you're going all gung-ho on this one,' Jones said, 'because one day you're going to get yourself killed.'

'Just do it!' Jeff replied, 'is it that hard?'

'No…'

'Then start covering me! Same goes with you Heinrich!'

Heinrich looked up, a mortar landing some distance behind him. He totally ignored it.

'What?' He asked, having not heard Jeff.

'Cover me so I can get to the tank,' Jeff said.

Heinrich nodded and resumed firing, cutting down a few of the Grunts.

A marine was hit in the neck with a plasma bolt and fell, ending up sprawled close to Jeff. He gazed down at the dead marine and shook his head. Things were beginning to get bad for the squad.

Heinrich, Jones and Corporal Jackson had begun laying down suppressive fire towards the tank and the nearby troops. Jeff started for some nearby trees and undergrowth, using them as cover as plasma bolts landed in the ground near him as he moved. He ignored most of the shots and started along the left flank of the tank.
The Wraith tank hadn't turned in his direction so he was safe from it at the moment.

He went low in the undergrowth, almost bumping into a crimson armoured Elite which had been crouched amongst the bushes and shrubs.

It wasn't ready for him either and seemed to take a moment to register the fact that there was a human right near him.

Jeff used this moment to get up and club the Elite across the chest with the butt of his sniper rifle. The alien stepped back, its shield flaring. Jeff hit it again with the butt of his rifle, this time on the head. The alien's shield failed and Jeff pressed the barrel of the rifle into the Elite's stomach and fired.

The Elite dropped to the ground. The Wraith tank was still firing at the other squad members so Jeff continued along the left flank, coming around the back of the tank and the Covenant soldiers.

He gunned down a few of the Grunts with some well placed sniper rifle shots before he slung his sniper rifle back over his shoulder and started towards the tank, climbing onto its back and noticing there was a sort of purple metal grating there.

The pilot of the tank didn't seem to realize he was on the vehicle and so didn't move much at all.

Reaching for his equipment belt Jeff took off his last grenade and started feeling along the edges of the grating, looking for a gap which he could use to rip it off. There wasn't much in the way of a gap between the tank's armor and the grating so he un-holstered the Turnwell Colt pistol and started using the hilt of it to bash the grating.

It was working and gradually it dented enough of it to reach into a newly created gap and rip off the grating, letting it fall to the ground below and revealing a heap of glowing pipes and metal. There seemed to be a thin layer of armor between him and the interior of the tank where the pilot was so he dropped a grenade into the back and jumped off the tank.

The grenade detonated and sent pieces of purple metal flying. Looking behind as he got up, Jeff saw that a large ragged hole had been torn in the back of the tank, the pilot, an Elite, visible slumped against its seat, the alien's armor scorched and bloodied. A thick plume of black smoke was wafting out of the tank and Jeff coughed when he breathed some of the smoke in.

Satisfied that the tank was destroyed, Jeff turned his attention to the remaining Covenant troops, which now consisted of mostly Grunts.
His squad moved across the clearing, gunning down the remaining Grunts. Jeff regrouped with them near the purple metal wall which went around the compound. There was another natural passage which went past some jagged rocky areas and along the wall, possibly leading to an entrance. Hopefully it wouldn't be heavily guarded.
Including himself, their group now only consisted of five people, including Jones, Heinrich, Corporal Jackson and a marine with 'PFC. Watkins' printed on the tag on his uniform. Five humans against a heck of a lot of Covenant didn't sound like good odds, but there was no point quitting now. They were almost in the Covenant base and close to the Captain.

Jeff started down the passage, the group following, as they continued past the wall. The passage went straight into the rocky areas and they had to climb over the rough terrain before ending up in another large area, this time with some scattered trees and small stream of water passing through it. Taking a closer look, Jeff noticed that this water stream seemed to be going into the base, grating at either end of the stream where it entered the rock. It could mean that the water went straight into the base and this could be used as a means to get into the base, although it would mean getting wet.

Here, there seemed to be a gate in the wall guarded by a small guard booth where a single Major Elite was, standing in the booth looking a bit bored. There was another two Elites outside the guardhouse, standing near the gate.

Making sure the rest of the area was clear; Jeff signalled his group to stop. He started to move through the overgrown grass and undergrowth, making sure the Elites didn't notice him. He found a good position on a small ledge on the edge of the area and went prone, able to get a straight clean shot at each of the Elites.

He went for the one in the guardhouse first, gunning the alien down. The Elite didn't even have its personal shield activated so it went down in a single shot which passed through its head. The other two ran for cover, now aware that there was a sniper somewhere. Jeff managed to fire two successive shots at one of them before it went behind the guardhouse, taking the Elite down.

The other Elite crouched behind a boulder, leaning out from cover to look for the sniper every now and then. When the alien finally did notice Jeff it leaned around the boulder and fired a quick volley of shots before going back into cover.

Jeff signalled to the rest of the squad to go around the other side and flush out the Elite from cover.

Jones, Heinrich, Corporal Jackson and PFC Watkins came out of hiding and went around the other side of where the Elite was hiding, using combined rifle fire to mow the alien down. Once it was down, Jeff got up and reloaded his sniper rifle, running over to the gate.

This was not the main gate by the look of it, more like a secondary side gate. That would mean there wouldn't be a lot of guards behind it, but judging from all the noise he and his squad had been making there was a chance the entire base had been alerted.
In the guardhouse was a set of holographic panels. Stepping into the small guardhouse and examining the panels, Jeff had a feeling that the most obvious one would be the one to open the gate. He fiddled for a few seconds and heard a satisfying clanking metal sound behind him as the gate slowly slid open, revealing a small grassy area behind it, a few Covenant structures behind it. These looked more like garages than the main base itself, but stepping through the open gateway Jeff could see the rest of the base, most of it in the side of a rocky cliff. Everything would have to have connecting corridors, which would make more sense. He hoped his assumption was correct when he signalled to the squad to follow him into one of the large garage-like structure. Rather than a sliding metal door like garages Jeff knew, this garage had a purple-pink transparent force field.
Behind it he could make out a few parked Wraith tanks and Ghosts. He looked around the outside area and managed to catch a glimpse of the Jackal sniper on the rooftop nearby before it fired. He rolled out of the way as a pink energy beam narrowly missed connecting with his head.

'Sniper!' Corporal Jackson shouted. Rifle fire filled the air for a few seconds as the rest of the squad opened fire, ripping the Jackal to shreds. Its body fell off the roof and landed with a sickening crunching sound on the ground.

Jeff watched as the force field of the garage deactivated and a large group of Grunts, being lead by two Minor Elites, came running out. He was standing close to the garage's main entrance and so was the first one they fired at.

He slipped behind a Covenant crate, taking out the Turnwell Colt pistol and leaning around the crate. The squad had already taken down a few of the Grunts but as usual, the Elites were the most troublesome, taking cover behind vehicles parked in the garage. Jeff had no grenades left, so he couldn't flush them out.

'Sergeant, I'm running out of ammo!' Corporal Jackson shouted from nearby, 'we all are!'

'Don't tell me,' Jeff replied, 'just pick up a Covenant weapon and use it!'

The Corporal nodded, also managing to catch a glimpse of an armed plasma grenade which landed in the dirt about a meter to his right. He dived in the opposite direction, only just avoiding the following incinerating blast.

Jeff went over to the garage entrance and went behind the wall near the open main door, leaning around it and firing at the nearest Elite. The Elite was in cover and the shots merely connected with the crate it had gone behind. The Elite leaned around the crate and fired back. This was getting nowhere since they were both in cover.

Jeff ran into the garage, taking a second or two to take in the interior. There were catwalks above as well as a door on the ground floor which seemed to lead into a long corridor. It had the typical Covenant design of purple-blue metals. There was a large door to his left which appeared to be locked.

As soon as Jeff entered the garage both the Elites came out of cover and fired. He dived to the floor and slid across it from his momentum, at the same time gunning down one of the Elites with his Colt pistol.

He stopped to reload, got up and went behind a parked Wraith tank. He moved around the tank until the Elite crouched behind the other Wraith tank was right in view. The alien saw him and turned around, opening fire. Jeff managed to avoid getting hit by most of it but a shot hit him in the left leg, the armor plating there metal away. He felt a burning sensation as the blast burned through the armor, but he ignored it and returned fire.

The Elite's shield flared the alien charged. Jeff sidestepped, giving him a chance to react to the Elite's charge. He clubbed the Elite in the back as it charged towards him, sidestepping again and watching as the alien roared in anger. Jeff ducked to avoid the Elite's return attack, which was a swing of the hand holding the Plasma Rifle. He pressed the Colt pistol in the Elite's stomach and fired, again and again. With each shot the Elite stumbled backwards, its shield flickering until after the third the shield failed and the next shot spurted dark purple blood onto Jeff's right arm.

The blood stunk like fresh tar, but he ignored it and kept firing, again and again until his magazine was empty. The Elite clutched at the massive wounds in its stomach and stumbled backwards, falling into a heap on the floor. Jeff got up and wiped most of the dark purple blood off his sleeve, some of it getting stuck on his fingers. He didn't like the smell too much.

Everything in the garage had gone quiet except for the faint whirr being made by some out of sight machinery. He looked back at the squad, now moving into the garage. Jones gave him the thumbs up for no apparent reason, giving a grin. Jeff just nodded in response.

Jeff started towards the door leading into the corridor ahead but his attention was diverted when the large double doors to his left began to slide open. Standing behind him was something which started his heart on a faster beat. He reloaded his Colt pistol and put up a hand to tell the others to stay where they were.

A pair of Covenant Hunters came through the doors. They were large, hunched over aliens coming in about eight feet tall in their battle state, but when standing upright were about twelve feet tall. On their right arm was an attached Fuel Rod Cannon, their left arm covered with a large almost impenetrable shield. On their backs were razor sharp porcupine style spikes. The Hunters were mainly blue, with orange eels making up their stomach area and neck area.
Apparently it was some sort of symbiotic relationship between the eels and the rest of the alien, but Jeff wasn't too sure and wasn't entirely worried about that right now.

He hadn't had much experience with Hunters before and the few times he had were situations which resulted in the deaths of quite a number of people, be it civilian or military. He knew their weak points were the exposed orange eel regions, but the Hunters usually had these covered up and getting behind a Covenant Hunter was no easy task.

'You keep their attention,' Jeff shouted, 'I'll try and get behind them.'
'You really come up with good plans, you know that?' Jones replied sarcastically, 'they're so hard to carry out.'

Jeff didn't reply, diving behind a Wraith tank as one of the Hunter's Fuel Rod Cannons fired, a large green blast of energy flying across the room and landing in front of the Wraith tank. A large green explosion followed, burning a hole through the metal in the floor and leaving a mess of melted metal.

The squad opened fire, starting to move around unpredictably to avoid the incoming fire.

Jeff started around the Hunters as the pair of them trudged into the room, one of them turning its attention to Jeff. It started towards him, hunched behind its metal shield as its Fuel Rod Cannon glowed brightly with energy.

Jeff had to dive onto the floor as a Fuel Rod Cannon blast flew overhead. It exploded a few meters behind him, making the floor vibrate.

He crawled forwards within a few meters of the Hunter. It stood up and swung with its shielded arm, Jeff rolling off to one side to avoid the somewhat slow but otherwise devastating blow.

It gave him the chance to get a shot at the orange eel region that made up the Hunter's lower torso. He fired the Turnwell Colt pistol three times in succession, sending bright orange blood spurting forwards, a few eels squirming about in the mess. The Hunter roared and Jeff got up, backing away from another shielded arm swing. He fell backwards over a parked Ghost and the Hunter stood over him, about to bring the shield down on him. He pressed his pistol into its stomach and fired three more times. The Hunter tensed and fell forwards, almost landing on top of him.

Jeff came out from underneath it and saw that the other Hunter, thoroughly busy fighting Jones and the others hadn't noticed what Jeff had done to its Hunter buddy. When it caught a glimpse of its fallen mate the Hunter roared and started charging towards Corporal Jackson, who managed to roll out of the way and come behind the Hunter.

The Corporal held down the trigger on his assault rifle, a continuous spray of bullets flying forwards and impacting with the Hunter's exposed orange regions, orange blood spurting out. The Corporal was screaming loudly, nothing in particular but shouting
incomprehensible words which were getting drowned out by the sound of the assault rifle firing. When the rifle's magazine ran empty the Corporal still lay where he was, trigger held down and only receiving a continuous clicking sound in response. He was still shouting profanities at the now dead Hunter as well.

'Calm the fuck down, man,' Jones said, walking over to him, 'it's dead.'

The Corporal let go of his rifle's trigger and looked up at Jones.

'Well…yeah, right,' the Corporal said, sounding a little surprised. He got up and took a look at the Hunter's corpse. Satisfied, he gave it a light kick in the side.

'We're moving on,' Jeff said, not caring much for the Corporal's outburst. He took a look at his squad, at Jones, Heinrich, the Corporal and then PFC Watkins. They didn't look very tired, and he realized he had been the one to do most of the work. That was usually the case for him anyway. Not that it mattered; he enjoyed doing what he did.

Captain Bob Turnwell was being held on his feet by two Minor Elites, one on each side of him as the Elite Major in front of him punched him again and again in the face, every now and then pausing to say something in the Covenant dialect. This was language Bob knew nothing about, and being as dazed as he was he was too busy staring at all the pretty lights that seemed to be floating above him.

He had woken up half an hour after he had been knocked out and for most of his time as a prisoner since then he had been locked up in a bare cell, a transparent purple-pink force-field the only thing preventing his escape. They had been kind enough to give him a small purple bucket-like container so he could finally relieve himself without making too much of a mess in the cell. For toilet paper he had used the tissues he had kept in his pocket.

He wasn't in much of a state to answer the Elite Major as it punched him again. Thinking about it but unable to do very well at this since his head hurt so much, he realized he could feel several loose teeth. Well, shit happens, he thought as the Major punched him again.

It had been like this for the last ten minutes, five minutes after they had taken him out of his cell to a small room with a table and chair in it. Of course, these were Covenant tables and chairs and were made out of the usual purple-blue metal the Covenant seemed to favour. The seat was fitted to seat an Elite but no one was sitting in it at all. Instead, the table had been pushed out of the way to allow room for the punching session that was now taking place.

Why the Covenant had even bothered to capture him was unknown to him, but the Captain did have a slight idea since every now and then the Elite Major would actually speak English and mention something about his commander. It had been the Commander's idea by the sound of it and Bob really wanted to talk to this Commander. He gathered that this Commander Elite character was the kind that enjoyed torturing prisoners.

'The discs, human,' the Major Elite said, standing taller than Bob and looking down at him, 'what is on them?'

'Wha…' Bob managed to say, tasting blood in his mouth. He coughed, a large amount of saliva mixed with blood landing on the floor in front of him.

'Is the location of human worlds on the discs?' the Major Elite asked, its deep voice sounding slightly forced due to the foreign language it was speaking, 'don't lie, we'll be checking them soon enough.'

'Then why don't you?'

The Major Elite paused for a moment before answering.

'The Ship Master has them in his possession and he hasn't reported in for a few units,' the Major Elite replied.

'Then why don't you go to Hell?' Bob said, smiling in his half-dazed state, 'since he's obviously done a runner.'

This remark ended up with Bob receiving another punch to his already battered face. The Elite then kicked him in the stomach and Bob followed up with the kick by spewing up all over the floor in front of him.

'Tell me more about your ship, the Winter Sunshine,' the Major Elite said, 'why is it so different than other human ships?'

Bob laughed.

'Because you're one ugly mother fucker,' Bob replied. He suffered another kick to the guts which made him feel like he was going throw up his intestines. He laughed to himself when he remembered that wasn't possible.

'You are not helping human,' the Major Elite said, 'the only thing preventing me from killing you right now is the Commander's orders. He wants you alive. We all want to know why the human ship has our technology aboard it. Are you humans taking our superior weaponry for yourselves?'

'What the hell do you think?' Bob replied.

The Major Elite was about to punch him again but restrained itself. Instead it turned around and muttered an order to both of the Minors that were holding Bob up. They dropped him and Bob fell forwards onto the floor, almost getting his face in his own spew. He coughed and gagged and watched as the Major Elite and both the Minors left the room, the door closing and locking behind them.

That went well, Bob thought.

He laughed to himself when he remembered they had the discs packed full of false data. The star coordinates on those discs would lead them straight into a large sun on the border of UNSC space.
He fell forwards and into unconsciousness when his injuries finally caught up with him.

Major Adros Demargee stepped out of the interrogation room, his hands not sore at all from what he had been doing to the human. Things hadn't been going right today, not even the human commander's capture. If it weren't for Dras Amargee, Adros would have killed the human commander by now. Dras just wanted to make sure the human was alright if anything went wrong with the discs that the human had been found carrying.

Thing was, Dras hadn't been seen on both the Justifiable Light and in the base for a few hours and it wasn't like him to just disappear like that without telling anyone. His quarters were locked shut and could only be accessed by the Ship Master himself unless Adros found the override codes, wherever they were. If Dras had been in his quarters for a few hours, what could he be doing? Whatever it was, Dras had the discs with him and Adros needed to find him to find the discs.

Adros made his way through the base, the two Minors that had been with him going back to their posts. He came into the base's command center and found Special Operations Commander Deranth Ursalamee standing by the main command station in the center of the room.

The Spec Ops Commander was in the recognizable white armor that all Spec Ops Commanders wore. The Commander sported a scar down one side of his face, the weapon causing it almost having hit his right eye. Luckily it hadn't and the Commander's vision was not impaired.

Deranth was in charge of the planet's operations and was the usual age for a Special Operations Commander. Underneath the dark blue eye coverings he wore were amber eyes. Only knowing him slightly, Adros had read the Sangheili officer's records and had found that the officer came from a broken family, his father having been killed in battle at an early age. His mother had been killed by Jiralhanae shortly after. This had shaped the Sangheili into a ruthless officer who had a dark sense of humour.

Deranth glanced behind him as Adros entered the room. He turned around and walked over to the Major.

'More technology like our own has been found in the human vessel,' Deranth said, 'however; their Slip-space drive is definitely not ours. It is more unstable and technologically advanced. I suggest we destroy all trace of it. The humans may not have another.'

Adros, being in charge of most of the lower ranked troops, would be second-in-command for the base since Deranth was in charge. He then had a say in what went on around the base. If the humans had developed technology superior to theirs they would have to destroy it. Adros knew taking it for themselves would be an affront to their Forerunner gods.

'I agree with you on that point, Commander,' Adros said. He paused. 'I interrogated the human commander. He hasn't given me much of a straight answer and has suffered for it.'

'Is he dead?'

'No, but is close to that,' Adros replied.

'We should just kill him, regardless what the Ship Master says,' Deranth said, 'the human's of no use.'

'That would be disobeying a direct order,' Adros said, 'if the Ship Master, who is now in charge of all the operations on the planet, wants the human commander alive we will leave him alive. Doesn't mean we can't bring him close to death.'

Deranth didn't seem too happy that he was now under command of someone else. He had gotten too used to being in charge of the entire planet's operations.

'Where is the Ship Master?' Deranth asked, 'he was meant to meet me an hour ago but he hasn't come.'

'I'm going to take another look on the Justifiable Light soon,' Adros said, 'he has the important data discs we found on the human.'

Before Deranth could say something a Minor Elite stepped into the command center, walking over to Deranth. He was clutching a bleeding wound in his right arm and was breathing heavily.

'A small group of humans have breached the perimeter, Commander,' the Minor said, 'my squad leader told me to alert you. The humans are currently moving through the base's West Wing garages.'

Deranth took in the information, thinking about what should be done. He turned to the Sangheili personnel in the command center.

'I want every available troop to intercept the humans,' Deranth ordered, turning to Adros, 'the humans cannot be allowed to find their commander. Adros, you better find the Ship Master so we can find out what's on those discs.'

'Yes Commander,' Adros said, bowing his head slightly before exiting the room. As he proceeded through the corridors to the outdoor gravity lift, an alarm sounded and blue lights started flashing around the base. He wondered how small the group of humans was and how it could have possibly made its way into the base. Must be some very persistent and skilled humans in the group or must be a fairly large group. Or even both. Either way Adros wasn't in the mood for a fight. He had other things to do.

Dras Amargee opened his eyes and lay staring at the ceiling of his quarters for a few minutes. Arna lay next to him, her head resting on his shoulder, fast asleep.

She looked so beautiful, especially when she slept. Dras put a hand to her face and couldn't help but stare at her beautiful features. She shifted in her sleep and made a noise, nothing in particular, just a sleep noise.

All female Sangheili had slightly lighter skin than the males and hers was a lighter shade of brown, tinged with purple from the colour of her blood. Dras had the darker brown skin that most males had.
He looked over at the screen on the wall nearby and saw that a few hours had passed. His sudden disappearance would begin to get noticed and he had already missed a meeting with the Special Operations Officer down in the base.

He should get going, but he would have liked to have stayed with Arna a little longer. There was nothing stopping him from doing so, except he didn't want anyone he didn't trust finding out about him and Arna. It would look bad and they would be forced apart. He would probably be demoted a few ranks as well.

Arna shifted again and, lying on her side, opened one eye. She looked directly at Dras, giving the equivalent of a smile with her mandibles. She moved closer to him and put an arm across his chest.

'You sure know how to have a good time,' she said.

Dras smiled with his mandibles as well and shifted on his side so he was facing her.

'I…I can't stay for much longer,' he said, 'I have to get down to the base. Others may have noticed my disappearance.'
Arna didn't seem too worried about this and ran a hand down his chest.

'So soon?' She said. She moved even closer, gently knocking Dras back onto his back.
'Yes, I'm sorry if I let you down,' Dras replied, smiling as she shifted so she was mostly on top of him, 'I'm just afraid we'll be found out…'

'We won't,' she said, leaning forwards. She locked her mandibles with his in a kiss and Dras could feel his hearts beating faster as she ran a hand on his side. She stopped kissing and put her face in front of his, making sure their eyes met.

'I wouldn't be so worried,' she said, 'about getting caught. The doors are locked and everyone who knows me thinks I'm down on the planet.'
Dras was about to start enjoying himself again when a familiar irritating beeping sound filled the room. Arna looked around, trying to find the source, taking herself off Dras and sitting up in the bed.

'What's that?' She asked.
Dras sat up and could see a red light on the panel near the door flash. He climbed out of the bed and walked over to the door. Realizing he had nothing on he grabbed Arna's medical robes which were lying on a chair nearby and slipped them on. They were tight in places but would do if it was who he thought it was trying to get in with the override codes for the door's security systems.

He pressed a few keys on the holographic panel and the door slid only partly open, allowing him to stand in the small gap and talk to the Elite Major standing behind the door without revealing most of the room.

Adros was standing there, looking only slightly surprised. The beeping noise stopped and the Major took a look at the Ship Master.

'So you were in your quarters all this time,' Adros said, 'I should have known.' He gave a strange look when he saw what Dras was wearing.

'May I ask what you're doing in those robes?' Adros asked.

'No,' Dras replied. He paused when he noticed that Adros was trying to look past him and into the room.

'Hiding something, commander?' Adros asked, 'since medical robes are usually not what someone like you would wear.'

'What do you want?' Dras asked, getting annoyed, 'how did you get past the security locks on the door anyway?'

'The override codes you gave me a while ago just in case there was an emergency and you were locked up in your quarters like you were now,' Adros replied, 'I misplaced them but managed to find them in my barracks.'

'Is there an emergency?' Dras asked, 'otherwise you can leave me alone. I'll be out soon, anyway.'

'There is an emergency down in the base,' Adros said, 'a small group of humans has made their way past the base's outer defences and is most likely after their commander. Deranth has things under control, although we've lost a lot of troops.'

'Tell me, is the human who wounded me amongst the group?' Dras asked, remembering the human male that almost killed him.

'I don't know,' Adros answered, 'but I can ask Deranth if you wish.'

'That won't be necessary,' Dras said, 'is that all you interrupted me for?'

'No, I need the discs that are in your possession, the ones that were confiscated from the human commander,' Adros said, 'I'm planning to have them scanned and the information on them translated.'

Dras remembered the discs and looked behind him, smiling with his mandibles at Arna who was lying in the bed, watching him from behind. The discs were on a small bench in the corner of the room. He walked over and grabbed them, turning around to find Adros looking into the room.

'Is this what you've been doing?' He asked, seeing Arna lying in the bed.

Dras walked back over to the Major and handed him the discs.

'I know I can trust you,' Dras said, 'you are not to tell anyone about Arna and I, is that clear?'

'I wasn't going to tell anyone anyway, Dras,' Adros replied, 'you think I haven't noticed the time you've spent in the medical bay? I doubt you were there for check-ups.'

He glanced past Dras at Arna.

'She is quite good looking,' Adros said. He looked at Dras and took a step away from the door. 'Goodbye Dras, I'll see you when you actually leave your quarters.'

Adros walked away, Dras closing and locking the door as he went. Slipping out of the robes and letting them drop to the floor, he climbed back into the bed with Arna.

'You took a while getting rid of him,' Arna said, shifting close to Dras. Before he could reply she had already pushed him on his back and had begun to kiss him. She moved on top of him and Dras embraced her, pulling her head down closer to his. He could once more feel the warmth of her body against his and the beating of her hearts against his. Between him and Arna, things couldn't be better.

Jeff had lead the squad through some corridors and Covenant garages, the design of the interior typical Covenant, with purple-blue metals and hardly any straight corners, usually all curved and sleek looking. It was definitely a lot different than human design, thankfully, since Jeff didn't like the idea of seeing this kind of architecture on Earth.

Jones and Heinrich were walking behind him. Jones didn't look too excited and he only had one spare magazine left for his AK rifle. Heinrich had already put his away, picking up a Plasma Rifle off of a dead Elite that had been in the first garage.

PFC Watkins was close behind Jeff while Corporal Jackson was watching the back, a Needler in each hand. He was sweating and Jeff had begun to notice it was a bit too warm in the interior of the base. Maybe the Covenant aliens liked it this warm, although maybe the weather systems were just malfunctioning. It could be a combination of both.

He had wanted some relief from the hot humid environment outside and judging from the way things were inside the base he wouldn't be getting much relief. Out of all the planets they could have ended up on, it had to be one that was mostly hot humid jungle. Jeff was kind of used to it, coming from New Mombasa, a city on Earth in Africa that was mostly hot all the time. He didn't know about the rest of the squad though.

Jones didn't seem to mind, neither did Watkins. Heinrich didn't look too comfortable though, and being of German descent he was probably used to colder environments and the environment of a UNSC cruiser, usually a nice twenty-one degrees Celsius. Corporal Jackson didn't seem too worried about the temperature, and was busy gazing around the purple-blue walled metal corridor, making sure no Covenant aliens came up behind them.

They hadn't come too far from the first garage, encountering a few small groups of Jackals and Grunts since the fight with the Hunters. They had passed through a few more Covenant garages and were now making their way through a maze of corridors which were going through the underground regions of the base. The Captain would most likely be in a detention block or interrogation room and those would be close to the command center, which would mean a lot of enemies would be in the way.

The corridor joined into the side of another one, which meant they could either go left or right. Looking to the left Jeff spotted a pair of Jackals on patrol, their backs turned as they headed away from him.
He took both of them down with a few quick, accurate shots from the Turnwell Colt pistol he had in his right hand. His S2 AM sniper rifle was slung over his shoulder, too impractical to use in narrow, close-quarters spaces. It would come in handy if he ever got far enough away from an Elite though.

Heading off to the right, the corridor came to an automatic door. As the group approached it, there was a loud xylophone style chime noise and the door slid open, behind it what looked to be another Covenant garage, this one only one floor and thus had no overhead catwalks which could pose a threat since enemies could have been positioned on them.

A Minor Elite and a group of Grunts were scattered throughout the garage, only a pair of Wraith tanks parked in this one. They didn't notice Jeff and the group enter at first until a Grunt standing nearby happened to turn around. The Grunt shouted and opened fire with its Needler. Jeff shot it clean through the head with his pistol, running behind one of the Wraith tanks. The rest of the group scattered throughout the garage.

He watched as Corporal Jackson unleashed a massive volley of Needler shards from both Needlers. The pink crystals homed in on a nearby Grunt, making the alien stumbled back as they got embedded in it. Following the crystals getting embedded there was a large pink explosion as they all went off at once, blasting the Grunt apart and sending chunks of fluorescent blue blood splattering across the floor and nearby walls.

He reloaded both Needlers, ducking behind a large Covenant metal crate.

Jones was standing behind a pillar which went up to the ceiling; Watkins crouched behind a crate near him. Heinrich was running over to the other parked Wraith tank, plasma bolts flying past him. He dived behind the Wraith tank as a Grunt came round it. He opened fire with his Plasma Rifle, taking the Grunt down.

Jeff leaned around the side of the Wraith, spotting the Minor Elite that was heading for the tank Heinrich was taking cover behind. Jeff fired his pistol at the Elite, the alien's shield flaring. It turned around and returned fire with its Plasma Rifle, plasma scorching the armor on the Wraith tank. The Elite strafed to the right to get a better angle to fire at Jeff.

Jeff kept firing his pistol, pausing in between each shot for a second or two to make sure the recoil didn't bounce the next one up and off target.

The Elite stumbled back as its shield failed and a shot hit it in the chest. It roared and started charging towards Jeff, firing its Plasma Rifle.

The lower ranked Elites tended to do this if you were close enough, possibly because they weren't as experienced as the higher ranked Elites. Jeff fired his pistol again at the charging Elite but the trigger squeeze was meant by an all too familiar clicking sound. Eight rounds were all the pistol could hold so maybe he should count his shots next time.

He ejected the spent magazine and was about to slip in a new one when he felt a sudden blunt pain in his chest as the Elite swung and connected there. He was knocked over by the blow and slightly winded, his pistol sliding across the floor without a magazine in it.

The Elite stood over him now, preparing to strike another blow when there was a sudden spray of dark purple blood as several rifle rounds connected with its side. The Elite fell off to the other side, Jones standing nearby with a smoking AK rifle.

'How many times do I have to save yo' ass?' Jones asked.

Jeff got up and picked up the pistol, loading it with a fresh magazine. He was almost out of ammunition for it. It was the Captain's and the Captain would be getting it back when they found him.

He holstered the pistol and picked up the dead Elite's Plasma Rifle. It still had an almost full battery by the look of it.

Taking a look around the room and seeing that the group of Covenant soldiers in it had been taken down, Jeff saw a set of double doors at the end of the garage. He directed the group towards them and took one last look around the garage before following the group into the corridor himself.

They followed it, passing several locked doors. The ones that opened only went into empty rooms such as storage and computer rooms.
They encountered a few small groups of Grunts and Jackals which were easily eliminated before coming into a large room which appeared to be a hang-out area of some sort. A large group of Elites were scattered around the room, even more Grunts in the room as well.

Jeff directed his group to one side of the room as the large amount of enemies turned their attention to them. Jeff dived behind what looked to be a table built for Elites which seem to have several long metallic tubes sticking out of it. Plasma bolts zipped past at painfully close distances.

Jeff mowed down a few nearby Grunts with his Plasma Rifle. Counting the Elites, there were three Minors and two Majors and the Majors had taken cover, their attention diverted to other members of Jeff's group.

Jeff picked up a plasma grenade that one of the Grunts had dropped, just in time to suffer from another blow from an Elite, this time from behind. He hadn't noticed the Minor Elite sneak up on him in the confusion of the firefight. He knew you should always keep your wits about you in the middle of a firefight like this one, but every now and then something like this happened.

Jeff fell forwards, tasting blood in his mouth. He couldn't feel any broken bones, but he had always been like that. He had never broken a bone in his life, no matter how hard he got hit. Which seemed to amaze any doctor that checked up on him, but he just pinned it on a mixture of luck, natural ability, exercise and a good diet.

Jeff got up, rolling off to one side to avoid the Elite's next attack. A Grunt ran into view in front of him. He fired a volley of Plasma Rifle bolts, taking it down and burning large holes in the Grunt's weak armor.

He glanced behind and saw the Elite about to strike him again. Jeff turned around so he was on his back and fired, the plasma bolts depleting the Elite's shield. They burned through its armor and purple blood spurted out onto Jeff as his Plasma Rifle overheating. The Elite stumbled backwards and fell to the floor.

Jeff got back up onto his feet, plasma bolts coming from an enemy off to his right. He turned around and saw a Major Elite having stepped out of cover. Plasma scorched his chest armor plating and he could feel his skin burning underneath. Ignoring the pain he armed the plasma grenade and threw it towards the Elite.

Plasma grenades had the amazing ability to determine strategic targets from non-strategic targets, sticking to enemy troops and vehicles but not to walls and trees. This particular plasma grenade stuck itself on the chest of the Elite.

The alien shouted in surprise, starting a charge in Jeff's direction only to be incinerated by the blue-white explosion that the grenade created when it detonated. The Elite's scorched, charred and mainly burnt away corpse ended up on the floor a few meters away.

Jeff noticed that the other two Minor Elites had been brought down by Jones and the others. The last Elite in the room, a Major, was busy trying to swing at Corporal Jackson who had gone too close to the Elite. He was avoiding the alien's powerful attacks but Jeff watched as one of the attacks connected with the Corporal's right arm and sent both his Needlers flying out of his hands and sliding along the floor. Jones was standing nearby and opened fire with his Plasma Rifle, depleting the Elite's shield and getting its attention. The Corporal dropped to the floor clutching his right arm and writhing in pain.

Jeff began firing at the Elite, cutting it down in a volley of plasma fire. As the Elite fell Jeff ran over to the fallen Corporal. The remaining Grunts were cowering now and Heinrich and Watkins easily took care of them.

'My arm…it's broken,' the Corporal said, 'and it really hurts.' He sat up, clutching his arm. Looking at it Jeff couldn't see any outside damage, so it was most likely fractured on the inside.

'Jeff, I saw you get hit by that Elite, why do you look alright?' The Corporal asked, 'I get hit once and my arm breaks while you get hit a few times and nothing's broken.'

'It's just the way I am, I guess,' Jeff replied. He didn't really think much about this. He sometimes saw people suffer from the same attacks as him but he always ended up less damaged.

'Bullshit,' the Corporal said.

Heinrich walked over, followed by Jones and Watkins.

'What happened?' Heinrich asked.

'My arm's broken, that's what,' the Corporal replied, 'I can hardly move it.'

Heinrich frowned and then bent down so he was level with the Corporal.

'I'll just make a sling for it, you can still use your left arm,' Heinrich said.

Jeff felt a tap on his left shoulder and turned around to see Jones standing behind him.

'Jeff, come take a look at this,' Jones said, pointing over to one of the large tables, 'I don't know what to make of it.'

Jeff followed him over to one of the tables. Jones walked over to one of the flexible metal tubes and grabbed it, pulling at it. More of it came out of the table. On it was a small trigger which he pressed, a strange looking blue gel-like goo coming out.

'What is this stuff?' He asked, putting some on his hand and smelling it, 'it smells kind of weird.'

Jeff gave it some thought for a moment. Seeing that this room looked like some kind of mess hall for Elites, he gathered that the goo and the tubes was for the Elites themselves. Considering animal meat wouldn't be readily available for troops these tubes probably released a substance containing all the needed nutrients that an Elite needed. They looked like something an Elite was stick in its mouth past its mandibles anyway.

'Must be for the Elites,' Jeff said, 'proper food isn't readily available so they swallow this nutrient filled goo.'

'It's worse than the stuff we get on our ships,' Jones said.

Jeff looked around and then towards the others.

'If this is a mess hall, then we must be getting close to the more important parts of the base,' Jeff said, 'that means we're close to the Captain. The base can't be that big anyway.'

Once Corporal Jackson had his broken arm in a makeshift sling they continued through more corridors, encountering a few groups of Grunts and Jackals. Eventually they came into a corridor lined with doors that had about five meters of space in between them. Stepping towards one, Jeff walked to the small holographic panel next to it. It would be worth checking out what was in these rooms, so he started pressing random keys on the panel when there was a familiar chime noise as the door slid open. Behind nit was a room with several large bunks and a pair of Minor Elites standing in the room.

Jeff and his group gunned them down before they had a chance to activate their personal shields. These rooms were obviously barracks of some sort and so opening anymore of them wouldn't be too smart considering there would definitely be enemies in them. Jeff shut the door and led the group through the corridors, taking out any small patrols they came across before they came into a large room, holographic panels on most of the walls.

Several Jackals and three Minor Elites were in this computer room. Jeff managed to gun down two of the Jackals as he ran down the room, looking for cover. There was hardly any, only a few large seats positioned near some of the holographic panels.

Jones armed a fragmentation grenade and threw it towards the Jackals. Some managed to jump away from it in time while others were tossed around the room like rag-dolls.
Corporal Jackson was holding a Needler in his one good hand, managing to get several crystals into a pair of Jackals that had part of them showing through their shields. They were blown away in large pink explosions, the Elites, with no available cover, began to charge towards the nearest human.

PFC Watkins was one of those humans, suffering a blow to the head which sent him sliding across the floor, his neck broken by the look of it. Jeff fired his Plasma Rifle, taking down one of the Elite's shields. He waited for the weapon to cool down as the Elite turned around and began to shoot at him, Jeff rolling out of the way.

Jones and Heinrich fired their weapons at the Elite when its back was turned to them, taking the alien down. The remaining Elite was rolling out of the way of most of the weapons fire that was directed towards it.

A door on the other side of the room slid open and a Major Elite flanked by orange and red armored Grunts entered. They scattered when they saw the humans in the room.

Jeff took down the Minor Elite and turned his attention to the Grunts, one of them taking out a plasma grenade and arming it, throwing it in his general direction. He dived and rolled out of its way, the grenade detonating and shaking the floor beneath him, leaving a large scorch mark on the floor where the grenade had gone off.

Jeff watched as a few of the Grunts were brought down. He ran to his left a little, clubbing a Grunt across the head, caving in the little alien's skull. He dropped a few more Grunts with his Plasma Rifle, the rifle starting to irregularly fire and sputter as if struggling to keep itself going. Realizing its battery must be getting flat he threw the rifle on the floor and picked up a dead Grunt's Plasma Pistol. These weaker but still reliable plasma weapons could be overcharged to fire a much more powerful and slightly homing shot, and Jeff did just that, holding down the trigger and making sure the weapon vibrated in his hands, glowing with green plasma energy.

He let the trigger go and a large, trailing and sizzling shot of green plasma sped across the room, colliding with the Major Elite on the other side and totally depleting the Elite's personal shield. The alien stumbled back, burning green plasma eating its way through its armour's breast plate. Once the burning stopped the Elite started firing its Plasma Rifle, a bolt hitting Jeff in the stomach.

Jeff stumbled backwards, feeling a painful burning sensation where the plasma hit. He ignored most of it, quickly firing several shots from his Plasma Pistol. The Elite fell to its knees, struggling to get up.

Jeff stepped over and kicked the Elite in the chest, making it fall on its back. He pressed the firing end of the Plasma Pistol against its helmeted head and fired, purple blood spurting out as the Elite suffered a major headache.

Satisfied that the alien was most definitely dead, he directed his group to the door. They were definitely close to the command center now and quite surprisingly it was the next room, a large room which featured a slightly raised platform in the center, three of its sides taken up by holographic panels. A white armored Elite stood on the platform, Grunts and Jackals scattered around the room. A few other lower ranked Elites were in the room as well and all of the aliens turned their heads towards the humans.

Jeff un-slung his sniper rifle from his back as plasma fire seemingly filled the air. He crouched, took a deep breath and ignored everything else that was going on around him. Jones was running to take cover behind a pillar, Heinrich crouching behind a crate. Corporal Jackson seemed to have a sudden brainwave, taking out two fragmentation grenades with his one good hand. He pulled out the pins in both and charged towards the nearest groups of Elites.

What followed next was an explosion double the size of your usual fragmentation grenade explosion. There was nothing left of the Corporal but the Elites in and around the explosion weren't looking too good either. Some lay dead with limbs missing while one or two were struggling to get up, bloodied and hurt.

Jeff zoomed in with the sniper rifle scope on the nearest pair of Elites, the last remaining ones in the room excluding the white armored one which had activated an energy sword. Jeff fired a few quick shots, bringing the Elites down.

He got up and clubbed a Jackal as it was about to bring up its shield. It fell, dead, and Jeff swung around to face another Jackal, doing the same to that one.

Soon enough there were only a few straggler Grunts left. The white armored Elite came running down the platform, heading straight for Jeff. Jones and Heinrich opened fire, bullets glancing off its shield but the remaining Grunts turned their attention to the pair and thus Jeff was left without any help for the time being, Jones and Heinrich now busy trying to take down the remaining Grunts.

The white armored Elite, now holding in its right hand the two pronged blue, shimmering blade of an energy sword didn't give Jeff much of a chance to ready himself.

The Elite swung the energy sword, Jeff ducking below the attack. The sword came down again, this time slicing Jeff's sniper rifle in half. Dropping the now useless weapon Jeff rolled off to one side, kicking with his right leg and getting the Elite across both legs. The alien stumbled backwards, regaining its balance and bringing the sword down again in a ground attack, sticking it into the floor only inches away from Jeff's face. The Elite pulled it out but Jeff kicked again, this time getting the Elite in the crotch, right between the legs. The Elite stumbled backwards, groaning in some pain.

Jeff got up and reached for his Colt pistol but the Elite had already recovered and had charged Jeff again, knocking him over and bringing the sword only inches away from his face.

Grabbing the Elite's sword wielding hand he kept it held up there, both of them struggling to get the advantage. The sword came even closer but all of a sudden the Elite's shield flared.

Looking to his left, Jeff could see Jones standing a few meters away, firing a Plasma Rifle. The Elite stood up and started towards Jones, but Jeff put out a leg and tripped the alien up, making it let go of its plasma sword. The sword deactivated and the handle went sliding across the floor.

Jeff put out a hand and grabbed it, activating it and jumping back up on his feet. The Elite was starting to get up but Jeff just came up behind it and bought the sword down, burning through its shield easily.

The Elite howled in pain as half of its left arm was sliced off by the blade. Jeff plunged the sword into its back, impaling it on the floor. Leaving it there, he turned to Jones and Heinrich.

'Jesus,' Jones said, looking at the way the Elite had been killed, 'that's nasty.'

'Heinrich, could you hack into their systems and try and locate the Captain?' Jeff asked, stepping over to the Elite's corpse and taking the alien's helmet off. He put it with the others he was carrying.

'It would take a while, I don't exactly carry the needed equipment with me,' Heinrich replied, 'do you want me to try?'

That's when a familiar voice, sounding faint but audible, came flowing down a nearby corridor.

'Hello? I've been hearing noise out there! If there's anybody out there, I've been locked up in here!'

'That's definitely the Captain,' Jones said, 'no need to hack into any systems.'

Jeff, Jones and Heinrich started down the corridor as the Captain's shouts got louder. They eventually came to a door and it was quite clear that the Captain was in the room behind it. Jeff fiddled with the control panel for about half a minute before he found the right set of keys and the door slid open.

The Captain was standing in the corner of what looked to be an interrogation room with a table and chair. His face was bruised and he had a few cuts. As well as that he was dirty but he seemed to be smiling.

'I knew someone would come and rescue me,' Captain Bob Turnwell said, 'but I was expecting more than three people to raid a Covenant base.'

'Everyone else in our group is dead,' Jones said, frowning, 'and you don't look too good yourself.'

'I wouldn't worry too much about my injuries,' Bob said, stepping towards the three of them, 'they're only slight. They roughed me up, asking me questions about the Winter Sunshine's Slip-space technology and why our ship was so different to others they had encountered. We were all told that our ship's new technology was reverse engineered from Covenant technology, right?'

'Yeah, so?' Jeff asked.

'They seemed surprised by how advanced it was. I really don't get it…If it's from their technology than they would know it when they see it. They obviously didn't…'

'We're here to rescue you, Captain,' Heinrich said, interrupting, 'not discuss technology. Are you going to come with us or not?'

'Sure I will,' Bob said, 'although I'm surprised they wanted me alive in the first place.'

Jeff took out the Turnwell Colt pistol and held it out to Bob.

'I believe this is yours?' Jeff said.

Bob smiled and took the pistol checking its magazine and pulling the slider back.

'I knew you would look after it,' Bob said, 'any ammo left?'

'Not here, but there would be some back at base camp,' Jeff said.

'Base camp?'

'Major Golding and his ODSTs managed to capture a Covenant supply station in some ancient structures. It's base camp now, although everyone calls it "Camp Golding",' Jones said.

'Well, have you guys got an escape plan?' Bob asked, 'since I do.'

'You do?' Jones asked, raising an eyebrow.

Bob stepped out into the corridor and looked around.

'When I first woke up after being captured, mainly because an alien bastard snuck up on me and knocked me out,' Bob said, 'I was being herded out of a drop-ship in a hangar nearby. Considering you've killed a lot of them already I would say they're on their way to us. We should get to the hangar, since it leads straight outside. There's an armoury down the corridor, so we should stock up on weapons there.'

Jeff, Jones and Heinrich followed the Captain down the corridor, encountering a small group of Grunts that were easily taken care of. Going through a door, they entered a large room where racks of Covenant weapons lined the walls, holding Plasma Rifle, Plasma Pistols, Covenant Carbines, Needlers, Fuel Rod Cannons, plasma grenades and Particle Beam Rifles. The Captain grabbed a Covenant Carbine as well as some ammunition for it. Jeff grabbed a fresh Plasma Rifle and so did Jones and Heinrich.

'Just follow me,' Bob said, 'I know my way around some of this base. The hangar isn't too far away; I think it's past their artillery and through some garages.'

Jeff, Jones and Heinrich began following the Captain down the corridors, taking out the few small groups of Grunts and Jackals they encountered. They came to a large room which had a massive gun tower in the center which was jutting out of a large square hole in the ceiling, obviously a means of defence. There were two Minor Elites standing near the base of the gun, Grunts and Jackals scattered around the room.

The four humans scattered, bringing down a few of the Grunts and Jackals. The Elites opened fire as well as a few of the remaining Grunts and Jackals.

Jeff swept his Plasma Rifle along a small group of Grunts, taking them down. He ducked behind a Covenant crate as a few sets of doors along the left of the room opened, a few groups, each consisting of some Grunts and Jackals being led by either a Minor or Major Elite.

Jones ran past, ducking behind a crate and arming a fragmentation grenade. He let it cook for a few seconds before throwing it, the grenade going off mid-air right in between the pair of Minor Elites ahead. Both Elites were sent flying in opposite directions as the other.
The large room was filled with Covenant crates, most carrying ammunition for the gun tower. This gave Jeff and the group plenty of cover, but it also gave their enemies cover as well.

Stepping around some crates he was in the line of fire from a Major Elite and some Grunts. Mowing down the Grunts, his Plasma Rifle overheated. The Major Elite opened fire, causing Jeff to step back behind a crate for cover. He waited for his Plasma Rifle to cool down, and when it did he leaned around the side of the crate and opened fire at the Elite.

The Plasma Rifles had the slight ability to stun targets with their, so the Elite stumbled back from the amount of plasma fire it was taking, giving Jeff a chance to finish it off.

Bob came into view ahead, firing his rifle at an out of view target. He turned around and waved at Jeff.

'Come on, we're moving on!' Bob shouted.

Jeff ran over to him, finding Jones and Heinrich with him as well. They followed the Captain through a set of doors at the end of the room, killing any Covenant soldiers that got in their way. Plasma fire was coming from behind but they continued through some corridors, arriving in another gun tower room. This one was slightly larger and had crates scattered around the tower.

More of the other doors opened and Elites, Grunts and Jackals came in. Moving through the room, Jeff, Bob, Jones and Heinrich fought they way to the other side as yet more Covenant soldiers came out of the other doors.

Bob directed them over to one particular door, entering some more corridors. They almost ran into a pair of Minor Elites that had been heading down the corridor.

Jeff opened fire with his plasma rifle as did everyone else, the combined fire bringing down the Elites quite easily. The group continued through the corridors as they twisted and turned through the base.

'The hangar should be around here somewhere,' Bob said. They came to another door which opened as they approached into a large, open room with a large bay force field that deactivated as they entered, a Covenant drop-ship releasing itself from one of the docking clamps on the ceiling and flying out of the hangar.

The outside area was a small cleared piece of land right next to the cliff. Jeff could see a way around the base out there, along some narrow ledges that looked like a false step could send you falling to your death.

An Elite and some Grunts were up ahead, and to Jeff's left he could see some Jackals and another two Elites. Jones and Heinrich ran for cover behind some crates as the aliens opened fire. Bob stood where he was, mowing down a few of the Grunts with his Covenant Carbine before ducking behind a pillar.

Jeff went forward, moving behind some crates. He saw a few Grunts off to his right, green plasma bolts hitting the crates he was close to. He shot them down with his Plasma Rifle, turning to his left and seeing one of the Minor Elites step out from around some crates. He opened fire, taking down the Elite's personal shield. Pausing so his Plasma Rifle could cool down he resumed firing before the Elite had chance to fire back.

'Let's get outside!' Bob shouted from somewhere behind him.

Jeff started making his way to the open bay exit, gunning down a pair of Jackals that came into view. He could see some Grunts and Elites on a walkway above, firing down somewhat inaccurately at him and the others. He fired back, but the Plasma Rifle was too inaccurate at that range to do any major damage.

Jeff felt relieved to feel dirt underneath his feet again as he stepped outside, now able to feel the cold night air. Jones and Heinrich followed and after about thirty seconds Bob came out of the hangar as well. They started away from the bay, arriving at the narrow ledges that went along the face of the cliff.

'Looks like we're going to have to move along here,' Bob said, 'once we're a fair distance away we'll call for pick-up.'

Jeff was the first one to step on the narrow ledge, taking a glance down at what looked like a four hundred meter drop. Forest was down below as well as what looked to be some small ancient structures, a river running through the forest. He wasn't exactly good with heights. Sure, he was able to go on board a ship but being right next to a possible death-drop made him feel uneasy.

He looked back at the others. They didn't seem to be having much of a problem with the cliff and the possible fall. Looking ahead Jeff could see the ledge came to a forested area which ran down a gentle hill.

Once they had gone along the ledge and made it onto the forested plain, Jeff whipped out his radio and tried to receive a signal. They were too close to the base but Jeff could see a possible pick-up zone down the hill by a small lake.

'This is Sergeant First Class Jeff Ganszo, does anyone read, over? Blackbird, this is Sergeant—'

'I'm reading you,' came the reply, 'this is Pelican Blackbird 4B77. You ready for pick-up?'

'About half a kilometre ahead of our current position is a nice enough looking area to pick us up from,' Jeff said, 'we're on our way there now.'

'Roger that. Sergeant, there's been a change of plan. I have to drop off some men, since there's been a bit of a complication.'

Jeff was surprised to hear this. Jones, Heinrich and Bob couldn't hear what the person on the other end of the signal was saying, but they all seemed to see that something was wrong by the look he gave.

'What complication?' Jeff asked.

'You have to stay down there. You'll be told more by the guys I'm dropping off.'

The radio went silent and Jeff swore under his breath. He just wanted to get some sleep.

'What's the matter?' Jones asked, 'something's gone wrong, hasn't it?'

'There's been a complication and the three of us has to stay down here. The Captain, yeah, he'll get picked up.'

They started down the hill towards the lake, arriving there just as a Pelican was descending along the lake's banks. A few men in ODST armor jumped out while one not in the armor followed, a familiar Lieutenant.

'Well if it isn't the crazy Sergeant!' Lieutenant Frank Hastings exclaimed, 'looks like we're stuck together for this one.'

Bob had climbed into the back of the Pelican and it was starting to take off. If he had remained only for a few more seconds he could have stopped the next mission from occurring.

'Sergeant, there's been a complication,' Frank said as his four ODSTs spread out. Jones and Heinrich were standing near Jeff, not too keen on doing anymore work.

'What complication?' Jeff asked, 'because I'm really not in the mood for more fighting.'

Frank stepped forward and prodded a finger into Jeff's chest.

'Apparently the Captain had some rather important discs on him,' Frank said, 'and the Covenant confiscated them and now they're apparently up on that ship.' He pointed past Jeff towards the distant Covenant cruiser that was hovering close to the base.

'You're kidding,' Jeff said. This was beginning to look like a suicide mission.

'No, I'm not,' Frank replied, 'the discs are on that ship and may have the location of Earth on them. To make our job of finding them a lot easier I've brought that AI, Windtalker, along.'

He held out the familiar computer card. Jeff reluctantly took it.
'I haven't got the systems for it,' Jeff said, 'I didn't bring the Aswalt helmet.'

'It doesn't matter, since I brought this,' Frank said, holding up what looked to be a belt with some sort of metal box on it. He handed it to Jeff.

'This belt is for you to wear and to put that AI in,' Frank said, 'it'll link directly to your neural interface thanks to these little spiky things that go in the base of your spine.' He pointed at a few small metal needles that were hanging by a few cables from the belt.

'I don't want that AI in my head again,' Jeff said, 'it was bad enough last time.'

'I'm giving you an order,' Frank said, 'you're going to have to carry that AI around with you. I could always make one of my ODST squad-mates put him in their armor, but when I heard you were here I thought I would give you the privilege.'

Jeff shook his head. He put the belt on; making sure the metal box was on the side. There was a shimmer as the belt activated, scanning his entire body. Almost immediately it found out where the base of his spine was and the small spikes inserted themselves in the right spot. It hardly hurt, but he didn't exactly like the idea.

'Is that all?' Jeff asked, 'do you want me to tap dance for you as well?'
Frank paused to think about this for a moment.

'Maybe another time, Sergeant,' Frank said, 'but we have to get aboard that ship, the Justice Lighter or some other shit, stupid name…'

'It's the Justifiable Light, sir,' one of the ODSTs said.

'Yeah, who cares,' Frank replied, 'we have to get aboard and find the discs. Sergeant, your two friends are coming with us. You obey my orders, even if it means you'll probably get killed.'

'Don't push your luck, ass-hole,' Jones said.

'Shut the fuck up, Corporal,' Frank said, 'we're going and I'm leading this mission.'

'Then we're sure to all get killed,' Jones said.

'Again, Corporal,' Frank said, stepping over to Jones, 'just shut the fuck up. We're going, whether any of you like it or not.'

Not Exactly Human Ch. 8: The Justifiable Light
Date: 27 July 2008, 11:24 pm

Note: Hope this ain't too long for you folks. What follows is the first bit of the eighth chapter (I split it into a three bits) although it does seem more fragmented now. The actual chapter in its original incarnation was about 21, 000 words long.

Time passed since landing according to Major George Golding's Mission Clock: 3: 42: 27.67

Major George Golding had fallen asleep, leaning forwards onto his desk, drooling onto some papers that he had been reading before he had dozed off.

Private First Class (Medic) Alan Reynolds was standing nearby, having had entered the large room that the Major used as an office only a few minutes ago. He had seen that the Major was fast asleep and was afraid to wake up since the Major might very well grab the large pistol that lay on the desk with him and fire off a shot. That particular shot could very well hit the medic. The Major was like that, always alert, even if he was fast asleep. Knowing the Major enough, Alan reckoned he was probably dreaming about killing Covenant soldiers, of course in much easier than real life circumstances.

Alan approached the sleeping Major, noticing that the hairs on the Major's thick moustache were bristling every time he breathed out. He could probably get some of the other guys in here and they could start playing a little improvised game: they would bet money to see if they could touch the Major's moustache without him noticing. That could always waste away an hour or two, at least until the Major awoke.

He wasn't in here to play games though; rather Alan had something important to tell the Major. It was concerning the Elite they had found half-dead near the crashed Seraph fighter in the jungles near base camp. Major Golding would be glad to hear something on the Elite they recovered, and for one thing the alien was alive and locked up in a makeshift 'cage' with electrified bars.

Alan took a look at the Major and tried to figure out a way to wake him up without making the Major wake up in enough surprise to grab the pistol.

He started behind the Major, putting a hand on his shoulder and shaking him gently.

'Sir…are you awake, sir?'

George sat up in his seat, making Alan jump back a pace with surprise. George grabbed the pistol on the desk with his right hand and looked around the room, trying to find who had disturbed his slumber. He turned around with the pistol raised and his cowboy style hat back on his head.

'Holy shit Private, you scared the crap out of me,' George said, lowering the pistol, 'I could've shot you.'

'I know,' Alan replied, 'that's why I woke you from behind.'

'Yeah, whatever,' George replied, putting the pistol back on the desk. The pistol was that "Ol' Painless" gun he loved so much. He had found more ammunition for it in supply crates taken from escape pods and Pelicans after they had all landed.

'If you woke me up, it better be for good reason,' George said, 'otherwise I'm going to get really pissed off.'

'Major, I've patched up that Elite we found near that crashed Seraph fighter. It's locked up and under guard if you're wondering,' Alan said.

George frowned.

'So what?' He said, 'if I was sleeping, you don't wake me up. Next time, don't wake me up unless the place is under attack or something.'

'Yes sir,' Alan said, nodding. The Major didn't seem too happy about his interrupted sleep.

'What time is it?' George asked, looking at his watch. He shook his head. 'Crap, it's still in Reach time. How long do days last on this planet?'

'One of our technicians thinks a day plus a night, so a full day-and-night cycle, is about twenty-nine hours.'

'That means more time to sleep, but also more time to work,' George said, 'I don't think I can get used to these long days.'

'Sir, about the Elite…'

'Yeah, about that,' George said, 'you think you could give me the brief on his injuries? I'm curious to find out what kind of anatomy they have.'

'Hence the autopsy you want?'

'Yes, the autopsy,' George said, 'we're short on medical staff and since you're not up to the job I think I might get that German guy to do it…What's is name, Hommel or something?'

'I think it's Rommel, sir,' Alan replied.

'Yeah, that's the one,' George said, slowly standing up. 'You see, I have this plan, you know. A master plan, even if I do say so myself.'

'Keep going,' Alan said, knowing it would be just better to agree with everything the Major said. He was ambitious but knew his boundaries, the Major did.

'Well, if we can create some sort of bio weapon, right,' George said, using his hands in typical conversation gestures to emphasize what he was saying, 'like some kind of virus, one that hurts Elites and possibly one for each of the other species, maybe we could release it on board one of their ships. I heard their medical facilities aren't all that flash and so they wouldn't be able to stop it. I say it's better than fighting them.'

'Biological warfare's a bit inhumane, don't you think?' Alan asked, beginning to see what the Major was getting at, 'you know, like Anthrax. That stuff was banned back in the 23rd Century along with a whole load of other stuff like it because it was considered way too inhuman.'

'Have you been living under a rock for the past twenty-seven years?' George asked, 'it's the Covenant we're talking about. A bunch of fanatical, religious, destructive, ugly mother fucking aliens that want to kill every single last human. I don't think it's inhuman if we kill them off with some sort of virus. Like I said, we could release it onto one of their ships. They could end up taking it back to their home-world and we could finish them off when they're weak. You realize how much time this would save?'

Alan paused for a moment. The Major did have a point. They could end the war easily if they had working biological weapons which affected the Covenant.

'That's why you want the autopsy done, so you can create some sort of Elite killing virus?' Alan asked, 'then we can get to work on the other species.'

'Elites more so, though,' George said, 'they're the most dangerous. We'll save the Grunts till last.'

'If a virus was made, would you take all the credit?'

'I'm a modest man,' George replied. He seemed to notice Alan's change of expression. He shook his head and chuckled. 'Okay, I'm not so much a modest man but I wouldn't take all the credit. I don't know shit about medicine, I would just organize what would be done with the virus and what tests would be done, all that stuff. I did come up with the idea, though.'

'Are you going to come with me to interrogate the Elite or what?' Alan asked, 'I don't want to stand here all night discussing viruses with you.'

'Hell, we could even test this virus on that Elite,' George said, 'that would be good for a bit of fun, wouldn't it?'

'You're sick,' Alan said. The Major did seem to have a strange sense of humour.

'No, I haven't even got a cold,' George replied, 'so, are you going to show me to this Elite or not?'

Alan started out of the room, George following.

'So, just how exactly is our alien friend locked up?' George asked as they started down some steps, taking them down into a large room in the ancient structure. Here, several bunks had been set up, marines fast asleep in some. A few groups of marines were sitting at tables a fair distance away from the sleeping personnel, most playing poker.

'We recovered some metal sheets. We shut off a large enough area for the prisoner and we're running an electrical current through the sheeting, creating a sort of electrified cage,' Alan replied.

They walked past a group of marines sitting around a table playing poker. One of them turned to the Major as they walked past.

'You want to join us in a game, sir?' The marine asked.

'Not right now,' George replied.

He followed Alan through some ancient automatic doors before they came into a fairly large room. Two marines with the old BR36 Battle Rifles, un-scoped versions, were standing near a sort of cell, with glass and metal walls. There was only a large mat on the floor and a metal bench inside the cell, the Elite sitting on the floor, lying against the bench. For all it was worth the alien looked tired, George noticing that it's armor breast-plate had been taken off, bandages covering up the wounds it had received. It looked to be asleep, and seeing that the Elite was asleep George felt like sleeping as well.

'So, you want to bring out the prisoner?' Alan asked.

'Of course I do, otherwise I wouldn't have come here,' George replied. Alan nodded to the two guards, one of them walking over to a small generator that was humming nearby. The marine pulled a lever, obviously shutting off the electrical current that was going through the material. The other reached over to a handle on the makeshift cell and pulled, opening one section of it.

The two of them walked in, one of them prodding the Elite with the end of his rifle.

'Rise and shine ugly,' the marine said, 'someone wants to talk with you.'

The Elite shifted where it lay and opened its eyes. It didn't look too happy. A fanatical religious alien race probably made it out that death was better than capture. Well, George wasn't about to give this Elite the liberty of death.

One of the guards kicked the Elite in the side. It didn't look like a very powerful kick but was enough to get the Elite to get up.

The alien stepped out of the cell, giving George a menacing glance. George was completely unfazed. The Elite was at their mercy now, and by looking at what was in its cell Alan had made sure there was nothing in there that it could use to kill itself with.

'Sit him on that crate over there,' George told the two marines, pointing to a metal crate that was in the room nearby and which used to contain M19 SSM rockets.

The marines directed the Elite to sit down on the crate. It simply walked over and sat down, looking at the floor.

'What if it tries to make a run for it?' One of the marines asked.

'It won't,' George replied, 'it knows it can't possibly take us all on and survive.'

George pulled up a crate and sat opposite the Elite. It looked at him, and they were practically face-to-face. Alan was standing behind him while the two marines were standing far back just in case the Elite decided to attack the humans.

'Well, I've never had the chance to speak with one of you guys,' George said. The Elite just stared for a few seconds before glancing around the room.

'Can you understand me?' George asked, 'I know some of you guys can. Like maybe some of you guys went to special English classes of something. Just answer my questions since you ain't getting out of here.

'Maybe you want to die, since maybe having been captured is "dishonourable". Well, none of us are going to kill you. You make a run for it and you'll get capped full of stun rounds before you can say "whiskey". Well, maybe not before you can say that word, and I doubt that's the kind of thing you would say…'

'Major, what are you doing?' Alan asked, 'are you questioning the Elite or having a nice conversation with it?'

'He's not answering, so I'm trying to get him to answer,' the Major replied, glancing behind at Alan. He turned back to the Elite.

'You are a "he", aren't you?' George asked, 'we could always check but that would be embarrassing for you, no doubt.'

The Elite just looked at the ground, obviously with other things on its mind.

George got up and grabbed the Elite by one side of its quadruple hinged mouth. He brought its head up so they were looking at each other eye-to-eye.

'You better start answering since I might just blow your fucking balls off, if you have any,' George said, his eyes wide with anger and frustration.

'We want the alien alive, remember?' Alan said from behind.

'I know, just let me do my job,' George replied, not even turning around so he was actually facing the medic.

'Your threats mean nothing to me human,' the Elite said in its deep, inhuman masculine voice.

'That's better,' George said, releasing his grip on the Elite and sitting back down. George had almost immediately calmed down; now back to his usual calm self.

'So, let me get this straight, ugly,' George said. He paused. 'Can I call you ugly? You sure as hell are.'

'Your insults also mean nothing to me,' the Elite replied, 'I would prefer to die.'

George got up and turned to Alan.

'Medic, give me your pistol,' George said.

'Why?'

'Give me it and that's an order,' George said, beginning to sound angry again.

'Okay, sir,' Alan replied, taking out his M6D pistol and handing it to the Major.

George pulled the slider back and swivelled around, putting the firing end of the gun against the Elite's crotch.

'Now, any intelligent species would know that losing what makes you who you are is too much to bear,' George said, 'now, are you willing to take that chance?'

The Elite glared at him but George could see in its eyes, now missing the dark eye covers that most Elites wore; revealing amber eyes with a snake-like pupil running down the center that losing what made the Elite who it was probably wouldn't be such a good thing.

'Tell me why you were flying around here in your fancy-pants Seraph fighter. Did we finally blow up all your Banshees?' George asked, taking on a menacing tone.

'I was on a scouting mission,' the Elite replied, no noticeable changes in its tone of voice, 'and as for our Banshees, we still have enough to kill every single human on this planet.'

'Don't think killing all of us is going to be that easy,' George replied, 'ever since the day you destroyed Harvest, you've put yourselves in some deep shit. You may have killed millions, possibly a few billion, of us, but one day we're all just going to whoop your asses so badly you won't be able to recover. We're going to win this war, this war that you ugly fuckers started. My brother was on Jericho VII when you bastards blew it up, so don't think I'm going to give you any lee-way.'

The Elite had listened to everything George had said but didn't seem to care much.

'Your species deserves to be wiped from existence,' the Elite said, 'defiling holy structures such as this one with your unclean footsteps.'

'So, you want us all dead because we're vandals?' George said. He laughed. 'That's pathetic. You really should think about why you're fighting us.'

George sat back down on the crate, taking the pistol away from the Elite's crotch.

'Do you have a name?' George asked, 'I'm sure you would.'

'Iporo Qualomee,' the Elite replied, 'I suppose you have a name as well? You call us "Elites", I know that.'

'Elites? I call you guys "ugly fucking assholes", because that's what you are. I'm sure all you Elites get a kick out of killing humans, because I sure get a kick out of killing you guys. I suppose your species has a proper name, something stupid sounding I suppose?'

'I would never tell human vermin the name of our glorious race,' Iporo said.

'Glorious? Maybe. But you ain't going to get much glory, especially when I blow your baby maker off, if you have one. I'm still not sure. Your voices wouldn't be so deep if you didn't have one,' George said.
He pressed the firing end of the pistol against the Elite's crotch again.

'Answer my questions,' George said, 'otherwise your girlfriend won't be having much fun anymore. You won't be having much fun anymore, either.'

'The name of our race is Sangheili ,' the Elite replied, shaking its head as if it was surprised with itself.

'What kind of stupid assed name is that?' George said, laughing. He turned around to Alan and the two marines. 'You hear that? Elites are called "Sangheili". Sounds really fucked up, doesn't it?'

'So what?' Alan asked.

'Why do you always have to ruin my fun?' George asked, frowning. He turned back to the Elite.

'Well, Iporo, if you don't mind me calling you that, you said you were on a scouting mission. What were you scouting?'

'This base,' Iporo replied, not sounding too keen on answering. The Elite could tell George wasn't afraid to carry out his threats.

'Wait a minute, just stop there,' George said. He turned around and looked at Alan.

'Get me a paper and pen, would ya?' He asked.

'A what?'

'A paper and pen, and that's an order,' George said.

Alan nodded and walked over to a desk in the corner of the room, taking up a small notepad and a pen. This was an old fashioned style of writing but they were short on the more modern ways of taking notes and had to resort to the centuries old technique of 'writing'.

Alan came back with the notepad and biro, handing it to George. He took it and turned to face the Elite once more.

'So, your name is Iporo Qualomee, right?' George asked, 'how do you spell that?'

'I'm not familiar with the word "spell",' Iporo answered.

'Well, that's a lot of help,' George said, figuring he should just write down how he thought it was spelt. Hence, he wrote down Name of Prisoner: Iporro Qualomme.

'The name of your race is Sangheili, yeah, am I right?' George asked.

'What have I told you? Do you humans have bad memories?' Iporo said.

'You watch what comes out of that mouth of yours…I mean jaws…No, hole…Yeah, that mouth of yours…' George said, trying to determine whether or not he could describe the Elite as having a proper 'mouth'. On the notepad he wrote down Species: Elite, proper name Sanghilly or something along those lines.

'You were scouting the base,' George said, 'what for?'

'You humans took control of an important food supply depot which brings food and equipment to the base where we're keeping your commander,' Iporo answered, 'I was sent to scout out your defenses and troop positions.'

'So, you guys are planning a counter-attack?' George asked, 'wow, how original. This information will come in handy.'

'You seem to be enjoying yourself,' Iporo said, 'what kind of human are you?'

'Well, for one thing, I've never spoken to an Elite before. Previous times I've had to kill them before they killed me. As for what kind of human I am, I'm one of the ones that hates the Covenant and, like I said, gets a kick out of killing you bastards,' George said.

'Do you humans have names?' Iporo asked, 'although it would disgust me if you did.'

'Prepare to feel disgusted then,' George said, 'since my name is George Golding. I'm ranked as a Major, a rather high rank in the army. I'm an ODST.'

'A Major? You must be commanding everyone else here,' Iporo said.

'Very good, you seem to know a lot about human beings,' George said, beginning to sound like a psychiatrist, although he was making a joke out of it, 'and as a matter of fact I do boss everyone else here around. That includes you now, since you're now an official prisoner of the United Nations Space Command. I hope you enjoy the time you spend with us.'

'I don't think I will,' Iporo replied, looking down at the floor again.

'Is that a sense of humour you got there, Iporo?' George asked, 'because if it is maybe you Sangheili aren't all that dull, boring and annoying after all. I would enjoy myself if I killed you right now, but there wouldn't be any point. You won't be going anywhere for a while when you're staying with us. Tell me, what's the name of your Commander? Who's running this show? Maybe if I ever meet him I could whup his ass.'

'Ever since you humans arrived, Ship Master Dras Amargee is our commander.'

'Dras Amargee?' George asked, raising an eyebrow, 'I suppose you can't spell that out for me?'

George wrote Covenant Commander: Definitely an Elite, name Drars Armerjee.

'So, where is he now? I suddenly want to take this bastard out,' George said.

'I'm not sure,' Iporo said, 'he would be on board our flagship.'

'Which is?' George asked, raising his eyebrows and leaning forwards.

'What do you plan to do about this Commander Elite, sir?' Alan asked.

'Take him out,' George replied, glancing back at Alan, 'you know what they say…'

'No I don't.'

'They say "cut off the head and the body will fall". If we take out their Commander we could very well make the job of securing this planet a heck of a lot easier,' George said. He looked back Iporo.

'Your flagship. What is it?' George asked.

'The Justifiable Light,' Iporo answered.

George grinned when he realized that was the very ship where he had sent Frank and his squad to recover the data discs from the Covenant, the data discs that had been taken from the Captain when he had been captured. His happiness suddenly went when he remembered they had no means of communication with the squad and so couldn't tell them about the Commander Elite. Maybe if they were lucky they could take him out.

'So, when is this counter-attack anyway?' George said, 'do you know?'

'It would have been postponed since I have not returned from my scouting mission,' Iporo said, 'what else to you want to know? I'm getting tired of this interrogation.'

'I'm not,' George replied, giving a grin that made him look like a maniac.

He paused. The Elite looked kind of bored, not too happy that it had been captured alive.

'Let me just ask a question that's been bugging me for quite some time,' George said, his grin fading, 'it's about us. Humanity. Do you guys know the location of our home-world?'

'Major…' Alan said, but was interrupted.

'What? It's a question.'

'We haven't destroyed your home-world yet?' Iporo asked, lifting his head up from looking at the ground and towards George, 'how many planets does your species have?'

'That's all the answer I needed,' George said, taking some more notes, 'it's not like I'm going to tell you the location of our home-world. I don't even know the coordinates anyway. None of us do. It's all stored away in our computers.

'I have a few more questions, starting with details on the inner workings of the Covenant,' George said, 'like, do you guys have decent medical facilities or do you die from easily fixed wounds?'

'Do I have to answer anymore questions?' Iporo asked, 'I'm tired and hungry.'

'Of course you have to answer my questions,' George said, 'otherwise I'll just blow something of yours off and you'll end up regretting not answering my questions. So tell me about Covenant medical facilities.'

'I feel like a traitor,' Iporo said, looking down at the floor again.

'You are a traitor, that's why,' George replied, grinning, 'now, about your medical facilities…'

'Our medical facilities are enough to help us with serious wounds,' Iporo said, shaking his head again as if he couldn't believe he was answering the questions of a human, 'I've seen your human ones. They are far better, but you humans aren't the kind who would prefer to die in battle…'

'I would love to die in a hail of bullets,' George said, 'or plasma. It's better than dying of old age, I can tell you that.'

'Really?' Alan asked from behind.

'Shut up, Private,' George replied. Alan went quiet.

'You see, ugly, not all humans are the same,' George said, 'all of us are different. I suppose it's the same with your species as well. Does your, like, government or whatever put on human propaganda? Do you all think we're brutal, savage animals?'

Iporo didn't answer right away. He looked like he was thinking about his reply.

'You humans are savage animals,' Iporo replied.

'I knew it!' George exclaimed, 'man, I'm smart! Sometimes I even surprise myself.' He paused. 'Humans can be savage if they want to, and since your guys are killing us off, we deserve to be savage. We need to survive, and I can guarantee you that your Covenant buddies won't ever destroy the human race. There will always be some of us left, no matter what happens. Even if you blow up our home planet, there will be some of us left. If I ever live through this war, I'll be moving to a small planet with my wife and we're going to live out our last days there in nice, quiet seclusion. This means that if the human home-world is ever destroyed, you'll still have me and my wife to deal with.'

'You are a strange human,' Iporo said, 'you seem to be enjoying questioning me. You also seem to be a bit overconfident…I've also gathered that maybe you would be a worthy opponent in a battle…'
George raised an eyebrow.

'Of course I'm a worthy opponent!' He exclaimed, 'you would need fifty Elites just to even out the odds when fighting me!'

'You're crazy Major,' Alan said.

'What did I tell you before?' George asked, turning around.

'What?'

'Shut the hell up, Private Alan,' George said.

He turned back to Iporo.

'I'm almost finished with you,' George said, 'I'm running out of stuff to ask you, anyway. Tell me, what's the name of your home-world? Even better, where is it?'

Iporo didn't answer. Instead he stood up and looked down at the seated Major.

'You are a coward, human Major,' Iporo said, 'and no matter what you threaten me with, I would never disclose information about the Sangheili home-world to you.'

'That's a shame,' George said, shaking his head. He got up and, since the Elite was at least two feet taller than him; he had to look up so they were (nearly) face-to-face.

He raised the pistol and done one sharp strike below the belt with the hilt of the weapon. The Elite stumbled backwards, breathing heavily.

'Lock him up,' George said, 'I'll come back when I want to speak with him again. Just one final question, Iporo.'

Iporo looked at him, the hate visible in the alien's eyes.

'Does your girlfriend travel with you?' George asked, smiling.
Iporo didn't answer.

'Okay, if that's the way it's going to be,' George said, 'I'll just find out myself. Lock him away, boys.'

The two marines stepped forwards, both of them stepping behind the Elite and pressing the firing ends of their rifles into his back. They forced the Elite back into the 'cell', closing and the door behind him. One of the marines reactivated the electrical current.

George turned around and took one final look at Iporo, who was standing in his cell. George waved and grinned.

'Have fun in there,' he said. He turned around, Alan coming up alongside him.

'What did you mean by that last question?' Alan asked.

'About his girlfriend?' George asked.

'Yeah, that one.'

George paused.

'If our prisoner isn't going to answer questions, maybe we could get a hold of his lady friend and you know, threaten to kill her or something.'

'Major, I doubt Elite females even travel into a battle zone with their male friends,' Alan said, 'what made you think of that?'

'I've just been watching too many movies, that's all,' George replied, 'although Windtalker could probably get a hold of any information we need about the Covenant personnel stationed on this planet.'

'So you're actually going to get him to check up on the female Covenant personnel?'

'Damn right,' George said, 'but since he's with Frank and his men, we're going to have to wait.'

'What do we do with the prisoner now?'

'I don't know. Just feed him and give him water. How about you give him some of that left over pizza the chef made? I'm sure he would love that,' George replied, obviously with some slight idea that an Elite wouldn't enjoy pizza. He stopped near the exit of the room.
'Now if you excuse me, I have to get some sleep. Don't wake me up unless it's something really important.'

'How will I know that it's important?' Alan asked.

'You'll know,' George said, 'goodnight, Private.'

He walked out of the room, leaving Alan standing there thinking about what had just gone on.

'Why is it I'm always stuck with you?'

Once more Windtalker was literally in Jeff's mind and once more Jeff tried to ignore him. It wasn't easy, since whenever the AI spoke it was as if its voice was sounding right throughout his mind. He didn't like it, and what made it even worse was that sometimes Windtalker didn't know when to shut up.

'You know, have you read the manual for this AI carrier belt?' Windtalker asked, 'they're the precursor to the armor systems. I would prefer to be in the armor of one of those ODSTs rather than someone like you.'

'Well, I would prefer it if you just shut up,' Jeff said, 'even better, maybe you should get out of my mind.'

'It's not my fault I'm in your head,' Windtalker said, 'you can blame the Lieutenant for that. I've gathered that he doesn't like you very much.'

'He can't let things go, that's all,' Jeff said. They were standing about three hundred meters from where the Pelican had arrived. Frank was standing nearby, a cigarette in his mouth and a small stream of grey smoke coming out of its end. Part of Jeff hoped a Covenant sniper spotted the light coming from the end of the cigarette and blasted a hole through the Lieutenant's skull.

Jones was standing with Heinrich a few meters behind Jeff. They were in a thick forested area, the Covenant hangar still visible. The base seemed to be on high alert, several Banshees circling around it. None had spotted them yet.

'What did you do to him?' Windtalker.

'To who?'

'The Lieutenant. What did you do to him?'

Jeff rolled his eyes. He had gotten tired of telling people about what he did to the Lieutenant a long time ago.

'Eighteen years ago. He was just a Private then. So was I. We got into a fight,' Jeff said, trying to make the story as short as possible.

'A fight? About what?'

'Why don't you know this?' Jeff asked, 'don't you read the files on all of us?'

'Only the important ones. All the confidential bits as well. I've read yours.'

'Really? What did it say?'

'Well, all the high command guys think you're unstable,' Windtalker said, 'they don't like the way you go into a firefight by yourself with all guns blazing. They also don't take too kindly to relationships with squad members.'

'Oh, so you know about Elise…' Jeff said, 'that's not something I want to talk about right now…'

'Is that why you left the ODSTs and became a regular marine?' Windtalker asked, 'you couldn't take the loss of her too well…'

'How about we work on the task at hand and talking about this crap some other time?' Jeff asked.

'Well, what I was saying about these AI carrier belts before…have you read the manual?'

'No,' Jeff replied. If he had known about this 'complication' in the mission he would have made sure he had had a decent excuse to get him out of having Windtalker in his head.

'Apparently prolonged use can lead to nervous system disorders,' Windtalker said, 'so if I were you, I would want to take this thing out of the base of my spine soon enough.'

'This is half the problem with you,' Jeff said, 'you don't know when to shut up.'

'You want me to shut up?' Windtalker said, 'I'm the one who has to help you organic meat-bags find these stupid discs.'

Usually if an AI was calling humans 'organic meat-bags' that wasn't a good sign. Maybe Windtalker was going rampant. After all he was only a combat AI.

'Organic meat-bags? That's a bit strange, coming out of you,' Jeff said.

'Jeff, how about you stop talking to yourself?' Jones said from behind, stepping over to him.

Jeff was the only person who could hear Windtalker speak unless the AI was using the radios. It wasn't, it was talking directly into his mind. He would be glad when he could return to base camp and take the damn AI out of his mind.

'It's the AI,' Jeff said, 'it won't shut up.'

'Yeah, maybe that's one thing,' Jones said, 'but I heard those belts can lead to…'

'Nervous system disorders?' Jeff said, finishing Jones' sentence.

'No, man, that wasn't what I was going to say,' Jones said.

'What were you going to say?'

'Well, I heard those belts can lead to impotency.'

Jeff raised an eyebrow.

'Really?'

'It's just something I heard, anyway.'

Jones laughed. He seemed to think it was funny.

'Have you begun to notice how everyone's going all reckless and stuff ever since we landed on this damn planet?' Jones asked.

'Yeah, so?'

'So, just because there isn't any government here or cranky old Admiral, everyone's taking it to be an invitation to do what they want. Especially Frank. I think he's planning something.'

'You do?' Jeff asked. He hadn't noticed anything different about Frank. It didn't look like he was planning anything. Frank wasn't the scheming type.

'When we first arrived at base camp I caught him talking to Windtalker,' Jones said, 'something about "Covenant commanders" or some shit. Windtalker didn't seem to have a good answer.'

'What he was asking me,' Windtalker said, only so Jeff could hear him, 'was he wanted to know if I could find out who's running the show on the Covenant side. I said it would take me some time. I don't know why he wanted to know.'

'Windtalker just told me that Frank was asking him about who's commanding the Covenant on this planet,' Jeff told Jones, 'why would he want to know that?'

'All I know is that he's planning something, I'm sure of it,' Jones said, 'just look at him, standing there smoking and staring through the forest. He's thinking.'

'I didn't know the Lieutenant was capable of that,' Windtalker said.

'Shut up,' Jeff replied.

'Why you telling me to shut up for?' Jones asked.

Jeff shook his head. Things were all screwed up now thanks to the Lieutenant.

'I'm telling Windtalker to shut up. He made a joke, something I thought was impossible with second rate AIs,' Jeff said.

'Yeah, very funny,' Windtalker said sarcastically, 'you do realize I'm in your mind you know. I can probably figure out what you're thinking if I tried hard enough. Just a matter of working out what each brain-wave and neural message is.'

'Did it occur to you that we haven't actually done anything for the past fifteen minutes?' Jones said, looking around.

'At least we're getting a bit of a break,' Jeff said. Frank was still staring through the forest, gently puffing away on his cigarette. He looked like he was deep in thought.

One of the ODSTs, this one Frank had sent to scout out the immediate area, came running out of some nearby undergrowth. He stopped near Frank.

'There's a few mounted guns through that pass over there,' the ODST said, pointing off to the left, 'and the base of the ship looks to be about a kilometre away. I don't see anyway aboard unless we fly or something.'

'Did you notice the suspicious transparent shaft of blue energy coming out of the center of the ship's base?' Frank asked, 'if you didn't you must be stupider than I first thought.'

'Well, ah…' The ODST laughed, sounding a little put off his game, 'I saw it, although what is it?'

'You idiot, it's the ship's gravity lift,' Frank said, 'we get on board using it.'

'Gravity lift?' Heinrich asked, hearing what they were talking about, 'you can't seriously be expecting that thing to activate just by itself when we step into it.'

'Well, unless you have a better idea Kraut,' Frank said, looking back at Heinrich, 'since I don't.'

'Kraut?' Jeff said, raising an eyebrow, 'that's a bit of an out-dated
term.'

'Did I say you could talk?' Frank said, sounding annoyed, 'because I don't remember doing that. Maybe you should only speak when spoken to.'

'Frank, I have a feeling you're going to get us all into something way too deep to get out of,' Jeff said, 'there's only seven of us and possibly a few hundred Covenant soldiers on board that ship. I already exhausted myself in the base so you can't seriously expect me, Heinrich and Jones to do that well attacking a Covenant cruiser.'

'Well, without you three there would be only four of us,' Frank said, 'and the odds would be even more stacked against us. Besides, I'm sure you know how to handle yourself.'

'Just what exactly are we looking for again?' Jones asked, 'you didn't exactly tell us much about why we have to get aboard the Covenant cruiser.'

Frank took the cigarette out of his mouth, dropping it onto the ground and crushing it into the dirt with his right foot, smothering the flame.

'The Captain had some data discs on him, don't know why and neither did the Major,' Frank said, 'the Covenant has taken the discs aboard the cruiser. We brought Windtalker along so that way he can pinpoint their location once we're aboard.'

'So we're here just because the Covenant has these discs?' Jones said, 'that's all? What's so important that's on the discs?'

'Possibly the location of Earth for one,' Frank said, 'other than that we don't know. We have to get them nonetheless, that way once we have them we can find out what's on them.'

'You don't sound so sure about the location of Earth part,' Jeff said, 'are you sure that could be on the discs?'

'If I say it is, and then it probably is,' Frank said, smiling, 'now we'll move out. There's mounted guns up ahead, so the Sergeant and his two best friends can take the left flank. You should try and find some higher ground while we draw their fire. It shouldn't be that difficult.'

Frank and the ODST readied their weapons and went down at a low run. Jeff, Jones and Heinrich followed, noticing the natural pass ahead that wound through the valley. They went along to its left, making sure to stay low in the undergrowth.

Jeff could see what looked to be a small Covenant encampment, three plasma mounted guns set up in the passage, making sure that every front angle was covered by at least one of the mounted guns.
Frank and his three ODSTs stopped in some bushes nearby. Covenant searchlights, one positioned close to each mounted gun, were scanning along the area. They had large beams and it would be easy to get caught in the glare of one.

Frank was carrying a sniper rifle as well as his assault rifle. He un-slung the sniper rifle from around his back and threw it at Jeff.

'I know you have a good eye, Sergeant,' he said, 'so why don't you take down the gunners while we draw their fire?'

Jeff caught the sniper rifle with his right hand.

'Whatever you say, Lieutenant,' he replied.

He moved back over to Jones and Heinrich.

'I see a way up along the side,' Heinrich said, pointing over to a narrow passage of rock heading up along the side of the pass, 'we should head up there. That way their guns won't be able to reach us.'

'You sure about that?' Jeff asked, 'it looks to me they probably will.'

'Frank said he'll draw their fire, so why don't we just head up there,' Heinrich said.

'I wouldn't believe everything Lieutenant Hastings says,' Jeff replied, 'but we may as well get on with the job. Let's go.'

Jeff started towards the natural ledge, Heinrich and Jones following. Frank and his three ODSTs were moving forwards towards the edge of where the forest stops, having been cleared by the Covenant.

Jeff stopped by some boulders and a lone, gnarly looking tree. Jones stopped behind him, Heinrich coming up alongside Jeff.

'We just wait till the Lieutenant starts shooting, I suppose,' Heinrich said.

'Did you notice that he called you "Kraut" earlier on?' Jones asked Heinrich, 'I haven't heard anyone say that for years.'

'So what?' Heinrich replied, 'it's not like I care, anyway.'

There was the sound of rifle fire nearby and Jeff saw the personal shield of one of the Elites on patrol down below flicker. The alien made a surprised roar and the plasma cannons opened fire, a continuous stream of plasma bolts shooting forth across the cleared area. The guns were ripping the bushes and trees apart.

'Go on, cap one of the gunners,' Jones said.

Jeff took aim through the sniper rifle's scope, zooming in and bringing the head of one of the Grunt's into his sights. He fired, the Grunt's head exploding in a large spurt of bright blue fluorescent blood.

He moved his attention to the next gunner, repeating the headshot before he came to the last gunner, again shooting the Grunt through the head.

Frank and his ODSTs started moving forwards out of cover, the Elites and Jackals left in the area opening fire. Jeff took aim at one of the three Elites, this one a Minor, and fired. The Elite suffered a fatal head-wound and fell.

He moved his aim to one of the other Elites, getting it with a single headshot. He repeated the process once more on the last remaining Elite, taking it down and leaving only the Jackals alive. Frank and his ODST squad quickly took care of the irritating bird-like aliens with their frustrating shields, Frank and his squad throwing a few well placed grenades to finish off the aliens.

Up ahead from around a corner in the passage a group consisting of a Major Elite and a few Grunts came running into view, the Grunts scattering throughout the area. The Elite was dual wielding Plasma Rifles and opened fire with a ripping volley of plasma bolts.

One of the ODSTs was caught in the fire, his armor taking the full brunt of it. Jeff still had trouble believing that the armor itself regenerated, but watching the ODST he could see some of the holes scorched through the armor had begun to fill up, the armor repairing itself right before his eyes. If the Winter Sunshine had been the only ship carrying this kind of technology, they would have to get some of it back to Earth so it could still be manufactured. This technology would be highly useful in future battles if they ever got it back to Earth.

Jeff zoomed in on the Major Elite and got the alien's head in his sights. He fired, the Elite's shield failing as part of its head exploded, dark purple blood spraying outwards. The Elite dropped to the ground abruptly.

He reloaded his sniper rifle as the ODSTs opened fire with their rifles, cutting down the Grunts which had already began to run away.
Seeing that no more enemies had come their way, Jeff, Jones and Heinrich jumped down from the ledge and regrouped with Frank and his ODSTs. Again Frank had seemingly taken up smoking on the spot, taking out a small package of cigarettes and placing the end of one in his mouth. He held it in the corner of his mouth while he looked around, determining what they should do next.

'The ship shouldn't be all that far now,' Frank said, lighting the end of the cigarette. He hadn't been one to smoke before but since a lot of the officers on the Winter Sunshine had, there was a large amount of un-used cigarettes at base camp. Smoking wasn't as dangerous as it used to be, especially with the cure for cancer and the fact you could get a new set of lungs grown for you.

'Jeff, you take point,' Frank said, glancing at Jeff. He puffed on the cigarette lightly, blowing smoke rings from his mouth, 'you snipe a few of the bastards before everyone else moves in. You're the only marksman here.'

'Whatever you say,' Jeff replied.

'You're actually a marksman?' Windtalker asked.

'Didn't I tell you to keep your mouth shut?' Jeff said as he started down the passage, 'only speak when spoken to. You're only a combat AI and you should be following orders.'

'Yeah, I am a combat AI,' Windtalker said, 'but are you capable of single-handedly hacking into the…'

'How about you just shut up?'

Windtalker went silent. Anymore out of the AI and Jeff would probably remove him from his nervous system.

Jeff made his way around the corner in the pass, coming to a slight decrease in height in the ground, below a pair of Covenant mounted guns and a group of a few Elites and Jackals. They were a fair distance away and so Jeff's arrival wasn't noticed.

Looking past them he could see a lake and some forest, probably with more Covenant patrols in it. He took position behind some nearby bushes, crouching down into a comfortable position and raising the sniper rifle, looking through its scope and taking aim at one of the Grunts manning one of the mounted guns.

He squeezed the trigger, the sound of the shot ringing out throughout the large canyon. The Grunt's head exploded and the two Elites and four Jackals grouped behind the guns scattered, unaware of where the shot had come from.

Jeff took down the other gunner with an accurate head-shot. One of the Covenant soldiers must have spotted him since a large amount of plasma suppressing fire headed his way, scorching holes in the ground near his feet.

He went prone, making himself a smaller target. He had the sniper rifle so he had the advantage of accuracy and power. He rolled to the left, moving behind the small cluster of dry bushes. He could still feel the plasma he copped in the stomach burning, the armor he had been wearing having taken most of the shot. He realized he hadn't washed himself for quite a while, able to feel the dirt and grime on his face, legs and arms. Once he got back to base camp he would clean himself up, although he doubted there were any showers back at Camp Golding.

He took aim through the scope again, this time targeting a Major Elite that was opening fire with its Plasma Rifle. They didn't seem to know exactly where he was, so plasma was flying about practically everywhere else but where he lay.

He squeezed the trigger, blasting a large hole through the Elite's throat. The Elite fell, crumpling into a heap on the ground. Jeff took aim at one of the nearby Jackals, aware of several sets of footsteps behind him.

'Don't fuck it up,' a familiar voice said, Jeff's concentration broken as he squeezed the S2 AM's trigger. The shot went wide about five inches to the right of the Jackal, Jeff turning around to see who it was.

'I told you not to fuck it up,' Frank said as he came up behind Jeff, the ODSTs, Jones and Heinrich following.

'I had that one,' Jeff said, green and blue plasma fire flying overhead. Frank and the others crouched down.

'The ship's gravity lift is through the forest,' an ODST said, 'we're getting under the ship now.'

Jeff looked up. They were almost underneath the Covenant cruiser, the Justifiable Light. Most of the lights that Jeff could see on it were blue, typical of the Covenant. They seemed to have an affinity with purple and blue.

The ODSTs opened fire with their rifles, cutting a swathe through the remaining Jackals, the last Elite, a blue armored Minor, taking cover behind a boulder.

'Circle round and take that bastard out,' Frank ordered his ODSTs.
The ODSTS moved down towards where the group of Covenant soldiers had been, moving around the boulder and emptying several rounds into the Elite, letting it drop to the ground, smearing dark purple blood across the boulder.

Jeff got up and loaded a fresh magazine into his S2 AM. He went down with the other ODSTs, Frank following as well as Jones and Heinrich.

'Through this forest we should find another passage to where the gravity lift is,' the ODST who had scouted earlier said, 'so we're not too far now.'

'How well guarded is it?' Frank asked.

'I'm not sure, but we'll find out,' the ODST said.

Not Exactly Human: Ch. 8.2
Date: 15 August 2008, 7:55 am

Major Adros Demargee continued through the familiar corridors of the Justifiable Light, passing a few Sangheili Minors who were off duty.

He could feel a sort of lump forming at the back of his throat, probably because he wasn't too keen on telling Dras about what had happened down at the base. He also didn't want to interrupt the Ship Master again, only having done so only about an hour before.

He scratched at one of his bottom mandibles as he passed through an automatic door which took him into the main Sangheili officer's mess hall. Being head of security on board the Justifiable Light meant he was important, important enough to be allowed to use the main mess hall.

A few Special Operations officers were sitting at one of the tables, talking quietly amongst themselves. A few of those Spec Ops types could be a bit cocky, more so than the lower ranked Sangheili officers such as himself. Adros had been feeling like something to eat for hours but had never gotten a chance to eat because there had always been something else he needed to do.

Food on board ships like this wasn't entirely good. No one ate ship food for enjoyment of the taste but merely so they got all the nutrients they needed which were all in the standard nutrient paste that all Sangheili on the ship digested. It's taste was one that a Sangheili would usually wash away with some water or another beverage of their choice. Animal meat was only available on certain days, every other day they were stuck with the same nutrient goop which kept them going.

Adros had heard that there were certain chemicals in the paste that only certain Sangheili, if they had a specific gene, could become addicted to. This could lead to insanity, hence the reason Adros tried to stay off the stuff for as long as he could. He hadn't seen anyone else become addicted to the substance, but he preferred to be safe than sorry. He didn't even know whether or not he had this 'gene', no one did.

He could survive for days on water alone and every now and then Dras would let him have some of the Sanghelin whiskey (from the city of Sanghelin on Sanghelios) he kept in his quarters. It was a strong beverage but Dras, being a Ship Master, could probably get away with being drunk when he wasn't on duty.

He wondered how long before someone else found out about Dras and Arna. Such relationships with another of the ship's crew were looked down upon and Dras could very well be demoted and transferred to another ship, possibly never seeing Arna again.

He and Dras had known each other ever since they had been young and so were good friends. Adros would never tell anyone about his relationship with the chief female medical officer; it was only a matter of time before someone else found out.

Adros walked over to the table where the three Special Operations officers were sitting. They looked up at him as he approached, being the only ones in the mess hall at the time.

'Good evening, Major,' one of them said, 'would you like to join us?'

Adros sat down next to one of the officers. This particular officer seemed to be enjoying the nutrient paste, putting the tube past his mandibles and into his mouth, swallowing large amounts of the substance.

'So, Major,' the officer sitting opposite Adros said, 'what have you been doing lately? I, for one, can at least say I've been doing nothing.'

'Why's that?' Adros asked.

'It's the Ship Master, the commander. He hasn't bothered to deploy any of the special operations squad, like us three for instance,' the Spec Ops officer said, 'which could very well be the reason why the humans seized that supply depot in those Forerunner structures.'

'I wasn't aware of that,' Adros said.

'He's only deploying the lower ranked squads, like the kind you would command,' the officer on Adros' left said, 'I think he's saving us up for something else.'

'That would be like Dras,' Adros said. Dras was the kind of Sangheili commander who would keep the best till last, which would explain why a lot of Special Operations soldiers were still on the ship and not many of the less important regular squads.

'I heard that one of our best pilots was sent on a scouting mission in a Seraph fighter to scout out the human defenses. He hasn't returned,' the officer opposite Adros said, 'I knew him. He was possibly the best pilot in our fleet. Now he finally met his end to a bunch of cocky humans.'

'What about that alert that the commander sent out?' The officer across the table and to Adros' left said, 'he wants us to take care when we encounter one particular human.'

'It's the one that wounded him,' Adros said, 'I think the commander has never been as close to death as he was when that human injured him. I found him half-dead on the human vessel. If I hadn't of found him he would have most likely died.'

'I understand if he's worried,' the officer on his left said, 'but it's just one human. They all look kind of different but at the same time they're all the same. They're shorter than us for one thing…'

'And their voices are higher pitched than ours,' said the officer opposite Adros.'

'And their females are repulsive,' said the last officer.

'What about reproducing?' The officer on Adros' left said, 'I doubt they do it as good as we do.'

The officers as well as Adros laughed. Adros took hold of the paste ejecting tube and put it in his mouth; swallowing a mouthful of the strange tasting goop and feeling its cold, smooth texture go down his throat. He took the metallic tube out of his mouth and wiped away the trace amounts which had stuck onto the teeth at the top of his mouth.

'Where is the commander anyway?' The officer on Adros' left asked, 'no one's heard from him for about two and a half hours.'

'Maybe's he's off the ship,' the officer opposite Adros said.

'No, we would know otherwise,' the other officer said, 'he's probably off doing his own thing. Maybe he's sleeping; after all he did almost die earlier today.'

'Maybe,' the officer opposite Adros said.

Adros knew of course what Dras Amargee was doing and who he was doing it with. He couldn't help but give the equivalent of a grin with his mandibles as he swallowed more of the nutrient filled paste. Dras was certainly having more fun than him at the moment.

Adros hadn't killed a lot of humans lately, or Jiralhanae for that matter. His father had been a proud warrior and had expected much from him, especially in Adros' early years, pressuring him to do well in his apprenticeship and then when he joined the military. After a disagreement he had tried to stay well away from his father and hadn't seen him for twenty-five years (human years equivalent). He wondered if his father was still alive, since last he had heard of him was that he was leading a squad to raid a Jiralhanae base on the edge of Covenant controlled space. That was just before he left him, so for all Adros knew his father could have been killed twenty-five years ago.

His mother had left his father when Adros had been young, possibly because of his father's savage personality. He hadn't seen her for even longer. Because of this Adros had learnt how to look after himself.

'I have something a little special,' the officer sitting opposite Adros said, taking out a large bottle, 'Sanghelin whiskey. It's the best type you can get.'

'Last thing I want to do is get drunk right now,' the officer sitting next to Adros said. He turned to the officer sitting across the table who hadn't said much throughout the conversation. The officer was looking at a holographic data-pad. It wasn't all holographic; the buttons themselves were located beneath the holographic screen.

'What's that you're looking at, Shaorom?' The officer opposite Adros asked.

Adros had now gathered that this particular officer's first name was Shaorom. He looked up, distracted from what he had been doing.

'Just some family videos, that's all,' Shaorom replied.

'Let me have a look,' the other officer replied. Shaorom handed him the pad. The officer flicked through the different videos, Adros taking a look at them as well.

They were mostly of Shaorom's female mate, having been married for a few years. Adros could see a younger male, obviously the Special Operations officer's son as they moved in for a family picture.

'She's good looking,' the officer replied, handing the pad back to Shaorom, 'I was had a mate. We didn't end up getting married, though.' He sounded like someone who had missed out on a great opportunity. Adros knew the tone; he had felt it many times before.

'Does anyone want some of this or not?' The other officer asked, holding up the bottle of Sanghelin whiskey, 'or should I have it all myself?'

'I don't think so,' the officer to Adros' left said, snatching the bottle and flicking off the lid. He downed about a quarter of the contents before the owner of the bottle took it back.

'I did have to pay for this, you know,' the officer said, putting the bottle past his mandibles and up to his mouth, gulping down about another quarter. He took the bottle away from his mouth and looked at Adros.

'Do you want some?' He asked.

Adros eyed the bottle carefully. It had been quite some time since he had a proper drink, but he had things to do and would probably have to wait longer.

'Not right now,' he replied, slowly getting up, 'I have to go speak to the commander.'

'You know where he is?' The officer asked, 'you didn't say that earlier.'

'He's in his quarters and I'm allowed to meet him there, you three are not,' Adros replied, 'so, have a good day and I'll see you three some other time.'

He started away from the table, picking up a container filled with the nutrient substance and downing its contents as he exited the mess hall.

He passed a few Kig-Yar (this was the name the Sangheili called Jackals) who were doing their usual guarding thing. They watched him as he walked past.

Adros had never trusted Kig-Yar. They almost always looked like they were scheming, planning something. The creatures were frail though, so if they ever did end up in battle against them it would be an easy Sangheili victory. He found the bird-like noises the Kig-Yar made very annoying and tried to keep away from them as long as he could.

He would go and tell Dras about what had gone on down in the base and how the humans managed to escape with their commanding officer. Dras had never got to interrogate the human officer, and considering that Dras enjoyed to watch his enemies suffer Adros thought that the human had been lucky.

The Minor Prophet had left only a short time ago. Only a select few officers knew about this, including Adros. The Prophet was searching for holy Forerunner artifacts in the southern regions of the continent, where most of the snow and ice was. Geography wasn't Adros' strong point.
Recently, things hadn't been going according to plan and

Dras was probably going to get angry when he heard about the success the humans had. It was Adros' duty to report to his commanding officer and probably have to put up with the obvious angry follow-up to his report.

Ship Master Dras Amargee had an arm wrapped around Arna as she lay next to him in the bed, sleeping. Soon it would be time for Dras to leave and report back for duty and find out what had transpired in his absence. Until then he would stay with Arna for as long as he could.

Dras ran a hand down her side, admiring her body and physique. She was slightly more muscular than most other females Dras knew, but then again that was a good thing. A strong female would always be better to raise a child than a weaker, gentler one.

Once this mission was over, Dras would leave service. This hadn't been done by too many others before, but since Dras had a good service record and friends in high places he would most likely get away with it. Arna could quit when she chose, especially if she was pregnant.

He had it all planned in his mind. They would get a nice place in one of the lesser populated area of Sanghelios or one of the Sangheili colony worlds. Dras, if the child were a male, would help raise his son into a capable fighter as his own father had done to him years ago. Arna would be there as a caring mother as Dras' own mother had done with him. His father had been killed during battle but his mother was still alive, living in a secluded home on a Sangheili colony world.

Dras' train of thought was broken when Arna stirred in her sleep. She rolled over and their eyes met, she having just woken up. She put a hand to his face and gave the equivalent of a smile with her mandibles.

'I have to get moving,' she said, 'sorry if that's a bit of a let-down.'

'No, it isn't,' Dras replied, 'I was going to get moving fairly soon as well.'

She rolled over and climbed out of the bed, standing in all her glory close to the bed. She stretched out her arms, Dras watching her closely. She turned her head and gave a grin, knowing that Dras was watching every movement she made with her naked body.

She stepped over to the table and chairs nearby and picked up her medical officer robes, slipping them on and tying up the laces so they stayed on. She turned around.

'I'll see you soon,' she said, stepping over to the door. Before she had a chance to open it, the door opened without her interference and revealed Adros standing behind it.
He looked at Arna and then at Dras, who was still lying in the bed.

'I see you two are finished,' Adros said.

Arna brushed past Adros and left the room. Dras watched her leave before turning his attention to Adros.

'What is it?' He asked, sitting up in the bed. He opened his mandibles wide and yawned.

'It's the small group of humans,' Adros said, 'they managed to break into the base and liberate their commanding officer. They escaped with him and now we believe they are trying to get aboard this very ship and recover the discs.'

Dras didn't seem too annoyed to hear this. He just sighed and looked down for a moment, thinking about the situation. He looked back up at Adros.

'Make sure they don't get aboard,' Dras said, 'and make sure those discs are scanned and all the information ripped off of them. They can have the discs back once we get the information.'

'Aren't you going to do anything?' Adros asked.

Dras thought for a moment. He was going to report back to duty, but because of the new circumstances he could probably use this opportunity to catch up on some missing sleep. He had only slept about three hours in the past few days, these three hours being today with Arna.

'If anyone asks where I am, tell them I'm sleeping off my injuries,' Dras said, lying back down in the bed, 'goodnight, Major. Lock the door behind you.'

'Yes, of course,' Adros replied, not knowing what to think. Dras was certainly being a bit slack, but he supposed someone who worked as hard as him needed a rest every now and then.

He left the commander's quarters, letting the doors lock behind him. Dras lay in the bed, still able to feel the warmth on the mattress left by Arna. He closed his eyes and slumped back onto the bed, falling asleep quite quickly.

Jeff, Jones and Heinrich had made it to the gravity lift, Frank and the ODSTs coming over a short time later. The gravity lift, which was a large, hollow shaft of purple-pink energy, had been guarded by a few Elites and Jackals, about four mounted guns manned by Grunts being in the area. They were all dead, most having been taken down by Jeff's marksmanship skills. Now all the humans had to do was get aboard the Covenant cruiser and retrieve the data discs that were meant to be in the hands of the Covenant.

Looking up at the base of the ship, Jeff was curious as to what it was like being on board a Covenant ship, never having been on one before. Not many humans had, and most had died on whatever Covenant ship they were aboard.

'I'll try and get schematics for that thing,' Windtalker said, 'no use going up there and having no idea where things are.'

'Just don't talk when you're doing it,' Jeff said. He checked his sniper rifle ammo. He didn't have much left and so put the rifle around his shoulder by its strap and stepped over to the corpse of a nearby Minor Elite, picking up the deceased alien's Plasma Rifle.

'What now?' Jones asked, looking at the gravity lift from top to bottom.

'What the hell do you think?' Frank said, 'we step inside. It should take us straight up to the ship.'

'Into the belly of the beast,' Heinrich muttered.

'What was that, Kraut?' Frank asked, having not heard Heinrich, 'if you want people to hear you, maybe you should speak up.'

'I was just saying,' Heinrich said, turning towards the Lieutenant, 'this all smells like a suicide mission. I think we should turn back.'

'I have my orders, Chief,' Frank said. He smiled. 'Chief Kraut…Hey, that's a good one…'

'You're funny,' Jones said sarcastically.

'Shut it Corporal,' Frank replied, frowning, 'how about you be the first one to step into it.'

'You're kidding,' Jones said, raising an eyebrow, 'if I wanted to commit suicide, I would have done it already.'

'That's an order, Corporal,' Frank said, 'do it or I'll just push you in.'

Jones shook his head and stepped through the transparent shaft of energy. He went right through it as if it wasn't actually there, standing still on the ground-based platform and taking a look around.

'Nothing's happening,' he said.

As if on cue there was a flash of light right at the top of the shaft where it connected with the base of the ship. A trio of Jackals and two Elites came flying down the lift at a steady rate, coming to rest on the platform battle-ready.
Jones clubbed one of the Jackals across the head with his
Plasma Rifle, shattering its skull and sending it sliding across the platform. He jumped out of the shaft as Frank and his ODSTs opened fire, mowing down the Jackals and the two Elites in less than a minute.

Frank seemed to be having a good laugh at Jones' reaction. Jones was swearing loudly, giving Frank an angry looking glance.

'You asshole,' Jones said, 'you knew that would happen, didn't you?'

'Of course I didn't,' Frank replied, 'now everybody's stepping onto the platform. If it's activated it should pull us straight up into the ship.'

Jones stepped back onto the platform, this time his Plasma Rifle was at the ready. Jeff and Heinrich followed, as usual Heinrich didn't seem too fussed about this. They had gotten hardly any sleep, which was beginning to take its toll on Jeff, and they had been shot at and almost blown up on several occasions on this very night. Jeff could still feel pain coming from the few plasma blast wounds he had received, although they were beginning to clear up. He had always been a fast healer.

They stood there for a few minutes, Jones whistling quietly. The ODSTs didn't look too excited and started to talk amongst themselves.

At first it was only a slight sensation, a weak pulling from what seemed like his very center of gravity. He felt disoriented all of a sudden, the environment around him spinning. He felt sick and managed to catch a glimpse of one of the ODSTs getting pulled up through the gravity lift. The ODST let out a cheer and disappeared from view.

Jones and the other two ODSTs were next, Jones swearing loudly as the lift pulled him up. Jeff felt his feet leave the ground and in a matter of seconds was gaining height in the gravity lift. There was a moment where he blacked out and all of a sudden the pulling sensation stopped.

He was in free fall for less than a second, having been suspended over the floor in the room the lift had taken them into. He fell and landed in a heap on the floor, only having fallen about a meter. He slowly got up, taking in his surroundings.

They were in a large room, a few sets of double doors on its sides. The ceiling was quite high up and a Wraith tank was parked nearby, as well as a pair of Ghosts.

Considering this was a Covenant ship, this would explain the familiar looking architecture with the purple and blue metal surfaces. The Covenant didn't seem to believe in carpet or tiles, everything more like a strong metal alloy.

'Windtalker, start gathering the required information,' Jeff said, 'find out where the discs are and the amount of Covenant personnel that are on this ship.'

'Whatever you say Sarge,' Windtalker replied, 'I'll try my best, but I'm not like one of those really smart AIs….I even know my limits myself…'

'I'm surprised to hear that from you,' Jeff said. He stepped over to one of the doors. It didn't open, obviously locked. This entire ship could be on lockdown for all they knew.

'Maybe if you knew that you wouldn't get me to do so much work,' Windtalker said, 'now, I'll tell you what I find out. Don't interrupt me; it's hard enough as it is getting past all their encryptions.'

'I was expecting a welcoming party,' Jones said, taking a look around the deserted room, 'maybe we killed them all.'

'I wouldn't be so sure, Corporal,' Frank said, 'they're probably waiting for us on the other side of these doors.'

'Why don't you open one then?' Heinrich asked.

Frank paused, frowning and thinking whether or not to answer. He stepped over to the nearest door, expecting it to open. It didn't so he kicked it in frustration, a hollow clunk sounding throughout the room.

'Ray, get over here,' Frank said, turning to one of the ODSTs, 'get some C12 over here.'

The ODST stepped over and retrieved a small block of C12 explosive from one of the compartments in his armor. He handed it to Frank who crouched by the door and began setting up the charge at the door's base.

'Are you sure that's safe?' Jeff asked.

'If we get back, sure, we're safe,' Frank said, 'anyone else on the other side of the door will get blasted to pieces, but I'm pretty sure we're the only humans on this ship.'

Frank stuck the detonator fuse into the charge and gestured to the ODST named Ray to get back. He did so, running back to the others who were moving into cover behind the parked Wraith tank. Jeff crouched, a fair distance away from the charge. Heinrich and Jones were behind him, waiting for Frank to detonate the explosive.

Frank stepped over to where they were and took out the detonator remote. He had a wild look on his face, as if blowing stuff up was something he enjoyed. Knowing Frank, Jeff thought the Lieutenant probably did enjoy it.

'Fire in the hole!' Frank shouted, turning around so he could watch the explosion. He pressed the detonator and almost instantly the C12 charge detonated, a large plume of grey smoke and flame shooting forth from the metal door, shards of the metal flying about the room. As the smoke cleared, Frank started towards the destroyed door, his rifle at the ready. Jeff followed as they rounded the doorway and took a look at what was behind it.

The bloodied corpses of an Elite and three Grunts lay scattered in the wide corridor that had been behind the door, obviously having not expected the door to blow up in their faces.

'Come on, this way's clear,' Frank said, gesturing to the others.

While this had been happening, Windtalker had managed to use the equipment that Jeff was carrying to single-handedly get himself into the ship's networks and computer systems. This had been no easy task, he could have done this in seconds if he was in an ODST's suit of armor, but thanks to Lieutenant Hastings forcing him to go with Sergeant Ganszo, the process had taken about a minute.

As he searched through all the information and made his way through the ship's computer systems, he encountered a few kill systems, Covenant made and no match for him. This implied the Covenant did have knowledge of computers more than just the basics, so someone had obviously taken their time to create these kill systems on the off-chance that a hostile intelligence invaded their systems.

They probably hadn't been expecting something like that so resistance in the ship's systems was light. Windtalker waded through the information, discarding what he didn't need and wasn't interested in.

He hadn't done things like this too often. Invading enemy systems was a first time thing for him. He had been created about three years before on Reach with the sole purpose of helping human commanders make strategic decisions. They hadn't made him a hacker, but he was doing that job anyway and was surprising himself with just how well he was doing.
On top of that he was surprised at how poorly designed the Covenant computer systems were. Searching through them was a cinch, but what made him take so long was the amount of important information he recovered.

Here, stored away in the ship's databanks was a whole stockpile of encrypted information relating to each species as well as special reports made by the commander of the entire Covenant operation on this planet. Trouble was, it would take time to un-encrypt it and as well as that it would take time translating once it had been decrypted.
Windtalker managed to do some of that process now, accessing confidential reports filed by the commander himself.

According to these reports, this planet had been given the title 'Holy Ground of the Forerunners' and was of high importance to all Covenant operating on and around the planet.

Going deeper into the ship's systems he found profiles on all the personnel stationed on the ship. These profiles covered the Elites, the Jackals and the Hunters. He supposed they didn't think making profiles on the Grunts would be worthwhile considering how many of them they were and how many got killed all the time.

He quickly stored the most important ones away in his memory for safe-keeping. His curiosity was aroused when he came across the term 'Forerunners' in most of the reports concerning the planet.

Going even deeper into the ship's systems he discovered that the 'Forerunners' was the species the Covenant worshipped. They were long extinct and this planet had obviously been home to quite a few of them. The Forerunners were what had started this war twenty-seven years ago. According to these files the Covenant believed that humanity had defiled Forerunner artifacts and worlds and thus had decided that the human race didn't deserve to live anymore. So many wars had been thought over religion in human history and now they were fighting a holy war with a seemingly unstoppable set of alien races. The Covenant wanted the human non-believers destroyed.

He came to more of the ship's databanks files, encountering a rather nasty firewall that was better designed than all the other defensive systems he had encountered. He spent a few seconds figuring out a way to get past it, eventually finding a subroutine and getting around the back of the firewall.

He came across thousands of files concerning Covenant history, its species and practically everything else a human or a human made AI would want to know about these aliens. There was way too much for him to store, so remembering how Major Golding had a fascination with Elites and how to kill them easier he downloaded all the necessary information regarding them, including the location of their home-world and colony worlds. If George wanted information, he would be getting it.

He searched through the mass of information for something which may help them in their search for the discs. On his way he found the familiar alert message concerning one particular human. A crystal clear image of Jeff making his way through a corridor in the Covenant base, obviously taken by Covenant surveillance equipment that would have been there. A description of this particular human and to capture him alive for personal interrogation by Commander/Ship Master Dras Amargee came with the picture.

Windtalker was surprised by the change. Earlier the Commander/Ship Master had wanted Jeff killed, but now this had changed to being captured alive. He stored this information away and moved through the unneeded information, eventually coming to reports written by the Commander/Ship Master himself.

Some of the more interesting ones were the harder to decrypt ones. As he went through the information and decrypted some of it, he managed to discover that these one were talking about a particular artifact, apparently located in some Forerunner ruins on the planet that Elite Commander/Ship Master Dras Amargee was interested in. Of course, the purpose of this artifact was so well encrypted that Windtalker couldn't cope with decrypting it and so stored it away for later.

Searching through it all and trying to determine what would help and what wouldn't, he came across a few files which indicated that a Covenant Prophet had been stationed on board the ship but had left, heading for what Windtalker determined was some alpine regions in the very south of the continent. There were files concerning the attack on Reach and how the Covenant believed it was the human home-world.
All they had to do now was kill all the humans on this 'Holy Ground of the Forerunners' planet and most of them could leave to more exciting missions.

Windtalker couldn't help but feel annoyed at how stupid the Covenant thought humans were so he mixed around the files, storing them in all the wrong folders and thus creating chaos in the ship's systems. Several important programs stopped working and computers around the ship shut down, unable to find the right directories.

Satisfied, he continued into some of the unaffected information and found what he was looking for: information concerning the discs confiscated from the Captain. They were in possession of a Minor Elite who was currently located in one of the ship's mess halls, on his way to scan the discs and find out what was on them. Now with the location of the discs found out he could find the easiest and quickest way to get them back. Searching through the ship's schematics he tracked a route through the ship, making sure it would get them to this particular Minor Elite the fastest. He was about to tell Jeff and the others when he noticed something strange. Accessing the ship's security surveillance equipment he could just hear some familiar music.

'Blinded by the light…Wrapped up like a…'

Investigating this, he discovered that a Minor Elite was in possession of the Captain's music disc and was finding out what was on it. Not too keen on human music the Elite switched it off and removed the disc, dropping it to the floor and stamping on it with one hoof, crushing the disc into miniscule fragments.

The Captain sure had out-dated tastes. According to Windtalker's knowledge some of that music was more than five hundred and fifty years old.

He was going to leave the network and tell Jeff and the others when a few other files got his attention. These were mostly concerning the Winter Sunshine and what the Covenant had found in the crashed ship. He searched through them for anything interesting and found some information concerning the Slip-space drive that certainly aroused his curiosity.

Having been told that it had been reverse engineered from captured Covenant technology, Windtalker was expecting the Covenant to recognize the technology but surprisingly he found quite the opposite. The Covenant had never seen technology like this before and so had decided to destroy all trace of it as soon as possible. Intrigued, Windtalker stored these files away.

Not Exactly Human: Ch. 8.3
Date: 22 August 2008, 12:00 am

Note: I hope this didn't double submit. It's 9:58am over here, down in Melbourne (Australia), not midnight as it says for when I posted it.

Jeff was walking a few meters behind Frank as they made their way through the ship's corridors. They had encountered and eliminated small patrol groups, which included a few lower ranked Elites.

'Okay, I found the discs,' Windtalker suddenly said, using Jeff's radio to broadcast to everyone else, 'they're in possession of a Minor Elite who is in a Covenant mess hall in the deck below where the command center is.'

'Does this mean we have to go through the command center?' Jones asked, 'because I'm not looking forward to that.'

'I don't think so,' Windtalker replied. He wouldn't tell anybody about the information he found just yet. He would study it himself first and probably alert the Major and the Captain when they returned to base camp about his findings on the Slip-space technology.

'Maybe we'll find that Commander that wants Jeff dead,' Frank said, 'we could have a nice chat if we do find him.'

'You know about that?' Jeff asked.

'Everyone does. That's why I had to force these three ODSTs to come with me. Everyone thinks you're bad luck to go on a mission with.'

'You're just too stupid to care, so that's why you came,' Jeff said, 'am I right?'

Frank frowned. They arrived at a door which was obviously locked.
'Okay Windtalker, where to now?' Frank asked, giving Jeff a stern glance.

'There's a set of gravity lifts that run throughout the ship. To get to the one we need we have to pass through a tank bay, which would be under heavy guard since they probably know we're here now,' Windtalker replied.

'Of course they know we're here,' Heinrich said. He paused. 'What should we expect in the Covenant mess hall?'


'A lot of Elites,' Windtalker said, 'and according to sources in this ship's network most of the lower ranked ones are stationed on the planet. We'll be up against Special Operations ones for sure.'

'Shit,' Jones said, 'maybe I can just wait here and you guys come back for me. I think it sounds like a good plan.'

'Even if we did let you stay here, we wouldn't come back for you,' Frank said, stepping over to the ODST named Ray and snatching another C12 charge from him. He stepped over to the door and crouched, sticking the charge on the bottom of the door. He armed it and gestured to everyone else to get back.

'You're an asshole, Lieutenant,' Jones said.

'Just shut up and do your job, Corporal,' Frank said as he walked back over to them. 'Your job doesn't include calling a commanding officer an asshole.'

He took out the remote detonator and pressed the main button on it. The door was blown apart in a large, loud explosion which sent smoke and fire billowing throughout the corridor. As the smoke cleared, Jeff could make out a blue armored Elite and a few Grunts.

Opening fire, the others following suit, the aliens were down quite quickly, having been disoriented by the explosion.

Jeff and the others went back to the now destroyed door, continuing through the corridor and taking a left corner. This put them into a long corridor which seemed to run along the side of the ship, or at least that's what Windtalker told them. At the other end were a few Jackals which opened fire when they saw the humans.

Looking around the purple and blue metal corridor, Jeff could see there wasn't much cover. There wasn't any cover at all, actually and so he knew it would be better if he was the one to shoot first rather than let their enemies do it.

He took out his S2 AM and gunned the Jackals down, using the scope to pinpoint shots past their energy shields.

They continued through the corridor, following Windtalker's direction to the vehicle bay. Here, they arrived on a floor overlooking the bottom floor of the garage. Down below were numerous Covenant crates and a few Wraith tanks and Ghosts. Jeff could see a few large lifts in the floor which looked to be what the vehicles went on so they could descend to the lower levels, possibly where a gravity lift was.

Groups of Grunts and Elites were on the bottom floor as well as the floor they were on. Scattering, Jeff took cover behind a pillar as a large amount of plasma fire headed their way. Jones and Heinrich had taken cover behind some Covenant crates nearby, the ODSTs remaining in the open and answering the plasma fire with rifle fire of their own.

'How far to go, Windtalker?' Jeff asked, hoping they wouldn't have to spend too much longer on this ship, 'are we close?'

'There should be a door at the end of this floor,' Windtalker replied, 'you just follow the corridor behind it down a few decks until you find a mess hall. It shouldn't be too difficult to find.'

Jeff leaned around the pillar and opened fire with his Plasma Rifle, taking down a few Grunts. A plasma grenade trailing with blue plasma energy landed a meter in front of the pillar. It detonated, the explosion going around the sides of the pillar, brushing against him slightly.

The humans managed to whittle down the Covenant forces enough for them to safely make their way to the end of the floor, coming to a pair of double doors. Jeff guessed the one with the slowly descending corridor was the correct one, so he was the first through, following the corridor along as blue and red lights flashed around him. The ship seemed to be on high alert. Things could get a little trickier now.

Windtalker was able to give the group directions as they made their way through the corridors of the ship, encountering groups of enemies, mostly Special Operations Elites and Grunts. Jeff hadn't had much experience with these ones, able to determine that they are a lot harder to kill than your regular Elites and Grunts. Very frequently plasma grenades would come to the way of the humans until whoever was throwing them was no longer moving. This was typical of the Grunt tactics.

They pressed on through the ship, Jeff trying to keep a look out for any surveillance equipment. He knew the Covenant had that kind of thing and that was probably how they knew where they were.

The corridor descended downwards slightly, probably passing through a few decks. Eventually they came to an intersection, where they stopped and Windtalker began looking through the ship's schematics.

'How far now?' Frank asked, 'I'm beginning to get tired of this. These discs better be worth it.'

'Not far,' Windtalker said, 'just take a right here and follow the corridor till you get to an unlocked door. Behind that will be the mess hall.'

'Right,' Frank said. He finished saying this word just in time to see the energy sword that appeared close to him on his right. He ducked as it swung overhead, seemingly floating in mid air. Immediately the ODSTs opened fire, dark purple blood spurting out of thin air, the camouflaged Elite fading into being visible and dropping to the floor, its energy sword's fail-safes activating, the device disappearing in a puff of blue-white energy.

'Shit,' Jones said simply, 'what a cheapskate.'

Jeff looked at the bullet riddled corpse of the light blue armored Elite that lay on the floor. There would probably be more of those Stealth Elites on board this ship, almost invisible unless you knew what you were looking for. You could always tell one was there if you saw a faint shimmer in pretty much thin air. Their camouflage technology wasn't perfect and shooting a camouflaged enemy often made them more visible.

The group moved on through the corridors before finally arriving at the door Windtalker had mentioned. Jeff was the first to enter the mess hall, getting the attention of about fifteen Elites, a variety of Minors, Majors and one or two Special Operations officers. It looked like they had just gotten alert, probably because the ship's alarms had been raised. Every alien head was turned in his direction, so Jeff quickly stepped back out into the corridor and let the door close in front of him. Even he didn't fancy his chances against that many of them at the one time in the one room.

'Is there any other way to get the data discs?' Jeff asked, 'because there has to be, I don't think it's going to be easy getting it from one of the Elites in that room.'

'Why? What's behind that door that made you shit yourself?' Frank asked. He stepped over to the door and before Jeff could stop him had let the door open. Blue plasma bolts and Needler shards zoomed his way and Frank dropped to the floor, opening fire with his rifle. The ODSTs did the same but one of them was the unfortunate receiver of several Needler shards in the chest. There was a large pink explosion which knocked Jones over and blew the ODST in half, blood spurting out across the corridor.

Without thinking about what he was doing too much Jeff sprinted into the room, diving behind one of the tables nearby. He landed at the hooves of a Minor Elite but was quicker on the draw, pulling out his Plasma Rifle and unloading several shots into the closest practical part of the Elite, which meant aiming up towards its crotch. The Elite stumbled backwards, its shield having failed as dark purple blood spurted out onto Jeff's face. The Elite slumped against the wall ahead, smearing blood as gravity pushed it slowly to the floor.


Looking around, Jeff saw that there was another Minor Elite only a few meters away. It was pointing its Plasma Rifle towards him but was distracted by some rifle fire from Heinrich. This gave Jeff a chance to get the upper hand. He got up and done a swift kick with one leg into the Elite's legs, bringing himself down with it. The alien came down on top of him and he pressed his Plasma Rifle against its head before it had a chance to recover. He squeezed the rifle's trigger and was satisfied when its fire was received by a large amount of alien blood that spurted from the Elite's skull.

He gazed around the room, seeing that three other Elites had been taken down by the others. Great, he thought, only ten more. He could see that Jones was pinned down behind a pillar, plasma fire scorching the side of it that was facing the enemy.

Jeff began firing at the Elites that were keeping Jones pinned down, taking one of them down and making the other two duck behind cover. He moved over to where the others were, staying low as he went. There were nine more Elites left and only six of them. Hardly even but they did stand a chance.

He moved over to Jones and reached over, snatching a grenade from him. Before he had a chance to complain Jeff had already pulled out the pin and thrown it. The grenade bounced in between the pair of Elites ahead, only giving them seconds to react. There wasn't a lot of room to move so they were still fairly close to the grenade when it went off, sending one of the Elites onto the floor while the other was tossed to one side of the room, hitting the wall and bouncing off of it like a ragdoll. The Elite landed with a thump on the floor nearby, a puddle of dark purple blood slowly forming around the alien's head.

Frank and the two ODSTs were receiving fire from a pair of Elites off to the right. Frank managed to take one of the Elites down, the other arming a plasma grenade and preparing to throw it.

Jeff swivelled around and fired a few shots, one of them hitting the Elite just below the hand. Its shield had already failed so the alien dropped the grenade as it took its arm back in pain. The grenade landed right next to the Elite and before it could react the explosion had incinerated most of it, leaving a charred, smouldering corpse in its place.

There were three Elites left now, all of them Special Operations and they were scattered around the now trashed mess hall, behind cover and putting their plasma rifles out of cover to fire blindly. Sometimes they would actually expose themselves but these Elites were being stubborn to flush out.

'I need some grenades,' Jeff said, 'otherwise we'll be here all night trying to get rid of these guys.'

'I'm out,' Jones said, 'you took the last of mine.'

'Hey, take these,' Heinrich said, throwing him a pair of spherical metal grenades, 'they should do it.'

Jeff looked at the strange grenades and then at Heinrich.
'What are these?'

'Concussion grenades,' Heinrich replied, 'they'll flush them out, alright.'

Jeff turned around and found what he hoped was the 'pin' on the grenades; a small switch on one side which he flicked and threw towards one of the Elites. It landed a meter or so to its left, the Elite diving out of cover as the grenade detonated a loud, floor-shaking explosion, a pale white shockwave shooting forth from the detonation point and literally bowling the Elite over.

While it was stunned Jeff opened fire, splattering the contents of its head onto the floor. He turned his attention to one of the others, using the last grenade to flush it out. It couldn't avoid the explosion and lay on the floor dazed as it tried to regain its senses. Jeff simply stepped over and unloaded several plasma bolts into its head.


The last Elite was about ten meters behind him. As he came around with the others following the Elite got up and opened fire. Jeff damaged to avoid most of the plasma, opening fire himself and letting the plasma chew through the Elite's shield. He let the rifle cool down, the others opening up with their weapons and cutting the alien down.

Jeff watched the Elite fall and then looked around the mess hall. It was indeed a mess now and he had a feeling one of the dead Elites had what they were looking for.

'Windtalker, which one of these has the discs?' He asked the AI, obviously interrupting the AI's train of thought.

'What? You said something?' Windtalker said, sounding surprised.

'Which Elite has the discs?' Jeff asked, 'there's quite a few of them.'

'Try the one farthest to your right in the blue armor,' Windtalker replied.

Jeff looked over to his right and stepped over to the bullet riddled blue armoured Elite that was in that direction. He gazed down at the motionless corpse. If the dead Elite did indeed have the discs on him, where would he put them?

Jeff bent down and began searching through the most probable places, taking off bits of armor and checking for any compartments or anything of the kind. It didn't take him long to find the discs stored away in a small compartment in one of the Elite's thigh plates.

'I got them,' he said.

Frank came up behind him.

'You sure those are the ones?' He asked.


'Why wouldn't they be?' Jeff asked, 'I doubt the Covenant use human built discs for anything.'

'Destroy them,' Frank said, 'then we can get out of here.'

Jeff dropped the pair of discs onto the floor, pushing a booted heel down on the both of them and grinding them against the metal floor. Taking his foot away he could see that the discs were now in much smaller pieces.

'That's not adequate,' Frank said, 'we don't know if the Covenant can still recover the information since we don't know the extent of their technology.'

Jeff aimed his Plasma Rifle at the remains of the discs and fired, completely incinerating them.

'Does that do it?' He asked, bringing up his Plasma Rifle at about stomach level.

'Yeah, sure,' Frank replied, not sounding too enthusiastic, 'now let's go back the way we came and get off of this crazy ship.'

'I don't think that will be a good idea, Lieutenant,' Windtalker said over their radios.

'Why not?'

'The Covenant soldiers you haven't killed yet are coming down the way we came. There are a lot of them, so I suggest we find another means of escape.'

'Like what?' Jones asked, 'I don't like the idea of being stuck on this ship.'

'There's a hangar bay nearby,' Windtalker said, 'according to the data I've been accessing there's a Phantom drop-ship still docked.'

'Well, do any of us now how to fly it?' Frank asked, 'because I don't.'
He turned around to look at the others. No one seemed too keen on the idea of flying an alien drop-ship.

'We'll figure it out when we get there,' Frank asked, 'which way to the hangar?'

'Just go through the doors ahead and do your corridor following thing,' Windtalker said, 'it shouldn't be too hard to find.'

They started for the door when the one they had entered the mess hall from opened. A few Elites and Grunts rushed into the room, taking cover and followed by some Jackals and a few more Elites.

'Shit,' Frank said as he saw them, 'with them on our asses we'll never get to that Phantom.'

Jeff looked at the enemy troops and then at his group. It took him a moment to decide what to do next.

'I'll stay here and hold them off,' Jeff said, 'you guys go on ahead. I'll catch up.'

'What?' Jones said, sounding surprised, 'by yourself? You may be good at what you do but you can't be thinking you can hold them off all by yourself?'

'Just go, I'll catch up,' Jeff said, 'it shouldn't be too hard.'

'Let's go,' Frank said. He didn't look too worried. 'The Sergeant knows what he's doing so we're going.'

Heinrich placed a hand on Jeff's shoulder.

'You'll be fine,' he said, grinning. He let go of Jeff's shoulder and left the room with the others.


Once they had gone and the plasma was already flying, he took position behind a pillar and began the tedious job of holding off the Covenant forces.

'Covie in the bushes, to your left.'

The marine rolled sideways, coming to rest on the soft, damp and grassy ground. He put the Jackal visible through the nearby bushes into his rifle's sights, taking a deep breath.

'Take it easy son; there ain't many of them,' Major George Golding whispered, 'now, if think about this for a moment: if these aliens think they're better than us, how come they're not immune to headshots?'

The marine squeezed his BR36 Battle Rifle's trigger. There was a loud crack followed by a wet spurting sound. The Jackal's head blew apart in an explosion of purple gore, its energy shield deactivating as it dropped to the jungle floor.

'Shouldn't you be getting some sleep, sir?' The marine asked, turning his way, 'we've been at this for a while.'

'I had a nap earlier,' George replied. He checked his Magnum .44, seeing that all six chambers had a slug in them. It was hard to see in the darkness of the jungle, but the small light he had attached to the side of his cowboy hat did provide some illumination in the darkness.

'I didn't think you enjoyed hunting so much, sir,' Private First Class Ekholm said, 'so, how many deer have you killed?'

'Killed is too strong a word,' George replied, no longer whispering.
He was pretty sure there weren't any other Covenant patrols nearby, so he assumed it was safe to talk normally.

'What do you say, then?'

'Hunted is much lighter a word,' George answered, 'because, after all, I do hunt deer. The reservations on Reach were especially good for hunting, almost unspoilt by population growth. Unlike on Earth where they have massive reservations in the middle of Goddamn cities.'

'So, you liked Reach then?' Ekholm asked.

'It was a nice place,' George said, sitting up. His jacket was damp from the ground and as well as that it smelt like freshly cut grass. He didn't like that smell too much. 'Jericho VII, on the other hand, didn't have a lot of settlements on it. That place is gone as well.'
Ekholm paused, getting up.

'So, instead of hunting deer now you're hunting Covenant?' Ekholm asked, 'after all, it was your idea to drag me out here...'

'You weren't doing anything else,' George replied, 'I wouldn't count playing poker as much of an activity. Besides, I needed some company. Being a Major can get to be a very lonely job if you don't play your cards right.'

'Really?' Ekholm raised an eyebrow.

'Well, it can get lonely if you're a prick of a Major,' George said, 'and I know I'm not. No one else wanted to go alien hunting anyway, especially at this time.'

'It's one AM on my watch,' Ekholm replied, 'but that's still on Reach time. What's a full day and night on this planet, anyway?'

'About twenty nine hours,' George replied.

'Twenty nine hours?' Ekholm shook his head. 'I don't think I can get used to that.'



'I certainly don't know if we'll ever get off this planet, son,' George said, 'no one knows we're here. We could be light years away from any kind of human presence. You better start getting used to it.'

'What if we start running out of stuff?'

'Like what?'

'Food, maybe?' Ekholm asked, 'we could run out of food...'

George shook his head in some disbelief.

'Have you looked around, Private?' George asked, glancing around the area for emphasis, 'we're surrounded by food. There are fruits and plants and native animals. We could last forever on this planet.'

'What about fuel?'

'If we run out we nick some of the Covenant stuff,' George replied, 'soon we'll be fighting them with their own weapons and equipment.'
Ekholm sat back against a nearby tree. He looked like he was having trouble taking in all this information.

'Let's get back to Camp Golding,' George said, grinning.

'You really think we'll be on this planet for that long?' Ekholm asked as George got up. The Major helped the young marine onto his feet. He noticed a bandaged up part of the marine's leg, just above the knee.

'How's that leg wound treating you?' George asked.

'It's fine,' Ekholm replied, 'now, again Major, how long do you think we'll be stuck on this planet?'

'God knows,' George said. They started through the jungle, following the markers that had been placed by marines to help lead them back to the camp. The markers were merely a few long pieces of fluorescent tape wrapped around trees which could be seen well in the night but were hardly noticeable in the day. The Covenant was probably using them as a guide as well but George doubted they would try anything to get back the ancient structures. At least, he hoped they wouldn't.

George realized he was forgotten something important and so told Ekholm to continue back to the base. The Major went back to where the Jackal lay, part of its head missing. Making sure there weren't any more of its lot close by he retrieved his pocket knife from a pocket in his jacket and slowly cut away the Jackal's head, in typical hunter-style fashion.

Wiping up the blood with some cloth and putting a few bio-foam capsules into the missing section of the head he stored the trophy in a pouch slung around his back. In his 'office' back at the base camp he had a few others, most from hunting that he had done earlier on.

He started back to the small set of structures. He passed a few bored marines on patrol duty, most of them sitting against trees and logs halfway to falling asleep.

He didn't really care much for the fact that they were falling asleep. If Covenant soldiers broke through their lines George would know about it and those soldiers would probably regret having fallen asleep.
Arriving back at the main structure, he started up to his office, passing marines who were fast asleep in makeshift bunks. A few were still awake and still playing card games. George returned to his office and placed the Jackal head with the few others that were nicely lined up on a shelf he had put on one of the walls. He had had to use a heavy duty drill to drill holes in the walls for the screws since the walls themselves seemed to be made of a stone-metal hybrid material.

'Don't you think that's a bit...you know, disgusting?'




George swivelled around and at the same time drew his Magnum revolver. He found that the source of the surprise voice was from Captain Bob Turnwell, who was sitting at George's desk.

'Captain, you scared the shit out of me...'

'I arrived about an hour ago,' The Captain said, 'but you were busy out hunting with that Ekholm guy. Instead of deer you're hunting Covenant soldiers.'

'Well, it seems Jeff and his squad done their job then,' George said, 'now get out of my damn chair.'

The Captain stood up and out of the chair, chuckling.

'I like what you've done to the place,' Bob said, stepping away from the chair, 'it seems you and the marines haven't been doing very much at all.'

George scratched at his moustache. Now that the Captain was here it seems George would have to take orders. The Colonel was here somewhere but George definitely wasn't taking orders from that guy.

'I can explain, Captain,' George said, placing his rifle on the desk and making sure the safety was on.

'No need,' Bob replied, 'since we're stuck on some unknown planet it's understandable that people get slack. Anyway, where is that Sergeant and his friends? I expected them to come back with me...'

'They're raiding a Covenant cruiser to recover the data discs you lost,' George said, 'hopefully they won't get killed.'
Bob raised an eyebrow.

'Data discs?'



'The ones Windtalker said you were carrying,' George said, realizing that they may have had just made a terrible mistake, 'you know, those ones?'

'Oh, those,' Bob said, 'they're full of false information. I was using them as a bargaining tool...Keep me alive a little while longer...'
George paused. If they were fake, then he had just sent some of his best men on a crazy, pointless mission. For some reason he found that funny and simply laughed.

'Man, they're going to be pissed off about this,' George said, 'finding out they would've been better off leaving the discs alone.'

'What if some of them are dead?' Bob asked, 'it would seem like a bit of a waste...'

'I have the utmost confidence in the men I sent to recover and probably destroy the discs,' George replied, 'I wouldn't send a bunch of recruits on a mission like this.'

George sat himself down in his chair and pressed a holographic keypad near one of the compartments. The compartment opened and inside was a few bottles of beer he had salvaged from some supply crates after they had first set this place up as their headquarters. He took out a bottle, popped off the cap and took a gulp before he belched loudly. He placed the bottle on the desk and found the notepad he had used to write down notes concerning their Elite prisoner. The notepad had been buried under loose pieces of paper, most of which he no longer needed.

'While you were off being held captive by the enemy, Captain,' George said, 'some of our guys managed to use some of the Covenant anti-aircraft batteries around here to shoot down a Seraph fighter which appeared to be on some sort of scouting mission. We captured the pilot, most likely the first time an Elite has actually been captured alive.'

'So?' Bob asked, not sounding too interested.

'What do you mean, "So"?' George said, surprised, 'already I've interrogated the prisoner and managed to learn quite a bit from them.'

'And let me guess,' Bob said, 'you're going to use this information against them?'

'Of course,' George replied, 'why not?'

'And just what did you learn from the prisoner?' Bob asked, 'anything that may prove to be useful?'

'Well, err...Maybe...'

Bob didn't look too surprised by this reaction.

'Take a look at these notes, then,' George said, 'spelling out alien words in English isn't exactly my strongpoint, though.'
He handed the Captain the notepad. The Captain quickly read through the notes, shaking his head.

'That's nothing we can use against them,' Bob said, 'that's just stuff you could put into UNSC records. Nothing here will help us.'
George picked up the bottle of beer and took another sip. He was grinning, like he had some sort of exciting idea. Bob didn't like this expression.

'It's only the start of my master plan,' George said, beginning to sound a bit crazy, 'you see, I've got a body or two on ice so some of our guys can do autopsies. What I'm thinking is that if we find out anything about their anatomy that we can use against them, perhaps create a virus or something, we can gain the upper hand in this war.

We could release it on one of their ships, which in turn could be taken to their home-world. Their medical facilities are shithouse as far as I know. They wouldn't be able to stop it. We would gain the upper hand.'

Bob had been listening and shaking his head after every few sentences. He had a hand to his chin in thought, like he usually did.
'It's a crazy plan,' Bob said, 'I can guarantee the UNSC has captured its fair share of aliens. I can guarantee they've done their fair share of research.'

'I wouldn't be too sure,' George said, 'since when has anyone captured any aliens? They would probably kill themselves before anyone captured them. But we have one in the other room under guard. He doesn't seem too keen on living in a cell. We probably won't be able to get much out of an Elite, unless we threaten him. Threaten him a lot.'

'With what? Death?' Bob asked, 'you can't threaten something that isn't afraid to die.'

'Then you do the next best thing,' George replied, taking out the Magnum .44 revolver. He twirled it around in his hand and in one fluid motion slid it back into its holster. 'All you have to do is threaten him with something no man could handle.'

Bob didn't like where this conversation was leading. The Major was an unpredictable man sometimes.

'I really don't want to know...' Bob said.

'Whatever,' George replied, 'but you know where I'm getting at. I
don't even know if Elites have any, but I'm not about to take a look.'

A technician in the typical yellow and grey uniforms that they wore arrived in the room. He didn't seem too excited.

'Major, a Covenant Phantom's just arrived,' the technician said, 'the team sent to find the discs are in it.'

Bob exchanged glances with the Major.

'What are we going to tell them?' Bob asked.

'Nothing,' George said, 'it'll be our little secret.' He turned to the technician. 'Tell them to get themselves in here.'

The technician nodded and left the room. A few minutes later a dirtied looking group of men entered the room. Lieutenant Frank Hastings was among them. He was holding the Windtalker belt.

'Where's the Sergeant?' Bob asked.

'He stayed behind to cover our asses,' Frank said, 'probably dead by now.'

Bob looked a little surprised.

'Really?'

Corporal Jones Marshall, who had been standing behind the
Lieutenant, stepped forward.

'I doubt he's dead,' Jones said, 'I know him better than anyone here. He knows how to look after himself.'

'Did you find the discs?' George asked. A few of the original group was missing, so it did seem like a bit of a waste of life. But this is what happened in war and George was well accustomed to it.

'Here's Windtalker,' Frank said, throwing the belt on the desk, 'and we destroyed those damn discs. Now, can we get some rest?'

'Yeah, sure, go right ahead,' George replied. The group left the room, Bob removing the AI chip from the metal belt and inserting it into the pedestal near the desk.



'Don't switch him on,' George said, stopping the Captain in his tracks, 'I really don't want to hear its voice. Just leave it alone for now.'

Bob didn't proceed any further with activating Windtalker.

'So, do you think the Sergeant's still alive?' Bob asked, 'because if he stayed behind on that ship...'

'He's probably still alive,' George replied, 'if he doesn't find a way back here until tomorrow night then maybe he is dead. Although I would say he's already trying to figure out a way to get back here.'