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-Halo Ternion-


That's the Kind of Life That's Gonna Kill You

DEPLOYMENT +13:05:40 (SPARTAN-002 Mission Clock), August 6, 2552 (Military Calendar)/
1.9 km from Covenant Intelligence Outpost, Alpha Lyncis III


Something bothered Ensign Timothy Huang. Something he had overheard, that he had just forgotten. That he knew he should remember. It might not have been just before... A while ago, maybe...

It was really important that he remember.

"You're doin' good, buddy," said Martin Lowry encouragingly. The other ensign had his shoulders under Huang's arm and supported him firmly enough that Huang needed only to take regular steps to keep his tired feet from dragging.

Huang did not feel good. The entire trunk of his body was more sore than before the escape. His ears pounded along to his pulse. That laughing red bastard. They know I don't know anything! The repeated neural shocks felt like jagged glass in his brain and spine, but at least they dulled the physical injuries --

The Elite laughed cruelly, and growled something in its convoluted language. Then it swiped its amoured fist into his jaw.

"Huang, Tim. Ensign," he mumbled. "Service number 05660-30013-TH."

"Huh?" replied Lowry. "...Hang in there, ain't far now."

"Stupid creature," the alien gloated, twisting its mandibles around the alien speech. "Of course you know nothing! But you are human. Therefore you must suffer." It joined the other, an enormous gold-clad monster that watched with beady, pale eyes. It was still speaking Standard. Oh no. I've got to tell the Commander! What were they saying? Commander..? It was vital he did not forget what he had heard...

They had stopped. The Lieutenant Commander's voice spoke: "What will we do now?" The flight from the Covenant had left him rather breathless and he leaned against the sheer rock face. The night was still deep and moonless, the hard dust and scattered scrub stretching away almost invisibly from the boundary of rock the humans had recently traversed.

"Avoid detection," answered Hideki 002. The black-armoured Spartan was tending a distended box that was fastened to the stone. He monitored the beacon's transmission then took it off-line. "That means we stay under these overhangs, and go back into the fissure if we think they're close." He faced the officers. "Anything that could detect this beacon will have its power completely fried. If they have any gear still operational, they'll be looking for thermal and motion. We sit tight, under cover."

Atchison glanced at the unconscious figure of the marine lieutenant colonel, Paech, laid out at the base of the overhang.

Lowry set the injured man down tentatively. Huang's eyes were hooded; he mumbled unintelligibly.

What did that alien say? I can't remember but its really important that I tell the Commander!

"Sir, Huang's not looking good. And I think he's a bit delirious."

"Powerless humans," rumbled the gold-armoured Elite from across the interrogation chamber, his voice clearly contemptuous. "We won't even need them now. Not with the information held in their construct."

"Commander!" Huang shouted.

"Easy, son. We're safe here. We'll be retrieved soon," said Atchison as he kneeled beside the ensign.

"No! Commander! I have to remember!" Huang stared up with wide, bloodshot eyes. "M'bantu!"

As Atchison slowly rose, Lowry held his friend's shoulder, wondering aloud, "The AI?"

Even faster than the others, Hideki recalled the information regarding the Essex's navigational and tactical AI, M'bantu, and came to an immediate conclusion.

"Was the construct functional?" he asked.

Atchison's expression grew more and more worried. "The core memory overloaded in the battle. We didn't get a chance to reset him. The self-destruct safeguards were armed, but if the Covenant managed to extract the supporting mainframe or M'bantu's processor itself..."

Hideki stood for another moment, then reached up to his helmet's neck seal. He deactivated the clasps, gripped, and slid it up and off, revealing a rounded, pale face and a shaved head set on large trapezoids. Inhaling the unfiltered air for the first time, he turned his brown eyes towards the top edge of the rock.

"Now we have to go back," he told them.

2240 Hours, August 5, 2552 (Military Calendar)/
Project IONCLAD prototype, in Slipstream transit


The ship's mess was very small, being intended for a crew of only six, and even then its size took duty rotation into account. One wall held the door, and the ration dispensary and reclaimation was set in the other, where Private Michael Hutt stood, sliding his dish back into the slot. He turned and glanced a last time at Lance Corporal Maine; they had shared the mess for dinner, yet hardly a word.

"See ya," he said, walking past.

"See you," she answered distantly.

The door opened. "Doctor."

"Private," Adrian Benner greeted, entering as the soldier stood aside, then left. He ordered at the dispensary, and while waiting for his meal, looked across at the sniper. All that marked the woman as a marine was the hard set of her jaw and the UNMC fatigues she wore. Her dreaded hair was longish, and she was not large, though Benner knew she could probably take him down. A Helljumper is a Helljumper.

He transfered his laden tray to the table and sat opposite her. Examining his first forkful, he said idly, "I sometimes wonder, with the enemy's culture being so different, do they eat better or worse than us aboard their ships? I suppose they suck from food nipples or something..."

The woman glanced up but did not even fein an interest in talking.

"Want to hear some good news? As soon as we fold out of Slipspace we can test the shield generators! We took a look at the MJOLNIR armour systems, and together with Turing's data we've finalised the simulations. This ship should be able to take a serious beating."

The door opened again; in walked Frank Doubet and Matt Heitz. Both men wore little other than pants and boots, with Heitz's chest bare and prominently displaying his recently healed scar. Laughing at an unheard snippet of humour, they descended upon the food dispenser.

"Hey, guys," Benner called, twisting around. "that's got to last us to Reach, and we don't all have cryotubes."

"Relax Doc," Heitz said with a grin. He slapped the scientist's shoulder a little harder than necessary and took a seat beside him. Doubet also sat, and the marines tucked in.

On the other side of the table Maine stared down at her empty fork, before dropping it and rising with a loud scraping of chair legs. Heitz glanced at her, then to her plate. "Gonna finish that, babe?" he asked, smiling again.

Without looking nor responding she made for the door. It sighed apart, revealing the towering figure of Sophia-111. Her Spartan proportions gave her a subtly different scale within such close quarters, but after weeks of sharing a ship with her Maine did not even blink. The Lance Corporal squeezed wordlessly past and hurried down the corridor.

"Must be on a diet, man," Doubet observed.

"Doesn't need it, with the exercise she gets," the other chuckled.

Sophia immediately turned away. She let the door close, then shouted after the woman. "Maine! Wait!"

The sniper turned the corner out of sight. Calling her name, Sophia chased her through the bulkhead to the cabins.

"Wait! Maine! Arcadia, wait!"

The woman stopped outside her room. She still did not look up as the Spartan joined her. With her accute perceptions, it was obvious to Sophia that Maine was on the verge of tears. She followed her in, and Maine sank onto her bunk. From behind her stone-steady expression, Sophia watched the woman with an odd but undeniable feeling of feminine empathy.

A minute passed, then Maine drew a breath. "I just don't know what I'm do-o-oing!" she said and descended into a fit of sobs.

As close as Sophia was to Kelly, Linda, Grace, Vinh and her other Spartan sisters, she had not known any to have cried much, even as children in boot. On instinct, however, she sat close and wrapped a strong arm around Maine's shuddering shoulders. Her crying softened rapidly, and after another few moments the Spartan said, "We all make mistakes... I know what it's like to lose someone close. Spartans aren't as invincible as they tell you, you know."

"I thought Matt understood, too," the woman whispered.

Sophia let go and stood with an air of conviction. "Arcadia, I think you need the same thing I need."

"What?"

"Target practice. Let's find Sterling and go to the armoury."

1802 Hours, August 6, 2552 (Military Calendar)/
Alpha Lyncis System


A ship was exiting Slipspace, but it was not the rapid, fluid transition of a Covenant vessel. Over the course of a minute, the stillness of interplanetary space was ever so subtly tugged back in a a tapering vector running for hundreds of kilometres off out of the system. Then, with a flash of boiling green and ripples of gravity the ship appeared, its radiant x-rays shifting through the ultraviolet into the normal visible spectrum as it decelerated down the vector and fully re-entered the normal universe. The multihulled vehicle turned through a few lazy degrees and her engines lit, powering her towards Alpha Lyncis.

"There's the beacon echo," reported Ensign Gillian.

"Make an active scan of orbital space, Turing," Sophia instructed the AI that was running the entire rear bank of instruments. She peered into the blackness outside Ionclad's canopy, the nearby star glare obscured by a circle of screen polarisation.

The construct's voice hummed insistently throughout the bridge. "Attention, we have two contacts bearing zero-two-five mark three-five-zero, range thirty thousand. Configurations match Covenant patrol frigates. They're accelerating; we'll be in torpedo range in eighteen seconds."

"All right," the Spartan breathed with satisfaction. She raised her voice: "All hands man your stations, we are engaging the enemy. Doctor Benner," she called, keying the engine room.

"Aye," Benner answered, "shield power systems are ready. Activating... now."

A moment of anticipation, then the bridge crew felt their hair stand on end. A brief aurora washed over the canopy, the ionisation layer equilibrating around two metres from the hull surface. Sophia could see the new system working through her link with the ship, and thought she could hear a new ultrasonic hum above the background electrics.

"Arm all weapons. Splinter rounds, Gillian. Full load."

"Aye skip."

Sophia dipped to port and opened up the engines. The throb of fusion power overlapped with her heartbeat and she settled comfortably back into her seat.

"What'd I miss?" shouted Lloyd, bursting in at the bridge's rear. Like Sophia, he was clad in his dark Mjolnir undersuit. His grey eyes glinted with excitement.

"Strap in, Sergeant. Fun's just starting."

The irridescent Covenant vessels moved visibly against the starry background, growing closer by the second but also rotating steadily.

"Come on!" Lloyd exclaimed. "Shoot 'em!"

"Just. Be. Patient, okay," Sophia replied good-humouredly. "I'm bringing us around the side so that one cuts off the other's line of fire."

"Ah."

"It's called strategy."

"Gotcha."

Ionclad's approach levelled off, and the craft powered straight for the foremost frigate.

Ensign Gillian warned, "Covenant weapon charging." Fluid red light began collecting on the squat, potruding turret at the front of the bulbous double hulls.

"Watch this, Sergeant," Sophia said over her shoulder, and hit the fire control.

The crew lurched against their seat harnesses. Bright white vapourous trails had stabbed forward, and the Covenant target's shields sundered. Entire sections of hull exploded away from the frigate. Fire trailed randomly around its surface, then it bloomed a blue-white as the hull cracked apart completely.

"KICK ass!" Lloyd cheered.

As Ionclad rapidly closed on the glowing debris it suddenly parted, revealing a angry, sizzling plasma torpedo that raced to meet them.

Sophia cursed and rolled her ship into evasive maneouvres, but they were already too close. The violent energy impacted and seemed to wash over and under the port bow. The shield alarm screamed inside the pilot's head, and the whole ship shook in nearly every direction. She was still desperately trying to turn Ionclad when the power failed.

The consoles lit up again a second later. Emergency lighting dimly illuminated the bridge. Sophia could feel the navigation protocols trying to reassert themselves in her neural connection, and looking up, she saw the second frigate accelerating from behind the remains of the first, tracking the human ship, as they coasted by, with a volley of pulse laser fire.

"Skipper," spoke Turing, "it appears that the remaining enemy vessel had anticipated our approach, and closely estimated our offensive capability. I therefore calculate an overwhelming probability that the Covenant already have intelligence regarding project IONCLAD. Can you navigate now?"

The Spartan took a mental grip upon the vessel and lit the engines, quickly powering away from the pursuing frigate. She keyed Doctor Benner again. "What happened, Doctor?" she said flatly. "The ship says it has no shields again."

"Well," he replied. "That little black out just then was the shield feedback shorting across the ship's entire power network. We had to literally pull the plug back here before enough voltage could build up and jump into the engine fields. It'll take a while to re-initialise the shields, but I won't do that until I know they'll be stable under stress - this is why we test these things, you see."

Sophia thought of a few questions, but asked, "What about main power?"

"Too risky to bring it back on - that's why we have backup power."

"No main power, no MACs, though."

"Er, yeah. Sorry."

"Do your best, Doctor."

Lloyd called from behind, "New energy spike - the frigate is firing a second volley."

Sophia pulled up, putting Ionclad into a shallow climb. Weapons lock flashed on her holoscreen. She waited for a few more seconds then flipped the ship nearly one hundred eighty degrees and gunned the engines, powering back toward the enemy and neatly evading the ponderous, flaming torpedo.

"Turing, will launching all Archer missiles be enough to disable this ship?" asked Sophia.

"Past battles have demonstrated an unfortunate acuteness in point defence capacity for the smaller Covenant ships," he answered levelly. "However, from our recent analysis Doctor Benner has theorised that temporary shield gaps must open to allow for all weapons fire - just as our shields incorporate windows over the MAC muzzles, etcetera. I advise transfering targetting systems to my control."

"They're yours. Can you anticipate the positions of the gaps?"

"I have already recorded the pulse laser turret positions. Stand by."

"Gillian, open up remaining missle pods. Lloyd, keep an eye on that torpedo. Hang on, everyone!"

The ship began to sway from side to side. Lights winked along the enemy hull, and Sophia put Ionclad into a series of zig zags and barrel rolls to evade the pulse lasers. The frigate, lurching from one edge of the veiwport to the other, loomed ever closer. There were a series of abrupt, singular thumps, as Turing launched over a score of Archer missiles. They speared forwards, individually guided, weaving like some raggedy loose rope of exhaust vapour. A few were caught by the invisible pulse beams, and erupted brightly in momentary spherical plumes, but the rest closed with their targets, slipping through the tiny slits in the shield and blossoming evenly across the silver hull. The explosions, though relatively small, rebounded from the ship's intact shields and burnt hotly over its surface.

Lloyd said, "Hey Skipper, that torpedo's closing in behind us."

"Turing?" Sophia called, thinking hard. "Can you take their shields out?"

The construct took a full eighty cycles to recognise the user request. Having been thrown into a situation normally faced by AIs specifically built for battle, a spark of tactical inspiration, that would have been far less surprising had it been in the mind of a human, had struck Turing, and he had immediately pursued it. Comandeering the idle main targetting computers (and, in the process, discovering an interestingly unlisted port to the pilot interface), he had run a series of fourteen hundred and twenty-one simulations before he had altered enough variables to ensure a theoretical victory. He also realised he had been spoken to, and replied, "Please hold this exact approach and pull out on my mark."

The scorched, pock-marked alien ship loomed, enlarging in the veiwport. No pulse lasers flashed up to meet the humans - the Covenant apparently wanted to maintain the comprehensiveness of their shielding. To aft, the blinding red projectile swiftly chewed up the distance to its target. Proximity warnings began flashing on the bridge's screens: both weapons lock and collision alarm.

The enemy hull filled the canopy entirely. "Turing!" yelled Sophia.

His voice seeped through her neural connection. One-point-one-three-three-eight more seconds it whispered.

"Jesus!" Lloyd shouted in alarm.

Course correction: zero-zero-five mark three-four-eight, engines full, Sophia heard (and acted) in a single instant. Ionclad immediately dipped and surged forward, her baffles constricting and glowing dull red, the reactors throbbing like hearts on adrenalin and overlapping their fields synergistically. At the same time, Archer missile pod B emptied, the rockets converging and detonating on a single point upon the Covenant shields. They scintillated and dimmed as the human craft streaked mere metres beneath the frigate, the alien metal flashing by overhead. Then they were past, and the alien ship fell away rapidly, suddenly backlit by a brilliant red flash as the plasma torpedo struck the weak spot dead on. The shields sundered completely and the energy burnt its way deeply into the ship.

"Yee-hah!" exulted Lloyd, gripping the shaking console. Sophia lessened the engine power then put the ship into a sweeping turn. The frigate was listing, blue flame bursting from its surface. It was dead in space. Gillian exhaled in relief.

"Thank you, Turing," said Sophia. "You should have been a tactical AI."

"The adaptability of Smart AIs has to date only been crudely estimated. Indeed, I found that thoroughly stimulating."

Lloyd was frowning at his scanner screens. "Skipper - did we take any structual damage?"

She mentally checked the ship's integrity, and said, "No, Lloyd. The shields held long enough to completely dissipate that plasma hit."

"Well, I've detected debris containing a lot of titanium-A in this area," he replied. "Its still pretty hot, and if its not ours..."

"The Aroyuesess?" said Ensign Gillian. "Escape pods?"

"Nothing with power, not even cryotubes."

Sophia cast her eyes down. "We must have been just too late."

"We've paid the Covenant back, though," said Lloyd grimly. "With interest. C'mon, let's go find Hideki."

DEPLOYMENT +13:52:00 (SPARTAN-002 Mission Clock)(1915 Hours), August 6, 2552 (Military Calendar)/
1.9 km from Covenant Intelligence Outpost, Alpha Lyncis III


"Wha..." grunted Ensign Lowry as he sat up. "The hell was that?"

Atchison peered into the patchy black sky from beneath the overhang. "What do you think, Spartan?" he asked Hideki, beside him. "Sonic boom?"

A rumble still rolled faintly over the landscape.

"Perhaps." The Spartan stood, craning his neck as he scanned the heavens. His brown eyes narrowed; he bent and swooped up his helmet, fitted it, then collected his rifle. Aiming, the smartlink scope magnified his view and confirmed what his ears had told him: two Banshees, and they would pass very close.

"Air patrol," he spoke immediately. "We may have to engage them."

Lowry scrambled to his feet. "With all due respect, we're not all Spartans like you," he said pleadingly.

"Petty Officer," the Lieutenant Commander said, "while I agree that recovery of M'bantu is of the highest priority, and I'm grateful for the hours rest you agreed to give us, I also agree with my officer here --"

"Damn right," a voice grated from the shadows. Lieutenant Colonel Paech levered himself up, his eyes fixed on the Spartan and filled with hate.

"And we may not," Hideki said without pause. "Everybody: into the fissure. Let's hope they pass and we are not forced to defend this position."

The marine exploded in rage. "The hell I will! Hand me that rifle, swabbie! I'll show you how a human fights!"

The ghostly howl of the Covenant flyers had grown quite loud and they were already in sight. After a moment, they abruptly banked and were joined by a new noise, a deep, near-sub-sonic thrum that rapidly drowned out everything. The people winced, once again looking to the sky, and all of a sudden it was blocked out by the immediately recognisable grey of titanium-A hull alloy.

The ship roared overhead in pursuit of the Banshees. With a fiery explosion an Archer missile thundered from a honeycombed launch pod, streaked across the distance in a split second and vapourised the trailing craft. The sheer pressure of the non-nuclear warhead detonation shattered the other Banshee as it attempted to make safe distance. The cacophony echoed between the cliffs and over the undulating plain, the wreckage falling as smoky rain.

As the craft rose and banked into a sweeping turn, Hideki noted the active idents on his HUD. "Ours," he declared. "Reinforcements."

They watched it approach once more, decelerating. Dust began billowing past them, up and over the cliff-face, and landing gear dropped smoothly from the ship's undercarriage. It rotated a half turn and put down gingerly, whatever pillars of force holding it aloft suddenly snapping off, and the engine roar began winding down. The three officers and the non-com approached as it settled into the barren soil.

A ramp opened and descended. It extended to the ground; figures moved at the top, then made their way down. Hideki snapped a salute.

"It's good to see you too, Spartan," shouted Lloyd jovially, briefly raising two gloved fingers in front of his visor.

Leiutenant Colonel Paech scowled up at the two tall soldiers, descending among a team of five marines in fatigues. "Shit," he growled. "More freaks."

Stepping off the ramp, the arrivals spotted him and the navy officers, stiffened and saluted.

"Master Sergeant SPARTAN 090, here to retrieve you, sirs!"

It was only then that Paech noticed the golden comet insignia adorning the chest of the enormous soldier.

"Good timing, Master Sergeant," said Atchison, stepping forward and returning the salute. "However a potential breach of the Cole Protocol, subsection two, has occured and we can't leave just yet."

Lloyd regarded him seriously. "Capture of tactical AI, sir?"

The officer's jaw set. "Debriefing will also need to wait. We need to get some teams into that base ASAP. Retrieve or destroy the construct, and ensure no information is left for the enemy."

The Spartan's eyes gleamed. "I'm all over it, sir!" He turned to the marines, and his mouth cracked into a grin. "You heard the commander - this is just what we were hoping for. Saddle up and assemble in the cargo bay at nineteen forty hours. We're gonna hit 'em where it hurts. Move it out, we're on a schedule!"

The marines thundered back up the ramp, slapping shoulders and exhaulting their good fortune, while the Spartans joined their peer.

"Upload your tac data, Spartan," Lloyd instructed, "and start thinking about our approach. You've got full strategic control on this one."

Hideki saluted once more. "Aye, sir!"

The Master Sergeant immediately turned to the escapees, all business. "Sirs, please follow Petty Officer Spartan 111 to our vessel's medical facilities."

"Ensign Huang is still back there, he's --"

Lloyd's helmet twitched towards Sophia and she was suddenly off at a jog towards the foot of the rockface.

"Following deployment, our co-pilot will take Ionclad up to low orbit. She will only come down when we have secured the facility. Your part in this is finished, sirs."

Sophia returned, cradling a small and fragile unconscious man in her armoured arms. "Please follow me, sirs," she said, and led them up the ramp.

"Permission to speak freely, sir!" said the black-clad Spartan sharply, stepping forward.

"Damn, Hideki," growled Lloyd, "it's just me now." He sighed. "Granted -- and at ease, already!"

"Sir... your suit, I've noticed--"

"Yes, Spartan," Sophia spoke quietly over the comm, smiling. "You can have one."

"Hot damn, Sarge treats us good."

It was time to gear up for the marines. Fifteen days on a cramped ship in Slipspace had left them all antsy, and they needed little encouragement from their non-com.

They were all in the ship's armoury. Corporal Doubet's foot was up on the table edge, and he was tightening the enormous boot to his knee over the matte grey fatigues. The armour was new, part of an unexpected find in the labs on Chi Ceti: the main segment comprised a solid full-torso vest, built from the same alloys as the shell of MJOLNIR armour - it was even coated in a similar refractive outer layer. Arm guards bracketed the sides. The shit-kicking boots completed the new ODST armour; the remaining exposed body was a compromise, as a full suit of the material would weigh a half tonne - like MJOLNIR - a challenge to wear for even the toughest troopers. Also, where the Spartan armour provided full neural-link exoskeletal control, the ODST assault armour still relied on the raw muscle of its wearer. However, the icing on the cake was the full-face, smartlink-ready helmet that fitted atop the torso piece.

The corporal fitted the helmet over his head. It sealed with a click, and a softly shaded HUD sprung up before his eyes. He noted the idle motion tracker in the corner. He turned back to the counter and wrapped his armoured fingers around the grip of his fresh MM55. He shouldered it; a stylised crosshair suddenly superimposed itself in the centre of his vision.

Until now, the soldiers had only trained for wearing the armour. They had done a lot of training. Now, they had an excuse to really get it on.

Doubet looked at Private Heitz, who was also looking explicitly bad-ass in the new gear, and rested the reticle on his chest. "Bang," he said.

"Amen to that," replied his comrade. "I've been looking forward to this, oh yes."

A fully suited Lloyd 090 strutted in, saying, "Truth is, boys, I would've taken any excuse to go in and bust up that base."

"And we woulda still done it even if you hadn't," quipped Private Sterling as she fed a magazine into one of her twin M10R submachine guns and checked the safety.

There was a buzzing hum from a corner of the room, and they looked to see a faintly yellow field of energy rippling around a freshly assembled black MJOLNIR suit, as Hideki activated his shield system.

"Hey Sarge," said Heitz, soto voce, "what's with your brother?"

"Ain't nothing wrong with him." Lloyd regarded the Spartan, and also spoke quietly. "I heard Halsey explaining it once: an historical condition they used to call autism. Hideki would have been a very mild case. Normal interaction with people is hard for him, or he can't learn how to do it or somethin'. Doesn't matter, because it also means he can focus his attention on other things, which makes him particularly good at what he does."

Private Sterling asked, "What is that?"

"Don't really know," admitted the Master Sergeant. "He works exclusively for ONI. He's one of their favourites."

At the end of the bench, Lance Corporal Maine held an empty S2 AM cartridge and slowly pressed the enormous sniper rifle ammunition into it while she watched SPARTAN 002. He picked up his own weapon, stripped it and had checked each segment within twelve seconds. His hands working nearly too fast to watch, the sniper rifle became whole once more. Maine frowned at the unfamiliar configuration.

"Wadda you lookin' at?" said Sterling teasingly.

"Nothing!" the sniper answered defensively. "Come on, we've got a minute till briefing."

The formidable, fully armed and armoured marines began filing out. Lloyd opened a locker on the wall, retrieved a palm-sized, alien object, and crossed over to Hideki.

"Does it fit?"

Hideki flexed his encased arm. "Feels heavier."

"Ready for some fun?"

"I'm always prepared for a mission."

"They'll be plenty of that, too. Hey, I got another little surprise for you..."

The doors parted with a sigh, and Lloyd and Hideki strode into a cargo bay of eager soldiers. Lloyd set his burden of Jackhammer magazines upon a crate. Sophia was there, having delivered the escapees safely to the medical rating and the automedic and then retrieved Turing's memory-processor core, and she stood at ease to the side of the Master Sergeant's squad who perched atop the crates, equipment and the pair of prepped ATVs. He looked at his reflection in their silver face-shields.

"Right. You all heard the Lieutenant Commander. About two klicks from here is a Covenant supply base. We're going to storm it, and kill everything. To the best of our knowledge no personel have left since the prisoners arrived, which means the captured AI is still there, and if they've learned anything we can stop it leaving this rock. SPARTAN 111 will be carrying our own AI to help with retrieval, but if it comes to it the Cole Protocol dictates destruction of the unit and associated systems. Remember that, people: violation of any section of the protocol will mean a court martial at the least.

"Three teams," he continued loudly. "Green team: Doubet, Hutt and SPARTAN 111. Gold team: Sterling, Heitz - you're with me. Black team is Maine and SPARTAN 002; you're our cover, and backup if necessary."

"Numbers, sir?" called Sophia.

Lloyd nodded to Hideki, who answered, "I have counted roughly four hundred Grunts and a hundred Jackals, spread thinly over the compound. Twenty Elites, who are in charge, and a much bigger challenge than the other infantry. Only engage them in groups."

"We'll be dropped at a point outside the perimeter, then Ionclad will sit in a corrected orbit and use deep scans to find our target as we infiltrate from two directions," said Lloyd. "Covenant power was knocked out by EMP, and it's night. They won't see us. We want to clean them off this rock, and take back what's ours. Any questions? Then let's do it!"

"Aye, sir!" they responded, springing to their feet.

"Our main objective is to confuse the enemy, while green team focusses on finding that AI," Lloyd told his team.

Heitz hefted the M19 SSM launcher he had collected, and said, "This oughta confuse 'em."

Hutt and Doubet walked over to Sophia. The corporal noted the choice of weapons secured to her armour: the formidable 9.6 mm MM55 battle rifle, and one of the newly acquired 5.0 mm M10R submachine guns.

He motioned to his own identical armament. "Great minds think alike, yeah, Skipper?"

She looked back down at him. In two weeks of cohabitation aboard Ionclad she and the rest of the crew had formed strong impressions of Lloyd's marines. She had even shared the odd story of past battles over the mess hall table. And they were certainly friendly for Helljumpers. Of course, Doubet and Hutt in particular were generally thought of as a pair of intolerable smart-arses, and took as much liberty as they could get away with.

But Sophia trusted her brother, and through an effort of will had reserved judgement until she saw what they were like when it actually mattered.

"Corporal, Private," she acknowledged. "I look forward to fighting alongside you."

"Spoken like a true Spartan," quipped Hutt.

Meanwhile, Maine joined the black-armoured Spartan, who was crouched down, methodically checking the ATVs over. She introduced herself. "Lance Corporal Arcadia Maine, sir."

He turned to her; their visors mirrored each other. "I know," he said neutrally, tapping the side of his helmet.

"I'll spot for you."

"Good. We will engage from extreme range." He stood, abruptly towering above the marine sniper by nearly two heads. She stared up at him for a moment, then looked away, feeling oddly embarassed.

"Sir," Hideki radioed to the Master Sergeant. "Permission to begin our advance."

"Get to it," answered Lloyd. "Good hunting."

He mounted his four-wheeler, and Maine followed suit, checking that her gear was secure. The Spartan kicked the machine to life, then paused. His helmet turned slightly back to the marine. "I'm Hideki. ... Nice to meet you."

Lloyd watched the snipers depart, and smirked despite himself.

"What an unlikely matchmaker," spoke Sophia's voice over his private frequency. He ignored the remark and barked, "Pack it up, marines! Secure the rest of this stuff a minute ago! Spartan 111, get this bird in the air."

"Aye, sir. Ensign," she keyed the bridge.

"Skip," acknowledged Gillian.

"We're ready. Sure you can handle it?"

Up in Ionclad's bow, Ensign Mary Gillian began to manually power up the anti-gravity systems from her bank of consoles. The ambient hum of the ship intensified. "Just like an extra-big Pelican. Hold on, everyone."

To Be Continued

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