Halo: RED FLAG

Plot Overview
''It is September 2552. Reach, humanity's fortress world, has fallen. Most of the legendary SPARTAN soldiers are either dead or missing, and mankind is dangerously close to losing the war. In the wake of this devastating attack, the UNSC has been regrouping its assets in preparation for a possible invasion of the Sol System. In spite of these losses, they still have one plan that, had it not been for Reach's invasion, would have been carried out by the Spartans: RED FLAG.''

''This dangerous operation would entail the capture of a Covenant vessel, finding the location of and infiltrating their holy city, High Charity, and the capture of a Covenant Hierarch for the purposes of negotiating a peace treaty with the Covenant. For a mission that would potentially end the war, only the best were chosen to participate. Now, even after the Fall of Reach, the UNSC has gathered a small number of surviving SPARTAN-II's to act out this mission, in a desperate attempt to cripple their foe and put an end to the conflict.''

Prologue
"We're still getting reports, ma'am. Reach is totally lost."

"I see. Survivors?"

"We've got refugees and ships still coming in. Losses are in the millions, ma'am."

"That's expected. Dismissed."

The black-uniformed Lieutenant saluted, and left the room. Admiral Margaret Parangosky sighed, sitting back in her command chair. Reach was certainly a mess. Even ONI hadn't seen that one coming. Still, she'd already known everything that her latest messenger had told her. Various spy probes and Prowlers in the Epsilon Eridani System had kept track of the invasion and destruction of the UNSC's fortress world. They had lost so much there, Parangosky knew. Still, only one group out of the millions of human beings fighting there concerned her:

The Spartans.

She'd never liked Catherine Halsey. The woman was insufferable, but a useful asset for the time being. As for her soldiers, the Admiral had to admit that they were probably Humanity's best chance for survival. She idly tapped a few buttons on her console, and a screen flashed up before her. Once a secure connection was established, the face of a middle-aged man in a white Navy cap came into view.

"Lord Hood."

"Admiral Parangosky," the Fleet Admiral replied. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

"You've heard about Reach, I take it?"

"Yes."

"They you'll be aware of how bad our situation is."

"You wouldn't be calling me if you didn't have a plan."

"Straight to the point then. We need Spartans ready for an op as soon as possible."

"How many?"

"All of them. Halsey's SPARTAN-II's."

Hood frowned. "Admiral, I'm sure you're aware that-"

"I'm well aware of the losses incurred on Reach, and that there were survivors. Bring together any we have left. Those who can be recalled, those who were on Reach, and those who we have working alone."

"We won't have many."

"We'll have enough. Get them aboard the UNSC Bright New Day ASAP. This may be our last chance before the Covvies find Earth."

"I'll see what I can do. Hood out."

The screen flashed off. Parangosky immediately turned to another console, feeling weary. Though her mind was sharp, her ninety-one year-old body was still rather frail. That doesn't mean I can't butt heads with the best of 'em, she thought, feeling rather pleased with herself. It only took her a few seconds to bring up the files of every known SPARTAN-II. A minute of searching had come up with eight that could be used.

Eight.

They had at least twenty more in planning for Operation: RED FLAG, before Reach was attacked. Still, this would have to be enough. She looked through the list. 025, 029, 103, 116, 124, 132, 137 and 142. Their files each carried a fair amount of black ink, provided by the censors at ONI, though Parangosky saw each one, unedited and clear as day.

Ranks wouldn't matter much on a mission like this, but they would need a leader. 116 held an officer's rank, and had a file longer than the others. He'll do. The others could play to their own strengths. With any luck, some of them would make it back in one piece. She sent the files to Hood. Out of everyone else in the UNSC, Parangosky felt that he could be trusted to handle this. She finally sat back in her command chair, feeling exhausted.

Like it or not, Maggie, RED FLAG is the only option we've got at ending this war.

Upgrades
"-So then the grunt flies into the split-lip, explodes, and we get to go home early!"

Colin-142 laughed. He hadn't seen Doug-103 in years, yet his fellow Spartan was still the same. The pair were out of armour, their familiar MJOLNIR suits having been removed for repairs upon their arrival insystem a few days ago. It was very odd, he reflected, to be out of armour. Still, they'd be back in action soon. Since meeting up here, they had been swapping stories and discovered that they had both been on Reach during the invasion. The pair approached the armoury door, which slid open.

"Hey, there you guys are."

The room had obviously been cleared out recently to make room for a number of familiar machines, robotic arms protruding from each. One of them was active, whirring as it fitted a Spartan into an unfamiliar suit of armour. Colin looked over to see another familiar face looking down on them.

"Bailey, glad to see you're better."

"Yeah. Glad to see you made it off Reach." He was clad in a slightly more streamlined MJOLNIR suit, painted in the familiar yellow colour that Bailey favoured. His last suit had been scorched to pieces by a volley of plasma fire on Reach. Colin wanted a new suit, looking eagerly over to a rack of fresh armour on the other side of the room.

Catching his eye, Bailey smirked. "It's the Mark VI suit. Impressive, isn't it? Improved shields, faster reaction time, biofoam injectors-"

"You look like a banana," Doug said abruptly. Colin walked hurriedly away from the pair as an argument erupted, pausing for a moment as the other Spartan stepped away from the machine, clutching her new helmet.

"Colin, nice to see a familiar face around here." Sora-124 smiled, before carefully placing the helmet on her head.

"Likewise," he replied. "You were in a pretty bad way when we pulled off Reach. How are the injuries?"

"They're fine," the Spartan quickly replied. "I'll be up and sniping Covvies in no time. I was better than Bailey, at least."

"Yeah, if Marco and I hadn't dragged him out, he'd have died back there."

Sora nodded solemnly

It was good to see that some people had made it off of Reach in one piece. The whole thing had been an absolute disaster. Their group had barely managed to escape, a single Pelican lifting the surviving Spartans off the doomed planet. They had all lost far too many friends that day.

Colin nodded, and proceeded towards the armour rack, selecting one of the suits. They were all the default green of most MJOLNIR suits. That would have to be changed. Tapping a few buttons into a nearby console, one of the machines powered up, taking the armour from its place. He attached himself to one, and allowed it to slowly build the armour up around his undersuit.

Across the room, Doug and Bailey had finished their discussion regarding suit colours, allowing the latter to proceed and claim his own. A nearby door slid open and another SPARTAN-II stepped through, clad in tan MJOLNIR armour. He waited in silence for the other two to suit up before approaching. Sora and Bailey turned to greet him.

"Hey Marco," Bailey asked, crossing his arms. "Why are your suits always such a drab colour?"

SPARTAN-025 shrugged, expression unknown behind his opaque visor. "I don't know. Why do you look like a banana?"

Doug and Colin roared with laughter as they joined the group. Even Bailey cracked a smile. Considering their harsh upbringing and backgrounds, the Spartans were seen as stoic figures by many who fought alongside them. Among their own kind, they acted just like any other person.

Sora directed the other two towards an adjacent suite for armour customisation, leaving Bailey and Marco alone in the armoury.

"Any idea why we're here?" Marco asked. "I'm used to these missions, but ONI's given nothing so far."

Bailey shrugged. "No idea, I was about to ask you. They're bringing together quite a few of us, though."

"Yeah. Not surprising, considering what happened on Reach."

The pair of them stood in silence for a moment. A lot of Spartans had died defending that planet. It didn't take long for the others to arrive, quick-drying paint having been applied to their suits. It served little tactical purpose, but the Spartans seemed to love customising their MJOLNIR. The UNSC didn't complain as long as they got the job done.

"Well then," Colin announced, the Spartan looking over his suit. "I feel just about ready to take on the whole Covenant fleet."

The main door opened, the Spartans turning round. A single man stood there, his MJOLNIR suit coloured black, save for the identification number on his chestplate: 116. A number most of them hadn't seen in a very long time.

"Well Spartan," Felix-116 said, the slightest hint of a smile on his face. "You might just get your wish granted. We're wanted on the bridge for briefing."

Formation
With the addition of half a dozen fully armoured Spartans, the Frigate's bridge was packed. The soldiers saluted the white-uniformed officer as they entered, taking notice of two more Spartans standing nearby, already clad in their new armour. Felix took his place beside the holotable, activating it.

"Welcome to Operation: RED FLAG, Spartans." Fleet Admiral Terrence Hood looked at each of them in turn. "In the history of Human conflict, this mission may be the most vital one of them all. The very existence of our species is at stake here."

At this, the Spartans seemed to stand a little straighter, focused solely on the speaker.

"Now, some of you will have been at the original briefing for this mission over Reach. Many of those present then are no longer with us. For the others, I'll let the Lieutenant Commander explain."

Hood stood aside, allowing Felix to bring up a holographic representation of a Covenant ship.

"First," the Spartan intoned, "We steal a Covenant ship."

Almost immediately, the Spartans reacted. It was subtle, with minor changes in body language and head inclinations. Felix noticed this, and looked around at the team.

"Questions?"

"Yeah, I've got one," a green-armoured Spartan spoke up, arms crossed.

"Yes, Joshua?"

"As far as I know, we've never captured a Covvie ship, sir. They usually detonate before the boarding parties can take the bridge."

Felix nodded. "You're correct, Joshua. We've fully prepared for this, with the addition of a new team member."

As the assembled Spartans looked around, a small figure winked into existence on the holotable in a flash of green. Its appearance was that of a long-haired warrior, clad in simple garments with a drawn sword. He smiled as they peered down at him.

"Team, may I introduce you to Caladbolg. He's the Smart AI that will be accompanying us as our mission specialist." Caladbolg waved his sword up at them.

"I'm looking forward to it!" he roared. "I'll be sure to get ya through the Covvie systems in no time."

"Thank you, Caladbolg," Felix said hurriedly. He ejected small chip and placed it into the back of his helmet. The AI disappeared. "As for the rest of the mission, we're going to take the ship to the Covenant's base of operations, be it a home system, planet, or space station."

He looked round again. No reaction. "Finally, we're going to capture or kill a Covenant leader, known as a Hierarch. With any luck, we'll be able to secure a peace treaty and end this war."

The seven other Spartans remained impassive. Felix knew they had a million questions hidden behind those visors. One of them, Carris-137, edged forward.

"What are our chances of survival?"

"I'm not going to lie to you. This will probably be the most dangerous mission ever undertaken by a SPARTAN team. There's a chance not all of us will return."

"Oh," Carris nodded, a hint of uncertainty in her voice. "I understand. Just making sure."

Lord Hood stepped forward. "That will be all for now, Spartans. Operation: RED FLAG will begin at 1800 hours. Prepare accordingly."

The eight of them saluted, each knowing the risks of this mission.

"Dismissed!"

Green Light
Down in the Frigate's spacious armoury, the Spartans prepared for the most important mission of their lives. Since they would potentially operating in enemy territory without backup for an extended period, they were taking everything they could. Weapons, spare ammo, communications equipment and foodstuffs would be essential for RED FLAG.

"Hey, I'll take the sniper," Carris called, snatching one of the rifles from a weapons rack, barely a second before Sora grabbed it. As she turned away, the other Spartan's hand closed around the barrel.

"Mine."

Carris turned to see Sora standing right behind her. "Excuse me?"

"The sniper. Its mine."

"Like hell it is." The problem with having various Spartan teams melded into one was that you would occasionally get two designated marksmen vying for the same position. That wouldn't do.

"I was about to grab it, you know that."

A yellow-armoured Spartan stepped between them, an assault rifle on his back. The two turned to face him. "Listen," Bailey-132 interjected. "What good is one of those things inside a Covenant ship?"

As Sora and Carris pondered his question, the sniper rifle was yanked from their grasp and placed onto the back of Felix-116's black armour. Not daring to argue with their commanding officer, the pair walked sullenly towards the weapon rack, picking over what remained of the rifles. Bailey shrugged, and strode away.

Across the room, Doug-103 was weighing up taking an expensive yet deadly 'Spartan Laser' or a missile launcher, in addition to the pistol, two submachine guns and assault rifle already attached to his armour. Though he was big even for a Spartan, he could only bring one.

"Hardest decision of your life, huh?" Joshua-029 commented. He and Marco-025 were sitting on a pile of crates nearby, having quickly chosen their fairly standard rifles the moment they entered. SPARTAN-103 eventually sighed, placing the powerful laser on his back and returning to the rest of the group. Joshua looked over at Marco, who had grabbed a shotgun from a nearby rack.

"You gonna need that?"

"When haven't I needed it?"

"Okay, you make a fair point. Just try not to charge in and get yourself killed, okay?"

Marco chuckled. "I've never been one for getting killed, Josh. I'm sure this will be just another day at the office."

"Like Reach?"

"No, Reach was what most people in our profession would call a 'clusterfuck'."

"Is that the official term for it, then?"

"Well, its certainly what was going through my head when I jumped out of that damn bird."

Joshua nodded. Whoever decided to cram the Spartans into a single Pelican and send them down to fight a losing battle was responsible for a lot of deaths. He'd barely crawled out of there and made it back to the other Spartans in time to leave, his armour almost falling apart, courtesy of a nuclear weapon and as he himself had termed it, 'ten-thousand pissed off bad guys'. It had been hell down there. Marco clapped a hand on his shoulder, snapping Joshua out of his reverie.

"Stay focused. I remember what you guys in Blue did back on Jericho VII. What we're doing is like that, only on a bigger scale."

"So, we're out for revenge?"

"Damn right. We'd better get a move on."

As the two Spartans moved back towards the others, who had more or less finished gearing up, the voice of Lord Hood sounded over the ship's intercom.

"All Sierras, please report to deck fifteen at once, we'll be entering slipspace shortly."

All conversation ceased as the eight SPARTAN-II's immediately turned for the exit. It would be a short jump, no more than a few hours at most. ONI's spy probes had located a lone Covenant ship repairing itself: A prime target for RED FLAG. The Day, accompanied by nine other ships, would quickly surround and keep it busy, just long enough for the team to gain control. The plan could go wrong in a million ways, something that each of them knew very well.

Still, the Spartans were made to go against odds like this.

The Drop
The slipspace jump had been short. Standing on the observation deck as the battlegroup exited slipspace, the eight Spartans were impassive. ONI's intel had been absolutely spot on: One ship, a CCS-class battlecruiser, lay before them, without support or, if the readouts were correct, energy shielding.

"SPARTAN Team, report to the hangar bay at once to prepare for boarding." In spite of the massive danger they were in, Hood sounded extraordinarily calm. Placing a Fleet Admiral in charge of a mere frigate like the Day might have seemed like an insult to most, but with the disappearance of the ship meant for the original RED FLAG, Hood was one of the UNSC's best.

"Okay then," Doug broke the silence. "Looks like its our time to shine."

They crowded into the nearby elevator, metal doors clanging shut as it descended to the frigate's main hangar bay. The battlegroup were likely moving in to cut off the Covenant ship's escape, though they had been given orders not to cripple its engines, or render it unable to travel. With these restrictions, they would likely incur heavy losses just to give the Spartans a chance.

"Everyone ready?" asked Felix. "I want T-Packs and weapons secure for the attack. Can't risk any of you getting spaced."

"Just like Kurt..." Joshua muttered. After Reach, he wasn't exactly happy about another Pelican insertion.

"Hey, we'll be fine out there. Getting to the ship will be the hardest part."

The elevator shuddered slightly as the point guns began firing; Hood wasn't risking MAC fire unless the Spartan team was somehow wiped out in the attack. Marco steadied himself in the corner. "Sir, what's the battle plan for taking the ship? Last time one was boarded, Covvies self destructed."

"That's what we have our friend for, Marco." the black-armoured Spartan replied. At once, the green AI flashed up by Felix's shoulder. The Spartans turned round to look.

"Holoprojector," Felix explained. "Similar to the experiments done with Mark V armour plugins, but on a smaller scale. Caladbolg will be our key to success on this mission."

"How?" asked Sora, perplexed. "How will the AI help?"

The green-tinted hologram turned to face her, sword in hand. "I take it you've never worked this closely with an intelligence like me before?" She shook her head, and he smiled. "I'll be your support on the mission. Put me in a terminal, and I'll cause a bit of mayhem for our alien buddies while you guys do the footwork. Plus, I'm the one finding directions to the Covenant homeworld. So yeah, pretty much an indispensable asset here."

The elevator doors clanked open, letting the Spartan team out into the crowded hangar bay. With the rest of the battlegroup keeping the battlecruiser busy, the Bright New Day moved in closer and closer, ready to unleash its deadly cargo. Nearby, the UNSC Albusumar and UNSC Crimson Fist were pummelling their foe, guns flaring on the broadsides.

"Hey, I'm guessing you're the Spartans? Get over here, I'm your ride!"

Looking over, a young man in pilot garb was waving them over. Two other crewmen were already boarding his Pelican dropship, which had been heavily customised for the mission. Felix led them over, watching pilots running past towards their fighters.

"Lieutenant Sam Oros, UNSC Air Force." The man saluted, looking up in awe at the Spartans. "The Admiral wants us out as soon as possible, you'd better mount up."

Oros jerked his thumb back towards the Pelican's blood tray, stepping aside to allow his passengers access. The dropship had obviously been cleared out to allow access for the Spartans and their MJOLNIR, allowing for the eight of them to sit comfortably. Once they had settled in, the pilot clambered aboard, shutting the metal hatch behind him.

"We'll be launching in a minute, just sit tight." The door to the cockpit slid shut, the Spartans bathed in red emergency lighting.

"I don't like this," Joshua muttered, shifting uncomfortably. "This is too much like Reach."

There were a few nods at this. Nobody liked it, though only one of them was speaking up. Felix, who had not been among those dropped onto the falling planet, leant forward. "What happened back there?"

"Some genius decided to pack every single Spartan onto one Pelican, and send us to the planet. We had to jump when the bird was hit. Four KIA on impact, and the rest of us were wounded. As you can see-" Joshua waved an arm round towards the other Spartans, "-not many of us made it out, sir."

Felix nodded, sitting back in his seat. "I understand." ''How long had it been since he had actually seen his other Spartans? He'd been off doing wetwork for ONI when everyone else was recalled to Reach''. No one else said a word as the Pelican's engines began to roar, Oros and his crew making the pre-flight checks.

"Okay then!" the pilot's voice called from the cockpit. "The Sierra One is ready for action. Hold on to your helmets, Spartans, 'cos this'll be a rough one!"

Breakthrough
There was nothing the Spartans could do here.

As the Pelican took off from the Frigate's hangar, escorted by two dozen longsword fighters, all the armoured soldiers could do was sit and listen to the COM.

"-Albusumar is venting atmosphere-"

"Delta Wing, break left and take care of those Seraphs!"

"Sierras are go, repeat, Sierras are go-"

"Takeshi and Gearhead are gone, plasma cannons tore right through 'em!"

The dropship juddered and span, dodging plasma bolts from the Covenant battlecruiser as the pilot did his best to keep them from being incinerated. It was only so long before one of the Spartans stood up, clambering towards the cockpit.

"Hey pilot!" Carris shouted, "Open up, I've had enough of-"

There was an almighty flash from the cockpit, and suddenly they were spinning. The roar of decompression lasted for only a few seconds before eight armoured bodies were flushed out into the cold vacuum of space.

Bailey-132 wasn't sure how to react to this new development at first. One moment, he was sitting between Doug and Marco, waiting silently for their deployment, the next, Someone had slammed into him and he was hurtling off into space. Okay, he thought, his Spartan training kicking in. Stay calm, get your bearings. Activating the controls on his thruster pack, the Spartan finally stopped spinning and managed to get glimpse of the situation.

"Aw, crap."

The front part of the Pelican had been wholly incinerated by a blast of plasma, missing the Spartans by barely half a metre and spilling them out into space. The supercarrier was close now, very close. All Bailey could see to his right was purple-tinted starship armour. Banshees streamed from hangars like locusts, and for the first time today, he really regretted his choice of painting his armour yellow.

"132, over here!"

an IFF tag popped up on Bailey's HUD, identifying Sora-124 clinging to the hull of the Covenant ship. Glancing at the incoming banshees, Bailey rocketed forward, slowing down enough to touch down on the battlecruiser lightly. Without a word, Sora motioned for him to follow, the magnetic clamps on their boots allowing for a short spacewalk until they reached the top of the enemy ship. The other Spartans were gathering there, near a large piece of dented hull where several low-grade missiles had impacted.

"Nice to see you made it, banana!" Colin-142 called over. Bailey smirked, and crouched beside Marco and Joshua as the Lieutenant Commander gave his orders.

"Right, we're all here. That's the hard part over. Now all we have to do is get inside and take the ship."

Marco snorted. "That was the hard part? What does that make this part?"

"The fun part. You ready?"

The tan-armoured Spartan nodded, and allowed him to continue. "Once we breach the ship, we'll split into two teams. Alpha will take the bridge. That'll be myself, Colin, Joshua and Marco. Team Beta will close off the hangar and make sure reinforcements don't arrive while Caladbolg gets to work on their systems. Doug, Bailey, Sora and Carris, you're up for that."

With a resounding chorus of affirmatives from the Spartans, Felix and Doug immediately made their way towards the dented plate. It was blackened and weak from the repeated impacts, and would serve as a perfect way in. With the other Spartans forming a perimeter, the pair placed down four C-12 charges, arming them as they did so.

Doug gave a thumbs up. "Okay, get back!"

Considering the destructive potential of the explosive, the Spartans made their way to the side of the ship, well aware of the battle raging around them. All it would take is for a few banshee or Seraph pilots to notice them and it would be over. The C-12 detonated, the explosion vibrating along the unshielded ship's hull. That was their cue.

"Alpha, move up on me, drop in and take the left! Beta, right side, move!"

The weakened plate had been blown to pieces by the explosives, which had ripped through into a corridor, mid-way between the bridge and the hangar. As with many larger Covenant ships, an energy shield had immediately snapped into place around the breach to preserve oxygen. Marco leapt through first, disappearing through the shield into the blackened corridor. As Bailey and Carris hit the ground barely a second later, the familar sound of a MA5B rifle could be heard.

"Four down," Marco announced calmly as the other Spartans dropped through into the purple-tinted corridor.

They were in.

Assuming Control
Taking the cruiser's bridge had been a lot easier than they had expected. With the surprise of an attack, the battlecruiser's crew were running around in a panic. A trio of grunts emerged from the bridge at a fast trot, only to freeze at the sight of four Spartans bearing down on them. They were dead in seconds, their killers creeping through the still-open door before it chimed shut.

"Caladbolg," whispered Felix. "You're up." Still crouched, he placed his palm on a nearby holotank, usually meant for ship-wide communication. The green AI flashed up, grinning, before drawing his sword and disappearing again. Immediately, every console and light on the bridge went dark.

"Go!"

As the crew looked around in surprise, the Spartans pounced. Colin-142 brought the butt of his rifle down on the head of a nearby grunt, before choking a seated Sangheili with it. Joshua and Marco moved around the sides of the room, spitting assault rifle fire on their foes as Felix fought the Shipmaster, dodging a wild blade slash before bringing his armoured boot up. The gold-armoured alien's neck snapped with a crack.

"Okay, I think we're clear." Felix looked around to see Joshua stamping on a dead foe, while Marco reloaded. Colin flicked purple blood from his rifle. As they regrouped, there was a shrill noise from the other side of the room as another alien drifted in. SPARTAN-025 immediately had his gun levelled at it.

"Marco, wait-"

The Spartan had already fired, rounds tearing through the bulbous, floating alien as it was ripped to shreds, deflating and collapsing to the ground. Felix grabbed his comrade's shoulder.

"What the hell are you doing? They're non-combatants!"

Marco reloaded his weapon before responding. "I wouldn't call 'em that, sir."

"Do you even know what they are?"

"Engineers, I think." Marco shrugged. "Anyway, even if they aren't armed, the little buggers have a habit of giving other Covvies a shield boost. Best to take 'em out first."

Felix hadn't seen Engineers, or to give them their actual name, Huragok, in combat before. Still, he didn't much like 025's rather uncaring attitude when it came to encountering them.

"Just don't shoot them on sight, okay?"

"Fine. I'll still fire if they've got bombs strapped to them, though?"

"What?"

"Split-lips have a habit of putting bombs on them. Stops us from grabbing some, I suppose."

"Fair enough." Felix turned away as the bridge lit up again. The holographic imagery of the battlecruiser and six remaining UNSC ships disappeared, and Caladbolg appeared once more, towering above the Spartans.

"Right," the green AI announced. "Weapons are offline, I've shut off the engines until you're ready to leave, and I'm ready to cut off oxygen in a few areas. Oh, and I've asked Hood to stop firing."

"Excellent work," Felix replied, taking off his helmet. Patch me through to him.

Caladbolg nodded, and after a few seconds, the image of Fleet Admiral Lord Terrence Hood appeared before them. Despite the harsh battle that had just occurred, he still looked immaculate in his white uniform.

"Sir, this is SPARTAN-116. We've taken the ship. You can call off the attack."

Hood smiled. "Copy that, Spartan. I knew we could count on you for RED FLAG. What's the status of your team?"

"No casualties, we're clearing out the hangar bay right now."

"Good to hear it." The Fleet Admiral's face suddenly became very grave, leaning forward to speak.

"You've already been briefed, but I want to make this clear one last time before you depart for the Covenant's home base. You'll be without any kind of support once you arrive, and no absolute way of getting home."

"I understand, sir."

"The mission takes priority over everything else, Lieutenant Commander."

"Of course."

"Glad to see we've got everything sorted out. Good luck, Spartans. Hood out."

Felix saluted as the image winked off. Caladbolg reappeared, arms crossed.

"Well, that was nice of him. We're ready to jump when you give the order, boss."

"Where's Team Beta?"

"Still in the hangar, by the looks of it. SPARTAN-103 is certainly getting creative in there."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, lets just say that using a live grunt as a sort of explosive football wouldn't be something I'd come up with."

"What?"

Creativity
"Doug, could you hurry up?"

"Keep 'em distracted. Shouldn't be hard for you, banana."

Taking cover behind a stack of crates, the Spartans were engaged in a vicious firefight with a particularly troublesome group of Sangheili across the hangar bay. On a platform above, Doug-103 punched the struggling Grunt in the head to keep it quiet, and shoved a grenade in its exposed mouth. Makeshift, but it'll do.

"Okay, bomb's away!"

Dropping the unconscious, explosive-laden alien to the floor, Doug stepped back a few paces before running up and kicking it across the room as hard as he could. Half a dozen heads glanced upwards at the peculiar sight, the spit second it took allowing for Sora-124 to pop out of cover, sniper rifle raised. The explosion was tremendous, blasting through much of the deckplate and incinerating most of the Sangheili there in an instant.

"Well, that...worked," commented Bailey-132, stepping out as he reloaded his rifle. Looking around, the hangar was clear of enemies, aside from a couple of aliens quietly bleeding out nearby. It was oddly quiet. Carris casually strolled up between the dying, swiftly breaking necks beneath her armour-plated boots. Doug nodded towards the main door across from them and placed two fingers to the side of his helmet as the other three moved up.

"Sir, this is Doug. Hangar Bay's clear, they won't be getting to the bridge through here."

"Nice work," Felix's voice responded. "Stay there, Caladbolg is taking care of the rest of the ship."

"Got it." Doug switched off the COM. "Wait up guys, our little green friend'll take care of the others."

Bailey stopped in his tracks, and shrugged. "Aww, I was looking forward to dealing with the others."

"What, the thousand-odd Covvies swarming across the rest of the ship?"

"Yeah."

Sora snorted, keeping her rifle trained on a nearby door. "Don't know about you, but I'd much rather get through this thing alive, Bailey."

"Yeah, sure. How're you holding up?"

"Wounds are pretty much healed up, which is more than I can say for half of the others we lost back on Reach."

"You're telling me." Bailey turned away, casually strolling back towards Doug. On a nearby holotank, the holographic figure of Caladbolg appeared in a green flash.

"Nice work here, Spartans," the AI said cheerfully. "Oh, and fantastic use of explosives there, SPARTAN-103."

Doug gave an exaggerated bow. "I'm a creative man."

"Indeed." Caladbolg's voice suddenly became a lot more businesslike in tone. "I'll have to seal you guys in here for an hour or so while I flush the rest of the ship. Getting rid of the rats, so to speak."

He waved his arms, and every door into the hangar bay flashed red as they locked down. Caladbolg nodded at Doug, and disappeared. The big Spartan sighed, and sat cross-legged on the floor before removing his helmet.

"Well," he announced. "Since the bloody leprechaun has us trapped here, I suppose we'll have to pass the time."

Bailey and Carris sat nearby, while Sora crouched, still holding her weapon. "Well, what do you propose?" she asked.

"Story time."

Departure
"The others are safely sealed in the hangar bay, Lieutenant Commander."

"And the Covenant?"

"A few dropships were able to escape, but Lord Hood's fleet will take care of them. I'm venting most of the ship's corridors for now, too. We'll have the place to ourselves soon."

"Excellent work, Caladbolg. How are things in there?"

"Surprisingly roomy. Looks like the Covenant never expected to have an enemy AI in their system, so there defences were minimal. Oh, and I've managed to pinpoint their home base."

"Where is it?"

"Close enough to reach with a single jump. Oh, and it looks like the spooks were wrong."

"How?"

"It isn't a planet, its a space station. Massive, too. From what I've been able to translate, the Covvies call it 'High Charity', and see it as a sight for pilgrimage."

"So, the Covenant Hierarchs will be there?"

"Oh, almost certainly. Getting in will be tricky, but I think we'll be able to get close enough to gain entry before they realise something is wrong."

"Thank you, Caladbolg. That's all for now."

The green AI bowed and disappeared. Felix turned his back on the large holotank and looked around at the other Spartans milling around the bridge. Colin-142 was stacking crates against one of the exits while Marco-025 sorted through the Covenant weaponry they had captured in their attack. It had been surprisingly easy, really. To his knowledge, no one had ever captured a Covenant ship in battle before. Then again, no one had ever sent the Spartans on a mission like this before.

"Sir?"

Joshua-029 sat in a nearby command chair, idly playing with a combat knife. His helmet lay between his feet. Felix glanced at it for a moment before looking the fellow Spartan in the eye. It was strange, considering that they spent most of their time behind visors and armour plating.

"Yes, Joshua?"

"Now that we're pretty much ready to go, what do you think our chances are?"

"You were at the briefing. It will be dangerous, and-"

"Yeah, yeah, but what do you think, Felix?"

He didn't reply for a few seconds. "I think," he began, choosing his words carefully. "I think we'll just have to find out when we get there. Hell, even the original RED FLAG op would've been a shot in the dark."

Joshua nodded. "Thought as much. Still, at least this time we know that anything could go wrong?"

"This time?"

"Let's just say we tempted fate a little on Reach, and paid dearly for it."

Felix nodded, feeling slightly uncomfortable on this subject. "I know," he replied. The tiniest hint of a frown crept into Joshua's impassive face.

"I know you weren't there, and I'm not going to ask why. Heck, I can't recall seeing a few of the others on Reach even if they say they were there. Still, I don't think we're the last of the Spartans. Last transmission we got were a few signals by CASTLE Base, so perhaps some others made it out of there alive."

"I hope so, Joshua." Felix looked away, back towards the control panel he had been using. "Let's just focus on the mission for now."

The other Spartan nodded and sat up, grabbing his own helmet and heading towards Marco and Colin. Caladbolg's hologram flashed up in his usual miniature form next to Felix. The green-tinted Celtic warrior watched the Spartans for a few seconds before turning back to Felix.

"Coordinates are set and we're ready to jump on your go, Sir."

"Get the hangar doors unlocked, I want Doug's team back here."

"Already done."

"Good. Initiate slipspace jump."

The Journey
"-so then we had to explain to the Admiral exactly what we'd done with his ship!"

The door to the bridge chimed open as four laughing Spartans entered, Doug leading them. Both Marco and Joshua snapped their rifles up as another figure slipped in through the door behind them, floating through the air in the Spartans wake.

"Engineer!"

The creature froze at the sight of raised weapons, and let out a low pitch whistle. Both Spartans glanced at Felix, who motioned for them to stand down. The creature whistled happily at the sight of this, and bobbed towards the bridge's central control panel. Felix looked at it apprehensively before turning towards Doug.

"SPARTAN-103, report."

"We're all fine, sir," the big Spartan replied. "Found this one hiding under a crate in the hangar, saved it from our little green friend's purge of the ship.

"I see." Felix turned to the main holoprojector. "Caladbolg?"

The AI appeared, sword drawn. It seemed obvious that he didn't like the Engineer much, as it began to poke around the main control panel.

"Found a new friend, have we?" he remarked.

"What's it doing?" Felix asked, ignoring the question.

"Well, he's ignoring me, at least. Looks like he's doing routine maintenance and changing a few things."

"Such as?"

"That."

For a moment, every panel on the bridge winked out, only to relight once more. At a glance, they looked roughly the same. Felix peered closer, and was surprised at what he saw. The scrolling lines of alien script had been replaced by clear, readable human lettering.

"How the hell did it do that?"

Caladbolg gave a virtual shrug. "They're like floating supercomputers. They can fix things in addition to being very, very smart."

Doug smirked. "So we could replace you lot with them, if we wanted to?"

"Perhaps, but I think you'd miss me, SPARTAN-103. Besides, an Engineer wouldn't willingly asphyxiate a ship full of Covenant soldiers. I would."

"Heh, point taken."

Caladbolg continued. "Since it is willing to help us, I say we keep this one alive for now, he'll probably come in handy. Oh, and Commander? give him a tacpad if you've got one. It'll make talking a whole lot easier."

The AI winked out as Felix unclipped his personal pad from his MJOLNIR suit. He held it out to the Engineer, who immediately grabbed it and began to reassemble the device. The tiny cilia on its tentacles moved blindingly fast as components were moved, replaced, or tossed aside. Then, the creature handed it gently back to Felix. A line of words scrolled across it in a neat, printed font.

''Hello, I am Slightly Vaporous. Pleased to meet you.''

There was a few seconds of awkward silence before Felix held out a hand, which the Engineer shook. Doug and Bailey exchanged glances that although behind opaque visors, were almost certainly seeing this as a joke of sorts. Slightly Vaporous drifted off toward a side passage, emitting a low whistle as he did so.

"Well then," Doug announced. "That was odd."

The Spartans nodded in agreement before turning back to their duties. Felix sat back in the Sangheili Shipmaster's chair, looking over the modified datapad. This creature had suddenly made their mission so much easier without a single thought. He wondered if it had seen the corpse of its friend, Marco's handiwork. Not that this would be a walk in the park by any means, but at least they had a better chance than they did five minutes ago.

"How long did Caladbolg say we'd be?"

"About a day or two, probably less."

"Huh, and I thought these ships were supposed to be faster."

"He also said that it would take nearly three weeks with a regular UNSC Frigate."

"Right."

Sora-124 and Colin-142 strode down the corridors past the hangar, checking the dead. It wasn't a pretty sight to see dozens of aliens lying there, the life choked out of them. Sora wondered if any of the methane-breathing Grunts had survived, though chances were that Caladbolg had flushed as many as he could straight through the airlocks.

"So," Colin spoke up, breaking the silence. "What do you think our chances are with the mission?"

Sora sighed. "Haven't we both heard that question enough already?"

"Just trying to make conversation, sorry. I don't know what's worse, being told you're going straight into hell or having it surprise you."

"If you're talking about Reach, then none of us could have expected what happened back there."

"You don't know that. I heard that by the time the brass decided to pull us away from RED FLAG, Covvies had already been attacking the other side of the planet for weeks." "Who told you that?"

"Marco. Apparently they didn't want to 'distract' us from RED FLAG."

"Well, they sure as hell did a fine job of that, didn't they?"

Colin chuckled. "Yeah. Still, I'd feel better if more of us had made it out."

"Me too. You think John's team completed their mission?"

"Maybe, but they aren't here, so who knows what happened? Doubt anything could kill 117, though."

The pair finally came to a single door. It opened as they approached, revealing row after row of ammo crates filled with alien weaponry.

"Huh, Jackpot." Sora walked straight in, checking left and right before she motioned for Colin to follow.

"You think this ship attacked Reach?" he asked. Sora just shrugged.

"Don't know, don't care. Just need to focus on the mission, Colin."

"Right, right. I'm just making sure, you know?"

"Good. Don't worry about me, I think if anyone is shook up over Reach it's Carris and Joshua."

"What makes you say that?"

"I'm good at spotting things. Let's just-"

The two Spartans halted as they turned a corner. Sitting in the middle of the armoury, spikes protruding from a long, bulbous shape. An antimatter bomb. Sora and Colin looked at each other, then back to the bomb. Sora activated her COM.

"Commander, could you send Doug and Marco down here ASAP?"

"What's the problem?" replied Felix, calm as ever.

"We've got something that requires a bit of heavy lifting."

Preparations
"Field Master, I'm surprised to see you back here so soon."

Stel 'Vadamee turned to see a Sangheili in black armour leaning against a pillar behind him. He recognised the helmetless warrior on sight.

"Rol. I'm more concerned about what you are doing here. Aren't your division deployed already?"

"Some of us, my friend. My group are waiting for reassignment, putting down Humans or Heretics, most likely."

"Aren't they the same thing?"

Rol chuckled. "So I'm told. I've heard your brother is being heralded as a hero for his actions on that Human world."

"We all play our part," Stel replied, "I've been forced do deal with the politics." He spat out the last word as if it were poison.

"I see. The Prophet of Truth is meeting with Tartarus at the moment, you might have to wait for him."

Stel was taken aback by this. "The Jir'a'ul leader? What does he want?"

"It seems that something has happened to the Unyielding Hierophant and the fleet surrounding it. Only whispers, but bad news all the same."

"So the Prophet meets with a brute like Tartarus rather than one of our own. Strange, is it not?"

Rol shrugged. "It isn't my place or yours to question the holy ones, brother. Speaking of which, I heard that my own blood brother was stationed in your Legion. Where is he?"

"Training. He's probably with 'Demalee and 'Cazalee aboard the ship."

"Ah, I will have to seek him out before Commander 'Vadumee returns. Thank you, my friend."

Stel watched Rol walk off before continuing on his way toward the Sanctum of the Hierarchs. As he approached the entrance, flanked by a number of guards known as the 'Lights of Sanghelios', it opened, revealing a massive, white-furred creature.

"High Chieftain," Stel nodded at the hulking Jiralhanae as it lumbered past him, carrying its hammer.

"Field Master," Tartarus grunted back.

Stel waited for the door to close behind him before breathing again. He didn't much like the smell that Jiralhanae seem to constantly emit. Before him sat the Prophet of Truth, sitting on his gravity throne at the centre of the room. The Sangheili lowered himself to one knee and bowed his head.

"Noble Hierarch."

"Rise, Field Master." He did so, casting his eyes upon the diminutive red-robed figure that symbolised the ruling class of their Covenant. The Prophet looked down on him from heavily-lidded eyes.

"I have news from your Fleet Masters, holy one. While most of our fleets have assembled by the Unyielding Hierophant as instructed, those that are not actively in battle are returning here."

"I see. Is that all?"

"The Fleet of Particular Justice is pursuing a Human ship from their world, Reach, but little else, Hierarch."

"What of you, Field Master? Are you little more than a messenger now?"

Stel tried his best to conceal his emotions at that. One wrong move in here could bring down dozens of swords on him. "I simply serve, holy one. I am suited for battle on the ground, and am little-needed at the moment."

Truth smiled at this. "In that case, I will require your aid in these coming days."

"How so?"

"These are dangerous times, Field Master. No doubt you have heard of these Human 'demons' in battle."

Stel had not only heard, but seen these enemies before, and realised what Truth wanted.

"I have, Hierarch. You want protection from assassination attempts."

"Not quite. While this isn't public knowledge, a Prophet was assassinated by one of these Demons some time ago, and there have been concerns between myself and the other Hierarchs that our guards may not be capable of protecting us all the time."

"We have always been your protectors-"

"-and always will be. I want you to gather a group of warriors like yourself, Field Master, ones who are brave, skilled, and above all else, loyal."

Stel stood up straight, nodding at Truth. "So, we are to be your closest protectors?"

"No, Field Master. You are to be our assassins, made to hunt and kill these demons."

Arrival
"Okay boys and girls, we're here."

At the edge of the system, the captured Covenant vessel exited the void of slipspace, and found itself facing the eye of the storm.

"Caladbolg, is that what I think it is?"

"Looks like it, Felix." The AI seemed to be just as impressed as the Spartans were. "High Charity, the Covenant's holy city."

Colin took two steps closer towards observation, gazing in amazement. "God...damn..." He mused, clearly impressed.

The other Spartans were as-dumbstruck, all of them staring at what was the Covenant's capital. This would be the ultimate test - infiltrating none other than the Covenant crown jewel. The zenith of the religious and yet vicious conglomerate.

"Well, ladies and gents, we have the omega of the genocidal alien empire right in front of us." Doug broke the silence, with his ever-so-casual demeanor.

"Spartans. Enough stargazing for now. We've got work to do. Caladbolg. Can you get us a plan of the city?" Felix tilted his head in questioning towards the green-tinted, floating, miniature Celtic warrior beside him.

Caladbolg simply took one glance at High Charity and then back at Felix, before exchanging his gaze between both.

"If there's anyone who can get through that hunk of metal, it's going to be me." He exclaimed, with brimming confidence, before flashing away. Felix turned back to the small, assembled group of Spartans, who in turn paid attention to him.

"Alright. Now you're all done staring in amazement, you were all chosen for RED FLAG for damn good reasons. They only wanted the best, because the end of this war, and the continued survival of mankind, is now in your hands. No pressure."

Felix turned his head away from the bridge as Slightly Vaporous hovered about nearby. A green flash appeared nearby as the rest of the team checked their weapons. Once the flash appeared, Caladbolg brought up the docking bay schematics, showing what High Charity's innards looked like. The miniature Celtic warrior's sword was pointing towards the plan.

Doug simply rolled his eyes at Caladbolg's display, though it was hidden behind his opaque visor. Instead, he simply moved his head with the motion.

"We're getting close. I'm rearranging Alpha and Beta teams for when we arrive - Alpha will consist of myself, Josh, Carris and Bailey, while Beta will consist of Colin, Doug, Marco and Sora."

The before-mentioned Spartans turned their gaze to one another, nodding at each other in affirmation. Doug and Colin in particular had not worked for quite the long time, and were often paired operators when things became especially dire. For good reason - the two, when paired together, are a force to be reckoned with. Felix again averted his gaze towards Caladbolg.

"I've an idea, "leprechaun". The ship was damaged. I'm assuming you can speak Elite, that way we could potentially call for repairs."

The little green holographic man's face formed into an expression of contemplation, before nodding and disappearing. Things were becoming tense for an eight-man Spartan outfit. Could eight super-soldiers truly turn the tide of the greatest war humanity has ever been embroiled in? This was no time for doubt. This would either seal humanity's fate, or save them from the brink of total cataclysm.

Colin, nearby raised his elbow and rested it on his knee, helmet slumping into his palm.

"So, Doug. About what happened on that one colony..."

"Oh, no, not again..." The big Spartan rested an open hand against his visor.

"Next time I'm on an op with you, I'm driving. We took the flatbed truck, you end up getting its engine caught on fire. We take another one, you make me almost throw up in my helmet after that three-sixty spin you ended up doing after that crazy ramp-off."

"Pff. Last time you took the front seat, I had to punch you out of a Pelican, and then jetpack five storeys downward to safety...right before tumbling down the snowy hillside.

"Still can't believe you did that." Colin opened his arms wide, exasperated.

Bailey chuckled, rolling his eyes behind his visor as he looked towards the tan Spartan hanging on to the Phantom nearby.

"What about you, Marco? Got any tales of glory to tell us about?" The yellow Spartan inquired.

"Eh...aside from being at Viery when the bigass cruiser showed up, at New Alexandria, Operation: DROPKICK, not much, really. Just a big clusterf--" Marco was distracted by a flashing screen nearby, and his eyes - hidden behind his helmet - widened.

"Well, it appears the Covenant equivalent of flight control has us on the line."

Gathering
Three Sangheili sauntered their way into the brightly-lit chamber. Above them loomed a huge statue of a long-dead Prophet, arms outstretched. Sur 'Ranakee glanced up at it, and had to suppress the urge to laugh at the absurdity of it. He'd never been a very pious person, preferring battle to prayer, but the sight of one of the diminutive prophets cast as a giant in stone amused him. To his left, a warrior clad in the white armour of an Ultra turned to him.

"Brother, what do you think this is all about?"

Sur shrugged. He wasn't one to question orders. "Some mission," he replied.

"Away from our Legion? Why the three of us, anyway?"

The third Sangheili, slightly younger than the other two, slapped the Ultra on the back. "You worry too much, Sona."

"Caution is often the wisest option, Urei. It has kept us alive this long, and will do so in the future."

"If you say so, brother. What do you say, Sur?"

The red-armoured warrior gave a noncommital grunt and kept walking down the purple-tinted corridor. The others remained silent. Eventually they came to a large door, which chimed open at their approach. The room ahead was very spacious, and even housed an ancient, gnarled tree growing in the centre. Beneath it stood two figures. One wore the distinctive golden armour of a Field Master, the other in the black garb of a Special Operations Warrior.

"Sur, Sona, Urei. It is good to see you here, brothers." Stel 'Vadamee stepped forward and held out his arms in a welcoming gesture; it reminded Sur of the Prophet statue in the other room. The three of them knelt before him.

"You summoned us, Field Master?" asked Sona.

"Stand, my brothers, stand. This is a momentous occasion, truly."

The others exchanged glances before turning back to Stel. The black-armoured Sangheili had removed his helmet, and stood at the Field Master's side.

"Rol!" Sur exclaimed. He had not seen his blood brother in some time.

"Greetings, Sur."

"What brings you here, brother?"

"The same cause that brings you. The Field Master will explain."

Stel 'Vadamee leapt onto one of the nearby boulders, turning to face the warriors below him. His hand went for his sword, and drew it out, deactivated.

"My brothers, I bring you both good and bad tidings. I have been informed that our space station, Unyielding Hierophant, has been destroyed along with most of the fleet around it."

This caused some grumbling among the four assembled below him; they had all had friends there, preparing for the final push to erase the vermin of Humanity from this galaxy, as was the will of the Gods. When their muttering had ceased, Stel spoke once more.

"However, the most noble Hierarch, the Prophet of Truth, has tasked me with assembling a lance of the greatest Sangheili warriors I know. This is to create a group for the most noble of missions, brothers."

He paused for effect, taking in the looks of those below him.

"We have been tasked with the eradication of the unholy filth that has plagued our armies for so long, that has caused our great Covenant several costly defeats. I am talking about, of course, the Demons."

The assembled warriors stood there in stunned silence for a few seconds before reacting. Sur 'Ranakee laughed and raised his fist into the air.

"Let them come, brothers. I seek a worthy challenge!"

His roar was answered by the others as they raised their fists in the air as a form of salute. For a warrior, there was truly no greater challenge than to slay a demon. Their chanting was silenced by the sound of an Energy Sword being ignited. They turned to look at Stel, who raised his blade for all to see. The other warriors shifted uneasily. A drawn blade in Sangheili culture demanded that blood be spilled.

"This is what the Prophets demand of us, brothers."

He drew the sizzling blade of Plasma slowly down across his other arm, searing an excruciatingly painful line through his exposed skin, crossing the length of his left arm and ending at his palm. To his credit, Stel did not cry out, though he did stoop slightly when the deed was done. He deactivated the blade and stowed it on his belt.

"Sacrifice is demanded from all."

He could barely watch, but he had no choice. The Prophet of Truth had demanded this in order to 'display loyalty, obedience and brotherhood' in this new group of would-be Demon killers. In truth, Stel believe that Truth had demanded this self-mutilation on a whim. Some small part of him yearned to crush the worm in his chair, but religious devotion kept him in check. Soon, the ritual was complete. Sur was the last to finish, his blood red blade scoring a horrific scar down his arm. The red-armoured warrior grunted in pain before nodding towards Stel.

"My brothers, now we are truly bonded as warriors. Take time to heal while your new armour is prepared, for we shall take the Prophet's shining blade to these Demons and claim victory for our Covenant!"

Stel turned away from his companions, heading back towards his new quarters. While this new role was the highest honour a warrior like him could receive, the burning pain up his arm made some part of him think otherwise.

''With pain like this, hunting Demons might be troublesome. I'd prefer it if they came to us.''

The Shipmaster snorted at the ridiculous thought of Humans ever desecrating their holy city with their presence, and kept on walking. A few warriors milling about the entrance eyed his burn with some suspicion; a wound in Sangheili culture would usually be a grave dishonour, but Stel wore it as proudly as he could. Those marked were the best warriors he could find, and would hunt their hated enemies in the name of the Covenant. Such was their duty.

Approach
"How long do you think it'll take for them to realise we're standing in for the real crew?"

"Eh, I'd say twenty minutes, tops."

"Wanna bet?"

"I'll pay after the mission."

"Quiet, both of you!"

Felix looked back at Marco and Joshua, who had been sitting on a pile of empty weapons crates. Caladbolg was still conversing with the Covenant station control for some time, explaining their predicament. Apparently the Fervent Devotion was supposed to have been by something called the 'Unyielding Hierophant' following the destruction of a Human world, probably Reach. Caladbolg eventually turned back to the team, looking very pleased with himself.

"Well, they seem to have bought my story. We were attacked, which was technically true, but managed to destroy the human ships and escape. A little embellishment about honour and returning to the fight and we're in the clear."

The Spartans nodded in approval. Carris-137 grabbed her rifle. "How are we getting in then? Are they letting us dock?"

"Oh no, not for a warship like this. Turns out that the Shipmaster SPARTAN-116 kicked to death wasn't very high on the food chain. They're allowing our crew aboard the station while they send a few smaller ships in for repairs."

"And then what? We flushed most of the crew out into space, if you remember?"

Caladbolg snapped his fingers, and a holographic representation of the Covenant space station flashed up, as did their ship.

"I give you High Charity, ladies and gentlemen. This big Jellyfish is certainly the best-defended thing in the galaxy, at least from the outside. We get much closer, and we've got a few thousand plasma cannons pointed our way. So, we give them a little distraction, shake the hornets nest, and we'll slip in while they're still trying to work out what just happened."

"Let me guess," Marco stood up. "That is our distraction." He jerked his head towards the spiked antimatter bomb, sitting in the corner.

"Exactly. You've got a knack for distractions, 025."

"Not really, I just thought of ways to use it while carrying the bloody heavy thing up here."

"Hold on a second," interjected Bailey. "Even if we have it on a timer, wouldn't they just blast us to pieces if we set it off as we leave."

"True," replied Caladbolg. Several holographic red dots appeared next to him, slowly getting closer to their ship. "I suggest that we leave before then."

Immediately, the Spartans sprang into action. Felix ran forward and placed his palm on the Covenant computer. Caladbolg winked out as he reintegrated inside his MJOLNIR suit. A shadowy ghost of the AI remained on the holotable, staring blankly at them. "Subroutine, it'll keep them busy chatting while we leave." Caladbolg's voice spoke over their COM. Before exiting the room, Colin-142 turned and whistled. The Engineer drifted through a previously locked side door immediately. Slightly Vaporous whistled back and followed them out of the room. Felix was last to leave. Before he did so, he placed his palm on the antimatter bomb, which began to pulse red.

"Colin, did you have to bring that gasbag with you?"

"Could come in handy, Doug," replied the other Spartan, leading the friendly Engineer along by one of its tentacles. "Slightly might be of use to us."

"SPARTAN-142 does have a point," Caladbolg spoke up. "These creatures have an excellent understanding of Covenant technology, having one on our side will be useful."

"Fair enough," Doug responded. "But if it holds us back, we might have problems."

As they entered the hangar bay, Felix halted the group, looking round at the transports that remained there. "Each team will take one Phantom, just in case. We'll head for High Charity as fast as we can, and with any luck we'll have landed by the time the bomb goes off."

"Sir, how long have we got?" asked Colin.

"That's a good question. Caladbolg?"

The little green AI materialised next to Felix's suit, and crossed his arms. "Well, I'd say about twelve minutes, give or take. I thought you'd just get in and leave without the speeches."

Even with the threat of being atomised, Felix only sounded slightly annoyed. "Let's move, Spartans!"

Clambering into the side of one dropship, Doug turned to Colin, who was carefully leading the Engineer aboard. It was fairly spacious inside, even with their bulky MJOLNIR suits.

"So, you remember how to fly one of these?"

"Probably," The teal-armoured Spartan replied, cracking his knuckles. "No pressure, right?"

Caladbolg's voice spoke up through his COM. "If we deviate a few inches away from the planned flight path, they'll blow us to smithereens, SPARTAN-142."

Colin sat in the Phantom's cockpit, looking at alien controls.

"So like I said, no pressure."

Doug laughed. Slightly Vaporous let out a low whistle. Marco sat on the other side of the dropship, eyeing the Engineer suspiciously. He'd already shot one today, and would probably do so to the other one if it so much as looked at him funny. Following Felix's Phantom, their transport left the Fervent Devotion with little effort, slowly making its way towards the looming space station. They're lucky, Colin thought. Back there they don't have to look at the damn thing.

In the lead Phantom, Felix sat in the cockpit. He'd been given training on the operation of Covenant vehicles, though the AI was doing most of the work.

"How long have we got?"

"Seven minutes. Plenty of time."

"Good." He looked back into the troop bay, currently occupied by Joshua, Carris and Bailey. Even for Spartans, they were being unnaturally quiet. He wasn't sure if it was the mission ahead or simply the current inactivity that bothered them; He had been away from his fellow Spartans for a while now, so it was hard to tell. Bailey saw him looking, and swiped two fingers over his visor, imitating a smile.

Well, some of them haven't changed much.

Welcoming
A small, orange-armored Unggoy Minor pushed his short, stubby arms against a large, purple Covenant crate with hexagonal patterning spread upon it. The Grunt was shoving this crate as hard as he could, giving one last final heave before the crate lurched forward. His task finally over, the Unggoy slumped against the crate, his triangular, orange backpack wedged between himself at the troublesome box.

A nearby, red-armored Unggoy came and sat down next to him. His red armor identified him as a Grunt Major - not like it meant anything to many others. Grunts were always mistreated by their superiors. Jiralhanae or Sangheili, it mattered not. The difference they could spot in them were either lots of hair or a lack thereof, in these two's eyes.

"Well well well, Bakbo. You look like you were kicked around by that big ol', fancy gold-armored Elite who was down here earlier." The Major said, commenting casually on his friend.

"Yeah yeah, Zapga. You couldn't possibly state the obvious any harder." Bakbo replied, disgruntled.

"Bee in your bonnet, huh?"

"Shhh! Don't be using human sayings around the Brutes. Or you won't be visiting the food nipple tonight."

Zapga just did nothing but rolled his eyes - yet another human gesture. Some Unggoy, recipients on the black market especially, were known for trading human communication files or learning about their culture. Such activities were frowned upon by races higher-up in the Covenant hierarchy, some of the more ruthless commanders punishing their subordinates rather harshly.

The red Grunt elbowed Bakbo on the shoulder and stood at attention as a Brute Captain Major, strode past the pair. His armor was also a shimmering gold, and the Captain gave nothing but a malcontent, passing glare at the Unggoy as he passed by. The two finally stood at ease, breathing a sigh of relief through their methane rebreathers.

"Phew. He looked even meaner than usual."

Bakbo turned his back and strode in the other direction, before stopping to peer at a monitor showing the schematics of a Phantom that was moving quite fast towards Hangar Bay 207. The orange-armored Grunt peered back at Zapga, his eyes showing worry.

"Uh...Z?"

"What?"

"There's...something weird going on."

The red-armored Unggoy could do nothing but sigh and come over himself, looking at the monitor.

"There's a Phantom that's coming towards us. Quite fast. Too fast."

"You...know what that means, right?"

Bakbo simply raised his arm, his hand now clasped around the grip of a Plasma Pistol quite firmly. He cleared his throat and took one, terrified gulp.

"Wowowowow, wait. Look at that! What's Fervent Devotion doing?"

Zapga could only take one, dumbstruck look at the observation window when he saw the ship Fervent Devotion flying not towards one of the hangars, but towards the holy city itself. The Unggoy pair gasped with nothing but pure, unbridled awe as the ship was enveloped by an enormous anti-matter blast, taking several other ships with it. Of course, it did little to High Charity, the shields being too strong for a simple anti-matter bomb. But it had certainly got everyone's attention.

Then, the Grunt duo were again, dumbstruck. The Phantom had arrived inside the bay, rather gracefully. The two Grunts, as well as the various, small group of Kig-yar and other Unggoy who were present, all prepared their weapons as the doors unfurled.

That, was when they bore witness to a small group of the legendary "Demons" they had all heard about, and then every single one of them was promptly torn the Covenant entourage to shreds. It was looked like an avalanche of munitions. Bullets fired in every direction, hitting every single enemy, all at once with overwhelming firepower. The amount of shell casings lying nearby was almost comical.

Carris-137 broke the silence. "And that's why I love fighting with you guys. Why shoot something once when we can shoot it about five million more times?"

"Hey, Marco. Nineteen minutes. You owe me."

The drab-armored Marco could do nothing but grunt in exasperation. "Oh well. Saving the entirety of the human race for a few credits isn't much."

Josh chuckled as the rest of the Spartan made their way on to the hangar bay. "Hey, Felix. How did the distraction go?"

116 whipped around to Joshua, completely no-nonsense. "As smooth as possible. Caladbolg says just about every damn one of these aliens is running towards it."

In burst through the door was the Jiralhanae Captain from before, still in his golden armor. Having heard what was possibly every shot ever fired ever, the big ape rushed around the corner with what looked like an enormous hammer. Doug-103, the only Spartan to have gone through the bay door at the time, dodged the first blow of the hammer and delivered a surprise uppercut to the Brute's chin, before sending a below-the-belt, dirty kick to the Brute's groin.

As the Jiralhanae winced in pain and fell backwards, Doug stood in front of him, a grin present behind his helmet.

"You want a banana? Go eat Bailey."

As the rest of the Spartans rushed in, Sora nailed a shot directly through the Brute's head, splattering his grey matter and dark red blood all over the wall of the corridor they were present in.