Halo: Vae Victis

Plot Overview
''It is August, 2552. Reach, mankind's last fortress world before Earth, is under attack. Having barely held off the initial Covenant assalt, the United Nations Space Command is moving in a large portion of its fleet to help defend the planet. As the full might of the Covenant Empire is brought to Reach, the Human forces on the ground will be faced with their toughest battles yet as they fight to survive the planet's final days.''

Dramatis Personae
The primary groups in Vae Victis.


 * Three Hotel - A group of troopers within the UNSC Army's SPECWARCOM, Three Hotel is tasked with defending settlements around the Viery Territory from Covenant attack and assisting in civilian evacuation efforts. With enemy forces starting their final assault on Reach, mission directives may change as the situation grows more desperate. — Written by 


 * Charlie Platoon - As part of the 11th Shock Troops Battalion assigned to the Epsilon Eridani Defence Fleet, Charlie Platoon consists largely of hardened veterans who are no strangers to fighting the Covenant. As the fighting intensifies they are deployed to several hot zones around the planet where they are needed most. — Written by 


 * Echo Team - When news of the attack on Reach arrived, the UNSC Navy hastily recalled a number of Spartans from other deployments to assist in the planet's defence. While they haven't all been working together for long, these Spartans are all very experienced fighters assigned to help with the fighting in heavily populated areas. — Written by 


 * Gauntlet Team - One of two Spartan groups under the UNSC Army's SPECWAR/Group Three, Gauntlet Team has seen action on a number of planets over the years and work well together as a unit. The Fall of Reach will be their toughest fight yet as they battle the Covenant legions descending to the planet. — Written by 


 * N'Marz Legion - Known for their ferocity and fighting prowess, the N'Marz Legion is a feared force within the Covenant military. They have served with distinction on many campaigns during the Human-Covenant War and took part in a number of battles long before that. With some of the finest Sangheili warriors assigned to them, the Legion intends to descend on Reach and massacre all Human opposition there in the name of the Great Journey. — Written by 

Prologue
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"We have a confirmation. The enemy Supercarrier is down."

On the bridge of the UNSC Resurgence, a cheer rose up from the assembled crew as the massive Covenant ship was torn apart by the slipspace rift. Had their ground forces not initiated Operation: UPPER CUT, it would have caused untold destruction to the planet below. As the burning wreckage fell towards Reach's atmosphere, the Captain called back to one of his bridge staff.

"Lieutenant Grunwald, contact FLEETCOM HQ on the ground and let them know they've got reinforcements arriving."

"Yes, sir!"

Kathrin Grunwald tore herself away from the sight of the wrecked Supercarrier and returned to her station. Their Frigate had been among the first few ships to turn up when word arrived of a Covenant attack, alongside the UNSC Dragon, Reunion and Revelation. Still, they would have been annihilated had they attempted an attack on the gargantuan vessel, and were forced to stand by near one of Reach's refit stations, Anchor Two, until the remainder of the fleet arrived. Grunwald opened up a COM channel to the planet below.

"FLEETCOM Headquarters, this is the UNSC Resurgence. Operation UPPER CUT has been confirmed as a success. We're moving in to pick off stragglers before the rest of the fleet arrives, over."

The reply came after a few seconds. "Copy that, Resurgence. We can see it coming down from here. Out."

Grunwald turned off the COM. She couldn't help but smirk at the thought of the higher-ups watching the burning wreckage coming down towards their cushy offices in New Alexandria. Still, at least the threat was gone for now. The rest of the bridge staff had more or less resumed their usual places as the Frigate slowly moved forwards. The Dragon had already taken point ahead of them, and was well-equipped to destroy any smaller ships still around in orbit. Across the bridge, an ensign called out.

"Sir, I'm reading multiple slipspace ruptures around the planet."

"It's probably just the rest of the fleet arriving," the Captain replied. "Stay on course."

"They're not at the assigned exit points."

"What do you mean?"

"We're getting pings below the orbital defence grid."

On the other side of the bridge, a familiar warning klaxon began to sound. They all knew what it meant. At once, the bridge crew began checking their monitors as dozens of panicked voices filled the COM.

"Covenant!"

"-must be their whole damn fleet!"

"We've got more slipspace ruptures across the system!"

At her station, Grunwald turned off her COM feed and checked the nearest satellite uplink. Sure enough, the feed showed dozens of Covenant ships - Battlecruisers, Destroyers, Corvettes - exiting Slipspace just above the colony world. She took a deep breath, and turned to the Captain's chair.

"Sir, how long until the rest of our fleet arrives?"

His voice was solemn. "A few hours, give or take."

Taking one last look at the growing fleet appearing above Reach, she moved back to her station. The four ships in their battlegroup wouldn't do much against a force this size, but they had to try. It was all they could do.

Standby
"Murphy, you hearing this?"

"Yeah, we're screwed."

Nearly two dozen Army troopers sat around the small encampment, listening to reports and tactical readouts from UNSC forces across Reach. It was confirmed: Another Covenant fleet had arrived. They had only just received news that the damn Supercarrier had gone down, too. Corporal Leon Sikowsky emerged from one of the tents, rifle in hand.

"What's the word, Steinworth?"

"What do you think? More damn Covvies."

The Corporal sighed. The unit had already taken losses fighting on Szurdok Ridge a couple of days ago, and this news would only serve to lower morale further. By the looks on the faces of the men and women around him, things had gone from bad to worse.

"Got anything from the fleet?"

"Not much. We've got more ships arriving every hour, and I guess the ODP's will slow them down, but they're coming. Nothing we can do about that."

"I hear ya." Sikowsky looked up to see several UH-144 Falcons descending on the base. A couple still bore noticeable dents and plasma burns from the last battle. If they were back so soon, then it probably meant that it was time to move out. Steinworth turned off the nearby radio and clambered to his feet, picking up his helmet as he did so. Two Hotel's squad leader called her unit over, and a few troopers walked off.

"Hey Leon," Steinworth muttered. "You think we're gonna get thrown right at the first Covvie landing zone?"

"I doubt it, Jacob," he replied. "SPECWAR groups like ours usually get the glamorous assignments."

Steinworth laughed. "Yeah, if you can call it that."

* * *

Across the camp, Sergeant Major J.P Lee exited the command tent, followed by a much larger figure in light blue armour.

"Clear and evacuate, those are your orders from the Colonel."

"I understand, ma'am." Lee turned to face the Spartan, glancing down at the robotic prosthetic she had in place of her right arm. "But don't you think that regular Army units would do for this mission?"

The Lieutenant Commander's face was behind an opaque silver visor, but he could tell that she was slightly annoyed at this. Lee had been fighting this war since it started, and was used to all kinds of missions - recon, search and destroy, assaults - but he couldn't help but question why Holland wanted his unit on a simple evac op.

"You're all we have left in this area while our larger forces mobilize, Sergeant Major. I trust that it won't be a problem for someone of your caliber?"

"No, ma'am. We'll get to it."

Lee saluted the Spartan, and watched as she walked off towards the Falcons. Three Hotel had worked with NOBLE on a few occasions, but he still found her a little too abrasive for his liking. He sighed, and approached his unit. Most of them were still grabbing equipment, but were otherwise combat-ready. The Sergeant Major cleared his throat and spoke.

"Listen up! We've just received orders to lead the evacuation of nearby settlements - Visegrád, Mezőgazdasági, Kikötő and the like. We're up in five minutes, people!"

At once, Three Hotel sprang to life. Lee was pleased to see that they weren't grumbling about their assignment, though that was probably because they weren't being sent against the Covenant. He watched Two Hotel's Falcons head off to the west, and quickly ducked inside the tent that served as their temporary armoury. Private David Murphy glanced up at him for a moment before affixing an eyepiece to his helmet.

"Heard the reports, sir? About the Covenant?"

"Yes. They say over 60% of the fleet is heading here."

"You think it'll be enough to hold Reach?"

Lee shrugged. "Let's worry about what happens on the ground, Private." Taking a glance at the half-empty weapon rack, he grabbed an M739 LMG, better known as the SAW. These things were a rarity in the Army these days, so he made sure his unit kept a few around. After loading up with ammunition, the Sergeant Major emerged from the tent to where Three Hotel stood ready. The skies seemed to be growing dark unnaturally early today, possibly hinting at one of the area's frequent rainstorms.

"Okay, we're moving out!"

While the troopers made their way aboard the waiting Falcons, Lee noticed the familiar sight of Spartans exiting the command tent. Wherever NOBLE was being assigned, it was probably worse than his destination. As they boarded their own helicopter, he realised that they were missing a couple of members. Chances were that they were already deployed, so Lee dismissed the thought and followed his men into a waiting Falcon. The aircraft rose into the air and flew off, flanked by three others.

Mission Brief
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Beneath the armoured heel, the ground whizzed past, barely a brown blur. From her vantage point on the UH-144 Falcon, Bren could see the orange sun begin to dip behind the vast mountains that made up the Viery continent on Reach. The armoured Spartan had been recalled to receive new orders, having spent the majority of the previous engagement acting as reconnaissance for NOBLE. She had a growing feeling that her and her team simply couldn’t be kept out of combat any longer. Bren felt a nudge on her shoulder, she turned to face Raquel.

“What’re you thinking?” Raquel said over a private com channel.

“Nothing, just worried,” was Bren’s succinct reply.

“Me too. NOBLE knocks that carrier out only for this bigger fleet to hit us.” The armoured head of Raquel shook in clear disapproval at their luck. “Any word on the fleet coming to aid?”

Bren shrugged her soldiers. “Just rumours as yet. I heard one ell-tee say they’d be here by this evening, while some are saying sometime within the next three days. It’s all fucked, truly.”

“Jesus,” Raquel whispered. “Is there even much of the current defence group left?”

Bren held her hands up, offering an apology. “Raquel, I really do have no idea.” There was a pause. “We’ll play it by ear. It’s not our fight, not yet.”

“You got it.”

Bren nodded, and drew a small smile with one finger across her visor. Her attention turned to the rest of the four-man Spartan Team known as GAUNTLET, sitting directly opposite her and Raquel on the aircraft. Raul-B151 and Kevin-B077, fellow Spartan-IIIs but unlike herself and Raquel, they weren’t from their Alpha Company – they were Beta, the group supposedly better than them. She’d never met any other Betas in the field, so she could only wonder if they’d met the same fate as her company. She gently tapped the foot of Raul and pointed to the side of her helmet.

“Ma’am?” He said almost immediately.

“What’s your gut telling you?” She asked. Raul had a particular skill for sensing ambushes and it had served her and GAUNTLET significantly in the past.

“Well, there’s a huge fleet overhead, we’re still waiting on naval reinforcements.” Raul gestured wildly, “I can’t say my gut is full of optimism.”

Bren grunted. She could hardly argue with his assessment. Truth be told she was struggling to believe it could be won, but she would never allow her team to know this. She kept her body language hidden and her back straight. The aircraft wide com buzzed, “We’re landing now. Colonel Holland has requested your presence upon touch down, Bren.”

“Understood, sir.”

The Falcon gently touched down and the four Spartans had all vacated the vehicle before the rotors had stopped spinning. Bren turned to face her team and spoke across the squad wide channel.

“Okay, who knows what deployment we’ll get so Raquel and Raul, stock up on ammo and get some serious explosives just in case. Make sure to find me some special bullets.” Raquel and Raul nodded, Bren turned her attention to Kevin, “Kevin, find as much medical equipment as you can, just like we don’t know where we’re going, I don’t know how long we’ll be gone for. Make sure you have plenty of everything, especially bio-foam.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He replied curtly.

“Go, we’ll meet back here in fifteen.”

The team nodded and quickly went about their business. Bren took off her helmet as she walked into Holland’s command tent, she ran her hand over the tightly shorn head of hair. Since graduating she’d not once let her hair grow out again. She liked it this short. Upon spotting Holland she stood taller and saluted. “Sir.” She said.

“At ease.” Was Holland’s terse reply, he didn’t return the salute. “Over here.” Bren headed towards Holland who was not standing in front of a holo-tank displaying the Viery continent. Holland zoomed in on the city of Pálháza. There had been reports of intense fighting in the surrounding areas of the city, but Gauntlet had been kept well clear of it thus far.

“ONI Recon Group Theta Four had been reporting almost non-stop of a sizeable Covenant force in and around the city of Pálháza, we’ve got the 3rd Infantry Regiment currently stationed there and 2 Hotel are currently en-route. You and your team are to assist in the defence of the city should, as we believe, the Covenant attack.”

“Sir, you said Theta Four had been reporting almost non-stop.” ONI Team Theta Four had worked with Gauntlet before on Tribute, she knew them as The Colour Gang and they were among the best non-Spartan operators she’d ever worked with.

Holland grunted. “Yes, I did.” He tugged on the top of his grey regulation trousers, “they’ve been silent for about twenty minutes now. They were on the outskirts of the city reporting on a massive column of armour.” He stopped and thought for a moment, clearly thinking about what to do to resolve the situation. “Discovering what happened to them and rescuing them if possible is to be a strictly secondary objective. Your primary objective is to hold that city until evacuations have been completed. Understood?”

“Clearly, sir.”

“Good. I’m uploading the objectives to your HUD. Make sure your team get them. Dismissed.”

“Thank you, sir.” Bren scratched at her cheek before putting her helmet back on. Kevin sat on the floor of their Falcon, quietly scrutinising everything he had managed to gather. It wasn’t the big spoils she had been hoping for, and it was worrying. She’d reached Kevin just as Raul and Raquel returned with a rather large kitty bag full of ammo.

“What did we get?” Bren asked.

“Well, we’ve about half a dozen C12 charges, two M168s and two dozen thermite grenades.” Raquel said as she started handing out the grenades.

“Fantastic.” Bren replied, rubbing her hands together excitedly. “What about guns and ammo?”

“Raul was able to get a SAW and about seven hundred rounds for it. I’ve got some heavy armour-piercing rounds for our snipers, as well as two clips of incendiary ammo. There’s a few MA37s in there, some BR55s and I think one or two M392s?” She turned to Raul.

“We got two.”

“Okay, so two M392s.” Raquel stood back and rotated her shoulder blades. “We can choose weapon load-outs en route; there’s enough there to keep us going for most engagements.” There was a pause. “So, what’s the mission?”

Bren uploaded the objectives to her squad’s HUD.

“Pálháza. I’ve never been.” Raul said.

“It’s lovely this time of year,” Raquel replied quickly.

“The Colour Gang are out there?” Kevin enquired, breaking his silence.

“Holland made it unequivocally clear that anything to do with them is strictly secondary.” Bren looked around, “personally I think we owe it to them to make sure we get whoever’s left out.”

Gauntlet nodded in agreement. Friends were hard to come by in their profession, and when they were made you stuck by them whatever the cost. The team began climbing on board the Falcon and it quickly took off, heading west towards their destination.

“Once we’re in Pálháza we’re to rendezvous with 2 Hotel before finding the 3rd Infantry’s CO.”

“Another SpecOps team?” Raul asked.

“Yeah, they were sent about ten minutes before we got here.”

The sun had lowered further in the sky, its once brilliant orange hue had turned to a thick, watery gaze that reflected off the Spartans’ opaque visors. Each of them preparing for their first engagement of the campaign.

Manned Meteors
Master Sergeant Ash Mitchell stood by the holotable inside the UNSC Kasaan Bay's drop bay, shifting between the holographic image of a city on the surface below, and the nine other ODSTs in the bay. Before assembling everyone in the bay, he had taken the time to look over everyone's CSVs. Staff Sergeant Davis was a decorated veteran of the war, Kidrov and Braun have both served since before the war, even Privates Maxwell and Calzaghe have shown to be promising. He had come to the conclusion that the Brass had assembled a team of some of the biggest badasses the Corps had to offer. They would need their collective skills and experience to handle the missions that lay ahead. Mitchell smiled to himself as he called the others to the holotable.

"Alright men, let's bring it in. We got get this briefing over so we can get down there and kick the Covenant's collective ass off Reach."

"What're we lookin' at Mitch? I ain't seein' a whole lot a Covvies down there." said the heavily accented Davis.

"Yeah, all I'm seeing is a bunch of towers." Corporal Mal Roberts spoke up as he walked to the holotable.

"Gentlemen, I know you aren't going to be thrilled with this, but we've been tasked with the evacuation of HVTs, specifically, the several high-value ONI officials and an important A.I. for relocation off world. With luck, we won't encounter any Covenant at all."

Mitchell watched as several of the men rolled their eyes, as they walked over to the weapon racks, taking down their personal favorites. Davis instinctively went for the M739 LMG, while Robson went for his BR55HB Battle Rifle. Mitchell retrieved his own MA5B Assault Rifle and helmet, and walked to his pod, motioning for the others to follow suit. As he stepped inside his pod, he heard the mechanical hiss off several pod doors close, his own sealing soon after.

Mitchell sighed as his pod door shut and the automated system began moving the HEVs into position. The Covenant weren't going to give up until every last building on Reach was a smoldering pile of radioactive rubble. He also knew that the UNSC wouldn't give up either, and would throw ever man and machine at its disposal at the Covenant until they left or everyone was dead. That was how it had to end, in an apocalyptic battle for the ages, and his job was to make sure that if it did end, it would end with a bang.

At that instance, the clamps holding onto the pods released, sending the small manned meteors down to the surface below. From his pod, he could see fires all over Viery territory, remnants of previous battles. The place was already starting to look like Hell, and that was a small reconnaissance force, so he could not, or would not, imagine the devastation this larger fleet could bring, but even then, his thoughts began to wander as the HEVs rocketed downward.

The momentary peace he enjoyed so much was broken by Sergeant Viktor Kidrov coming in over the COM.

"Sir, what will we have in way of support? In case the mission goes south?"

"Very little, the Kasaan Bay, along with the Abukuma, Warsaw, and Sheffield are moving into formation to assist the Falling Star. Seems like her captain is attempting to bite off more than he can chew. We can't risk losing that carrier, given the size of the enemy fleet."

"How big is the fleet?" asked Sergeant Vincent Angelo.

"Big, a couple Assault Carriers, lots of cruisers, and dozens of destroyers, frigates, and corvettes. We've got more ships, but we all know that doesn't mean anything. We've already lost a dozen ships, including the Edinburgh, El Dorado, and the Emdem."

Upon mention of the Emdem, the other ODSTs went silent. The UNSC Emdem was one of the few carriers left in active service, and even fewer that were assigned to the fleet. Its loss meant a huge gap in naval force projection, and a severe lack of assistance to ground side forces. It was a few moments before anyone else spoke, then Oliver Braun, the heavyset German, spoke up.

"Oh man, we really /are/ in deep, aren't we? That's a lot of assets down the proverbial drain."

"I know, which is why we need to get in, get the HVTs, and get out as fast as possible. With luck, we'll be out of there before the Covenant get within three klicks of the place."

Mitchell leaned back into the seat of his pod as he heard the others mumbling in agreement. Maybe, he thought, he could enjoy the rest of the trip down to the planet. It was at this moment that the pods touched down near the ONI facility.

Divine Warriors
"The human pickets are moving to intercept us!" the navigations officer barked from his battle station.

Shipmaster Deyad 'Marakee glanced down from the platform that raised him above his subordinates on the Triumphant Faith's bridge. "Their numbers?" he demanded, hands clasped behind his back.

"Three at the fore, one supporting from the rear."

"They move to engage even though they have no hope of victory," 'Marakee's aide mused from the base of the command platform. "These humans truly are desperate creatures."

'Marakee eyed the tactical console in front of him. The human ships were indeed advancing, though from the looks of things their trajectory was slowing. He shook his head.

"They choose to face us head on rather than flee and be hunted down one by one," he replied. "At any rate, these ones hope to drive us upwards, back within range of their orbital defenses."

He nodded to the communications officer. "Order the Beloved Faith to take its battlegroup and engage the humans. Give them the warrior's death such valor merits. This ship has more important things to do then swat down stragglers."

He returned his gaze to the tactical display as the bridge crew hurried to carry out his orders. The fleet was lucky to encounter such light resistance, 'Marakee knew. It was only through the grace of the gods that the Long Night of Solace's premature assault had not ruined months of carefully coordinated planning. 'Marakee's mandibles curled at the thought of the supercarrier's commander's incompetence. A waste of a good ship and a fine crew.

'Marakee was determined not to make the same mistake. Had the Solace performed its duties properly, the Covenant would already have seized a firm foothold on the human planet's surface. But even with the loss of theSolace's detachment, the destruction of the human fortress world would not be forestalled for long.

The shipmaster glanced down at his aide as the bridge filled with battle reports from the deck officers and the rest of the fleet. "Alert the warriors in the holds. Tell them to be ready for departure immediately."

'Marakee allowed himself a small smile as the aide rushed to carry out his orders. The humans on the planet below were about to realize that what they had faced so far was only a taste of the Covenant's true power. The divine warriors of the N'Marz legion were about to descend upon them.



Alarms blared through the hold. Anxious Unggoy and impatient Kig-Yar dashed across the decks, racing towards their battle stations. Dropships whined to life in the hangar, their Banshee escorts floating into position beside them. Wraith tanks and Ghost hovercraft were raised into position beneath the waiting Phantoms as lances of infantry arrayed themselves in formation on the hangar floor.

The N'marz legion was going to war.

Field Master Stel 'Vadamee surveyed the assembled troops, a surge of pride rising within his chest. He had been waiting for this day for months now, amidst all the endless training and preparations that had preceded the Fleet of Particular Justice's assault on the human fortress world. The Vadam bloodline would achieve great honor here on this world known as Reach. Stel's older brother, Thel, was the supreme commander of the fleet, directing one of the most powerful battle fleets in Covenant history. It would be Stel's honor to serve as one of his brother's many blades, leading the N'marz to victory on the surface below.

He nodded to the warrior standing beside him, Zealot Cotoal 'Turlikee. "We are ready for battle. These warriors will sweep the humans away like dust in the wind."

The Zealot nodded. "My own warriors stand ready to serve in your ranks. The gods will smile upon us this campaign."

"Good. Disperse your Zealots as you see fit. Until we have a clearer understanding of the human defenses, you may take your own initiative in choosing where to fight."

Cotoal dipped his head in thanks and rested a hand on the energy sword that hung at his hip. "Then I will waste no more time. Expect to see me soon; I will remain close to your command center."

The Zealot strode away. The hangar floor was packed with troops now; some lances were already boarding the Phantom and Spirit dropships that would ferry them into battle.

The human world loomed outside the hangar's energy doors, a shining beacon beckoning Stel and his warriors into battle. It was an invitation each and every one of the N'marz warriors was eager to accept. Unfortunately, Stel would have to forestall his own descent for now. There were other matters that needed attending to.

He turned away from the swarming hangar and headed back towards his command chambers. "Send me Felo 'Ranakee and his officers," he said into his com unit. "I have a task for the special operations unit."



Fire. There was a fire burning in his flesh.

The call to battle had been made, but once again he was denied the right to venture forth and reclaim his honor. Disgraced and cast aside, he was condemned to live out his days in the shadow of his fellow warriors, never to be permitted the glory of battle ever again.

It was more than bear, yet he had borne it all the same for these long years, given mocking, menial tasks while his fellow warriors went out to claim honor on the battlefield. He had become lower than the meanest Kig-Yar, forced to consort with Unggoy laborers and Yanme'e drones. He had endured the scorn of his fellow Sangheili all this time as they trampled upon his pride and relegated him to cleaning crews and repair details.

Thel 'Lodamee's fists tightened at the memory of an armored human laid low before him, victory within the reach of his blade... only for him to be caught up in a gravity beam and dragged away from his prey, denied redemption by another's cowardice.

He had slain one of the human Demons in battle. That alone should have been enough to secure his ascendancy in the eyes of both the gods and his fellow Sangheili. But instead he had been disgraced and slandered by his commander's accusations of cowardice, and when a second Demon had been his to kill, that same commander had deprived him of his victory. The disgrace of that day still haunted Thel's thoughts.

There was no chance of redeeming himself in the eyes of this world. His commander's slander had seen to that. Thel no longer cared what the Sangheili thought of him. All that mattered was earning the gods' forgiveness and securing his place in the bliss of the Great Journey. And in order to do that...

Thel released his hold on the Major's neck. The dead warrior keeled over, only to be caught by the gangly hands of a waiting Kig-Yar. The avian mercenary lowered the corpse to the floor and motioned for her fellow brood-mates to begin removing his armor.

"Hurry," Chur'R-Kim hissed. "There is not much time."

Thel nodded. The armor the Kig-Yar were stripping from the officer he had just murdered bore the same maroon tinge of the rank he had once held; a painful reminder of both his past and the crime he had just committed to ensure his own salvation. He removed his own harness, a dull grey suit of armor that denoted him as one of the Triumphant Faith's support staff. Yet another element of his long humiliation.

"Forgive me, brother," Thel whispered as he donned the dead officer's combat harness. "Find peace within the Journey."

If he met his victim in the next life, Thel would beg for forgiveness for what he had been forced to do. But first, he would need to ensure that he earned his place in that paradise. His victim's sacrifice would be worthwhile, Thel swore to the gods. He would make sure of that.

He slipped the officer's helmet onto his head and appropriated the dead Sangheili's grenades and plasma repeater. Of his old trappings, he kept only his own energy sword. He would win back his honor with this blade.

The Kig-Yar divided Thel's discarded armor amongst themselves in seconds. Thel could not help but admire the perverse discipline with which the creatures distributed their looted prize. Chur'R-Kim tapped the beam rifle slung across her back impatiently.

"Time to go," she ordered, then caught herself, casting a sly look at Thel. "I mean, at your order, Major."

It had cost Thel every last scrap of money to hire Kim and her fellow pirates on. Fortunately, once bought the Kig-Yar were ferocious fighters. They would serve him well in lieu of the standard lance that should have been his by right.

Thel nodded to the Kig-Yar and strode out of the maintenance deck, leaving the body where it lay. By the time the corpse was discovered and his own supervisors realized he was missing, he would already be on the battlefield below, amidst the glory of battle and beyond their reach.

The Kig-Yar fell into step behind him, and despite the shame that burned within Thel he could also feel traces of his old pride returning as well. He had endured his disgrace long enough. It was time to take back his honor.

Thel offered three silent prayers of thanksgiving as he and his Kig-Yar retinue marched toward the hangar. One to the gods, and one to the soul of the warrior he had murdered.

And one to the humans who would pave the path of his Journey with their blood.

Evacuation
The flight to the remote town had taken over two hours, and even with their armour and fatigues Three Hotel were cold and tired from the chilly winds. As their Falcons passed a nearby mountain, a sight came into view that snapped them all to attention.

"They're already here."

Sergent Major Lee nodded at Sikowsky's comment, and leaned out of the side of his Falcon to get a better view. Some of fields around Visegrad were ablaze, as were several outlying buildings. A crashed Banshee lay in a wheat field, spewing smoke. As The trio of helicopters began to circle the town, the pilot called back to Lee over the COM.

"Sergeant, it doesn't look like there's anything alive down there."

Lee shook his head. "We're going in. There still might be some survivors down there. "

"Copy that, taking us down."

The Falcons of Three Hotel descended on the remains of what was once a town square, its flagstones cracked and burnt from plasma fire. Lee exited his transport, followed by Sikowsky and Steinworth. The others swiftly moved in, weapons raised as they looked around for hostiles. The troopers sat in complete silence for nearly thirty seconds before the Falcons ascended to cover the surrounding areas. Lee waved a hand, and they began to move.

"Keep an eye out for any movement. Hold your fire for now."

Visegrád had been a beautiful town once, that was for sure. Now it was a ruin. With the sun already going down the troopers would have to move fast to assess the situation and look for any survivors. If there weren't any Humans left, then there were definitely Covenant troops in the area.

"Sergeant Major," Sikowsky whispered. "I heard that Holland dispatched a few squads to this area a couple of weeks back. Think they're still here?"

"Can't say for sure. Someone shot down that Banshee and I don't think it was the civvies. Keep moving."

They advanced slowly, and in pairs. Every now and then a couple of troopers would move into an abandoned building, only to emerge with grim faces. As they moved further into town, the signs of battle became more evident. A splatter of indigo blood on a wall marked where someone had wounded an Elite. The body lay nearby, peppered with bullet holes. Further up, voices could he heard. Lee turned to his troopers.

"Hear that?"

"Yeah. What're they saying?"

"Alien gibberish. Move up. Weapons free."

Sure enough, several large Sangheili warrior stood by a ruined house round the corner, conversing in their own language. Silently, Lee took out a grenade and pulled the pin before tossing it in their direction. As he did so, several of the troopers opened fire. By the time the grenade detonated their shields had already been drained, and the formidable aliens were blown to pieces. A cry from nearby sounded out, and several other aliens burst from nearby buildings.

"Multiple contacts, open fire!"

Lee backed up slightly and levelled his SAW before opening fire on a group of Grunts making their way down the street towards him. The diminutive aliens were torn to shreds, though half a dozen more were already on their way. Four Army troopers moved across to a side street, hoping to flank their foe. Lee moved back slightly as several crystalline shards smashed into the pavement near him. Though they were certainly outnumbered, the troopers' element of surprise and firepower gave them a distinct tactical advantage in this situation.

"Murphy, sniper."

"Got it."

Two more soldiers moved forward and pushed the remaining Covenant troops back with bursts of assault rifle fire as Private Murphy leaned out of cover and levelled his DMR. Through the sites he could just make out the spined quills of a Jackal sniper on a nearby rooftop. The moment his target twitched forward to aim. He pulled the trigger. A thin body crumpled and fell from the roof.

"Down."

"Great. Sikowsky, take Andos and Henderson through that building. Set up a field of fire, and cut off their reinforcements!"

The Private and his comrades left without another word, leaving Lee's squad to mop up the survivors. a burst of SAW fire gunned down an advancing Elite, prompting several Grunts to flee in the opposite direction. From across the street, well-placed rifle fire finished them off. The darkened street was finally clear. Despite a few close shaves, there were no casualties among Three Hotel. Private Steinworth led his group out from across the street, looking over the field of alien corpses they had created. As he passed one body, he stopped.

"Sir, we've got a live one over here!"

The rest of the squad quickly approached, a few breaking off to cover the side streets. Lee strode forwards to see a few of his troopers gathered around a badly wounded Elite. It had been shot repeatedly in the lower chest and once in the neck, but it was still clearly breathing. The alien looked up at the gathered Humans with what could only be a glare of intense hatred and disgust. Murphy crouched by it, quickly grabbing the Elite's dropped plasma rifle before looking to his leader.

"Uh, do we take prisoners?"

Lee looked down at his injured foe for a second before putting down his SAW. He then took his M6C pistol out from it's holster and pointed it downwards. His face was expressionless.

"I don't."

He shot the Elite twice in the head. It twitched for a moment and fell still.

"I want this area secured in five. Let's move."

Murphy wiped some of the alien's blood from his armour and stood up before following Lee and several others down the street. As the rest of the unit began to spread out into the nearby kivas, the Sergeant Major placed two fingers to his ear and activated the COM.

"Whiskey One-One, you still with us?"

The Falcon pilot responded after a few seconds. "Copy that, Three Hotel Actual. Sorry we couldn't help you out back there. Couldn't get a good shot in the narrow streets."

"That's fine. Anything on thermals?"

"There's something coming up the valley. Whiskey One-Two and One-Three are investigating, over."

Lee nodded. As he moved to deactivate the COM there was a burst of gunfire not far away, followed by the familiar sound of plasma fire in response. Murphy and the others glanced up as Whiskey One-One flew overhead, its main gun opening fire after a few seconds. Corporal Sikowsky's panicked voice came through the COM.

"We're under fire, west side of town. Henderson's down and we've got a ton of Covvies heading our way. Bastards must've been coming to reinforce this group." He was cut off momentarily as a large explosion sounded nearby. "Shit, they've got heavy armour! Going to need support here soon, Sir!"

At this, the rest of Three Hotel doubled their speed towards the edge of town. Heavy armour meant Wraiths, or at worst, a Scarab. They would've almost certainly seen the latter, and as a large globule of blue plasma soared overhead their thoughts were confirmed. Lee dived behind a concrete wall as the rest of the unit moved in.

"Ackerman, get some fire on those tanks!"

Lee began firing on the incoming infantry while Private Ackerman opened fire with her M41 Jackhammer. The missile streaked towards the nearest tank and struck it, the heavy vehicle crashing to the ground in flames. By the looks of it they had several more, including one armed with fuel rod cannons instead of the typical plasma mortar. Whiskey One-One hovered above, the pilot peppering the lead Wraith with rounds before the grenade launchers finally took the tank down. As it moved to engage another target, the AA Wraith began to fire.

"Oh shit!" the Pilot shouted over the COM. "Didn't see that one, we're gonna move around and try-"

From his position on the ground, the troopers could only watch in horror as the Falcon was hit by one blast after another, spinning out of control before smashing into the side of a building and exploding. Lee gunned down half an enemy lance before stooping to reload his weapon. This is bad. The remaining two Wraiths then turned their attention towards his squad. Ackerman was shot through the head with a needle rifle as she reloaded the Jackhammer, prompting Murphy to drop his rifle and reach for the weapon.

"Get down, get down!"

The next plasma mortar missed, but hit one of the buildings directly behind the troopers. Shattered masonry and burnt metal rained down on the surviving troopers, some of whom had already began to move back for better cover. Before Murphy could reload the missile launcher, a trapdoor burst open near one of the town's outlying buildings. Several missiles rocketed out, slamming into the side of the Wraiths and destroying them instantly. At first Lee thought it might have been some members of his squad, but a second look brought them into focus. It was a motley group of men and women in heavy clothing, wielding an assortment of outdated weaponry. They rained down fire on the remaining infantry, cutting the Covenant soldiers to pieces as they were caught between two groups of enemies. After a few seconds, silence fell once more across the ruined outskirts.

"Hey!"

A tall man approached the troopers, holding a rifle up in the air. Lee stood up and approached him, followed by several others. Behind him, Sikowsky and the remainder of Three Hotel exited the buildings, looking around warily.

"Sergeant Major Lee, UNSC Army. What are you people doing here?"

"Surviving, as you can see." The man indicated the trapdoor behind him. "We got as many people to the shelter as we could. when they arrived. Been hiding out here for a few days now."

He looked over the weapons carried by the civilians. Some of them didn't look like they were exactly standard issue for UNSC troops. Lee looked over the man before him. He was rather tall, and had the look of a hardened veteran in spite of his rather young looks. There was something about him that made the Sergeant feel slightly uneasy.

"So I see. Where did you get those weapons?"

"Here and there. Some came from the troopers that arrived here not long ago. They didn't last long when the Covvies arrived, I'm afraid. I take it you're the rescue party, then?"

"Yes." Lee had a feeling he knew exactly where they'd got the weapons from and who this man was, but the Covenant threat took priority over a couple of rebel holdouts right now. "We're evacuating civilians from this area to a nearby spaceport. You'll have to come with us."

The man nodded. "That's fair enough. I'm Bohater, by the way. I managed to raise the alarm and get these people down here before it was too late."

Bohater didn't seem to have the Hungarian accent that most people on the frontier possessed. Chances were that he was running guns through Visegrád when the Covenant arrived. Lee watched as nearly two dozen civilians clambered out of the cellar they had holed up in. He nodded towards Steinworth and Murphy, who moved to assist a heavily pregnant woman and her partner out of Bohater's hiding place. While most of the unarmed civilians moved towards the Army troopers, Murphy ducked inside for a few moments. Lee turned to Bohater.

"Thanks for helping these people. Some would just hole themselves up alone and wait out the storm."

The tall man nodded. "Someone had to help. What happens now."

"I'll call for extraction. Just join the others and wait here, it shouldn't be long."

"Got it."

Lee watched Bohater rejoin Visegrád's survivors, slinging his rifle behind his back. He'd probably be picked up by the authorities at a spaceport if they recognised him. He wasn't going to try and arrest an innie in front of a group of people he'd saved from the Covenant. Murphy approached him, a grim look on his face.

"Anything?"

"Looks like our man turned his cellar into a bunker. They've got a few weapon racks of outdated rifles. MA2B's, MA3A's and the like. Couple of Jackhammers and grenades, too."

"Any hard data?"

"Found a pile of burned papers and a wiped datapad. Sorry Sergeant Major, nothing concrete."

"That's fine." Lee looked around at what remained of Visegrád. It must have been a nice place to live, once. Quiet, considering its place on the frontier, but peaceful. Not any more, though. The Covenant had destroyed it, just like they had done with thousands of other places in the last few decades. He activated his COM.

"This is Three Hotel to Command. Visegrád was hit by the Covenant and we've got the survivors with us now. Requesting Pelican dropship support for evac."

"Copy that, Three Hotel. Birds are on the way, out."

He turned off his COM. It was dark now, and with the power cut off this place would be pitch black soon. They'd lost nearly a dozen troopers taking the town; Steinworth and some others were recovering the bodies. Still, with Covenant forces groundside things would only get worse. He'd seen it a hundred times now and it wasn't getting any easier to deal with. Still, they'd saved a few people. That had to count for something.

"Sikowsky, get some flares set up for our evac birds. We're leaving soon."

Sword and Sheath
Private Yin Maxwell rubbed the sweat from his forehead as he and the rest of Charlie Platoon trudged through slushy snow on their way to SWORD Base. He was told to keep his helmet on incase of snipers, but if there were snipers, his helmet would not do much to stop them. They had been marching for a couple of hours now as they had landed about half a dozen kilometers away from the base, and despite the small amount of snow on the ground, it was still getting hot inside his armor.

"How long until we get there Sergeant? We've been walking for hours." Maxwell asked.

"Another half hour at most, if we don't run into any Covvies." Sergeant Angelo replied.

"But the Kasaan Bay didn't detect any Covenant nearby. We should be fine."

"We also didn' see a massive fuckin' Super Carrier a few days ago either. Plus, we dropped a couple hours ago, lots a thing coulda changed." Said Davis from the front of the group.

"I know, but wouldn't the base be able to tell if there are Covenant nearby?"

"Sensors were damaged when that Corvette attacked a few weeks back, so for the most part, they're blind." Private Armstrong said from near the back of the column.

"Alright gentlemen, lets cut the chatter. If there are Covenant nearby, we don't want to give away our position. Our scouts will be back in a minute and we need to be rea-" At that moment, Mitchell, who was leading the group was cut off at that moment as a lone ODST ran over the hill, bleeding and with burn marks on his armor. His helmet was gone so Mitchell could see the various cuts and bruises on his face.

"Corporal Roberts, where are the rest of the scouts? I sent five of you." Mitchell knew what the answer was before Roberts even opened his mouth.

"Covenant sir, a whole big group. Must be the remnants of that carrier's group. They got the others, and they're moving this way."

Upon hearing this Mitchell and the other Sergeants began giving orders to take cover and prepare for the Covenant assault that was inbound. They would not be able to stay here for long, as they still had to get to SWORD Base to get that A.I. and get it off world. Within a few minutes, the troopers were in position, just as the first few Grunts waddled into view. Private Maxwell raised his M6C/SOCOM and aimed at the first Grunt's head. He fired once in unison with several other troopers, dropping the first group of tiny aliens. After that, several birdlike Jackals and an Elite walked into the area. As they spotted the bodies, the other troopers opened fire with their larger weapons.

After this, the Covenant troops started pouring in the area, and immediately the situation turned bleak. One trooper had his arm burned off at the elbow by an overcharged plasma pistol shot, while another took a triplet of pink Needler shards in his chest. Sergeant Davis laid down suppressing fire with his SAW while Braun led some others to flank the Covenant's position, firing down on a trio of Elites and their Grunt cannon fodder.

Eventually the gunfire stopped, leaving an uneasy silence that worried Maxwell. One trooper cautiously walked out back into the field, checking for any surviving Covenant when a large plasma mortar crashed on him, vaporizing the poor man. The cries of "Wraith!" came in immediately after, causing the remaining troopers to scramble into the hills. Sergeant Mitchell yelled over the COMs, trying to get them to regroup.

"Regroup on the other side of the hill, we'll run the rest of the way to the base. If you run into any Covenant forces, engage only if you have to, I don't want to lose anymore men than I have too. We should make it by nightfall."

For the next hour, they marched through the darkness, occasionally running into small Covenant patrols. They mostly eliminated them from a distance, but once they were engaged by a Hunter pair, and with no heavy weapons available, were forced to withdraw from the area. After marching, they saw the lights of the base in the distance. They also linked up with the other groups, who had taken minor casualties; Calzaghe and Kidrov were both wounded by Needler shots, and another two were dead. They rushed the rest of the way to the base, and were greeted by a few Army troopers.

After Mitchell walked through the gate, he requested to speak to the head of security, when a Private directed him to Ádám Virág.

"You need to understand that the Covenant are on their way to this base, and these troops are scattered all over the place, there's no coordination, none of the defensible positions are properly fortified. I have no clue how you all made it until those Spartans got here."

Virág looked concerned, and shook his head, "We don't have enough troops here. All of ONI's security personnel were killed in the first attack, and most of the Army garrison have been relocated to fight elsewhere on the planet. We've made do with what we have, if you'd be willing to help defend the base, that would be wonderful."

Mitchell frowned, "I'm sorry, but our orders are to evacuate key personnel from the base, along with a certain AI, goes by the name Caladbolg." as he spoke, he handed Virág a list with the names of the HVTs. He watched as Virág looked over the list and frown.

"You want Caladbolg and the heads of research? You can't be serious, they are working on projects that could end the war."

"It doesn't matter what they're working on if they die here on Reach, which is why we're getting them out. We'll stay and help until the evacuation is complete, then we have to move on."

Mitchell turned and left the office as Virág sat there. He had people he had to get out of here, and soldiers to keep safe, and he wasn't going to let some ONI security officer mess it up. He went outside and began organizing the defenses with the other Sergeants and Army troopers. The base had nothing in the way of anti-air defenses, the only AA cannon had been destroyed by the Covenant after their first attack failed. The only thing keeping away the occasional Banshee were troopers armed with rocket launchers, which were quickly running low on ammo.

Mitchell was in the motor pool, taking inventory and was disappointed by what he saw, as the base's armory consisted of three rocket launchers and a dwindling supply of rockets, an M12, half a dozen grenade launchers, and a few dozen assorted small arms. He shook his head and was trying to think how to use his assets when he heard the distinct shriek of a Banshee and the thump of a rocket launcher as it fired. As he rushed outside, he saw the alien flier swoop around as the rocket impacted on one of its wings, blowing it clean off and sending it plummeting to the ground. Unfortunately, it veered straight for the trooper in a kamikaze style attack. The frightened trooper dropped the rocket launcher and tried to run, but was not fast enough and was crushed by the Banshee, which exploded moments later from the impact.

As the soldiers and ODSTs poured out into the courtyard to see what had happened, an eerie silence fell over the compound, broken only by the soft pops and cracks of the burning Banshee's frame, the purple fire glowing in the middle of the night. As they stood there looking at the wreckage, a single sound echoed throw the nearby glaciers and into the courtyard, which made the soldiers freeze and the ODSTs reach for their weapons; the guttural roar of an Elite, meaning the Covenant had arrived.



Corin sprinted to the nearest cover, a large shipping container as several bolts of emerald plasma hit the ground behind him. When the Covenant showed up, they arrived en mass, with Wraith tanks shelling the courtyard while infantry moved in through the new gaps in the walls, with aircraft covering from overhead. They had taken a few casualties when they first breached with three troopers down, along with a wounded ODST.

As he reached the container, he reloaded his SAW and checked his surroundings. As he looked around the corner, he was meet with the sight of a couple of Grunts. Smiling, he poked the weapon around the corner and let out a burst of automatic fire, shredding the tiny aliens. Satisfied, Davis quickly checked for snipers before bolting to a nearby barricade, and just in time as a plasma mortar came down on the container he had just been hiding behind. He mumbled under his breath as he looked around again, spotting a lone ODST lying face first on the ground. Not spotting any hostiles nearby, he made his way over to the body and was just about to move it when he heard a faint click. Terrified, he jumped away as the plasma grenades detonated, and felt the heat wash over him. He landed on the ground with a thud and sat there, and when he tried to sit up, he couldn't feel his legs and was certain he had lost them and would soon die of blood loss. When he flipped himself onto his back, he saw that he did in fact have his legs, but they were horribly burned, probably killed most of the nerves too.

As he sat there, he saw a plasma mortar vaporize three unlucky soldiers and the cover they were hiding behind. He slowly reached up and turned on his COM, "What's takin' so long? We're gettin' our dicks kicked out 'ere!" He waited a minute for a response and was about to try again when he heard the frightened and agitated voice of the head of security.

"My apologies but we are having some... difficulty. Caladbolg is ready for transport, as are most of the scientists."

"Then what's the fuckin' hold up?! Good men are dyin' down 'ere!"

"Dr. Halsey is refusing to leave her research and projects. We've told her that the Covenant are here, but she insists that she stay."

"Let me talk to the bitch, I'll get 'er to move. She's causin' brave men and women to die down her, so she needs to move 'er a-"

"Move my what, Sergeant? I believe there was more to that sentence then you let out."

Davis sat there for a moment, unsure of what to say, but was brought back by the distant scream of a trooper, "Ma'am, we are meant to evacuate you, but we can't leave unless you're either dead, missin', or with us."

"I'm afraid the latter of those is rather unlikely, so you might as well get the others out now, before any evacuation window you have closes. Also, the fact that Caladbolg is ready for transport, but is in immedient danger of being captured or destroyed when the means of retrieval and relocation is available means you are technically in violation of the Cole Protocol."

Corin furrowed his brow behind his helmet, "Fine, you wanna be like that? Mitchell, the big Doctor ain't comin' and we gotta get these people and that A.I. outta 'ere. We can't risk mission failure 'cause of one Doctor."

He heard sighs coming from the other end, before Mitchell responded, "Alright, lets get these people into the Pelican they preped and get out of here. Sergeant Panossian, you're in charge of clearing the way."

"Roger that, come on men, we need to knock the Covvies out of the way!"

Panossian and his men formed up and began moving towards the landing pad nearby, which was just out of range of the Wraith's mortars. They encountered minor resistance, with most of their forces preoccupied at the main entrance. Those they did find were quickly dispatched with a ruthless efficiency. Soon the way was clear, and the remaining ODSTs brought up the frightened scientists, one of which was carrying an odd boxy container, which Panossian assume was the matrix for the A.I. Caladbolg. As the last of the Troopers boarded the craft, Panossian saw the last of the Banshees crash in a ball of flame, clearing the skies for the Pelican to escape. The next few minutes were relatively quiet as the Pelican took off and headed for the atmosphere, leaving behind SWORD Base and the sounds of its battle.

Strafing Run
“What we got, Bren?” Raquel asked as she lifted her head from the scope of her M392 Designated Marksman rifle.

“Not sure,” Bren replied as she fiddled with the zoom on her scope. “I see Covenant forces en-masse. They’re not doing much though.” Bren and Raquel had taken a position on top of a financial building on outskirts of Pálháza as they reconnoitred the enemy. Raul and Kevin were with the leaders of the 3rd Infantry Regiment and 2 Hotel as they tried to thrash out some form of defensive plan.

“Gauntlet Three to Gauntlet Actual, over,” Bren’s earpiece buzzed.

“This is Gauntlet Actual, go ahead.”

“Just got word from Navy brass,” Raul began, “the EE Fleet has arrived, more en-route.”

“That’s good news.” Bren said, smiling slightly.

“Yes, ma’am,” was his hasty reply, “but the problem is we’ve no window to get the transport out yet. All space lanes from Pálháza have been declared red, too hot to extract.” There was a muffled noise as someone spoke to Raul.

“Yeah okay, I’ll let her know.” There was a small pause. “Colonel Ishido has just informed me that evacuations are slow, barely any of the evac centres are getting people.”

“Fuck.” Bren breathed.

“Yes ma’am,” Raul replied, “Master Sergeant Fletcher’s 2 Hotel are getting ready to inspect the centres to see what the issue is.”

“Good idea. Hold one, Three.” She turned to Raquel. “What do we think?”

“I’m concerned, truth be told.” Raquel started, she turned from her rifle’s scope and looked at Bren, “I’m not sure how long we can hold the city if we’ve got no spatial cover. That’s pretty big fuckin’ Covvie army out there. We’ve got what? Less than twenty SpecOps troops, an infantry regiment and militia and police. We’re setting up to lose, it seems.”

“Yeah…” Bren rubbed the back of her neck. “Gauntlet Three, you still there?”

“Affirmative.”

“Two and I are coming back. Will you inform Two Hotel Actual to post a recon team to our position, over?”

“Will do. Out.” Raul turned to Fletcher. “You get that?”

“Aye,” Fletcher replied in his thick London accent. “Okay. We’ll head out now.” He extended his hand towards Raul. “Good luck, Spartan.”

“Yessir.” Raul took it and shook it once and Fletcher left. There was a distinct sound of Warthogs starting that slowly faded as they rumbled further and further away from Alpha Base.

Raul turned to Ishido, “what’s our armoured capacity?”

“Negligible, truly.” Ishido scratched the short stubble on his chin. “We’ve a dozen Scorpions, and a about twenty Warthogs.”

“Where are the tanks?”

“Hidden throughout the city,” he laughed, “We can’t afford the Covenant air attacks to destroy them before we’ve had a chance to use them.”

“Agreed.” Raul ran a hand over his bald head. “What do you think our chances are, realistically, sir?”

Ishido sighed heavily. “Not good.”

“Thought so.” Raul stood up straighter as he heard a Mongoose engine kick and splutter outside the tent, “Is that everything, sir?”

“Yes.” Ishido looked laboriously over the plans of the city, “dismissed.” He saluted.

Raul returned the salute and exited the tent, Kevin was meticulously looking over his BR55 HBR, or Battle Rifle. Raul barely acknowledged his quiet team member and instead focused on Bren and Raquel re-joining them.

“Any sign of the Colour Gang?” He inquired.

Raquel shook her head, “not one sign.” She shrugged, “it’s genuinely perplexing, should be some sign of them.”

Bren shook her head, “not really. They were outside City bounds when we lost contact with them. We were still inside.” She then focused on Raul. “What do you know?”

He sighed, “it’s grim, ma’am. Only a dozen or so Scorpions scattered and hidden throughout the city. They hit us with armour in force, we’re gonna be lucky to get anyone out. That coupled with no cover from the fleet overhead, we’re fucked.”

“We got any air assets?” Bren asked, concern colouring her voice.

“I uh, I don’t know. Bar a few Falcons or so, I’m not sure we’ve much. The closest Air Force boys are being called to Visegrad, and New Alexandria. We’re on our own it seems.”

“Jesus.” Bren’s shoulders slumped and she leaned against the nearest wall. “Any word from 2 Hotel?”

“Negat – “ Raul was cut off by the screech of an alarm. Ishido bolted out of the tent.

“Two Hotel has made contact, Covenant are attacking!”

Bren quickly snapped out the relaxed frame of mind she had got in. “Raquel, Kevin take a Falcon give us a sit rep. Go!”

The two nodded and bolted towards their airship. Bren and Raul took up positions on the Mongoose that had been previously used. Bren took the driver’s seat, meaning Raul had the passenger seat. They set off and headed towards the outskirts of the city, overhead the Falcon containing Raquel and Kevin zoomed overhead, speeding towards the front.

“Colonel, give us an idea.” Raul said into the com.

“Okay, first battalion are at the northern entrance to the city, second and third, on the east and west; we got fourth in reserve.”

“Roger.” Raul keyed the com to pick up Raquel and Kevin, “Gauntlet Two and Four, sitrep, over.”

“East side being hit hard, Covvies moving against the west, too” Raquel replied.

“Copy. What do you want them to do, Bren?” He asked.

“Two, Four, land a couple of blocks away from the fighting in the east and advance from there. We’ll head west and support the line there.”

“Roger, out.”

As the pair of Spartans sped towards the fighting, the distinct hum of plasma fire became increasing drowning in the unique staccato of the UNSC’s ballistic weapons. In front of them, plasma burned and cracked the concrete, it was a blur of blues and greens sizzling the air and cooking flesh.

Bren skidded the Mongoose against a building and the duo jumped from the vehicle, weapons raised as the neared the end of their approach to the front line. The screams of wounded humans and the distinct smell of charred human remains confirmed to them they knew they had arrived.

“Where’s the Battalion CO, doc?” Bren asked a young woman covered in blood.

She didn’t say anything but nodded towards a small drab olive tent. Upon entering, there stood a dishevelled dark-skinned woman in her late forties. A small bandage was held in place by tape just above her left eye; it wept blood softly.

“SPARTAN team GAUNTLET is ready to assist, ma’am.” Bren said as the pair saluted.

“Spartans?” The officer mused.

“Yes, ma’am.” There was a pause as they examined each other. “What’s the situation?”

The officer, whom Bren’s IFF tag had identified as Major Kathleen Jenkins, moved towards the desk with a map of their frontline. “So far it’s been minor, Grunts and Jackals, few of those goddamn Elites. We’re holding currently, only a few casualties. Ishido refused my request for armoured reinforcements.”

“Yes, ma’am, us and 2 Hotel are all the reinforcements Pálháza are likely to get.”

“You’re joking.”

“Wish I was, ma’am. All forces are tied up.”

“Christ almighty.” Kathleen buried her face in her cut hands. From outside a soldier screamed a warning from the top of his lungs, alerting everyone to the strafing of two banshees. The Spartans has barely any time to react before a wash of heat swept over them, sending the pair of them to the ground. The tent collapsed, a large hole had been flash fried into glass. Bren looked over to find the Major Kathleen Jenkins, only she was now missing half her face having been burnt to a cinder.

Brothers in Arms
"It has been too long, brothers," Sur 'Ranakee said. "Far too long."

Felo 'Ranakee peered at his younger brother through the briefing chamber's dim light and wondered if he should chastise him for such a breach of etiquette. Sur might be his brother, but he was also a subordinate and they were surrounded by the other officers from Felo's special operations contingent. Fortunately, Rol got to Sur first.

"Indeed it has," the youngest of the 'Ranak siblings said, stepping up to Sur's shoulder. "But the time for pleasantries comes later. The chance to serve under our brother is a gift, not a privilege. Don't forget the task at hand."

Sur caught himself and gave Felo a nod. "Of course. Forgive me, commander. I misspoke."

Felo returned the nod, grateful for both Rol's tact and Sur's quick recovery. "Think nothing of it. I look forward to fighting alongside you both in the campaign to come."

He glanced around at his other officers. "This contingent is already filled with the finest warriors in the Covenant," he declared, raising his voice. "To have two of my kin counted amongst their number is an honor beyond words."

The other officers nodded and grunted their approval. None would accuse him of favoring his brothers on the battlefield, Felo would make sure of that.

Before further conversation could be made, the door to the briefing chamber slid open and an ornately armored field master strode into the room. Felo barked a quick order and every warrior in the room snapped upright, fists across their chest in a respectful salute. Stel 'Vadamee nodded and returned the gesture as he approached the holo-table in the center of the room.

I am not the only warrior with siblings in this fight, Felo noted as he stepped up to the table. The field master's brother commands this entire fleet. He wasn't sure exactly how Stel felt about that. Sangheili were raised and trained to be warriors from childhood; teamwork was critical, but rivalries between siblings could be fierce. Not all warriors were fortunate enough to share the bonds Felo and his brothers enjoyed.

"Commander," the field master said. "I apologize for holding you and your command back from the fight, but I have a more pressing assignment for you than simply securing landing sites."

"That is what we are trained for," Felo replied. "It is no slight to be used intelligently."

Stel called up a holographic map of a region on the human planet. Settlements and defensive positions were marked amidst rolling hills and forests. It was no different than any other human planet Felo had ever attacked, though the natural beauty struck him as he surveyed the hologram. It was a shame that the humans had blighted this world with their unholy presence, just as they had done to so many other worlds before. But even if these hills and forests were to be cleansed in fire, the humans would pay dearly for the defilement.

"Our legion is responsible for sweeping the humans from this region," Stel explained. "Reports from the Long Night of Solace's reconnaissance indicate that it will be heavily defended. I expect to be spending much of my time hear rooting the humans out of their fortresses and isolating their evacuation efforts."

The field master called up an image of a human complex nestled within the hills. From the looks of things, it was military, though not quite as extensive as most of the humans' compounds and airfields.

"This installation is a power hub, one of a series that networks energy throughout the entire region." Stel called up five more identical complexes, each situated at various points around the region. "The humans will no doubt have backup generators at their bases, but to cut them off from the energy network will make my main assault that much easier."

Felo nodded. "You want my warriors to destroy these complexes."

"The humans will no doubt have them well defended, but I trust that will not stop you from completing your mission. Besides, every human you kill is another that is not defending their other strongholds."

"Indeed. Will I receive support from the rest of the legion?"

"Aside from the Phantoms that deliver you to your targets, no. I cannot divert forces from my main assault."

Felo understood completely. It was important not to let the might of the armada assaulting this human world blind him to the larger picture. He and his warriors were simply another component in a far larger battle. "We will bring down these complexes, field master. You need not worry about the matter further."

Stel nodded and straightened. "Then may the gods smile upon you, commander. We will speak again once you have returned from your mission."

Felo and his warriors saluted again as the field master departed. Turning to his officers, Felo indicated a handful of strike team leaders.

"We will split up the contingent for this operation," he told them. "I want to hit the generators simultaneously, take them down before the humans realize our intent, and depart before they can marshal reinforcements."

"And how do you want these generators removed?" Sur asked, tapping a finger against one of the plasma grenades strapped to his armor.

Felo couldn't help but give his brother a small smile. "No need to leave the humans anything to repair," he replied. "Level your target and kill any humans who try to stop you."

Sur and Rol joined the other officers in an enthusiastic war cry. They were all ready for war.

Contingency
The steel doors leading to CASTLE Base's Omega Wing were already open when Colonel Holland approached. Usually this place would be locked up tight to those without the proper password, but judging by the amount of traffic through the base in recent days, they had eased up a little with entry procedures. Nonetheless, the uniformed Army officer hesitated for a moment before passing through the threshold. Omega Wing was filled with people for once; ONI agents conversed in small groups while security guards and the odd scientist came through, carrying boxes filled with sensitive equipment. Holland glanced to his right and found just who he was looking for. A brown-haired man in a grey Army uniform stood in an empty office, speaking to a fearsome looking, skull-shaped AI.

"-so you know what to do, then?"

"Of course," the hologram responded, its simulated voice a low growl. The skull swivelled to face Holland as he entered.

"Araqiel, go."

The AI winked out. The man turned and shook Holland's hand, smiling as he did so.

"Colonel Holland. It's been too long."

"Colonel Ackerson. I thought I'd find you here."

Ackerson gestured to a seat and moved to sit down at a nearby table. The office door hissed shut automatically. Holland was reasonably sure that the AI was responsible for that. He chose to ignore it, and took out a small datapad from his pocket.

"I was halfway to Camp Hathcock when Whitcomb told me you were here. I thought you were helping out with the tests there?"

"They're doing a few more before the final run," Ackerson began, taking the datapad that Holland held out to him. "Still, it's for one of Halsey's creations, so I'm not exactly eager to turn up so she can gloat about the design."

Holland looked over and saw a darkened office across the hall. "She's still at SWORD, then? Last I heard the Covenant hit the base pretty hard. Official casualty reports-"

"-are probably bullshit." Ackerson cut him off. "Anyway, what's up with your group? UPPER CUT was a success."

"Correct. Problem is that we're having trouble finding two of them. Sierra Zero-Five-Two and Beta Three-One-Twelve. You're familiar with the second one, I assume?"

The Colonel's eyes narrowed. Holland knew all about how he'd been forced to give up the Spartan for Noble. Word was that Ackerson wasn't pleased about it. Still, he'd shut up once Noble were the first to report Covenant activity on Reach not long ago. With a full-scale invasion on there wasn't time to complain.

"The rest of Noble is heading to engage Covenant groups elsewhere on the planet. Heard that a few Covvie ships might be heading for New Alexandria. If so then we'll need more than just a handful of Spartans to hold the place down."

Ackerson nodded. "I see. There might be a group we can send in, though I'll have to check the rosters. Halsey was adamant that they kept her freaks back for RED FLAG. Right now most of them are being called away from combat zones to ready up for the mission."

All Holland could do was nod. Though he and Ackerson were the same rank, the man was the Army's liaison officer to ONI and was definitely someone not to be crossed. He tapped the datapad, and it switched to a slightly blurry image of a tall man in military garb.

"Recognise him?" Holland asked.

"Yeah. Little shit's surfaced again, has he?"

"One of my SPECWARCOM teams found him sheltering a bunch of civvies from the Covenant in Visegrád yesterday. They evacced the group to a spaceport, but he managed to slip away. He needs to be taken out."

"I agree," Ackerson replied. "Bohater's a slippery little bastard, but we need to nail him and whatever group he's holed up with sooner rather than later. With the Covenant attack they might try to steal equipment or ships while we're busy fighting."

"So, do you have anyone who can do this?" Holland asked. Ackerson smiled. He knew full well that the man's connections with ONI would give him access to the kind of people who could pull this off.

"Yes, I do. I've got some NAVSPECWAR operators, but they're not close enough right now. However, there are a couple of agents I can supply to take out our rogue Spartan. Ever heard of BRUTUS?"

"Only rumours," Holland lied. He knew full well who they were and what they did. Nobody ever spoke praises of that particular part of ONI, though BRUTUS wasn't there to be praised. Ackerson was obviously better-connected than he thought if he could get them for this mission.

"Agents 20 and 54 are present at CASTLE right now. I'll send one out with that platoon of yours when I can."

"Thank you," Colonel Holland slowly got up from his chair. It was just like Ackerson to use numbers instead of names, but his desire to get away from the unlikeable bastard outweighed his desire to know more about the agents. As he turned to leave, shouts from another office turned his head as a few ONI agents exited, heading in different directions. Ackerson didn't even leave his chair, and merely snapped his fingers. The flaming skull figure of Araqiel popped up over a nearby holotank.

"The UNSC King's Vortex was just destroyed, Colonel Ackerson. Estimated casualties of nearly three thousand, taking into account the Marine companies stationed aboard when it was hit."

"Thank you, Araqiel." Ackerson sat back in his chair and watched Holland leave. He walked out of Omega Wing, checking his datapad once more. Noble Five and Noble Six still hadn't reported back. It had only been a day since UPPER CUT, so he dismissed his worries about the Spartans under his command. Noble One had reported contact with Covenant forces elsewhere on Reach an hour beforehand, and Three Hotel were awaiting orders back at Base Camp Kilo. Having several units under one man's command wasn't easy, but he'd have to manage for the time being. It was what he was good at.

Gather at Alexandria
Davis woke with a start in a bright white room, on a surprisingly comfortable cot. When he tried sitting up, pain shot through him, forcing him back down. He slowly managed to prop himself up using the wall the cot was next to. Looking around he saw that he was inside a medical facility, it only took a moment for him to realize that he was inside the medical ward of a ship. A moment later a door opened and a nurse and several familiar faces walked in. He managed a pained smile as Sergeant Mitchell walked in.

"'Ey Sergeant, how're ya?"

"By the looks of it, better than you Davis."

Corin chuckled for a moment, earning him a stern look from Mitchell.

"I don't know what you're laughing about Sergeant, you almost got killed. Nearly got the two guys who had to drag your ass out of there killed too."

His face suddenly took on a more serious composition. "So, after I went out, how'd it go? I assume it was at least a partial success considerin' that some of us survived."

"Yeah, we got them all out, scientists and the AI, but we took heavy casualties in the process. Your squad didn't make it, and most of mine."

"Damn, shame a bunch a good troopers had to die for some eggheads and a computer program."

"Good to see that grenade didn't fuck you up as bad as they say it could have."

Davis looked down at his legs, which were covered in gauze, "Yeah, about that."

"Don't worry, you'll be fine. They just grafted some new skin on, you should be able to walk again soon."

Corin smiled as the nurse injected him with something and he passed of again. Once he was under, Mitchell and the other two troopers who had stayed surprisingly quiet turned and left the medical ward. He sighed, Davis was right, they had lost a lot of good men and women for some scientists and an AI, but Command had told them that they were important enough to risk their lives over, meaning they were important enough to die over.

A few minutes later, he arrived at the ship's barracks where the survivors were, along with the new additions that had been assigned to the platoon upon their arrival to the Leander. He did the same thing that he did before the first drop and went over their files. He shook his head, sure they were skilled, you had to be to join the ODSTs, but it was a noticeable decrease in quality compared to the ones they had lost. None of them had served for more then seven or eight years, and most only had a few battles or campaigns under their belts. He walked up to his bunk and his fatigues and armor and helmet, which were covered in blood spatters, both human and alien. He sat down and got out his cleaning kit, first scrubbing his armor to a shine, then he disassembled his weapons and began going at them.

When he was done cleaning he began the careful process of reassembling his weapons. Even though they were rather simplistic in their designs he still had to be careful as one misplaced part could lead to catastrophic results. If it was within his power, he'd like to not be blown up by his own weapons. He wouldn't want to be blown up by any weapons if it could be helped, but he'd like to be covered, just incase.

Once he was done, a young naval officer opened the door to the barracks, with news that there was an ONI officer aboard that wished to speak with him. The Office of Naval Intelligence was the last group he needed or wanted bugging him at this point, but he nodded silently and slipped into his now clean armor and followed her to the bridge. Once he arrived, he saw the ship's captain conversing with a man in a crisp dark military uniform. If he had to guess, he would say that was the ONI agent that wanted to see him. Upon his arrival, the agent turned and smiled before speaking.

"Ah, Mister Mitchell I presume?"

Mitchell stood at rigid attention, "Yes sir, I was informed that you requested me."

"Indeed I did Sergeant, have you heard of Sovereign Industries?"

"The weapons manufacturer?"

"They're more than just a simple weapons maker, they also manufacture vehicles and armor, several of which are of a highly experimental nature. A few months ago, ONI subcontracted them for several prototype designs. Their headquarters and CEO are in the city of New Alexandria which is... uncomfortably close to current Covenant positions. In accordance with Cole Protocol, we can't allow the prototypes to fall into enemy hands, but my superiors don't want them destroyed either. They'd also like the CEO kept in one piece."

Mitchell frowned, "I'm going to assume you want my platoon and I to go in and secure them?"

The agent smiled, "You're very perceptive Sergeant, I see why the out you in charge."

Mitchell forced a smile, "Thank you sir, when should we be ready?"

The officer turned around to walk away, talking as he did so, "Within the next day or so, go and tell your men so they have time to prepare."

With that the officer went back to his conversation with the Captain and Mitchell was left standing there. After a moment, he too turned and left, heading back to the barracks to deliver the news. For the new guys, they probably had no clue what was going on, and the ones who'd just gotten back from the last mission, this wasn't going to improve their day any.

Echo Briefing
Daniel-240 reclined nervously in his seat in hanger bay, his eyes fixated on the baseball he threw up into the air. The Spartan was not fully in his battle worn MJOLNIR armour, only his helmet was off. It was scarred and puckered from the countless times the glass had shattered, deeply cutting his face.

“We have got to be nearly there,” Jermaine-164 said. He, unlike Daniel, was pacing back and forth, fully armoured and readied for combat if and when it should arrive.

“We are,” Daniel replied as he strained himself catching the ball. “Filippa is talking to the Captain or whatever, she’ll know for us when she gets back.”

“I’m just not comfortable not being there. That’s Reach being attacked; it’s home.” Daniel set the ball down and leaned forward, joining his fingers together as he placed his weight on his elbows. “Jermaine, relax. There are Spartan teams on the ground already. Scuttlebutt says that the Oners are heading down there before we do.” He relaxed and smiled in his usual cocky way, “did you see how much of the fleet is here already? Reach is okay.”

Jermaine slumped his shoulders, upon reflection it did seem like it would take almost the entire Covenant fleet to take Reach, and from what he had seen and been told, there didn’t appear to be even that much at Reach. Perhaps it would be possible to hold the planet. “If you insist, Dan.” He finally conceded.

“I do,” Daniel quipped, “now do a weapons check. Gotta be ready.”

“Yessir.” Jermaine headed off to the small cache of ammo placed softly against the pelican that was to serve as their transport for the duration of the conflict.

Daniel sighed and stood up, he rotated his shoulder blades and picked his helmet up. He walked towards the pelican, possible weapon choices running through his head. From the corner of his eye, he saw Filippa and two other people walk into the bay. One of them was armoured in MJOLNIR too, but Daniel did not recognise their gait.

“Jermaine,” he said, and tilted his head towards the new arrivals.

“Who is that?”

Daniel shrugged and sat his helmet down gently on the pelican’s gantry.

Jermaine did the same, small beads of sweat glistened on his dark forehead. “What’re we thinking, Chief?”

“I don’t know,” he replied, genuinely puzzled by the mystery Spartan.

The thoughts were pushed from his mind, however, as the unknown Spartan shouted: “Officer on deck!”

Jermaine and Daniel instinctively straightened their back to this order and saluted at Captain Hanley Ramirez of the Falling Star.

“At ease, Spartans.” He said as he returned the salute. “As you are all acutely aware, Reach is under attack from the Covenant. While their fleet is large, their ground presence is substantially larger. Currently we have two Spartan teams deployed: GAUNTLET and NOBLE. I cannot tell you anything about Noble, but GAUNTLET are currently fighting in Pálháza.”

“Sir any truth in the rumours about S-IIs being deployed today?” Daniel asked, trying to reassure Jermaine.

“Yes – you are those IIs,” Ramirez replied shortly.

Any protest died in the throat of Spartan-240.

“Where are we being deployed to?” Filippa asked.

“Manassas, there is a huge Covenant presence and the ground forces have requested immediate support.” A pause, “which is you.”

Filippa nodded, “understood, sir.”

Ramirez turned to the quiet Spartan on his left. “This is Layla. She is to be folded into your team for the duration of the conflict.”

“Sir?” Daniel protested.

“It’s not my choice, Spartan. It’s been done.” Hanley wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. “For this engagement, you have been assigned the call sign ECHO. Good luck.”

The Spartans all saluted once more before Hanley turned and left. Fillipa and Jermaine went and shook the hand of Layla, who was a full head shorter than both of them. It was clear she was not a member of any class of Spartan II.

Daniel finally clasped her hand and shook firmly. “Welcome to ECHO, Spartan.”

The Crown Jewel
"Sergeant Major, just got word from 7 Charlie. Two Corvettes just broke through our orbital line and are heading straight for the city. We're still trying to evac civilians down there."

"Any other units in the area?"

"We're closest to the northern spaceport, Sarge. Couple of Marine units nearby but that won't be enough to stop what's coming."

"Right. We're moving out."

The entirety of 3 Hotel had been stationed in the building since Covenant forces had first been sighted near New Alexandria the previous day, and were already anxious about the upcoming battle. Sergeant Major J.P. Lee stood up, grabbing his helmet and SAW from a nearby table as Corporal Sikowsky got the rest of the unit ready. Some of them had been happy to have their rally point within New Alexandria's famed Club Ererra. Lee wasn't very fond of the club himself, and walked at a brisk pace towards the exit. Outside, a few of his troopers were already prepping the Falcons.

"Sarge!" called Private Steinworth over the sound of rotor blades. "We've got eight birds ready to go!"

"Copy that!" he yelled back. The rest of 3 Hotel filed out and began clambering into the waiting helicopters. Lee waited until the rest of his unit had left the club before taking his seat within a nearby Falcon. Sikowsky soon joined him, Steinworth and Murphy before they took off into the city skies.

"Corporal, What's the word on the evacuation?"

"We've still got thousands of civvies heading for multiple evac points, Sarge."

"Didn't they get the damn order to leave days ago?"

"It's a big city. Plus we've only got so many ships to go round."

"Fair enough." Lee looked out over the city, watching dozens of Falcons and transport ships heading in various different directions. All of them wanted to escape the oncoming storm. As their formation dropped between several looming skyscrapers, the Army trooper caught sight of two Pelicans moving in with them. A voice crackled over the COM.

"This is Victor 091 and Victor 092. We're on station to provide close air support, 3 Hotel."

"Copy that," Lee replied. "Just keep our birds in the air for now."

As they swooped in over the city rooftops, New Alexandria's northern spaceport came into view. The familiar sounds of plasma fire in the distance got the troopers alert, many readying their guns and craning to get a good view of the place. It wasn't in good shape. Half the evac ships were smouldering wrecks, and the others were defended by barely two dozen soldiers. The shape of a Covenant SDV-class heavy corvette loomed overhead.

"Holy shit," Sikowsky muttered at the sight of the spaceport's remains. On the ground, a number of hulking figures stalked across the runway, gunning down fleeing civilians left and right. Lee didn't have to say anything; the Corporal had already opened fire with the Falcon's machine gun.

Lee activated his COM. "All units, fire at will! I want this port clear of Covenant ASAP!"

The Sergeant edged across to the edge of his transport and levelled his SAW, sighting the figures below. These weren't the average Covvie split-lips leading this assault; they were Jiralhanae, better known as Brutes for their vicious nature and penchant for tearing Humans limb from limb. The combined fire from the guns and grenade launchers of eight Falcons turned their half of the spaceport into a killzone, gunning down the advancing aliens in seconds. A few managed to retreat towards the destroyed ships, taking up positions to return fire on the circling helicopters.

"Pilot, take us low. Let's mop these bastards up!"

Lee opened fire with his SAW as the Falcon dropped closer to the ground. His bullets ripped through the retreating aliens like paper, and by the time he had to reload another thirty had fallen to 3 Hotel's relentless assault. The Sergeant Major turned to check on Steinworth and Murphy when an explosion from above caught his eye. The burning wreckage of another Falcon plummeted past, missing them by inches before it impacted on the hard ground below. While Lee initially thought they had come under attack by a group of Banshees, the reality was much worse.

"Sarge, that Corvette's firing on us!"

"Take us down, take us down!"

As heavy plasma fire rained down on the spaceport, Lee and the other troopers leapt from the Falcon before it even touched down. The helicopter began to take off again, only to be struck in the nose by a large bolt of plasma. Lee dropped into a crawl as their transport exploded. Most of the other Falcons had touched down and disembarked the rest of 3 Hotel onto the spaceport, though with that Corvette heading for them the survivors wouldn't last long. Lee crawled over to where the other three had taken up positions and activated his COM.

"This is 3 Hotel Actual, my unit is pinned down and needs assistance. Is anyone out there?"

There was no response. Private Murphy reloaded after dropping a trio of Grunts while Steinworth glanced up towards the Corvette, which had begun to turn towards them.

"I thought we were supposed to be the support, Sarge!"

"Shut it," Lee growled as he checked his weapon. "We're not out of this yet. We just need some heavy ordinance."

He was pretty sure that Steinworth wanted to make a clever remark, but the Private simply carried on firing at the incoming Covenant troops. This was already a disaster. Most of the civilians in this evac group were either dead, wounded, or were pinned down, while his unit was already under half strength. Barely a dozen troopers remained across the spaceport, tracker rounds and plasma fire flying over the scorched concrete. With more dropships landing troops nearby, Lee began to suspect that they had flown right into a trap. One of the Pelicans - Victor 092 - unleashed a volley of missiles into a group of incoming Banshees as it barrelled out of control and smashed into the ground with a massive explosion.

"Last mag!" Sikowsky shouted as he reloaded his DMR. Lee glanced back towards the spaceport's exit. It was across fifty yards of open ground littered with civilian corpses, and was their only way out. He shook his head at the thought of retreating, and spent the last of his SAW rounds downing a hammer-wielding Brute. As he took out his sidearm and levelled it at a group of approaching Grunts, his COM crackled to life.

"3 Hotel Actual, we've got your location marked. Help is on the way."

Downward Spiral
"Captain, we're venting atmosphere on three decks and our fusion drive's in trouble. Another salvo like that and we're done!"

Five days.

That was how long the UNSC Resurgence had been holding the line over Reach. By some miracle the Frigate had survived against the steadily advancing Covenant Fleet for longer than most of their Battlegroup, maneuvering around the Epsilon Eridani System and leading several enemy ships away from the planet in the process. Even with the massive surge of reinforcements over the last couple of days, it soon became clear that they couldn't keep it up much longer. Glancing hits had killed dozens of crewmen and the Frigate's hull was scorched and damaged from far too many close calls with plasma fire. Their missile pods were almost depleted, many point defence turrets were out of ammo and the ship only had a single MAC round remaining.

"Sir, we can't hold out any longer. I think it's time to leave while we still can."

The ship's multiple hits and low ammunition wasn't the biggest problem. It was the crew. While the Resurgence had deployed it's entire Marine contingent early on, the stress and fatigue brought on by five whole days of hit-and-run tactics against a superior foe had worn down the crew to the point of exhaustion. They simply couldn't keep fighting.

"Ensign," the Captain straightened up in his chair, stifling a yawn. "Give the order. I want the crew out before we leave."

"Yes sir."

Though nobody else on the bridge said a word, he could almost feel the inward sighs of relief. Several objects pinged up on the nearby holotable; shapes representing UNSC ships arriving from Slipspace. Since the battle had escalated many UNSC ships had abandoned the standard arrival coordinates while heading to Reach, and were making jumps dangerously close to the planet. At least they could surprise the Covenant that way. To his right, Lieutenant Kathrin Grunwald glanced back as several lights flashed up on her console.

"Sir, got an incoming transmission from the Battlegroup."

"Patch it through."

Grunwald tapped a button, and a female voice filtered through the bridge's COM system after a short delay.

"This is the UNSC Death's Head. Resurgence, are you combat-ready?"

"Negative," the Captain replied. "We're losing power and I'm evacuating my crew. Can you cover us?"

"Affirmative, Resurgence. We'll hold the line."

The Captain watched as the Death's Head, followed by a pair of Hope-Class Destroyers, surged forward to engage the Covenant Corvette that the Resurgence had been trading shots with for the last hour. A trio of precisely-aimed MAC rounds tore the vessel apart in moments, giving the damaged Frigate a chance to move out of the firing line. He opened the COM one more time as he stood up.

"Thanks for the assist, Death's Head. Good luck out there, Resurgence out."

It was time to leave. The bridge crew were already packing up and reports were coming in that most of the remaining crew had reached their lifepods; a few had ejected already and were going planetside. He didn't blame them for wanting to leave the ship in this state. As he moved to input the commands that would wipe the Frigate's memory banks, making it useless to Covenant salvage teams, several large signals pinged up on the holotable. Grunwald raced over to it and checked the signals.

"Reinforcements?" the Captain inquired.

"No sir." The Lieutenant had proved herself in the last few days as one of his best officers, but for the first time even the usually-calm Grunwald sounded slightly worried. "We've got incoming Covenant ships. Big ones."

"How big?"

"Likely CCS-Class or around that size. Enough to blow us to pieces in seconds."

He swore under his breath, and finished the code that would wipe the Resurgence's databanks clean. He punched it in and turned round to the assembled bridge crew as they began to leave.

"Right, everyone get to the command shuttle, now! I don't know how much time we-"

The Captain was cut off as a deafening blast ripped through the room. A number of consoles sparked and exploded and the deck rumbled beneath their feet. Grunwald clung to the side of the bridge's main holotable as the main viewport cracked and smashed, exposing the bridge momentarily to the cold vacuum of space before heavy metal shutters clamped down. Then the lights went out.

Shit. Grunwald coughed, picking herself up from the floor as the ship's emergency red lights flickered on. Most of the consoles around the room had either lost power or exploded, and the holotable was barely functioning. Two massive shapes loomed above the flashing red depiction of the Resurgence, slowly heading away from the crippled Frigate. She looked over just in time to see the Death's Head wink out nearby, followed closely by the Destroyers escorting it. The situation had just gone from bad to worse. Covering her mouth to avoid breathing in the acrid smoke drifting around the darkened bridge, Grunwald made her way towards the exit. Corpses lay scattered across the floor, either embedded with shrapnel wounds or severely burned by the explosion.

"Lieutenant!" called a voice.

Waving away some smoke, Grunwald sighted a man in the familiar attire of a Marine limping up the corridor towards the bridge. Strange, I thought we'd sent our Marine contingent out already. She exited the bridge and made her way towards him, looking around for other survivors. There were none. She'd been far away enough from the rest of the bridge crew when they were hit to have survived. Everyone else wasn't so lucky.

"Why aren't you in a lifeboat, Marine?" she asked.

"Couldn't get there in time, ma'am. I was in the med bay when they gave the order, and by the time I'd got my things together we'd been hit. It wasn't pretty down there."

"How bad was it?" Grunwald hadn't had the chance to check the status on other areas of the ship yet; getting off the bridge had been her first priority. "Are you the only one left?"

The Marine shrugged. "Nearest I can tell, they blasted right through us. Took out a few of the lifeboats, too. That's why I came up here, Lieutenant. I'm pretty sure that's our only way out of here."

He gestured towards a side door, which lead towards the command shuttle. Normally only the Captain would have the authority to launch it, but seeing as she was probably now the highest-ranking officer aboard the Resurgence she had no other option but to get out before they broke up in orbit or fell victim to another Covenant attack. It was a small miracle that they hadn't lost gravity control yet.

"Right, let's go. What's your name, Marine?"

"Sergeant Grigore Vasilescu, Charlie Company of the 214th."

The pair made their way towards the Frigate's command shuttle, which lay open and ready for them. It was surprisingly spacious and was obviously built to accommodate at least a dozen people. Grunwald sat in the pilot's chair and initiated the ejection sequence, which would detach the shuttle from the Resurgence before handing over manual control. Vasilescu strapped himself into a nearby seat, wincing slightly as he set his injured leg down. The Marine had grabbed two MA5C rifles on his way to the bridge; with the situation down on Reach they'd probably need them.

"Okay, ejecting in three, two, one..."

The tiny shuttle jolted as it moved away from the wreck of the Resurgence, drifting lazily into space as it waited for Grunwald to take control. She waited nearly half a minute before doing so, hoping that any Covenant vessels would see it as just another piece of the Frigate breaking off. As the Lieutenant moved their shuttle past the wreckage of the Resurgance, she had to force herself to look away from the sight of the ship she'd served on for some time burning and breaking apart as it slowly descended towards Reach's atmosphere.

"So," Vasilescu spoke up. "What's our destination?"

"Groundside. We're a sitting target up here. Once the computer's finished plotting in possible landing vectors I'll take us down."

"Oh, so you know how to fly this thing?"

There was a pause. "We're all trained to. Mostly through simulations but the computer should do most of the work. I've just got to make sure we don't crash into an ocean."

"So we're going to crash?"

"Don't worry, these things are built for hard landings. We'll probably survive."

That didn't do too much to calm the wounded Marine's nerves. "Probably?"

"It's worth the risk. Like I said, we're easy targets up here. Once we get down there we'll activate our beacon and hope that some friendlies pick us up. I'm taking us down now."

Vasilescu snorted. "Fair enough. I'd prefer to die on the ground anyway."

With that, the command shuttle began its descent from the chaos of the battle raging in Reach's orbit to a similarly chaotic one below.

Bloodied Respite
Evening fell over the human settlement, though no humans remained to enjoy the sunset.

Thel 'Lodamee surveyed the human compound from atop the tallest of the thin-walled building. In the courtyard below, Chur R'Kim directed her fellow Tavoans in laying out and searching the bodies who had lived here. Sangheili might have no use for human weapons and trinkets, but Kig-Yar certainly did.

Most of the humans killed here had been civilians, untrained vermin who quivered and cowered helplessly as Kig's subordinates shot them down. Only three among the dozen corpses war the armor of human warriors. Thel had led the Kig-Yar here in pursuit of them, and when the fleeing soldiers had tried to make a stand in this compound they had overrun it and slaughtered the inhabitants without hesitation. Thel had cut down two of the warriors while Kim had put a needle round through the third's face. Her crew had made short work of the civilians.

Thel's hands tightened around the hilt of his sword as he looked beyond the compound, out at the surrounding foothills and the battle he knew was still raging throughout the wilderness. If he commanded a true lance, he would have ordered the Kig-Yar to continue on to further battles. Had any refused, he would have executed them on the spot.

But he stood here now in the armor of a dead warrior—a warrior he had murdered—leading a crew of pirates who only followed him because he promised them plunder. He had not fully appreciated the enormity of this distinction until they had finished sweeping the compound and Kim had demanded time for her crew to rest and loot the buildings.

Perhaps I would be better off without them. Thel's palm burned as he squeezed the energy sword hilt. He could catch the Kig-Yar unawares, cut them down, and continue on his own. Find a battle that would bring him the glorious death needed to set his feet back on the path to the gods.

But then there was the chance he might fail. That they might, in fact, kill him instead. Kim's crew were all hardened fighters, he had seen that when they hit the field today. There was the chance, just the slightest chance, that if he betrayed them they might bring him down and desecrate his corpse just as they did with the humans below.

His soul would be truly lost then.

Thel looked up at the darkened sky and wondered if this situation—one that he had created—was some sort of judgement for the warrior he had killed to come down here. ''Don't you see? This is the only way. They left me no choice.''

"So, glorious leader," hissed a voice behind him. Kim regarded him with amusement, a human marksman's rifle slung across her back. "My boys have finished up the plunder. A little bit of rest and we can move on in the morning."

"Or we can move on now. You Kig-Yar fight well in the darkness, or so I am told."

Kim laughed. "True, we can see better than most. But the ones who told you that didn't mention that we usually do it after a day's worth of sleep. We've been fighting all day, just like you wanted. If you want to go on ahead, by all means do. But we'll be staying here for the night. These humans had some lovely beds here."

"Post a guard," Thel ordered. "I want half of your troop on watch at all times."

"Of course. As you command." Kim cocked her head. "And in the morning?"

Thel turned his gaze back towards the foothills and raised his personal communicator device. "There is a human settlement not too far from here," he told her. "The advance forces have run into trouble assaulting it. We will head there. I'm sure your 'boys' will find plenty of plunder when it has fallen."

"You're learning, you're learning," Kim chuckled, backing away. "Feed us well and we'll find you all the glory you need, Major."

Thel ignored her. Insubordinate or not, Kim and her crew were deadly warriors. But he would need more warriors if he was to win true glory. Fellow Sangheili who would understand his need to seek out stronger prey.

If the situation at this human settlement was anything like the comms said, he had a plan to do just that.

First Last Stand
Bren ran an armoured hand over her head, the once tight cut had now become stubbly through the four days of hard combat. She and her team of Spartans had been pulled back from the frontline to consult with Ishido, the Commanding Officer of the 3rd Infantry Regiment. They stood beside each other, bent over a table with the holo-map of the city barely rising upwards.

Ishido pointed to a mass of grey with an arrow moving forward into the city. “Fourth Battalion is moving up to secure the front, here,” his finger reached what was now the end of UNSC territory in the city. Two-thirds of the city had been lost already and this was barely the beginning of day four. The Covenant onslaught had been relentless. He drew Bren’s attention towards a smaller grey mass with its arrow going in the opposite direction.

“First, right?” Bren asked.

“Yeah,” Ishido replied and wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. “Decimated. Operating at 25% of full capacity. We’re bringing them back to operate what little we have left of our artillery, prep us for evac.”

“We’re leaving?” Bren asked incredulously.

“We have to, we are close to not being able to protect the evacuation centres. The spaceports are almost overrun.” He turned his attention to the third grey mass on the map, “Second Battalion is holding here at the last one, Reimer Spaceport. Last report seems to suggest that the Covenant are beginning to concentrate their attack on them.”

“What about Third?”

Ishido traced his finger along a lengthy corridor of road, sandwiched neatly between tall buildings before ending at a toll booth leading towards the motorway that acted as the main artery of the Viery continent. “They’re defending this. It’s the only remaining exit to the motorway we have.”

Bren scanned the map. She noticed something that concerned her. She traced her own path along the map. “If we take where Fourth will be holding, Second is all but gone.”

Ishido nodded pensively. “Yeah.”

“I’ll take my team and help defend it for as long as we can,” she paused as she mused over the thoughts in her head. “Let us know when you’re pulling out and we’ll begin our retreat.”

Bren left before Ishido could offer a word of protest. Outside the tent, she was immediately greeted by Raquel anxiously pacing back and forth. Kevin and Raul were sitting against the wall, their helmets off, sharing a canteen of water.

Raquel noticed Bren come out. “Well?” She asked, as she cracked her armoured knuckles.

“Reimer Spaceport.”

“How?”

Bren thought for a moment. They could try using two mongooses to push their way through to the beleaguered battalion, but the map had shown that to be an almost impossible task. The other option was an airlift in. More dangerous certainly, but it came with a greater chance of success.

“Air,” she replied. “Get the boys ready.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Quickly, the Spartans of Gauntlet Team assembled onto the Falcon, each of them fastidiously performing an equipment check as they flew over the skyscrapers. The dipping orange hue of the sun, reflecting from the multitude of glass panels that have given Pálháza it’s most unique feature. Below them, as Raul looked down, faint sounds of battle could be heard. The staccato of rifle fire, and the hum of plasma. All four of them privately retreated into themselves, getting ready for the violence that was close at hand.

“Thirty seconds out,” the Pilot called. “Wait a second… Banshees, seven O’clock!” The Falcon tilted heavily to the right, and a fuel rod sizzled past Kevin and Raquel’s side. Raul looked around, trying to find the banshee to get a shot.

“Hold it steady!” He barked.

“New contact!”

This time, the fuel rod impacted against the left rotor, causing it explode violently. Scorched debris crashed into Raul and Bren’s armour, without causing severe damage. The Falcon began to spiral quickly downwards, despite the protestations from the pilot who desperately tried to stop the terminal spin.

“We gotta jump!” Bren called through the com. The four Spartans stood on the edge, two on each side, waiting for the ground to be close enough to jump.

“Now!” Bren yelled, and the four jumped. The banshees returned for another pass and made for the doomed Falcon. It exploded under a barrage of plasma. Bren hit the ground hard and rolled, grunting as she did so.

“Everybody okay?” She asked as she rose to her feet. Three green lights flashed across her Heads Up Display. “Form up on me.”

“We far out?” Kevin asked.

“No,” was the curt reply. “Let’s go.”

The armoured hulks moved through the spacious streets with their weapons constantly shifting in all directions, trying to cover all angles. Scorched concrete and spent casing littered the ground, showcasing the battle that had once raged on the street. The fighting became clearer in the ears of the Spartans as they finally reached Reimer Spaceport.

Entering through the rear entrance, they were greeted by a sight of rubble, scared women and children, wounded soldiers and the overwhelming stench of burnt flesh. A man in his early thirties noticed the armoured hulks enter and approached them with a gait that told them he was absolutely exhausted. He was tall, with pale black skin. Cuts and bruises were painted across his face, a small trickling river of blood fell down his nose. He didn’t seem to notice – or care.

“Spartans?” He asked, more confused that expectant.

“Yesssir,” Bren quickly replied. “We’re here to help as best we can.” A pause. “What’s the situation?”

“Bad,” he said. “We’re down to about one and a half company strength. We’ve also got a couple dozen walking wounded guarding here. The Covenant are about two blocks away from finally being able to storm the Port, and we’re down to our last two air defence towers.” He paused and inhaled deeply. “I’m close to ordering a retreat.”

“Negative, sir, we can’t do that.”

“And why not?” He snapped, frowning.

“Fourth and third are setting up their defensive postures. We lose here, they’ll be annihilated.” Bren surveyed the room. “Civilians are still coming in, we have to hold until the transports are gone and hope we’ve a window to pull out. Do you have any vehicles for evac?”

He took a moment to respond, staggered by what he had been told. “Y-yeah. Yeah we do. A good few Transport ‘hogs in the Garage.”

“Okay. Raul, Raquel go upstairs, protect those last remaining canons,” she pointed to Kevin, “you take care of the wounded here. Take a check of what medical equipment they have. Do your best.” She turned back to the Commanding Officer, “Sir, point me to the front.”

Assisting Alexandria
Mitchell looked towards the ruins of the James Ericson Memorial Spaceport and shook his head. The place was a wreck, dozens of smoke trails reached into the sky, the sound of plasma and rifle fire mixing together, and to top it off, a Covenant corvette floated above it all, firing contently down onto it.

"Alright men, we've got to get over there and help. The civilians are almost guaranteed to be dead, and those troopers will be joining them soon if we don't help."

A few of the new ODSTs sighed, some muttered, and more than a few made comments that were far from appropriate. Stupid rookies, Mitchell would've taken just a couple veterans over these punks. One of them, Thompson, spoke up.

"Sarge, is it really worth it? Going in there and risking out lives to help some Army guys, especially when we have our own objective?"

"Ever heard of 'No Man left Behind' Thompson? This applies, and no matter how much you bitch and whine, we're getting the pressure off of them."

"But there's a goddamn corvette sitting pretty right above them! I don't know about what guns you're using, but mine can't shoot down Covenant ships!"

"We'll figure something out, but right now we've got to find a way to take the immediate, groundside pressure off of them."

Mitchell sprinted off towards the building, the rest of the platoon following close behind. As they neared they heard grunts and growls coming from inside the spaceport. The horrible sounds meant only one thing, that the Covenant had deployed Brute shock troops to the spaceport, which meant that they needed to hurry. Mitchell sighted several Grunts guarding the entrance to the spaceport and he, along with Sergeant Robson, quickly eliminated the small aliens. As they breached the spaceport, the saw how truly devastated it had been. A dozen civilian ships lay smoking, with hundreds of civilians nearby in similar shape. Several of the troopers looked away, and not all of them were the rookies.

"Sir, I just got word that the UNSC Courageous is a minute or so out and can take out that corvette if we mark it."

"Right, thanks Maxwell. Tell them that we'll get on it immediately. We still need to clear out the infantry inside the spaceport."

He began looking around, and spotted a large group of Brutes, possibly a whole pack, headed by a large individual wearing the ornate armor of a Chieftain. He looked over to Davis who was setting up his SAW, preparing to open fire. He nodded before pulling out a grenade, thinking of the best time to throw it when a Grunt turned around. Just as it was about to scream, Mitchell ran forward and chucked the grenade, which exploded in the middle of the group. Davis took this as the signal to start shooting and did so with glee, mowing down Grunts and Brutes alike. The Brutes began returning fire with red hot spikes flying towards their position.

"Damn, we gotta take this big ape bastards down fast if we wanna take out the corvette!" Davis shouted over the sound of his SAW firing.

"I know that, but if you've got any better ideas other than just spraying them with bullets, feel free to let us know!" replied an annoyed Mitchell.

"Isn't that the only way to do it? I was suggesting that you all do it too."

"Hey Davis, shut up and keep shooting!" yelled Sergeant Angelo.

Maxwell spoke up again as his COM buzzed. "Sir, we've got orbital station 'Corageous'' on standby. They say it's on station and ready to fire, just needs targeting data!"

"Does anyone have a target designator? We need to laze that corvette for the ODP!"

Thompson spoke this time, "Sir, I see one by a dead trooper over by one of the evac ships! I'm going to make a run for it, cover me!"

Before anyone could object, Thompson had already leapt from cover and was running towards the target designator. Davis loaded a new drum into his SAW and began firing at several targets to cover Thompson. When he reached it, he had to pry it from the hands of a dead Army trooper, and turned back towards the platoon triumphantly. As he started to run back, however; the Brute Chieftain from earlier sprang out and smashed Thompson with its large hammer. Ash watched the designator go flying from Thompson's dead hand and land nearby, and when it landed, he jumped toward it, grabbing its handle. As he stood up, he barely managed to dodge a direct hit from the hammer, but the shockwave sent him flying, where he landed next to Davis, who began pouring all his ammo into the Chieftain. The Chieftain's overshield flared into life and let out a deep growl that could have been laughter as rounds bounced off of it. Eventually its overshield faded, and it was greeted by a shotgun wielded by Maxwell, which blew its head off.

Mitchell stood up and had to steady himself against Davis as he was slightly woozy after nearly being hit by the hammer and took aim with the target designator. He lined up the little green line with the middle of the corvette and smiled as it flashed red. He heard over the COM as Courageous confirmed the target and began firing preparations. A moment later, a MAC round from the orbital station penetrated and gutted the corvette, which began to descend into the city below. Satisfied, Ash smiled and activated his COM, "Three Hotel, this is Charlie Platoon, we've taken care of your corvette problem and a few of the Brutes. Should make your lives a bit easier. Charlie Platoon out."

With that, Mitchell turned toward the entrance and ran out, "Lets go, we've still got a CEO to get out of his cushy office!"

Reassignment
"Holy shit, look at that thing go down!"

From their positions across the ravaged Spaceport, the remnants of Three Hotel watched as the Corvette plummeted downwards, throwing up a massive fireball as it impacted into the city outskirts. Sergeant Major Lee was surprised that they still had that level orbital support in the area; the fighting above had led to sparse communications between the UNSC's forces in space and on the ground. He activated his COM.

"Charlie Platoon, this is Three Hotel Actual. Thanks for the assist, over and out."

The rest of Lee's platoon began to gather nearby. They were under half strength already, and had barely managed to cover two of the evac ships during the escape. Several more remained empty, surrounded by civilian corpses. The survivors were all tired and low on ammo, but if they wanted to save New Alexandria they'd have to keep moving.

"Sarge," Corporal Sikowsky spoke up. "Where to now?"

There was a low murmur of agreement from the others. They'd flown straight in and paid the price. Now most of their Falcons and both support Pelicans were down, though not before they'd killed dozens of Brutes. Before Lee could answer, his COM buzzed, and he activated it.

"Sergeant Major," the familiar voice of Urban Holland filtered through. "This is Colonel Holland, is your unit still operational?"

"Partially, sir. We've taken a lot of casualties but the rest of us are still combat-ready."

"Good to hear it. I need your unit for a special mission, and I'm bringing in more troopers to assist you from other platoons. What's your current location?"

"We're in the Memorial Spaceport, north side of New Alexandria."

"Copy that Sergeant Major. I'm diverting several Pelicans your way now. It'll be a long trip, so you'll have time to stop and resupply back at Camp Kilo. Holland out."

This worried Lee. If Holland was diverting his squads out of the city, it either meant that he was confident that the city was already adequately defended - something very unlikely - or that the Colonel saw New Alexandria as a lost cause already. Still, Three Hotel was undermanned and in sore need of supplies right now, so he couldn't afford to complain about orders. His troopers on the other hand, didn't seem so keen on the idea.

"So that means we're abandoning the city, right?" Steinworth asked. "Sarge, these people need us."

"He's right," Sikowsky agreed. "We grew up here. We can't just let it burn."

Some of the other troopers seemed to agree with the pair. With so many losses in recent years, Three Hotel's main source of recruits had been Reach itself, leading to Lee being saddled with so many fresh recruits in what had once been one of the Army's best SPECWARCOM teams. Nonetheless, the Sergeant Major had neither the time nor the patience to deal with rookies refusing orders.

"We've been given our orders, troopers," he said in a low voice. Everyone shut up to hear him. "The evacuation's already underway here, and chances are that wherever we're going needs us more than New Alexandria does." He turned to face Sikowksy and Steinworth. "I know the situation's not good out here, but now isn't the time to be selfish. We're following these orders, understood?"

"Yes sir!" the pair responded, standing to attention.

"Good. Now keep eyes on the sky. I want a flare up the moment those Pelicans are in sight."

The troopers responded, spreading out to clear the area of corpses. Lee doubted that they really believed that they were going off to save people, but he didn't care. Sitting on the charred wreckage of a Banshee, he removed his helmet and checked it, running a hand over his greying hair. A nasty scorch mark from a near-miss had been scored across the side, but there was no immediate damage. Still, if that ship hadn't gone down when it had, the venerable Sergeant Major and his team may well have died here. He placed the helmet back on and stood up to go and help his comrades when the bodies.

* * *

It was nearly twenty minutes before the Pelicans arrived, coming out of the city's densely populated western sector. Private Murphy flew down a flare to mark their location and stood back with the rest of Three Hotel as one turned to land in front of them. As the rear hatch slid open, four distinctive figures clambered out. Lee approached and saluted the first one.

"Commander. It's been a while."

"Good to see you, Sergeant Major," Carter-A259 replied. "This is your ride. We're getting off here."

Lee nodded. "Should've known that Holland would send in NOBLE. This city needs all the help it can get."

"We'll do what we can here. Good luck with your mission, Sergeant."

"And you, Spartan."

With that, Lee stood as the Spartans strode past, barely casting a second glance over his awestruck troopers as they made their way towards the inner city. While the Sergeant Major had worked with the group many times over the last few years, most UNSC personnel had never seen one of these near-mythical figures in person. It took a few seconds before the rest of Three Hotel realised that Lee had already clambered aboard the dropship, and hurried in after him. The rear doors clasped shut and the Pelican took off, soaring over the skies of New Alexandria as it headed towards the far-off Camp Kilo.

I was wrong, the Sergeant Major thought to himself. ''Holland knew that New Alexandria needed reinforcements, and he wasn't going to abandon the city, so he sent his Spartans. If they can't hold off the Covvies there, then nobody can.''

Painful Realisation
Bren hugged her rifle close to her chest as burnt concrete fizzed over her head, the sensation was complemented by a scream of a soldier to her right. She pushed herself up, and fired a burst into the mass of Covenant massing towards them.

“Sergeant!” She screamed as she fired another burst.

“Ma’am?” came the reply, barely audible over the cacophony that enveloped them.

“Bring the machine gun up here!” She motioned rapidly with her hands where exactly the gun was to be placed.

“Move, move!” She barked again before dropping her empty clip and slapping in a new one. The machine gun crew hastily set up. One of the soldiers awkwardly fumbled with the box of ammunition, causing it to fall to the ground which was met with a soft “shit”. He turned it up right and opened it, dragging the belt out, he began feeding it to the gun.

“Concentrate your fire left, 3rd platoon is close to being overrun,” she ordered. Bren didn’t wait to hear their response, she got up and moved down to line, ducking and diving from the plasma whizzing by.

She stopped by a beleaguered looking medic, as he applied bio-foam to a chest cavity. “How we doing, doc?” She asked passing him her canteen while she crouched.

He gratefully accepted it. He poured water onto his bloodstained hands, he set the canteen downed and rubbed them together, a small trickle of red fell down his fingers and palms and onto the ground. He finally took a sip of water, and handed it back, running the back of his hand across his mouth. “Thanks,” he said, before composing himself to answer the question. “Not good,” he nodded at the soldier he had just been tending too, “that was my last canister of biofoam. We’re out now. Only got bandages left.” He slumped against a wall. “I think I’m the last medic left.”

Bren looked around as she slotted the canteen snugly back into its position. “One of my Spartans is a medic, he’s back at Reimer. You should head back there.” She stood up and offered him her hand, when he took it, she pulled him up. “I don’t think we’ll be holding here much longer.”

The Medic nodded sagely and began jogging back behind the lines. Bren sighed and continued her trek behind the lines. As she neared a road crossing, a Warthog in front of her exploded, sending scorching hot debris over her. Her shields flickered and failed, causing her to jump behind the wall. The cauterised upper body of the gunner landed a few feet in front of her. His eyes reduced to smoking husks. “Fuck,” she mouthed. The shields flickered and slowly came back online, Bren got back to her feet for a third time, only more gingerly than before.

She stumbled towards the bombed out coffee shop that had been adopted as the command centre of the company still left in the field. Upon entering, she was greeted by a small staff of three soldiers, all of them bearing a thousand yard stare for the history books. Their faces pale, and covered in dust and blood and gunpowder. The radio began going off, but none of them registered it. All of them sat still, shaking ever so slightly, the world around them nothing but a faint noise. Bren stormed in and tuned her built-in radio to the frequency she needed.

“This is Sierra-Alpha Four-Oh-One,” she said, “go ahead, over.”

“Where’s Lieutenant Dan, over?” Was the reply.

“Incapacitated,” she said shortly, “brief me, over.”

“Yes ma’am,” there was a short pause. “The right flank has been completely overrun, Covenant forces are close to cutting us off. Left fl-.”

There was a huge blast that cut off the transmission mid-sentence.

“Repeat your last, over,” Bren said worriedly down the line.

“Left flank is crumbling, repeat, left flank is crumbling. Covenant forces are pushing.” A pause.

“Report!”

“Wait one.”

In the ten seconds that followed, Bren’s vision was blinded by a brilliant green glow in the distance, her MJOLNIR faceplate barely polarising in time.

“Scarab! I repeat, Scarab!” The link went silent and Bren hastily punched in the retreat orders into the command console in the room. She didn’t bother trying to rouse the men sitting there, they were dead from the neck up anyway. She bolted out of the room and began sprinting down the road back to the spaceport.

“Raquel!” Bren screeched into the radio.

“Bren?” Came the reply, the voice tinged with worry and confusion.

“Are those AA guns still working?”

“Yeah, but we’ve not seen much resistance.”

“Get that fucking gun ready, there’s a Scarab en-route and we’ve nothing else to fucking use.”

“Jesus,” it was so silent, it felt like a breath on Bren’s ear.

“Get to it, out.”

Bren’s augmented body began to ache as she pushed herself to run the five miles back to Reimer Spaceport. Fortunately, a Warthog going the same way pulled up beside her. She gratefully hopped in, and allowed herself a little respite.

“How many got out?” She asked the driver, more in hope than expectation.

He gave her a sad look. “I don’t know,” he said. “I don’t think many did. If they didn’t, I… I’m not entirely sure they got far. Not on foot anyways. We’re it I think.”

“Shit,” she cursed. “We’re fucked.”

“Looks that way,” the driver bit his lip, debating whether or not to ask the question on his lips. “Will we retreat Reimer?” Bren sighed. “Not yet. Still a few transports left docked. Those civvies need to get out; after that, yeah, we will.”

The rest of the journey was quiet, all three of them glad for the quiet. Glad to be surrounded by the sounds of screaming soldiers, and the smells of burning flesh. Though, nestled at the back of their minds, was the acute awareness that they were trading an old hell for a new hell. These quiet moments allowed for them to process what they had went through, making it harder for them to continue fighting, testing their resolve. Not one of them relished what lay ahead, and none of them believe themselves capable of surviving it.

The warthog pulled up at the back entrance of the Spaceport. The driver exhaled explosively. Bren turned to him. “What’s your name, soldier?” She asked.

“Corporal Chinua Achebe,” he replied.

“Okay,” she said, “I’ll keep an eye on you.”

He smiled sheepishly. “Thank you, ma’am.”

Bren disembarked and headed into the dishevelled building – it was much busier than it had been when she left little over ninety minutes ago. Worried civilians sat against the wall, each of them pale, each of them pacing, twitching, bobbling up and down, and trying to relax. The children were the quietest. It gave the place an eerie feeling. None of these people were optimistic.

“Ma’am, are you back?” Kevin asked, “Your IFF popped up.”

“I’m back,” she replied, “any news?”

“Yeah, a couple of the Colour Gang guys are here. Pretty banged up.”

“Okay,” she said as she turned the stairs and began marching towards the anti-air guns on the roof. “I’ll be down shortly. There’s a scarab on its way, so if you could let soldiers know without worrying the civvies, that’d be fantastic.”

“Will do ma’am, out.” Upon reaching the roof, the sun had come out from behind the clouds and bathed the decaying city in a golden morning hue. Raquel and Raul sat against the guns, each of them now facing the only road wide enough to allow passage for the Scarab.

Raul noticed her first, “Welcome back, ma’am.”

Raquel turned hastily to see her squad leader “Bren – how was it?”

Bren shook her head. She pondered the right words to say, but she never had time. She was cut off by Raul.

“Shit, do you hear that?” He asked nervously.

They did, the three of them looked and saw the Scarab.

“Fuck…” The three breathed at once.

Bren ran to the closest gun, but before she could, her vision was blinded by a green ray, that burned incandescence before fading to black.

Rude Awakening
Grunwald's eyes fluttered open.

Shit. She sat up and looked around groggily. The unconscious form of Sergeant Vasilescu was still strapped into his harness several feet away. The rest of the command shuttle had been wrecked by the impact; glass and charred metal lay all around them, and the back of the craft had been torn apart. At least the pair of them had survived their fall onto the besieged planet.

"Sergeant!" She clambered to her feet and shook him. He jerked awake, looking round in confusion for a few moments before groaning.

"Fuck," he muttered. "Think I broke something." He shifted slightly and gritted his teeth. "Several somethings."

Grunwald unstrapped the Marine's safety harness, allowing him to step out and see to his wounds. Vasilescu's right arm hung loosely at his side. He glanced towards it and frowned, clearly in pain.

"Yeah, my arm's not in great shape. Can't fight well like this. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she replied hurriedly, searching through the wreckage for the shuttle's medical kit. Vasilescu limped towards a locker and too out the two assault rifles he'd brought with him, holding them under his left arm. As Grunwald fished out the red and white kit, he offered one of the weapons to her.

"I've got my sidearm."

"I can't fire a rifle like this. Take it."

She took the weapon and placed it on the floor before opening the kit. It was filled with a variety of equipment, ranging from bandages to biofoam. Treating a broken arm wouldn't be too hard, but the healing time would certainly make the Marine nearly useless in combat for now.

"Okay, hold still. Gonna try and patch you up."

* * *

It wasn't until they exited the shuttle nearby twenty minutes later that Grunwald realised how dark it had gotten. Vasilescu's arm was in a sling, and two stim-shots had done away with most of the pain for now. He still walked with a limp due to his still-healing plasma injury, but there wasn't much she could do about that right now.

"How long were we out for?"

The Sergeant tapped the side of his dented helmet, activating the built-in tactical eyepiece. It had been turned off during the crash, and took a few seconds to boot up properly.

"About nine hours. Hell of a nap."

Nine hours. Grunwald had expected them to land within half an hour, link up with local UNSC forces and get back to the fight. A lot could have happened in nine hours. Reach could have already fallen. She wondered how many Human ships remained in orbit, far above the darkening skies. It wasn't worth dwelling on for long, as they had to move. Most of their electronics and GPS systems had been knocked out in the crash, so aside from Vasilescu's eyepiece they had little in the form of technology. It didn't help that they had crashed in the middle of nowhere.

"Lieutenant," Vasilescu spoke up. "I know this might not be the time to ask, but what the hell happened back there?"

Grunwald shrugged. "I'm not sure, Sergeant. Probably got spotted by some Covvie flyers."

"Right, thought so. For a second there I was pretty sure we were going to die."

"Well, we're not dead, and I don't plan to wait here until they come back. Let's get moving."

The Marine nodded, and began following her across the field they'd crashed in. They would have to find shelter for the night soon if they didn't find help. He'd heard of Reach's wildlife, and had no intentions of getting acquainted with any of the planet's nocturnal predators. After checking Vasilescu's compass, the pair continued going west for some time until they found a dirt road heading towards the mountains.

"Think we're on the right track?" Grunwald asked.

"Probably. Roads mean settlements. Even with the evacuation order there's bound to be somewhere to stay."

"True. I'd imagine that we can get a linkup to command on-"

Grunwald glanced to the right and dropped to one knee as a set of bright lights shone over a nearby hill. Vasilescu took out his pistol and did the same, albeit with some difficulty due to his wounded knee.

"Vehicles," she whispered. "Human?"

He squinted towards the lights. "Think so."

The first set of lights were soon joined by several others as a number of vehicles crested the hill, heading in their direction. Grunwald fished into her bag and took out a flare, lighting and throwing it into the air to attract their attention.

"Wonder what a patrol's doing out here at this time," Vasilescu said as he holstered his pistol.

"Could be looking for survivors." Grunwald lowered her rifle as the vehicles drew closer, holding up one hand to see through the glare of the headlights. A Warthog rolled into view and ground to a halt several feet away. Two armed men climbed out while a third sat on the turret. They didn't appear to be wearing any uniforms.

"What're you doing out here?" one asked, strolling forward.

"I'm Lieutenant Kathrin Grunwald, UNSC Navy. Our shuttle crashed nearby and we're looking for help." she paused for a moment. "What group are you from, anyway. Colonial Militia?"

One of the men laughed as two more vehicles pulled up nearby. They were Spades - flatbed trucks designed as all-terrain transport vehicles. The passengers were also armed with an assortment of weaponry. Vasilescu looked around nervously as the warthog's driver stepped forward.

"I'm Jonathan Ulan of the United Rebel Front. Weapons down, oonskies."

Grunwald and Vasilescu had a dozen rifles and a turret pointed their way. They did as ordered. Grunwald put her hands on her head, while her Marine companion held up his undamaged left arm in surrender. After a brief search, the pair had their weapons confiscated and were led towards one of the trucks.

"Get the blindfolds on them," Ulan shouted as he clambered back into his Warthog. "We're heading home."

Business Trip
By the time they had arrived at the headquarters of Sovereign Arms, night had already fallen. Mitchell was frustrated that it had taken so long to get to their destination, but Covenant resistance had been fierce after the left the spaceport, and they had lost three troopers getting here. He wondered if this CEO, Christopher Marcus, was worth the trouble of saving his sorry ass. Apparently he was responsible for several game changing weapon systems, but Mitchell hadn't even heard of, much less used, any of them. The time it took them to get there, he might have already been dead, which Mitchell did not want to except.

As they rounded the corner, Mitchell's heart sank. The front of the Sovereign Arms building was a mess, with fire pouring out of many of the windows, pieces of the building blown off or melted by plasma, and one section appeared to have collapsed, it was a miracle the place was still standing. Outside the building was a group of Grunts guarding the entrance, a blue armored Elite standing nearby checking its plasma rifle while the Grunts were playing with some marine helmets. He heard several other troopers growl in anger.

"Fucking bastards, with all their talk of honor and shit, they're still fucking animals." murmured one ODST.

"Yeah, we should go over there and kick their asses." replied another.

"What are you gonna do Hamilton? Run over and punch that split-lip in the face? Yeah, sure, go see how long you last."

"Stow it, both of ya. We ain't gonna get shit done with yer bitchin'." said a very irate Sergeant Davis.

At that, both troopers stopped mid-argument and looked back towards the Covenant soldiers. Mitchell frowned, if the Covenant were guarding the entrance, that means there were forces already inside. This CEO, if he was still alive, wasn't in the best position right now. He turned to one of the platoon's snipers and had him take aim and fire at the Elite, the large alien crumpling as its head was perforated, then the rest of the platoon moved in, eliminating the now frightened Grunts with ease. As they reloaded their weapons, they moved inside the lobby and were taken aback by what they saw. There were dozens of bodies strewn about the room, but not just civilians, several of the bodies had tactical vests and military rifles nearby, and non-UNSC identification patches.

"What the hell? These guys aren't UNSC, not even special forces wear this kind of gear. This is all Black Market stuff." piped up one trooper.

"You thinking rebels? I wouldn't think they'd do this during a Covenant invasion." replied the trooper from earlier, Hamilton.

"No, they didn't do this, those are plasma wounds. They aren't rebel either, look at those patches. Imes Defense Corporation." said Sergeant Robson.

Mitchell looked up from one of the bodies, "PMCs? The hell are they doing here?"

Robson looked around at the bodies as he spoke, "Probably hired by the company to keep their execs safe as the Covenant got closer. A lot of good it's done so far."

Mitchell stood up, raising his rifle as head moved towards the stairs, "Well, lets hope they've done at least a halfway decent job and kept the CEO safe. Come on, we need to move."

The rest of the troopers followed him as they began their slow descent up the stairs, stopping on every floor to search for any survivors or the CEO, occasionally they were engaged by Covenant forces who they could only guess were doing the same thing. As they neared the top, the engagements became more frequent, but there was something else that the troopers heard as they got closer; gunfire. When they reached the executive floor, they got their answer. A dozen armored men with large rifles stood at the door to the CEO's office at the end of the hall, with a pile of Covenant bodies in the way. The men raised their rifles as the ODSTs reached the top of the stairs, but lowered them when Mitchell called out.

"Whoa, calm down, we're friendlies. Who are you guys?"

"Imes Defense Corporation, we're assigned to protect the CEO. We were running out of munitions and were getting pretty desperate until we heard gunshots further down the building. We thought it was several other squads we had lost contact with." responded one man who appeared to be in charge.

"That would be us, we're here to extract Mr. Marcus on orders of the Office of Naval Intelligence. I wouldn't worry about your men downstairs either, we found what was left of them when we got here. We're sorry."

The leader of the group swore at this news before turning back to the ODSTs, "You said ONI wants Marcus?"

"That's correct, is he still alive?"

"Yes, he's in his office preparing some data or some bullshit like that."

"Alright, we need you to let us through. Maxwell, contact command, tell them to send us a bird ASAP."

Mitchell and several others walked past the mercs into the office, where they saw a man, obviously the CEO, leaning over a computer terminal, typing rapidly. As Mitchell approached him, the man turned, a civilian pistol in hand.

"Stay back you alien frea-. Oh thank God, you're human. UNSC correct?"

"That's right, Charlie Platoon, 11th Shock Troops Battalion, on a mission from the Office of Naval Intelligence to recover you."

"Oh good. I was panicking, I've been hearing gunshots and screaming for the past few hours. The mercenaries in the lobby and lower floors were using Black Market and standard issue military equipment, so I assumed they didn't last long. I gave those men outside prototype armor and weapons, and they've seemingly faired wonderfully."

"Yeah, we noticed. That was some pretty high quality equipment sir. There's an impressive pile of Covenant bodies outside your office."

"Wonderful, ONI and the UNSC will love to hear that the new prototypes worked. Good thing I've already collected the data needed. You needn't worry about the Cole Protocol either, I've already purged the data I couldn't bring with me. Is your evacuation craft arriving soon?"

"Let me check. Hey Maxwell, has command responded yet?"

"Yeah, they've dispatched a Pelican and it's on its way now. They're tracking lots of Covenant heading this way though, so we have to double time it out of here."

Diversion
It had been three days since Lee's platoon had left New Alexandria, and the inactivity was already getting to him. With the near-decimation of Three Hotel during their disastrous battle in the spaceport, Colonel Holland had reassigned them to Camp Kilo, far away from the fighting. Orders had been to wait there anre resupply until reinforcements arrived from existing deployments. Naturally, the surviving members of his group weren't happy with sitting around while reports came in of losing battles from around the planet.

Then the ONI agent had arrived.

The sight of three trooper-packed Pelicans had raised the Sergeant Major's hopes when they touched down at the camp, bringing the manpower and supplies they sorely needed. As he oversaw the distribution of weapons and equipment among the platoon, Lee was approached by a woman in plain Army fatigues.

"Sergeant Major Lee?"

He nodded, glancing down at the familiar black and white emblem sewn into her uniform. Crap.

"I'm Lieutenant Yoshika Agata from the Office of Naval Intelligence. Did Colonel Holland inform you that I was coming?"

Lee straightened up slightly as he realised he was addressing a superior officer. "No Lieutenant, he just told us we'd be getting reinforcements soon."

"I see." Agata shrugged. "Well, I have been ordered to accompany you on your next mission. Here are your orders from the Colonel."

She handed Lee a datapad, which lit up at his touch. This was an odd way of handing down orders; usually they were linked through a secure COM net and passed down to platoon leaders from there. As he read through the lines of text outlining Three Hotel's next operation, he frowned. They weren't going after Covenant forces, even in the midst of a full-scale planetary invasion. Holland wanted them to go after a group of damn rebels holed up in the mountains. He couldn't help but wonder why his superiors even cared about innies at a time like this. Surely fighting off aliens took priority over eliminating dissidents?. Lee passed it back to the ONI agent without another word.

"We leave in twenty minutes. Get your troopers ready, Sergeant Major."

"Yes ma'am."

He walked off into the encampment and sighed. Nobody was going to like this.

***

Four hours later, two dozen UH-144 Falcons soared over the rural countryside, sweeping over abandoned farms and empty fields in their search for the supposed rebel outposts. As expected, the reactions of some of his troopers were less than positive. Murphy had already suggested throwing Sikowsky overboard twice if he continued his complaining. Lee was fairly close to telling the Corporal to keep quiet, though it would probably be for the best if he let the kid blow off some steam.

"Sergeant Major!" the Falcon pilot called. "Got something coming up on the long-range sensors. Just blips, but it might be the guys we're looking for."

"Copy that," he readied his SAW. "Take us in low over that forest, we'll try to surprise them."

"Going in now."

Lee steadied himself as the helicopters lowered until they were barely meters above the forest canopy. The blips were still out of sight around a nearby rock formation. If he could, the Sergeant Major would've called for satellite footage, but with the battle still raging overhead it would have to wait.

"Get ready, we're coming up on them in three, two, one-"

Oh, no.

As the lead Falcon swerved past a nearby mountain and into the valley, a large number of vehicles came into view. They weren't Human. Large purple-tinted structures dotted the grassy fields below, while hundreds of infantry marched in formation and Banshee fliers hovered overhead. There were a few seconds of absolute silence as both sides paused.

Then all hell broke loose.

"Turn and retreat!" Lee roared over the COM. "That's a goddamn Covenant army!"

He clung to the safety rail as his Falcon span round. Sikowsky and Murphy had already opened fire with the machine guns as a swarm of Banshees screamed after the retreating force. Lee had no intentions of this becoming a repeat of what had happened back at the spaceport.

"Pilot, can you get a message out to command?"

"No Sergeant, something's jamming us!"

''Clever bastards. Probably landed here last night, would've had plenty of time to set up those towers like they did at Szurdok Ridge''. Either way, they'd need a large UNSC deployment to engage this lot, not a strike force numbering less than a hundred troopers. Beside him, Lieutenant Agata loaded a rifle and leant out to fire on the Banshees.

"That won't do us much good, Lieutenant," he said. "The front of those things are damn near impervious to small arms fire."

"Well, its a good thing I'm not aiming for the front."

As one of the Banshees swooped in alongside them, the Lieutenant took aim and fired a volley of rounds into a tiny gap between the upper and lower halves of the flier. It immediately spiralled out of control and dropped out of sight.

"Structural weakness," she explained as she reloaded the weapon. "Leaves the pilot slightly exposed."

"Right," he muttered. He had to admit, though he'd had his misgivings with having an ONI agent accompany them on this mission, but at least the Lieutenant could shoot straight. To his right, Murphy was spraying rounds left and right towards an incoming group of Banshees, swearing at the top of his lungs.

"Controlled bursts, Private!" he tapped the trooper on the back. "Take them down one at a time!"

Murphy glanced back, straightening his helmet. "Sir, there's too many, we should-"

He lurched forwards as something struck the side of their Falcon, sending it spinning downwards as the others made their descent towards the forest. Over the sounds of plasma fire and screaming he could barely make out the sound of their pilot calling over the COM.

Rotor's gone, I can't control it! We're going down, everyone hang on!"

Then they crashed.

Lee awoke with a gasp. He sat up, one hand going for his sidearm as he pulled himself to his feet. The Falcon was a wreck of burnt, twisted metal, having crashed through the forest canopy at some speed. Murphy lay nearby. A long shard of metal jutted from the side of his head. Lee sighed.

"Sergeant Major!"

To his right, Agata emerged from the foliage with Corporal Sikowsky and several other troopers. He could still hear the distinctive sound of other Falcons coming in to land, with the shrill scream that gave the Banshee fliers their name steadily approaching. He picked up Murphy's rifle and motioned for the others to follow him.

"Sikowsky!" he called. "Get on the short-range COM and tell everyone to regroup on us. I want to see how many of us are left!"

"Yes sir!" the Corporal began hailing the rest of Three Hotel as another Falcon slowly descended nearby, narrowly avoiding the dense forested area around them. He waved for the pilot to cut the rotors as he approached. Private Steinworth clambered out alongside several other troopers.

"Pilot," Lee rapped on the side of the Falcon's cockpit. "We've got to torch the Falcon and leave."

"What?!" came the worried reply. "Sir, if we lose our birds then we're not getting out of here!"

"If we try to fly out then we'll be chased down and killed. We'll lay low and head out on foot when we can."

These were drastic measures, but Lee knew they had to be taken. He glanced towards the Lieutenant, who nodded in approval. While she outranked him, Agata knew he was the one with the experience to lead their troopers out of this situation. As they filed out of the clearing, Sikowky took a C-12 charge out of his pack and planted it on the Falcon. They were half a mile away before they detonated it, and the blast shook the trees around them even then.

"Sergeant," Agata spoke up after some time. "Regarding our mission to eliminate the Insurrectionists, what do you propose we do should we encounter any rebels?"

"They're either dead or gone," he remarked. "With all due respect ma'am, I think Holland has us chasing ghosts."

"You'd rather be fighting the Covenant?"

"I'd rather be helping where it matters, Lieutenant."

"So you don't consider fighting Insurrectionists 'helping', Sergeant Major? Any sympathy for them?"

"None." This was why Lee hated working with ONI agents. They had to second-guess everything you said. "They're terrorists, plain and simple. Anyone stupid enough to keep fighting their own species at a time like this deserves what they get. The Covenant are just the bigger threat right now."

"I see." She remained silent after that, keeping pace with the rest of the platoon as they continued their long march through the forest. Coming in they'd seen how far it spread along the sprawling Highland Mountains, so trekking through it could take days. Time they didn't have. There were fifty-two of them left out of the ninety-eight that set out from Camp Kilo earlier; many more would have probably died had they just attempted to flee. Still, chances were that the Covenant were still after them.

"Incoming!"

Lee ducked onto cover just in time as a Phantom dropship sped past, its gunners spraying the area with plasma fire. More were coming.

"Everyone move, double time!"

As they sprinted uphill through the dense forest, Lee could make out the faintest glimpses of Covenant soldiers far behind them; diminutive Grunts led by fierce, well-armoured Elites. For a moment he thought he could see the massive bulk of a Hunter behind the massed ranks of regular infantry. It wasn't long before the exhausted troopers had to turn and fire on their pursuers, unleashing a hail of rounds into the horde of incoming enemies, followed by a few grenades. Deprived of his machine gun thanks to the crash, Lee made do with his DMR, picking off several Elites with well-placed rounds as their foe continued their relentless advance.

"Sarge!" Sikowsky called from nearby. "More dropships coming in on our left, they're trying to flank us!"

"Take six men and set up a base of fire on that side of the hill, Corporal!"

He saw Sikowsky drop out of sight as he crawled to a new position. While the troopers were well-equipped and had plenty of ammunition, they wouldn't last much longer than an hour at most if Covenant reinforcements kept coming their way. They had sighted an entire army in that valley, and chances were that it was all coming for them.

Nearly half an hour had passed, and while the Covenant had gone to ground at the base of the hill, morale was low around the remains of Three Hotel. Twenty-four dead, though Sikowky's squad had taken out a group of Jackals trying to flank them. Lee was using the momentary lull in combat to grab a ration bar when a streak of light from above caught his eye. Above them, part of the cliff face shattered, showering the area below with small rocks and debris. Wraiths.

"Steinworth, how are we on anti-armour?"

"Sixteen rockets, Sarge."

Would that be enough? That might have been a lucky hit, but if those tanks got a bead on them then they could wipe out the entire platoon with a few well-placed plasma mortars. As a few of his troopers readied their SPNKR missile launchers, something roared overhead, unleashing a volley of rockets down on an incoming column of Wraith tanks.

"Is that a Pelican?"

"Looks like it, Private."

Nearby, Lieutenant Agata peered through a set of binoculars as the dropship let loose a second volley down on the incoming Covenant troops. When Lee looked over she passed them to him.

"I don't think that's one of ours."

The Sergeant lifted the binoculars up to get a better look at the far-off dropship. While it initially seemed like any other Pelican, he soon saw that it had been heavily painted and modified. One insignia stood out among the rest: The clenched fist of the United Rebel Front.

"I think we found who we were looking for," he remarked dryly, passing the binocluars back to the Lieutenant. More gunfire lit up the forest below as the Covenant forces were engaged by what he assumed were more rebel fighters. With this second force engaging their foe. Lee got to his feet and activated his COM.

"Okay, this is our chance to fight our way out of this. Everyone follow my lead, and keep moving. Go!"

With that, he ran from cover, ducking between trees as the platoon followed him away from the battle. A few Covenant soldiers loosed plasma rounds towards them, but the troopers kept going along the mountainside. By Lee's reckoning, the innies would be dead within the hour if they kept fighting. He'd fought rebels before, and knew that all they could do was conduct raids, not pitched battles. As they continued at some pace, the Pelican roared overhead and a familiar voice echoed from the dropship's loudspeaker.

"UNSC troopers, please head down the slope and into the clearing to your north. I promise that you will not be harmed. Fail to comply and I will be forced to open fire. You have thirty seconds."

Lee froze. In their current position they were easy prey for the Pelican's missile launchers, so running wasn't an option. Neither is capture. He looked around at the tired faces of his troopers, and sighed.

"Do what they say!" he announced to the platoon. They made their way down into the clearing as ordered, keeping an eye out for any incoming Covenant forces. Several large trucks pulled up nearby, with a few men in faded military fatigues standing guard around them. The Sergeant Major had to resist opening fire the moment they came into view. The Pelican's rear hatch opened as it hovered just above the ground, and a tall man leapt out as Three Hotel approached.

"Sergeant Major. Fancy meeting you again."

"Bohater." It was the man who'd saved the people of Visegrád. It looked like he hadn't been arrested after all, as Lee had predicted. He noticed Lieutenant Agata staring at the large rebel with a look that implied nothing would make her happier than if she shot him right here. Still, they had no other choice. Twenty-eight troopers and an ONI agent against dozens of well-armed rebels. He wondered how many he'd be able to kill before they took him down.

"Look," Bohater glanced in the direction of the Covenant's approach. "I don't like you, and you sure as hell don't like me, but the way I see it is that we're both Humans and they're not. We've got a base with supplies and equipment to hole up in, but those Covvie bastards are sure to find it sooner or later. We need your help."

This genuinely surprised Lee. He had a suspicion that Bohater intended to kill them there and then, not ask for help. Looking round, most of his 'soldiers' looked more like frightened farmers. An alliance, temporary though it might be - could be beneficial for both of them.

"Fine," he said, briskly shaking Bohater's hand. "We'd better get moving then. How far is your base?"

"A couple of hours away. You'll take the trucks. Keep your weapons, too."

"Got it." He didn't have time to ask any more questions. Two flatbed trucks screeched out of the woods, carrying wounded soldiers. One of them called over to their leader.

"Bohater, there's too many! We've got to go."

"Got it. Bernard, get going. The rest of you mount up and get the hell out of here. I'll see you back home!"

With that, he clambered back into his stolen Pelican as it flew off, speeding away before any enemy Banshees could get a lock on it. Lee and his troopers quickly climbed into the back of the civilian trucks, quickly filling them up before they drove off as fast as they could. Nobody said a word. Even Steinworth and Sikowsky had nothing to complain about.

Lee knew nobody was going to like this mission.

Spearhead
"How many?"

"Four cruisers. We're estimating thirty-thousand troops, minimum."

"Do we have any nukes?"

"No sir."

"Then we're in trouble."

From his position in recently-established field base by Armoury Omega, First Lieutenant Redmond Venter looked out over the nearby fields, where thousands of Army and Marine personnel were gathering. The news of another Covenant landing on Reach wouldn't be good for their already bad morale. He dismissed the Corporal bringing him the news and activated a nearby holotable. A map of the local area flashed up, outlining the Armoury and his position. Venter zoomed out further and further until the familiar red dots indicating Covenant forces came into view. If the remaining orbital satellites above Reach were still doing their job, then they were in deep shit. Fifty thousand troops.

"Lieutenant!"

Venter turned to see Senior Master Sergeant Ellison Suarez, his second in command, poking her head through the command room's door. He turned away and switched the holotank off.

"Anything wrong, Sergeant?"

"Got an incoming 'hog from HIGHCOM HQ. You know who it is."

He groaned. That man had travelled to the armoury half a dozen times since the first reports of Covenant landing parties came in. While their local commander, General Markos, would usually deal with him, he'd gone off to New Alexandria three days ago and probably gotten himself killed. That left Venter, a First Lieutenant, in charge of the entire Armoury.

"I'll be right out. Get everyone else ready."

"Got it." Suarez walked off. Though they hadn't been working together long and he was her commanding officer by rank, she probably had more combat experience than most of their team combined, and that was saying something; NAVSPECWAR soldiers were often regarded as the best of the best, barring the Spartans of course. Venter strode out of the command room, holding helmet under his arm as the front gate slid open. A single M12 Warthog rolled through and ground to a halt several feet away. A large man in a grey Navy uniform clambered out and approached Venter, who saluted.

"Vice Admiral Whitcomb, sir. Welcome back."

Danforth Whitcomb was a well-known military leader among the UNSC. Like many others, Venter had studied his impressive battle record against the Covenant. The man himself was an imposing figure with a physique that made him look more like an ODST than a Navy Admiral. He looked around for a few moments, scratching is moustache before speaking.

"Thank you, soldier. Where's General Markos?"

"Gone, sir."

"What do you mean, 'gone'?"

"He took a Pelican and two platoons of Marines to New Alexandria three days ago. Said he had to lead the defence. He left me in charge, sir."

For a moment Venter thought Whitcomb was going to shout at him, but instead he simply shook his head and sighed.

"What's your name?"

"First Lieutenant Redmond Venter, NAVSPECWAR."

Whitcomb nodded. "I'm surprised they're keeping soldiers of your calibre on guard duty, Lieutenant. Still, if you're in charge then I suppose I'll have to let you in on a little secret."

Before Venter could respond, Whitcomb began walking towards the Armoury, waving for him to follow. The man passed through the main door without a glance at the two armed guards, and only stopped momentarily to input a password at the second. HIGHCOM Armoury Omega was one of several weapon caches dotted around Reach, and as far as Venter knew, the only one that hadn't yet been cleared out in face of the Covenant invasion. Rooms filled with rifles and ammo sat unused, while the expansive vehicle bay had remained locked until orders came down directly from HIGHCOM. Eventually they came to what appeared to be a sealed vault.

"Stand back."

As Venter did so, Whitcomb stepped forward and placed his palm on a scanner before allowing another device to scan his eyes. Then he whispered something into a small microphone, and the heavy metal door before them slowly hissed open. A single object sat inside.

"This is our most important weapon, Lieutenant Venter. If you're in charge of the base then I want you to know what you're fighting to defend. It's a project I've been working on for some time."

He wasn't too sure what he was looking at. It appeared to be a bomb of some kind. "What is it, sir?"

"I call it the 'NOVA Bomb'. Nine fusion warheads encased in lithium triteride armour." He turned to face Venter. "Impressive, isn't it?"

Venter nodded. So we do have nukes. Still, he wondered why the Admiral had elected to hide the weapon in here while Covenant forces were landing armies across the planet. His thoughts momentarily drifted back to the massive force less than a hundred kilometres west of their position.

"What's the destructive power of this bomb, Admiral? Could we use it to say, wipe out a Covenant army?"

Whitcomb laughed. "Son, you're thinking too small. One of these things could crack a planet in half."

Ah. Now he understood why it was being kept down here. Perhaps it was a weapon of last resort; a big middle finger to the Covenant if they succeeded in capturing Reach. The sheer destructive power of such a weapon was impressive. He and Whitcomb stepped out of the chamber, allowing the door to seal behind them.

"This is what you're defending, Lieutenant," the Vice Admiral clasped his shoulder. "You understand why we can't let this place fall, right?"

"Yes sir." Venter waited a few seconds before speaking up again. "Have you seen the latest reports of Covenant landings?"

"Not since I left HQ an hour ago, no. Why?"

"Please come with me, sir."

Now it was his turn to lead. With Admiral Whitcomb in tow, Venter left the Armoury and walked into the command room outside, activating the holotank as he entered. Since he'd left it the Covenant ships had settled into position and defences were already being set up. By the look of it, he'd greatly underestimated the amount of troops, too. Make that eighty thousand.

Whitcomb was silent for almost a minute, staring at the massing troops. Eventually, he cleared his throat and turned to Venter.

"How many troops do we have here?"

"About six thousand, and that's just infantry from the Army and Marines. A few few hundred pilots and drivers, too. If you're counting my platoon that's another thirty-three, including myself."

"I see."

Venter could almost see Whitcomb working things out in his head, calculating losses and chances for victory against such a force. They didn't seem good.

"I'm opening the armoury," he said at last. Take what you need, except the NOVA bomb. I'll get in contact with local forces and see if I can give you a hand as well. Your team's leaving too, Lieutenant."

"Sir?"

"I'll be damned if I'm wasting good SPECWAR troops here when there's fighting to be done. Give me an hour and I'll have a company of Marines defending this site. We're stopping the Covenant before they can advance."

Whitcomb's quick decision surprised Venter. He'd expected reinforcements to hold the armoury, but not an order to attack. Still, anything would be better than another day of guard duty. He saluted once more.

"Thank you sir. I'll have my platoon ready to move ASAP."

He turned to leave and smiled. Within minutes they'd opened the doors to the vehicle bay, revealing over a dozen tanks the likes of which he'd only heard of. Word soon spread to the infantry battalions who had set up camp nearby, who quickly acquired them in preparation for the impending attack. Whitcomb himself spent some time on the COM barking orders while the army assembled outside. Venter's platoon quickly assembled in the Armoury Omega's courtyard and were there to greet him as he exited the vehicle bay.

"Sir," Suarez called over. "Heard we're going all-in on this one."

"Yeah, we are." He looked over the platoon; each a trained SPECWAR operative and veteran of many battles against the Covenant. "Everyone, mount up and prepare to move out. We'll show those Covenant bastards that Reach isn't going down without a fight!"

With that, the platoon made their way through the front gates, joining their comrades as they marched to war.

***

When Whitcomb had promised reinforcements, Venter hadn't expected this much.

Sat in the passenger seat of a Warthog, he could make out most of the strike force around them. Scorpion tanks took point, rumbling ahead at full speed over the grassy plains towards the distant Covenant encampment. Two-man Mongoose ATV's zipped around them, the passengers carrying missile launchers that would make short work of most Covenant armour that went out to meet them. High above, a trio of Shortsword bombers screamed overhead, flying straight towards the incoming Covenant forces. They broke off suddenly, and barely a second later the ground below lit up with explosions.

"How many d'you think that took out?" asked Suarez, glancing over from the driver's seat.

Venter raised his binoculars, trying to get a good view on the bombed area. He caught a glimpse of what could have once been several Wraith tanks. "They got a few. Still more to come, though."

The bombing run had certainly gotten their attention. A number of Banshee fliers were already heading towards the massed strike force, volleys of plasma fire scorching the ground below as they swooped in to attack. To their left, a Wolverine AA tank let loose a flurry of missiles, streaking through the air and blasting several Banshees to pieces. The Warthog swerved to avoid a particularly large piece and kept going.

"Here they come!"

Far ahead of them, the distinctive shapes of the Covenant's feared Wraith tanks drifted through the smoke. All around them the Scorpions opened fire with a roar, the first volley of shells impacting as the enemy vehicles opened fire. Huge globules of superheated plasma struck around them, occasionally claiming a vehicle and reducing it to a burning hulk of twisted metal in a second. Venter winced as one hit a Mongoose just ahead of them, incinerating two Marines instantly. Venter's gunner began to fire, a hail of bullets shredding an incoming Ghost.

"Lieutenant!" the gunner called. "We've got more tanks incoming, should we break off?"

While their numbers had been thinned out slightly by the plasma fire, to retreat now would give the Covenant forces time to advance. They couldn't let that happen. Venter hefted a grenade launcher fired on an incoming Revenant to their right. The grenade's detonation flipped the vehicle over and it burst into flames.

"Keep firing, Corporal! We're pressing ahead!"

The gunner kept firing. Venter wondered how many members of his platoon had died already in this assault. They had spread themselves out among the tanks and 'hogs leading the assault, though since they had begun their attack radio communication had been sparse. Reloading his launcher, the Lieutenant remained steady as Suarez swerved round the burnt-out husk of a Wraith and what appeared to be Covenant fortifications came into view. They had wasted no time in digging trenches and setting up guard towers around their camp since they landed. The sight of not one, but four Covenant CCS-Class battlecruisers looming over the valley ahead worried him. His COM crackled to life.

"Lieutenant Venter, this is Admiral Whitcomb. Do you copy?"

He switched on his helmet-mounted communicator. "I'm here, Admiral. Approaching the Covenant encampment now."

"Good. We've got you on satellite now. How bad are things looking ahead?"

He hesitated before answering. They were going at full speed now, barely avoiding a torrent of plasma fire and trying to stay behind the Scorpions as they pushed through enemy defences. "There will he heavy casualties, sir."

"Copy that. I'm diverting some assets to your position now, Lieutenant. It's all I can do at the moment. Good luck."

The COM went silent. They kept going for a few more seconds, their speed and maneuverability keeping them alive for the time being. As they approached the fortifications, a loud roar from overhead caught Venter's attention. He looked up to see the cloudy sky above parting as a massive bulk descended towards the battlefield. For a moment he thought another Covenant ship had arrived, but as it lowered he recognised what it was.

"To all UNSC forces below," a voice spoke over the COM. "This is Captain Brian Jennings of the UNSC Falling Star, on station to assist We'll take care of those Cruisers."

Venter could only stare in awe as the ship - large even for a UNSC vessel - charged and fired its MAC gun with a deafening blast that echoed across the valley. The round struck the nearest Cruser in the hull, gutting the vessel and sending it plummeting into a nearby mountain with an almighty crash. The other three Cruisers immediately began to move, though in their current formation it would take time for them to open fire on the UNSC carrier. Seraph fighters poured from the vessel like locusts, swarming towards the valley and their prey. They were soon met by Longswords and Skyhawk fighters in a battle for aerial superiority.

"Damn," Suarez whistled from the driver's seat. "Could do with some more ships like that."

The Lieutenant nodded as they turned back towards the enemy camp. Vessels like the Falling Star were incredibly rare, though their appearance would often mark a change in fortunes for allied forces. This had certainly raised the morale of the troops on the ground, as a fresh wave of Warthogs darted forward, gunning down enemy infantry as they smashed through the first defensive line. Venter expended his last grenade on a Jackal-filled guard tower before discarding the weapon and going for his BR55 rifle.

"Hunters!"

As he looked up after grabbing his rifle, the fearsome bulk of a pair of Hunters lumbered into view. Protected from most small-arms fire by their massive shields, the creatures opened fire with their assault cannons. A stream of green incendiary gel streaked towards their Warthog, and in spite of Suarez's best efforts it struck their vehicle head on. The sheer force of the blast melted the front of the jeep and sent all three of them flying out. For a moment, everything went black.

Venter sat up with a gasp. He'd landed in a crater, likely caused by one of the Shortsword's bombing runs. Though heavily bruised from the impact, nothing seemed broken. His rifle was gone, leaving him with just his handgun for protection. The battlefield around him seemed eerily quiet as his ears rang, save for the muffled sounds of explosions and gunfire. He sat there for a few moments, letting the ringing fade.

"Sir?!"

The Corporal who'd been operating the gun on Venter's 'hog appeared on the edge of the crater, clasping his rifle and sporting a nasty gash on the side of his head. Venter began to pick himself up. The young man held his arm out to help him out, and spoke as he took it.

"Lieutenant, we've gotta regroup with the others. Just sighted a shitload of Spirits heading our -"

The man was suddenly struck in the back several times, gasping in pain in surprise before he pitched forward, knocking Venter back into the crater. As the Lieutenant tried to heave the corpse off of him, a figure loomed over him, clasping a plasma rifle. Clad in shining blue armour and standing at nearly eight feet tall, the Elite let out what could only have been a laugh at Venter's predicament. As he scrambled for his pistol, the alien raised its rifle.

"No you don't!"

The alien was suddenly knocked sideways as a figure cannoned into it, taking the Elite by surprise and sending it toppling to the floor. The plasma rifle fell to the dirt. Venter grabbed it and leapt to his feet just in time to see Sergeant Suarez grappling with the creature, which continued to struggle even with a knife sprouting from its neck. He fired the weapon twice. reducing the Sangheili's head to a bloody mess. It immediately went limp.

"Thanks for the save," Suarez remarked as she retrieved her knife and wiped it clean of purple blood.

"Hey, I should be thanking you. That bastard had me dead to rights. Got the Corporal, though."

Suarez turned to see the other man's body, shredded to pieces by plasma fire.

"You catch his name?"

"No, you?"

"No. Damn shame. Poor kid."

Venter sighed. It was just another casualty in a war that had already claimed billions. With this many dead it was better not to get too attached. Suarez checked over the corpse for spare ammo and closed his eyes, but that was the best he'd get. They didn't have time to waste with a battle going on around them.

"Got any word from the rest of the platoon?" he asked. "Think my COM's jammed."

"Mine too. I think Anderson and some of the others were heading west to take out the jammers, but that was the last signal I got."

"No sense wasting time here, then." Venter raised his newly-acquired plasma rifle. "Let's move."

The pair clambered out of the crater. What had once been lush green fields was now a bloody battlefield, littered with corpses and the remains of various vehicles. Nearby, a crashed Skyhawk fighter had torn a trail straight through Covenant fortifications, giving them a way through the enemy's hastily-erected wall. Venter went to check on the pilot, who was unsurprisingly, dead. Worse still, it had begun to rain.

"See that," Suarez pointed towards a structure to the west. "Looks like a Grunt house. Want to hit it?"

'Grunt House' was a term used to describe the chambers where the methane-breathing Grunts went to refill their breather packs and move around without heavy apparatus. They were also highly flammable and in Venter's personal experience, made a lovely explosion. Destroying them would also certainly impede an enemy invasion, as without places to recharge the Covenant's most numerous infantry wouldn't last long on a world like this.

"Yeah, good idea. Don't want to give them too much time to set up."

After nearly ten minutes of slow advance, ducking between burnt-out structures and checking for enemy forces in the pouring rain, a salvo of plasma from above caught their eye. With poor visibility conditions they hadn't been able to check on the Falling Star's status, though Venter hadn't heard the distinctive sound of a MAC gun firing since it took out the first Cruiser. He and Suarez span round as the sound of an engine approached them. A large, four-treaded tank rolled towards them, surrounded by a group of tired-looking Marines and Army troopers. One of them waved the pair over as it ground to a halt.

"I'm Gunnery Sergeant Baker of the 17th. Glad to see more survivors out here."

"First Lieutenant Redmond Venter, NAVSPECWAR. This is Senior Master Sergeant Ellison Suarez of the same. Where's your commanding officer, Sergeant?"

The man saluted Venter before speaking again. "No idea, sir. Those jammers have made the COM a mess, and with this rain it's hard to make anything out. We did get a transmission from Major Spencer not long ago, but I haven't heard anything from her since."

Venter nodded. "Until then, I guess we'll just have to do what we can down here. You see that Grunt House?"

He pointed towards the purple-tinted structure on the horizon. Baker nodded. "You taking it out?"

"Yes we are. Perhaps your tank here can give us a hand."

Baker grinned. "I think so. Hop on, Lieutenant."

He and Suarez quickly climbed onto the side of the tank, which began to slowly roll forwards. Looking over the two 120mm cannons and the mounted machine gun, Venter realised that this wasn't just your average Scorpion tank.

"Hey Sergeant," he tapped Suarez on the shoulder. "When was the last time you saw a Grizzly?"

"It's been a while. Harvest, probably. These things ain't cheap."

Venter nodded. Harvest? He knew Suarez was older than him, but he'd been a kid during the Battle of Harvest. He wondered, not for the first time, why he was the officer and she wasn't, considering her impressive battle record. Still, Grizzly tanks were a rarity on the battlefield these days, and a welcome one at that. The moment they were in range, he and the others climbed off the tank and stood by as it fired on the Grunt House. The high-velocity cannon tore right through the structure, setting off a massive reaction that sent it sky-high. For a moment Venter thought he could hear screaming, but that was quickly snuffed out by the time the second shell hit.

"Hah, look at that fucker go!" the Gunnery Sergeant whooped. "Let's find some more."

Nobody disagreed. With visibility still low across the battlefield and comms down, their group of barely a dozen soldiers would just keep going on until either they destroyed the entire enemy encampment or they were dead. As the tank trundled further into the corpse-strewn valley, an almighty explosion echoed overhead.

"What the hell was that?!" a trooper exclaimed. Venter remained silent, trying to get a good view through the downpour.

"Lieutenant," Suarez whispered to him. "That was a plasma strike."

Realisation quickly dawned on him. The Falling Star may have been a powerful vessel, but taking on three battlecruisers at once was a feat few UNSC ships could manage. A huge hulk of burning metal came into view high above them, roaring as explosions blossomed through the ship. The entire group watched in horror as the Falling Star, true to its namesake, crashed straight into a battlecruiser and onto the Covenant encampment below. Missiles meant for ship-to-ship combat had poured out as it descended, turning the land below into a blazing inferno. Venter felt the shockwave from the vessel's impact.

The rain stopped.

Dripping wet and clasping a stolen plasma rifle, Venter and the others could finally look out over the battlefield. They had been lucky. The eastern side of the valley was a mess of broken ship parts and twisted scraps of metal where another battlecruiser had crashed into it, killing untold numbers of infantry. The Covenant's landing zone, their target, was no more. The impact subsequent explosion of the Falling Star had incinerated the area, and the final enemy ship's crash had dealt with any survivors there. Baker walked up to Venter, his voice solemn.

"Sir, do you have any orders?"

Orders. It had been simpler a minute when they had no idea what was going on and all they had to do was kill the enemy. Now though...

"We've got to press forward. Clear out pockets of enemy resistance and wait for extraction."

The words sounded hollow, like he was reading from a manual. The Sergeant nodded and waved for the Grizzly to advance further into the valley. Venter had no doubts that there were at least a few hundred Covenant soldiers remaining, even after the repeated bombings and the loss of four battlecruisers to a single Human ship. As they advanced, it became clear that the survivors were attempting to flee. Several Phantom dropships soared overhead, ignoring the Human forces below as they descended to rescue their comrades below. As one lifted off, it was hit with a volley of missiles and sent spiralling to the ground, where it exploded.

"Didn't think there were any Vultures left," Suarez remarked as the heavy gunship above them opened fire on a group of fleeing Grunts. "I suppose they dragged a few out just for us."

"Probably."

On a nearby hillside, a large structure blossomed with explosions and toppled over. Immediately the COM channels were flooded with dozens of voices as the final jammer went down. Venter switched to his platoon's private channel and knelt by the remains of a Warthog before speaking.

"Echo Platoon, this is First Lieutenant Venter. Does anyone copy?"

He waited a few seconds before repeating the message. Eventually another voice crackled through.

"Lieutenant? We've been trying to contact you for nearly half an hour now!" It was Anderson, one of their fellow SPECWAR troopers. "There's only four of us left up here. Got pinned by Jackal snipers for a while until a Falcon took them down. Have you seen anyone else?"

"Negative. I think we're all that's left. Suarez and I are with a Grizzly tank down in the valley. Hold your position while I call for evac. over."

"Copy that, sir. Good to see you're still in once piece. Anderson out."

Venter closed the COM channel and opened a new one. "This is Lieutenant Venter to Armoury Omega. Admiral, are you there?"

There was a brief delay before a familiar drawl filtered through the channel. "Whitcomb here. Lieutenant, what's the situation down there? Between the weather and satellite interference we've been cut off."

"The Covenant landing zone has been destroyed, sir. All four cruisers, too. We're dealing with the remainder now."

"Well done, Lieutenant. Each day keep those alien sons of bitches off Reach is another victory for the UNSC." Whitcomb paused for a moment. "What of our losses?"

Looking around at the absolute devastation that had been brought about in less than two hours, Venter couldn't even begin to estimate the cost. "Substantial."

"I see. Once you're finished up there return to Armoury Omega with your platoon and we can discuss what to do next. Whitcomb out."

Venter didn't have enough men left for a platoon. If Anderson's team were the only survivors then that brought them down to six. He tossed aside the plasma rifle and picked up a discarded MA5B that had been dropped beneath the Warthog. The ammo counter was still full, meaning the owner hadn't had the chance to fire it. After joining Suarez and the other soldiers by the Grizzly, they began the process of picking through the battlefield. Enemy soldiers were to be shot on sight, wounded or not, while any UNSC personnel were to be airlifted out if possible. Through the smoke and haze of the field he could just about make out a group of Pelican dropships coming in for casevac.

"They're gonna need more dropships," he said. Suarez nodded, looking out over the corpse-strewn field. He doubted that they had enough body bags aboard for a single trip. A few Warthogs rolled past, laden with injured soldiers and salvaged weaponry. The Vulture prowled above the battlefield like its namesake animal, searching for surviving aliens to hunt down.

"That was only four ships," Suarez spoke up. "Heard that twice that amount are trying to land in New Alexandria."

"Well, we'll just have to hope they fight them off there."

A burst of plasma fire from the north snapped them back to attention. They might have won a victory today, but the invasion was far from over. Venter and Suarez kept moving, tired but willing to keep up the fight.