Vigil

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Alan Seeger, 1888-1916

=Plot Summary=

''It is seventy four years since the end of the Human-Covenant War, twenty eight years since the end of the First Galactic War and eleven years since the Dark Uprising had finally been quelled. The age of heroes, of Spartans, is coming to a close. A lone, aged man, a veteran of countless battles and conflicts, looks back over his early years and the events that forged him into a super soldier.''

Downpour
The gate creaked open, inaudible over the sounds of the storm. It wasn't particularly bad by the region's standards, but it was enough to drive anyone indoors for the night. Almost anyone. Most of the day had been spent in preparation for the yearly service held on Reach.

The gate to the New Manassas Memorial plaza closed again, and latched properly. It's design had been inspired by that of the Museum of Humanity on Earth. Most of the indoor museum had already been closed off for the night. The lone figure walked calmly down the steps, unaffected by the rain that fell all around. The outdoor portion, the plaza, was available for access at any time. On a nearby wall, a security camera tracked the lone visitor as he strode onwards.

It had been 74 years since the planet had been turned to a ball of glass by the Covenant. In that time, billions more had died, wars had been fought, great victories and losses. It had been called 'A Time of Heroes' by some. Currently, one such hero was approaching the most popular part of the two mile-long plaza, the famous 'Spartan Army' exhibit.

The collection of statues in the plaza had been painstakingly constructed, by human sculptors, over the last decade. Those who fought valiantly during the planet's final month before it was put to flame were immortalised in stone, while hundreds of thousands of others had their names and if applicable, ranks, added to a large wall, carved from onyx, inside the museum.

Statues of Marines, Army Troopers, ODST's, Emergency Servicemen and even civilians adorned nearly two thirds of the area. The lone visitor stopped before one. He read the plaque:

SERGEANT MAJOR T. DUVALL, 2529-2552

A jar of flowers lay at it's feet. Someone had placed them here recently. He stooped, and placed the fallen jar properly, taking care to put the flowers back in before standing up again and continuing towards his destination.

It was this section of the plaza that attracted the most visitors, and the statues here gained the most attention from the media. There were over a thousand statues here. Reach had been where the SPARTAN program has been initiated, although in truth, only a small portion of the immortalised super-soldiers had actually been trained here.

The SPARTAN-II section came first. Many looked identical, standing over two meters tall in their MJOLNIR Mark V Armour. Many Spartans had died during the Fall of Reach. A few wore the older Mark IV armour, and fewer still wore Mark VI. The rain had let up slightly, but in the pitch blackness of the early morning, no one would have been able to see a thing. Not that it mattered. Through augmented eyes, the names on the plaques nearest were easily visible. JOSHUA-029, MALCOLM-059, GRACE-093''. The list went on.

Some among the SPARTAN-II's were not wearing the iconic armour, the suits that defined the warriors for nearly a century. Some were only children, dressed in plain clothes, standing apart from the warriors. They were the dropouts. The rejects. The failures. He moved on, away from their accusing gaze quickly.

Then came the largest section: SPARTAN-III. It was here that the stark difference in survivors became apparent. Most were no bigger than the SPARTAN-II children, the only notable difference being that they were depicted in the cheaper, weaker Semi Powered Infiltration armour. Alpha Company had been active for less than a year before they had been wiped out in a single operation. Well, almost wiped out.

Standing over six feet tall, clad in heavily used MJOLNIR Powered Assault armour, was a single living SPARTAN, in a graveyard of stone. His armour, a light blue, with golden stripes along the shoulders and legs, shone, the brightest thing in the plaza. The rain bounced harmlessly off the energy shields as he looked at the plaques, each adorned with the name of an Alpha Company member. Records from decades back had been declassified, and the names of each and every member from Alpha's roster had been pulled up. When and where they were born, and their date of death.

For all but just under two dozen members, the date of death remained the same: August 2nd, 2537. Commander Martin-A136 stood before the memorial to his fallen brothers and sisters, glancing to the silent armies of Beta and Gamma companies on his right, as well as the titans of SPARTAN-II. He checked the local time on his HUD, and removed his helmet, exposing himself to the cold wind and rain that soaked the plaza.

The storm had calmed down a little during the Spartan's walk through Memorial Plaza. Possessing augmented night vision, the Spartan could see everything clear as day. He ran his fingers through his thinning hair, now a very light grey colour. The bright blue eyes on his heavily lined and scarred face surveyed the scene, years of harsh military training keeping him from shuddering at the chill in the air.

Martin breathed in deeply, and let out a long sigh. He felt like he had been holding that one in for over half a century, keeping his thoughts mainly to himself for all these many, many years of war. His shoulders sagged, a little. He shook his head, as if dispelling an evil thought, and put his helmet back on. The familiar heads up display greeted him. He checked the time again: 4:30am. According to the information he had been given, the ceremony would begin at 7am, January 3rd, 2627.

Martin looked around in the darkness. He had wanted to arrive early. Pay his respects. He was feeling pretty damn good. How many others could say that at a hundred years old? The Spartan took out his rifle. It was heavily customised after a good few decades of usage. He placed the butt on the ground, and both hands on the barrel, leaning on it like a walking stick. For what felt like the first time in his life, he had a few hours of spare time, his time.

Martin was going to remember.

Payback
That would be the whole point, the man had said. 96 years ago, recruiters from the Office of Naval Intelligence had visited many of the orphanages set up in the wake of heavy Covenant attacks. Six years, millions dead. Martin could barely remember his homeworld of Harvest. He had never truly known his parents. He had been too young when Harvest was glassed. The orphanage was the only life he had ever known.

One thing he did know, that he and all the others there knew, was who had burned their homes, killed their families: the Covenant. The very word angered the children there. Four days after a seemingly routine blood test, the men and women in black suits had returned, and began questioning some of the kids.

Martin watched the hushed conversation from the bunk next to his. The man seemed to be questioning the kid there. Martin took little notice at first, sitting cross-legged on his own bunk. Eventually, they seemed to come to some kind of agreement. They shook hands, and the boy was led out of the room. Then the man approached Martin, glancing down at a datapad as he did so. He looked up at him. He was dressed in an unadorned black uniform, with no sign of rank insignia or nametag. Though he only seemed to be in his mid thirties at most, Martin could see the grey creeping into his light blonde hair and the age showing in his emotionless green eyes. Something about him was a little strange.

"Martin?"

"Yes?"

"Hi. My name is Major Frederick King. I'm with the Office of Naval Intelligence. We-"

"I thought you were in the Navy?"

"Excuse me?"

"Major isn't a Navy rank" Martin recalled the lessons on the UNSC Military. The orphanage was largely run by the organisation, and so the children were educated about them in detail, whether they liked it or not. He wasn't sure if he could trust this man, and crossed his arms in defiance. Surprisingly, the man smirked.

"You're a sharp one, kid. No, I'm not in the Navy, but I do work for ONI, that stands for the Office of Naval Intelligence"

"What do you want with me?"

"You were born on Harvest, correct? Lost your parents and brothers in the glassing? Grew up here?"

Martin nodded solemnly. No one brought up the subject of parents around here.

"Well, do you know who killed them?"

"My family?"

"Yes"

"It was the aliens, the Covenant. They did it"

King smiled. It wasn't a friendly smile. It was the kind of smile that told you the person was up to no good. King continued.

"How does that make you feel, Martin?"

"I dunno. Sad, I guess"

"So, are you going to let them get away with it? Let those aliens, the ones who murdered your family, who ruined any life you would have had on Harvest, get away scot-free?!"

This made his blood boil. "No!" He yelled, louder than he expected to. People in the dorm were starting to stare. King's voice dropped to a whisper.

"I am giving you a chance for payback. You want that?"

"Payback? Like killing the Covenant?"

"Hundreds. Maybe even thousands. What do you say?"

Martin was troubled. One part of him desperately wanted vengeance against the monsters that had stolen everything from him, but a little voice inside kept telling him not to trust him.

"What if I don't go with you?"

"Then you stay here. Who knows what will happen? Like I said Martin, payback. You've got nothing to lose"

He was right. What future did he have here? He had no family, no actual friends here, and indeed, nothing to lose. He had what he wanted right in front of him: vengeance.

"Sign me up, sir"

This time, King smiled for real. He checked something on his datapad, tousled Martin's short brown hair, and stood up.

"Excellent. Just follow my associate and she'll take you where you need to go"

A woman, also in a black suit, stood a few meters away. She smiled warmly and held out her hand for Martin as he approached. Glancing back, King was approaching another kid in his dorm, Kai. He took the woman's hand, following in her wake as she led him out of the orphanage, and towards a new life.

Chance
4:57am.

Within the New Manassas Memorial Plaza, a lone sentinel stood to attention, both hands still planted on his rifle. Martin looked over the stone statues of Alpha Company. They had been the first family he had ever known. He had trained with them, ate with them, fought alongside them in battle.

Now there was nothing left; a silent army, most still children in armour. Martin looked to those who survived the decimation. A dozen figures, gifted with MJOLNIR Armour that offered them a better advantage on the battlefield than SPI. He had been one of those lucky few to live through it all. Standing tall, just in front of the children, were the SPARTAN-III's who lived. The platoon of survivors. Team Upsilon, and Team Tau.

Throughout the years, Martin had often wondered why they had survived so long, why they had not fallen with the others. Was it luck, or skill? Even within Alpha Company, Martin and his closest comrades had forged a bond of teamwork. Though they may not have always came first in competitions, they had always made it through together. They would never leave another behind. As Martin's first ever friend had once said: "We all go home, or nobody goes home". Those words, said long ago by a man long dead, had stayed with him longer than anything else in his life.

It had been nearly a month since he had been plucked from the orphanage, along with a dozen others. They had picked up more recruits from other places, all orphans like Martin. They had been subjected to several tests during this period, mainly written ones or quizzes. Most of the other kids hadn't spoken much to him. They had their own problems. Martin just wanted to learn how to kill the monsters.

Martin had kept his head down and done as instructed by the men from the Navy. He hadn't seen Major King since the orphanage, though he was glad of that; something about the man creeped him out. One day, however, they had finally been taken down to a planet. By this time, there were several hundred others that had been collected from all across the colonies. Martin was packed into a tiny ship with others from his group, and sent down to the planet.

On the way down, all he could do was try not to throw up as the ship rattled towards the planet. It was a terrifying experience, being cooped up in a cramped, windowless box with twenty other kids. Martin finally looked up, reasonably sure he wouldn't spray everyone with his lunch, and glanced around at the others. He recognised the boy across from him. He had been at his orphanage!

"Hey!" Martin called over the rumbling of the dropship and the shouting of the others. The kid glanced up at him. He was probably having the same sickness problems. He managed a little smile, and gave a weak thumbs up before staring at his feet again.

Eventually, the ship touched down. Martin and the others spilled out onto the grass. There were other ships too, setting down and unleashing their noisy cargo onto the field. Martin stayed near the dropship, not sure what to do. The kid he recognised was last to get out, hitting the grass shakily, looking very pale.

"Hi" said Martin. There were a lot of strangers here. He'd need a friend. The only response he got was the sounds of the other kid being violently sick onto the grass. He got up, wiping his face with his sleeve.

"Sorry about that" He said. "I'm Kai"

"Martin. So, you wanted to kill some aliens?"

"More than anything"

Two navy men approached them. Nasty-looking batons hung from their belts. The two were herded towards the main crowd. As they got close to the mass of shouting, screaming children, the men backed off a little. Martin listened to them.

"Whew, glad that drop is over. Where were yours from?"

"Harvest, I think. Pretty quiet compared to some of the other kids"

"You're telling me. I got saddled with a load from Eridanus II. I swear, some of these kids are damn psychos, man"

Martin hoped that he wouldn't run in to any of these 'psychos'. He was here to learn how to kill aliens. A loud rumbling sound cut off his train of thought and he froze. The crowd of children fell silent. Across the field, a giant stood before them.

The giant towered above everyone else, even the tough-looking military guys. He was clad in shining green armour from head to toe, his face hidden behind a reflective visor. At that moment, he was everything Martin aspired to be.

"Attention Recruits". The Giant's voice boomed across the field. At least he sounded human.

"I am Lieutenant Ambrose. You have all endured great hardships to be here. I know each of you has lost loved ones on Jericho VII, Harvest, and Biko. The Covenant has made orphans of you all"

Unexpectedly, Martin found himself welling up with tears. Why? He never cried, at least not in front of people. He blinked several times, determined to be strong like the Lieutenant.

"I am going to give you the chance to learn how to fight, a chance to become the best soldiers the UNSC has ever produced, a chance to destroy the Covenant. I am giving you the chance to become like me: A Spartan".

A chance. That was what the Major had said to him back at the orphanage. Martin imagined himself in the same armour as Lieutenant Ambrose, wiping out thousands of aliens as he avenged those he had lost. He could think of no better way to spend the rest of his life.

"We cannot accept everyone, though". These words filled Martin with dread. What if he wasn't good enough? What if he failed some way? He couldn't let that happen.

"We have three hundred training slots. So tonight, Senior Chief Petty Officer Mendez has devised a way to separate those who truly want this opportunity from those who do not".

Another man, smaller than the Lieutenant, but looking tough as nails, observed a datapad handed to him for a second before looking up at the hundreds of children.

"You want to be Spartans?" he barked, his voice every bit as loud as the intercom-enhanced Lieutenants. "Then get back on those ships"

Martin groaned internally. Not flying... Mendez began questioning kids nearest to him if they wanted out. They both shook their heads, and with a rumble, the children-no-trainees began heading for the dropships. Martin and Kai ran faster than the others, straight for the ship they had touched down on. They bundled into the back, closely followed by over a dozen others.

Within minutes, they were in the air again. This time, however, the back hatch had been left open. The Drill Instructor had passed out strange backpacks to the other trainees. Martin made sure it was securely fastened to his back. He wasn't going to fail.

The Instructor was shouting orders at them from the rear of the dropship. They were fairly easy to remember. Count to ten, pull handle. Even at six years old, Martin could manage that. After a few more minutes, the time came for them to jump out into the cold night sky. He'd been preparing for this mentally the moment the hatch didn't close when they took off.

One by one, they were ordered to jump. Martin was second from last. Another trainee stood behind him, whistling impatiently as they were made to jump. Four children refused, and were made to sit back down without a word. Kai gave Martin another thumbs up, and jumped, dissapearing as the wind caught him. Now it was his turn.

Martin gulped, looking down. The ground seemed so far away. Was he going to do this? If he had any chance at all of becoming a Spartan, he had to. Why weren't his legs moving?

Someone patted him on the back in a friendly way. It was the trainee behind him. "Don't worry mate, you can do it!". His accent sounded strange, yet familiar. Martin could do it. He grinned, and jumped, just as Kai had done moments before. It was all a spinning world of stars, trees, and mountains. Pull the handle! A voice yelled inside him. He grasped it and tugged with all his might, letting out a sigh of relief when something unravelled from his backpack.

He slowed down. Using the ropes with the parachute, he tried to steer himself back to where they had taken off. Ignoring the wind tugging at his clothes and whipping his face, he concentrated on the lights of the field they had taken off from, far below. He wouldn't be the first down, there was no doubting that, but he had made it, at least.

Hitting the ground didn't hurt as much as he thought it would. Scrambling with his pack, he unclipped the parachute and attempted to stand up. A wave of nausea washed over him, and he fell to his knees. Then he was sick. A lot. As he picked himself up, two others approached him. One of them was Kai.

"Did you see me? I nearly hit the Lieutenant!" He jerked a thumb back towards where the huge Spartan stood, sounding half amazed, half terrified. He looked down at the sick. "At least I wasn't the only one, right?"

Martin nodded. He didn't have it in him to say anything at the moment. The other trainee stood, smiling at the pair of them. Martin looked at him. He had black hair, slightly longer than his. He seemed to radiate confidence.

"Told you that you could do it" he said.

There was a brief moment of recognition. Martin knew this guy!

"Daniel?" He asked. The kid he remembered from the orphanage nodded. "Good thing that the three of us are here, right?"

"Damn right" said Kai.

The three of them looked around in awe. Everyone had made it down safely, as far as they could see. The DI's were beginning to shepherd the others towards a row of bunkhouses. He stared at Lieutenant Ambrose for a few seconds. The Spartan, who had been standing stock still as the trainees landed, glanced his way and nodded approvingly.

Martin, Daniel and Kai joined the other trainees in the walk to the bunkhouses. They were tired, cold and hungry, but happy. This was their family now.

FNG
5:23am

The Spartan opened his eyes. He had lost himself in memories and dozed off for a little while. He had fought for three days straight before. He needed to keep himself awake now. On the battlefield, it had been easy. The thrill, the adrenaline and the fear kept your senses heightened and your mind alert, always poised for action. It was not the case here.

Martin had come to resent inactivity over the years, the crippling pain of having nothing to do, no mission, no target to be sent at. Most of the other Spartans were the same. When not fighting, they had to keep themselves busy. Personally, Martin found that disassembling and reassembling his gun would only work so many times to sate his restlessness.

Placing his well-used rifle behind his back, Martin finally shifted from his stance, walking around the army of small statues that represented his old comrades of Alpha Company. He arrived at the smallest group: those in MJOLNIR armour. He didn't need to read the name plaques at the feet of each one to recognise them. He had spent fifteen years of his life fighting alongside them. They were all heroes.

Not all of them were here, however. One had yet to be immortalised in stone alongside his brothers and sisters, the other stood on Earth, alongside the fallen from another pointless war. One day perhaps, Martin would be honoured like this, recognised for his services to humanity. The SPARTAN-III Program was never intended to be made public, but as the old Spartan knew all to well, intentions would change over the years, details long since classified would be come out. He placed his armoured hand on the nearest statue. It had been many, many years, but he could still recall his voice as though it were only yesterday...

"Fire, 'nade, go. That's what Dom told me it meant"

"He's messing with you man. It can't mean that"

"Well what did the DI mean then?"

"Maybe we should ask the Chief, he'll know"

"Good luck with that, I ain't going near him"

Martin-A136, Daniel-A105 and Kai-A019 sat at the end of their usual table in the cafeteria. It had been a long morning. After their usual mile of jogging, Mendez had decided that it would be funny to have a dozen DI's ambush them with paintball guns, in 'preparation' for this afternoon, where they would be fighting in the dense forest that surrounded Camp Currahe.

The general consensus around Alpha Company was that revenge would be on the menu this evening. Martin agreed. Unarmed, most of the company had scattered, running from the hail of paintballs. Those who tried to run at the DI's came off the worst though. One such trainee sat down next to Kai.

"Hey Nelson"

"Sup"

Nelson-A122 had a black eye, and winced with almost every movement. His team had been 'killed' in their suicide run at the trainers.

"How bad is it?"

"Nurse said there'd be no permanent damage, just bruising for a few weeks. Lieutenant Ambrose said I was lucky I didn't lose an eye"

Martin shuddered at the thought. He had taken a few hits to the chest as they fell back. There was a clamour, and shouting from a table across the room. He didn't even have to turn round to check who it was.

"Emile?" He asked Kai, who was sitting across from him.

"Yep. And Alex"

"Woah". He turned round, craning his neck to see two of the other trainees going for each other. Emile-A239 and Alex-A121 were known for being two of the most violent trainees in Alpha Company. Coincidentally, they had both originated from Eridanus II. Three DI's sprinted through the door towards the fight. Emile punched the first one in the groin, and kicked him as he collapsed to the floor in a foetal position. The other one pulled out his shock baton, hitting him in the face. Emile shuddered as the electricity hit him, and fell down. Cuffs were placed on him, while the other DI looked around.

"Who else was fighting?!"

No one said a word. The injured DI got to his feet, aiming a kick at Emile, who was being securely held. Two more DI's entered the cafeteria, followed closely by Chief Mendez. A chill seemed to fill the room. There were a dozen trainees who had been watching the fight still standing. Mendez looked around, once, his cold black eyes looking into everyone.

"You heard the man!" He barked, his voice making Martin sit straighter in his seat. "Who else was fighting?!"

Silence. No one dared to look around.

"Well, if no one owns up, then no one gets fed! How does that sound?"

After a few seconds, someone stepped forward. He was slightly shorter than many of the other trainess, with brown hair and dark circles beneath his eyes. He strode up to Chief Mendez, and stood to attention.

"Trainee Alpha One-Two-One, are you admitting to starting this fight?"

Alex-A121 met the Chief's gaze. "No sir, I am admitting to fighting. We both provoked each other"

Mendez turned to face the handcuffed Emile. "Trainee Alpha-Two-Three-Nine, is this true?"

Emile nodded. "Yeah, it was both of us"

Chief Mendez nodded to a nearby DI, who walked over to Alex, and handcuffed him.

"Twelve hours in the brig, until you learn that you should be concentrating your anger on Covenant, not each other" He turned back, facing the assembled Alpha Company.

"Trainees! You are the lucky ones. You will all be participating in this afternoon's exercise, thanks to One-Two-One's confession. Eat up. You've got half an hour!"

Mendez, stalked out of the room, closely followed by the DI's, Alex, and Emile. Kai let out a low whistle.

"Why do you think they did that? Alex and Emile hate each other's guts"

"Probably because it would be better to piss off the Chief than to piss off the whole Company" replied Daniel. "Let's eat. I'm not going into battle on an empty stomach"

Two hours later, 298 trainees trudged through the open gates of Camp Currahee, armed with paintball guns and light armour, towards the training zone that Chief Mendez had created for them. Three years ago, when they had stepped off of the dropships onto Onyx for the first time, they would have probably ended up in a free-for-all, screaming and shouting and fighting amongst themselves.

Now, they were quiet, speaking in low voices and contemplating the trials that lay ahead.

It had rained at noon, and the ground was still damp. Martin knew that knowing Mendez, and how the day was going, things would probably get worse. As they neared the training zone, the crack of thunder from above confirmed his suspicions. A collective sigh was raised from the young trainees.

"What, does the Chief control the weather now?" Kai asked with annoyance.

"I wouldn't put it past him. Lieutenant Ambrose too" This had come from Carter-A259. He was taller than most of the others, probably the oldest trainee in the Company. He seemed to command respect from the younger trainees, and was shaping up as an emerging team leader. Not that it mattered to Martin. He knew his place was alongside Kai, Dan, and the other members of 'Falcon Team', a name they had all agreed on.

Eventually, they had reached the grounds. Chief Mendez and Lieutenant Ambrose waited for them, alongside two dozen DI's. The Lieutenant hadn't worn his shining green armour since the night he had greeted Alpha Company. Even without it, he was massive.

"Trainees!" The Chief's voice cut over the sound of the wind. "You will all separate into teams of no more than ten. You will then be led to your starting points by your Drill Instructors. When, and only when you hear the klaxon, you will all be permitted to head into the training zone and capture this flag!"

Lieutenant Ambrose took out a bright red flag, holding it up for the entire Company to see. They were all watching with rapt attention. Mendez continued.

"The first team to return with the flag will be rewarded. You may take the flag from another team, but not by shooting them. Your weapons are loaded with Tactical Training Rounds. If you are hit in the leg, you will not be able to move that leg. If you are hit in the head, you get knocked out. If you are unable to move, you are officially 'dead' and must remain in place until I, or another instructor, deactivate the rounds with these batons. Clear?"

Every member of Alpha Company knew the response. "Sir yes sir!"

Competition
6:02am.

Over the mountains overlooking the city to the west, Reach's sun rose, the first rays of light illuminating the plaza and it's single inhabitant. Martin looked over for a few moments, his visor polarising as he watched the rays light up New Manassas. The memorial service wasn't long off.

"Cover me, I'm going for the flag!"

Ninety Two years ago, Martin was crouched in the bushes alongside Kai-A019 and Dan-A105 as TTR rounds whizzed overhead. Responding to the shout from Nelson-A122, he leaned out, raising his rifle as he did. There was a twitch of movement by a tree a dozen meters away. He fired several rounds. A yell told him that he had hit someone. The thunder from above and the light drizzle that came through the forest canopy was making it difficult to detect any hostile DI's.

Nelson sprang from his position, and ran for it. Two members of his 'Lion Team', Jordan-A111 and Dom-A178, had already been hit as they made a break for the flag. Dan jumped up after Nelson, eager to get the flag as well. Martin tried to stand up, but Kai grabbed his leg.

"Don't be stupid, Mart, they're going to get tagged. Best we stay with the others and storm the place"

Martin shook him off. "Dan needs our help. We're not gonna win by sitting here!"

He jumped up, closely followed by a visibly worried Kai, who signalled for the other team members to move with them. Dorian-A188, Chris-A189, Sal-A142, and Eugene-A133, the rest of Falcon Team, ran too, firing rounds at the concealed trainers as they made their way to the flag.

"Left side! Chris, he's by that tree, We're going to win this one!"

TTR rounds flew in from all directions. Eugene was hit in the head, and dropped instantly. The Drill Instructor that shot him was instantly peppered with rounds from Chris and Martin as they got closer to the flag. Many more Alpha Company trainees were closing in as well; children in combat fatigues sprinting between trees, trading fire with DI's as the bright red flag came into view, in a clearing at the centre of the forest. Dan called back to the rest of his team:

"C'mon, we're taking this one! Martin, Kai, everyone else, we have to-"

The rest of his sentence was interrupted by a TTR round hitting his leg. He fell, rolling to avoid more fire as he attempted to level his gun. Martin ran forward to help his fallen friend, picking him up and helping him along while the others provided cover.

The Flag was right in front of them. So were the prone forms of half a dozen trainees. He put Dan down by a tree, crouching beside him. Kai moved in next to him.

"They got Dorian and Chris. What's up here?"

Martin looked around. He couldn't see anything. Sal arrived, crouching by the others. She spent a few seconds catching her breath before reloading her weapon.

"Seen anyone else?" asked Kai.

"Carter's group ran into a bunch of DI's to the west, they're still fighting out there. They took out Louie and Frank just after they hit Chris. Jun climbed a tree and is shooting down everything that comes near. It's just us now"

Dan looked down at the TTR round on his leg. He couldn't move it. "Crap" he muttered. "We're heading for the flag. We get that thing out of the forest no matter what. Got that!"

The trainees nodded, and began to move towards the clearing. Almost immediately, a rapid stream of TTR rounds began firing from between the trees, sending them diving for cover. Dan kept moving, crawling for the flag even as rounds shot up the grass around him.

Suddenly, the trees exploded around the source of the hostile fire, which stopped instantly. Dan dragged himself to his fleet, and plucked the flagpole out from the ground, gazing in awe at something so simple. Martin patted him on the back.

"Y'know, this wasn't so-"

Time seemed to slow as Dan fell forward, a TTR round in the back of his head. The flagpole slipped through his fingers. Martin caught it, wheeling round toward the source of the shot. He found himself locking eyes with Senior Chief Petty Officer Franklin Mendez. He felt his blood turn to ice as Mendez' rifle scope turned to him. Kai pushed him down as shots whizzed overhead.

"Run!"

The other trainees began firing madly at Mendez, who seemed to simply melt into the bushes as more Drill Instructors emerged from the trees. Martin sprinted as fast as he could towards Camp Currahee, ducking and dodging through the forest. Other trainers kept up covering fire on the instructors.

"Almost there...almost there..." Martin kept going, leaping over the edge of the hill, flag still in hand, before landing in a muddy puddle. He rolled over, pulled himself to his feet and kept running, looking back to check for Mendez and the DI's. Then he ran into a brick wall.

Martin lay flat on his back, still clutching his prize as a shadow loomed over him. He hadn't hit a brick wall. Worse. He had hit Lieutenant Ambrose. He held out a hand, and helped Martin to his feet.

"Nice work today son, I'm surprised anyone made it out. Where is your team?"

Martin thought back to the others, who had either been 'killed' or were still fighting. "They stayed behind to help me out, sir" he replied. Ambrose nodded, and knelt beside the eight-year old. "Let me tell you something about teamwork, Martin" He seemed to remember the names of every recruit, unlike Mendez, who called them by their numbers.

"On the first day of my training, someone I knew went through a training course. It was much easier than this, and being faster than everyone else, he got through it first, ahead of his team. He lost. Do you know why?"

Martin shook his head, looking up at the Lieutenant.

"He may have been faster than anyone else, but because of that, his team lagged behind, and made it out last. They were punished for that mistake. My friend learned from this, and never abandoned his team. Do you see what I'm getting at?"

"I think so, sir. We all make it out, or it's not a victory, right?"

"What I'm saying is, while getting the job done quickly is important, getting your team out alive will always take priority. What's the point in winning if there's no one left but you to celebrate with?"

The Lieutenant stood up, and took out his radio. After a brief exchange with Mendez, a siren sounded over the woods, signalling the end of the exercise. He looked down at Martin, standing silently with the flag held tightly in his hands.

"The exercise is over, Martin. I'd recommend getting to the cafeteria first if you want some food, I'm sure that everyone else will want to see who captured the flag"

Martin ran back to Camp Currahee as Kurt Ambrose strode off into the forest.

An hour later, Alpha Company sat in the cafeteria, talking excitedly about the day's events. Martin was surrounded by his fellow trainees, many eagerly asking him to retell the story of his victory. There were many other stories being told, like how Jun had to be shot out of his tree with tranquilliser rounds, believing the end siren to be a trick, and how someone had apparently shot Mendez in the leg, something that a little over fifty people had claimed to have done.

Mendez himself was said to have been in a particularly bad mood that night, glowering at the trainees from a dark corner of the room. It was never discovered who had shot the Chief, and Martin never captured the flag again, but the conversation he had with Lieutenant Ambrose regarding teamwork was never forgotten.

First Blood
The next few years had passed quickly, until one day it was announced that Alpha Company would be leaving Onyx for the first time. Martin could remember the excitement in the air as the pelican, packed with trainee Spartans, flew towards a huge station that had arrived in the system a few hours before.

Once they were all on the station, the 300 trainees had been told that they would be made into Spartans. This would be the culmination of all those years of training and hard work. Finally, they would be unleashed on the Covenant. They would have revenge.

They were herded into individual rooms, where they were asked to lie down on an operating table. Looking back, Martin couldn't quite remember the details of his own augmentations. Maybe he had been put to sleep, or maybe, like most of his life outside battle, his mind just put it all aside. It wasn't important.

However, once the augmentations had been completed, he could remember joining the others, still feeling groggy and weak. One the whole of Alpha Company had returned to the main docking area, two days after their augmentations, they were told by an ONI officer that they were being shipped out to combat. For the three hundred orphans in the room, this was the news they had been waiting for since they had first touched down on Onyx, that cold night five years earlier.

As Martin stood, dressed in his fresh uniform, alongside his squadmates as they were marched through into the waiting transport, he glanced at Lieutenant Ambrose and Chief Mendez. The former was standing tall, arms folded, looking over them with nothing more than his highest approval. Martin could've sworn, though he couldn't quite be sure, that next to the Lieutenant, he saw a smile on the old man's face.

He never saw them again.

Several weeks later, Martin was lying on his stomach in a pile of rubble, his MA5K rifle pointing forwards. He, like the 299 other Spartans, was clad in Semi Powered Infiltration, or 'SPI' armour. It had taken some getting used to, but he was glad to be getting into the fight.

"Marty, see anything?" Eugene was crouched several metres to his right. To the naked eye, however, he would be little more than a shimmer, the photo-reactive panels on his armour acting as camouflage.

"Nothing yet. We moving?"

"Copy that. Stay low, watch out for traps" That was Dan's voice. The whole 6-man Falcon Team was hiding in the rubble of this building, levelled by UNSC artillery fire several weeks before. Mamore, most of Alpha had decided, was an absolute hellhole. The Company had been dispatched to quell the large Insurrectionist movement there. The Spartans, who had volunteered to get revenge on the Covenant, were not quite content with fighting there own species, but no one complained.

Martin, on point, edged forward, keeping his weapon levelled while looking out for traps. Mines, tripwires, motion sensors and improvised explosives, alongside an impressive amount of firepower, had prevented UNSC forces from taking the city. With the War against the Covenant in full swing, there hadn't been time to divert troops. So, they sent in the Spartans. He'd heard rumours that it was a suicide mission, that no one had even got close to the enemy base. Until now.

All 300 Spartans in Alpha Company, after being deployed several kilometres away, had gotten into the rebel-held city limits, the various teams spreading out and eliminating outposts silently. No alarms had been raised, but now the real test came. Stepping out from cover, still crouched, into the street, Martin moved swiftly to the adjacent wall. Lieutenant Ambrose had taught him not to rely on technology for everything, and he wasn't taking chances, even with his camo systems enabled.

The rest of the team moved in around him, watching carefully for any movement. Checking the TACMAP, Martin saw that the entire company had encircled the main rebel compound. No alarms yet. He waved his hand forward, and two shimmers moved silently past him to the corner. He noticed that their camouflage patterns shifted imperfectly. They would probably be seen if they tried to sneak directly past patrols.

"Contact. Three rebels, twelve o'clock"

That had come from Kai. He was peeking round the corner at the end of the street. Martin, Dan and Chris moved up beside him. Through the swirling dust in the demolished street, several men came into view. They were clad in makeshift, patched clothes and body armour, wielding outdated MA2B rifles as they trudged towards the hidden Spartans.

"We'll have to take them down" Dan said, his voice flat and emotionless. The four of them raised their rifles slowly, marking targets. "Chris, go with Eugene, Jun and Trevor, get the high ground over there" He gestured to a partially demolished building to their right. The others moved away, leaving the three alone in the street, facing down the unaware rebels.

"This is Falcon Team, we are in position to engage hostiles. Is everyone else ready?" This was broadcast to the entire company. Status lights winked green and there were several affirmative responses. Dan clicked the safety off his carbine.

"On my go. Three"

Martin took a deep breath. His hands shook as he sighted down at the man in front of him. Thoughts crawled into his mind. He had signed up to get revenge on the Covenant, not put down people because they didn't want to follow the UNSC's rules. Not this.

"Two"

The man pulled down his facemask, and turned to one of his comrades, who produced a packet of cigarettes and handed one over. He could see the man's face. Even at this range, his augmented eyesight made sure that he noticed every single detail. Oh no. In his head, he began to panic. I can't do this, I can't do this...

"One"

Two rifles cracked alongside him. Two rebels dropped like sacks, the third jerking up in shock, hands going for his weapon. Martin could feel the gazes of his squadmates turning upon him. He couldn't do it. His hands felt paralysed. He couldn't kill him.

"Martin, shoot!"

Before he could respond, the alerted rebel fell back as a smaller figure impacted with him, sending the man sprawling to the ground. There was a glint of steel as a knife was raised, before jerking down. The rebel jerked for a few seconds, then went still. A Spartan climbed off him, splattered with blood as he sheathed his weapon. His tag identified him as SPARTAN Alpha Two Three Nine.

"Shoot faster next time" said Emile, a faint trace of disgust in his voice. He disappeared back into the ruins. Martin slumped against a nearby wall as the gunfire began around the compound, followed by several explosions. Dan and Kai ran to him, keeping an eye out for any more hostiles. Martin couldn't bear to look up at them. He felt like a failure. All those years of training, simulated battle and exercises, for nothing. He would kill an alien if faced with one, but something prevented him from pulling the trigger on another human.

"Martin, what happened back there?" Dan seemed genuinely concerned. Kai was crouched beside him, keeping watch.

"I don't know, I couldn't do it"

"What?"

"I couldn't do it. Let's go"

He stood up and checked the still-full counter on his MA5K. Dan immediately began to move down the street, towards the high-walled and heavily fortified rebel compound, which Alpha Company was currently making a very good job of destroying. Two rebels ran round the corner, and were immediately hit in the head before the trio could raise their weapons.

"Nice shot, Jun"

"My pleasure"

A large hole in the wall had been made, courtesy of a C-12 charge from another team. Dan clambered through first, closely followed by the others. The young Spartans moved slowly into the first building, keeping their weapons raised. Dan motioned for Martin to watch their backs while he and Kai kicked in a door. Martin knew why they were doing this: They couldn't completely rely on him. The bond they had forged over the last few years had been broken by a moment's hesitation. Muffled shots rang out in the next room.

"Clear!"

Martin moved inside with the others. Two more rebels lay dead on the floor. Kai moved to the window and looked outside. The Insurrectionist base was falling apart under the might of Alpha Company. With this place taken out, the UNSC would have little trouble in retaking Mamore. Dan reloaded his weapon and placed it on a nearby table before turning to Martin. His visor depolarised, revealing an unfamiliar look of worry across his usually calm face.

"Martin, I need to know what's up with you" Dan put a hand on Martin's shoulder, an unfamiliar gesture for a Spartan. "Look, we need to know that when it comes down to it, you can eliminate anyone or anything, okay? A second of hesitation like what happened back there could lead to your teammates dying"

Dan was right. He was always right. Martin recalled that lesson that Lieutenant Ambrose had taught him about working as a team. He nodded sullenly. Kai raised his carbine and fired a few bursts through the window. "Two down" he muttered. Then, it happened. Even now, nearly a century after, Martin could remember this moment, clear as day. One of the rebels had hidden behind a crate in the room, and leapt out, holding a rifle in one hand, and a grenade in the other. The first few shots impacted on Dan's SPI armour, breaking through the photo-reactive panels, causing his suit's camo system to flicker and fail.

Dan gasped in pain as several more rounds hit his upper torso. Kai began to turn, but he wouldn't have been fast enough. Martin was. He didn't have time to think or process what he was doing. His weapon moved upwards and he squeezed the trigger. Rounds ripped through the man's torso and neck, causing him to fall sideways, gun still firing. Before he had hit the ground, he had been shot twice in the head. Martin grabbed Dan, who had staggered back onto the table. Nothing vital had been hit, but he was still bleeding profusely.

"Dan, are you-" Martin began, but was cut off by a small noise from the ground. A grenade rolled away from the rebel's outstretched fingers, the pin missing. Martin immediately threw Dan at the open door, out into the compound while Kai leapt out of the window. His eyes darting around, Martin dived back through the way they had came in as the grenade detonated. Everything went black.

"Martin! Martin, can you hear me?"

Martin was lying in the dirt. The gunfire had more or less stopped, and the familiar roar of a Pelican's engines filled the air. As he sat up, he noticed his helmet on the ground next to him, badly dented, with part of the visor missing. Kai and Dan were crouched next to him, the latter's armour partially filled in with biofoam. "I'm okay" Martin said, shaking his head. He had a jagged cut just above his right eye, but other than that, there was nothing really to worry about but a few bruises. The others helped him to his feet.

"You saved me" Dan was clutching his side, but still smiling nonetheless. "You did it Martin, I knew you could" Martin wasn't sure if he was right to be so happy about his friend killing someone, but Dan was correct. He had eliminated a hostile, to save a teammate. Around them, the rest of Alpha Company had gathered for extraction. There had been a few wounded, but no casualties. Not bad for their first 'suicide mission'. It wasn't so different from the end of one of their training mission, really. Many Spartans were boasting about their various feats of bravery. There seemed to be a large crowd around Emile, who had 'liberated' a rather large and nasty looking knife from a rebel armoury.

Martin picked up his helmet as the first of the Pelicans touched down. The rest of Falcon Team had gathered, and greeted the trio enthusiastically. Jun helped Martin, who was still feeling a little shaky, into the back of the dropship. He sat down, and looked around at his teammates. They were all looking a little worse for wear, armour covered in dirt and weapons by their sides. Though they hadn't had a chance to battle the Covenant yet, something that the entire company so desperately wished for, they had gone into the fire, and all made it out alive. He was eleven years old, and a fully-fledged Spartan.

Ashes
6.47am.

Even from the centre of the plaza, Martin could hear the gates being opened by the caretakers. The rain had stopped completely. Among the silent army, Martin could pick out the names belonging to those he had been friends with, those whom he had joked with, fought alongside and argued with. They were all gone now. He was the last of his kind. The only other had retired a few years earlier. Looking around, not every member of Alpha was here. There was a monument in Hősök tere, New Alexandria, depicting several others he had known once, long ago. They had become something of a legend here on Reach. Whole generations had grown up on the planet after it had been terraformed back into existence.

6.49am. Looking up, Martin could see various shuttles flying overhead, people going about their daily business without the threat of war. Of extinction. The last battle known to have occurred was a decade ago, and even then it had barely lasted a day before the invaders had left. The damage wrought upon New Manassas had been hastily repaired and forgotten about. Hearing footsteps, the old Spartan turned, seeing half a dozen people walking around the plaza. It had become one of the most popular attractions on the planet. Many were staring at him, some pointing. He supposed that it would be as unusual now, as it was a century ago, to see one of the fabled super soldiers standing there.

He removed his helmet, a gesture that, he had learned, helped to build some amount of trust. It was hard for others to speak into an opaque, expressionless visor. Cradling the helmet in the crook of his left arm, he ran the gauntleted fingers of his right hand over his face, tracing the faint scar over his right eye. It was the first of many he had acquired over the years, and one of the least serious. Looking back over the small stone figures of Alpha Company, wearing their now-ancient SPI armour, Martin looked back to the day he died.

Operation: PROMETHEUS. That was what they were calling it. Alpha Company had been active for several months, and had seen action on New Constantinople, the Bonanza Asteroid Belt and six other engagements. Martin had his fair share of kills under his belt. It had been satisfying to finally bring the fight to the Covenant. He could recall the first alien he killed: an Elite, clad in dark red armour. While it had attempted to fire on another team, he had gotten in close, raised his pistol and shot it thrice in the head at point blank range. The alien's indigo coloured blood had sprayed his armour as his fellow Spartans moved in to butcher the rest of the Covenant forces on the planet. It felt good.

The rest of Falcon Team were currently covering Team Wolf Pack as it set charges on another reactor. They had been there for nearly seven days, ambushing patrols, and destroying or shutting down the plasma reactors that the Covenant were using to refine metal for their starships. Dorian-A188 was on overwatch duty, keeping an eye out for enemy activity. Since they had slaughtered the response team the Covenant had sent several days earlier, there had been little sign of Covenant forces. Dorian's status light winked green, a sign that there was no trouble.

Dorian had been assigned to Falcon just before the operation. For some reason, half a dozen members of the company had been taken out for unknown purposes, including Carter, the oldest company member, Emile, whose departure was met with rejoicing and sadness in equal measure, and Falcon's own sniper, Jun. While the removal of these Spartans would not seriously hamper the effectiveness of Alpha Company, it was seen as quite odd. Martin heard Shane, Wolf Pack's leader, over the COM.

"Charges are rigged and set to blow. This'll be number twenty"

According to their tactical readouts, they were very close to taking the asteroid, named K7-49, out of commission for good. A few more and the entire place would have cooled sufficiently to become useless to the Covenant. Then they would get to their Calypso-Class Extraction Craft and be off this godforsaken place. From the shelter of the ridge, half a mile away from the nearby reactor, the Spartans watched as Wolf Pack detonated their charges, crippling the Covenant machine. They watched in fascination as gouts of plasma burst out and metal twisted before the structure finally crashed to the ground.

"Reactor down"

"Nice work Shane, let's move on to the next one" That was Dan. He was crouched on a rocky outcrop, looking over the tactical data for the mission. Alpha Company was moving fast. Suddenly, a signal came over the emergency COM, being broadcast to the entire Company.

"This is Raven Team, we've got a massive Covenant force inbound. We're in for a fight!" The COM winked off, and in the valley to their right, gunfire and explosions could be heard, along with the familiar whine of Banshees. The Spartans gathered round, checking their weapons. They were out for blood. Dan lifted his MA5K above his head, and waved it in the direction of the battle.

"Let's get to it!" He shouted, and sprinted away.

"I'm calling Code Omega Three! Everyone get out of here while you still can!"

This was bad. Really bad. Two thirds of Alpha Company had engaged the Covenant on the rocky landscape of the asteroid, while the rest went about destroying the reactors. The battle had been evenly matched until the Covenant brought down an entire army to flank the young Spartans. Now, they had a simple choice: Run or die.

Martin rolled from cover and fired his MA5K on full auto into the nearest elite, ripping through it's shields and taking the alien down. The entire company was in full retreat. Missiles from Kai and Eugene's 'Jackhammer' launchers streaked overhead and felled incoming banshees. According to his HUD, their Calypso craft were only a few kilometres east. After reloading, he took down a trio of grunts before calling back. "Go, I've got this!" Several more of the squat aliens fell before Dan grabbed his shoulder and pulled him back.

"Martin, let's go. We all go home or nobody goes home!"

He was right. With a single glance back at the approaching Covenant forces, Martin turned and ran. The others ran alongside him. The COM was a real mess. There was no real cohesion now, no protocol or plan other than to run as fast as they could.

"...can't raise Python team..."

"We've got casualties! Can anyone cover us?!"

"Sarah? Oh God, I think she's..."

"...Will hold this position as long as we can!"

Falcon Team kept going, sprinting over the rocks of the asteroid as a furious battle was being fought below them. In that sense, they were quite lucky, having been assigned to an overwatch position on the cliffs. Then, they saw it. Kai groaned. "Oh no..."

In front of them, protecting one of the last plasma reactor, was an entire Covenant legion. Lines of grunts and jackals led by elites moved forward, followed by lumbering hunters. At the back was an entire line of wraith tanks, their plasma mortars raining down on Alpha Company. Worse still, their extraction craft were hidden not far past the reactor. They were cut off.

"This is bad. Real bad" Dan sounded afraid for the first time in his life. They had very little chance of slipping past an entire Covenant army undetected. Checking the tactical readouts, the K7-49 facility was still, if barely, active. If they escaped now, everyone else would have died for nothing. They would have failed their mission. Death was a better option. There was a single reactor in front of them, both an obstacle and a target. The Spartans looked at eachother, not saying a word. There were only seven of them up here: Dan, Martin, Kai, Eugene, Chris, Dorian and Sal. That had to be enough.

"Falcon Team, we're moving in. Nothing is going to stop us. Clear?"

The entire team replied with affirmatives. No one was backing down here. They had all had their chance to do that, years ago on that Pelican, one cold night on Onyx. One by one, they activated their SPI suit's camo systems and began to move down from the ridge. Most of the Covenant forces had their attention drawn towards the bulk of Alpha Company, who were in full retreat. Taking shelter, their suits providing some degree of cover, the team waited at the bottom of a rocky embankment as several wraith tanks passed. The moment they had gone, the Spartans were up and running again, moving as quickly as they dared towards the reactor.

"This is Lion Team, is anyone still alive?" That was Nelson. His team had been one of Falcon's main competitors during training. Dan responded immediately. "Yeah, this is Falcon, where are you guys?" His voice was calm, despite the slaughter that was going on behind them.

"There's eleven of us, we broke through the Covvie ranks and are headed for the evac zone" On his TACMAP, several yellow dots winked up, showing their comrades not far away, fighting in a narrow crevice. Looking over there, his visor zooming in, Martin could see the small arms fire and occasional missile from behind the rocks they were holed up in. Dan waved them forward, and they began sprinting towards the battle. The Covenant had diverted the wraiths to deal with Lion Team. That could only mean that the rest of Alpha Company wasn't a threat any more.

Martin checked the rosters for Alpha Company. Most bio signs had flatlined or were extremely low, and more were winking off before his eyes. The signs for Team Wolf Pack went out, one by one, as more explosions and plasma fire were heard from the main valley. After getting into cover, Kai and Eugene fired their missiles at the unprotected rear of the tanks, hitting the rotating exhaust ports, which had been identified as the main weak point. Both tanks exploded, killing several nearby grunts. As the other wraiths attempted to turn to face the new threat, they were hit by several more missiles. The Spartans leapt over their cover and advanced, combined fire dropping those who opposed them.

They didn't have long. Dan lead the team up into the rocks where Nelson and the others were. Two bodies lay side by side in the crevice, clad in the remnants of their SPI armour. They looked so small in death. Nelson greeted them, jumping down from his position in the rocks, hefting a captured plasma rifle.

"We lost Ian and Ome in the last attack. Damn covvies..." It seemed a surprise that anyone had managed to get through at all. There were now nine survivors from Nelson's group, and the seven from Falcon Team. They had a chance at completing their mission now. "How did you survive?" Dan asked.

"We managed to take cover from the wraith bombardment and move up while the Covvies were distracted. Couldn't say the same for the rest of the Company though. Damn hunters cut them off"

Dan nodded, not saying a word. Martin noticed that there was none of his 'no man left behind' mentality here. Nelson had saved as many as he could. There was nothing more he could do. There was a loud explosion from above as a bolt of green energy struck the cliff face above them. The Spartans followed Nelson through the crevice, getting into cover before the banshee fliers could get a bead on them. After reaching the other side, their target was in sight. They had to take out that reactor. Failure was not an option.

Martin moved across the open plain that separated the crevice from the plasma reactor. They were forced to move as slowly as possible, the camo on their armour becoming almost useless if they dared to move at anything more than a slow jog. Most of the Covenant forces were likely focused on mopping up the rest of the Company in the valley. He hadn't activated his larger COM system in a while, and decided not to. In his mind, Martin knew that his friends, the people he had trained with, who were closer to him than his biological family had ever been, were being massacred. He put it aside, focusing only on the task at hand.

As the familiar whine of the banshees came back into earshot, he threw himself to the floor, giving a silent prayer to whatever Gods there may me in the universe to save him. Whether by luck or divine intervention, he was still alive as the fuel rod blasts hit the surface.

"Oh fuck! Everyone run, now! We're taking this damn thing out now!"

Dan again. This was the first time he had heard him swear on a mission. He had finally lost his cool. Checking the BIOCOM, he saw that Kristoff-A035's signals had flatlined. Looking to his right, beyond the smoking hole where something that might have been a piece of armour lay, Martin could see Louie-A199 carrying Dorian away while his longtime friend, Alex-A121, began firing towards the Covenant forces guarding the reactor, a stream of creative and colourful expletives issuing from his mouth.

Martin ran as fast as he could, meeting with Kai and Dan at the entrance to the reactor. They waited for another Spartan to toss a grenade in before storming in, MA5K's blaring. Several grunts dropped to the floor, twitching. Kai immediately began unpacking the explosives from his pack. Martin and Dan did the same. Alex, Louie and Dorian made it inside while Jordan-A111 and Frank-A103 moved to cover the other exit. The Covenant army would be closing in on them soon. Dan activated TEAMCOM. "Everyone, get to the extraction vehicles, now. We'll handle the charges"

After a few affirmatives were made, Dan ordered the others to place their det-packs on the structure. They had already placed enough to blow this place three times, but Martin guessed that he wanted to leave the enemy with something to remember them by. Dorian, whose armour had been badly singed, managed to walk to the other exit and shoulder his weapon before dropping to his knees. Frank and Jordan grabbed him, and injected biofoam into his armour. His signs were dropping into the red zone; he would need medical attention soon.

"Jordan, Frank and Martin, get Dorian out of here. We've got this"

"No!"

Martin's mouth had responded quicker than his mind. He wasn't going to be the one sent away while others ran. Flashes came into his mind, evoking memories long hidden. A woman pushing him onto a container packed with strangers, watching with wide eyes through a window as a planet was consumed by fire. More recent things, too. Being told to run while the others took on the man who had become their sole source of fear, back in that forest.

"Martin?"

"Louie, you go with them. I'm staying with them" He spoke clearly, with obvious authority. Louie-A199, who had always been quite friendly and agreeable, nodded and began to move. Dan stared at him in disbelief as he motioned for the others to go as the plasma fire died down for a moment. Martin them calmly went back to placing his pack next to the reactor.

"Soldier, I gave you an order to-"

"Don't pull that crap on me, Dan. What's that catchphrase you love? We all go home..."

"...Or nobody goes home" Dan finished. He took a breath, stood up, and saluted. Martin returned it. Kai stood up too. Here they were, the three of them, standing there just as they had that cold night on Onyx, the night they had chosen to become Spartans. A cough from Alex, who had been leaning nonchalantly against a wall, brought them back to their senses.

"Charges placed, people" Kai said with satisfaction. "Let's go". There was a violent explosion from the exit as a plasma mortar detonated next to it. Enemy wraiths had zeroed in on their position. Looking around in desperation, Martin saw that the reactor had an upper deck for patrolling guards. He pressed a button on a nearby wall, hoping it would do what he thought it did. A shimmering blue light confirmed his suspicions as the gravity lift activated, lifting the four Spartans to the upper level. Kai grabbed a beam rifle from one of the dead jackals and immediately unloaded a few shots on incoming elites, dropping a few and sending more into cover.

"Evac's this way, we can jump from here and sprint the rest of the way!" Martin turned to see Dan gesturing over his shoulder towards the valley where their extraction craft were stowed. Alex immediately made a run for the edge, leapt off and landed, rolling, on the rocky ground before heading off as fast as he could towards the others. Though Alex was a vicious and stubborn fighter, he would not abandon Louie, who had been his best friend even before he joined the program.

Dan, Kai and Martin began to run as well, catching sight of the massive Covenant attack force heading towards them. As the three Spartans neared the edge of the platform, Kai cried out in pain, and fell to the ground. A pink, crystalline shard had buried itself in the back of his knee. He yanked it out with a grunt and tossed it away, but the damage was done. He wouldn't be running. Martin turned back to help his friend, only to see the large frame of an Elite land on the other side of the platform, several others in tow using what appeared to be jet packs. It was just the three of them now.

Dan immediately tossed a grenade their way, scattering the four of them and allowing Kai and Martin to take one down with combined fire. One launched itself towards Martin, who was barely able to dodge as the alien crashed into a wall. Unsheathing his combat knife, he leapt up onto it's back and plunged the blade into the neck of his enemy. As the Elite choked and died, another one grabbed Martin and slammed him into the floor. Had it not been for his augmentations and his armour, he would have most likely broken his spine. The Elite roared at him, spittle hitting his visor as an energy dagger was unsheathed from it's gauntlet.

A burst of MA5K fire hitting it's shields distracted the massive alien for a moment as it span round, unleashing a flurry of bolts from it's plasma pistol against Kai, who was sat on the floor. Martin's hand shot for his pistol, which he raised and fired twice into the elite's head. It dropped like a sack. Martin pushed the bloody corpse off of him and crawled over to where his friend lay. The plasma rounds had burned through his SPI armour like paper. One shot had melted part of his visor. Kai pulled his helmet off with shaking hands and tossed it aside. Dan, who had just finished off their last assailant with a burst of rifle fire, ran over to his two friends.

"Is it bad?"

Kai looked up at him, and spat blood onto the floor. "Nah man, I usually spend my time in a pool of my own blood. It's-" He began coughing more, laying a hand on his chest. Martin was no medic, but he could tell that his old friend was way beyond the help of biofoam. A plasma burn had scorched his right cheek, and the armour in his lower torso had been burned away.

"C'mon, we're getting you out of here" Martin went to grab Kai's shoulder, but his hand was swatted away. If they didn't leave immediately, they would almost certainly never made it. Kai lifted up something in his bloody hands. It was a detonator.

"Dan, are we...are we clear?" His face was drawn and pale. Dan nodded, expressionless behind the opaque visor. Clear. That was the term for use when all the explosives were armed and ready for detonation. He knew what Kai was going to do. Martin took out a can of biofoam from his pouch, and handed it to his friend. It wouldn't make much of a difference, but it might ease the pain.

"Kai, no..." At this moment, he didn't feel like a Spartan. He wasn't one of those invincible green-clad warriors that he had always aspired to be. He was a scared 12-year old kid, stuck on an alien asteroid far from home, watching one of his best friends die. Dan put a hand on his shoulder. "C'mon, Martin. We have to go, now" There was no emotion in his voice. He gave Kai a quick thumbs up, which was returned in kind, before turning away. It was the same gesture they had shared on the dropship as they had arrived on Onyx several years before.

"Martin, go. I've got this one. I'll make them-" He let out another grating cough. "I'll make those bastards remember Alpha Company. You boys do the same, promise?"

"I promise" Martin meant it. He had signed up to kill aliens, to avenge his lost homeworld and family. Now, he merely had another reason for revenge. He turned away, and ran after Dan, leaping from the platform and sprinting as fast as he could towards the extraction zone.

Everything seemed to pass in a blur from then on. The two of them had ran and ran, making it to their Calypso-Class extraction vessel, where the other survivors were waiting, and had gotten away from K7-49 just as a blinding flash lit up the rocky valley behind them. They had used a lot of explosives. There were twelve of them. Twelve survivors out of just under three hundred Spartans that had landed on that asteroid not long before. They had done it, though. They had won. Tactical readouts showed them that they had destroyed enough reactors to cool the place down to a level that it would be of absolutely no use to Covenant forces.

Everyone in Falcon Team had survived, except Kai. His death seemed to hang over the team like a dark cloud for the entire return journey. At least, like many of his dead brothers and sisters, he had taken down more than a few aliens with him. In the end, that was what they had all signed up for. Martin and the others sat in silence, bruised, beaten and tired. That fact wouldn't erase the cold, hard truth, that Kai was gone, but it made things slightly easier. The fact that the twelve of them had even made it was nothing short of a miracle. The two teams had been acting as a rearguard for Alpha Company, and were able to run away in time. That was all there was to it. Sheer luck, not combat skill, had saved them.

After some time, they were picked up at the arranged point by a UNSC prowler, and put into the hangar bay. Martin was the first out of the craft, staggering out onto the metal floor, helmet in hand. He was greeted by an unusual trio of people. In the middle was an aged, frail-looking woman, clad in the garb of an admiral, with piercing blue eyes that seemed to cut right into him. Martin saluted her tiredly. To the right of the woman was a middle aged, thin man with thinning black hair and a goatee. Both hands were clasped behind his back, and he was surveying the Spartans with the look of a potential buyer at an auction. The third figure was a man with dark hair, in typical military atire. A Colonel's insignia gleamed on his grey uniform.

"So Colonel, it seems that we did have some survivors from PROMETHEUS" The older woman glanced at the second man, who nodded. Both men seemed to be terrified of this little old lady. She continued. "Well Doctor Roe" She addressed the man in the white coat. "You get a group of Spartans to use. I know how much you missed Sigma" The Doctor grinned. "Yes Admiral, they will do nicely, but how are we going to get a group this size past Ambrose?"

The Admiral paced forward, circling the Spartans, who were still standing at attention, like a predator. "I'll deal with that. As far as he is concerned, all of his Spartans were killed on that rock" A chill ran down Martin's spine. Something seemed very wrong here. Roe nodded, evidently satisfied. "Thank you, ma'am. I'm sure that you will agree with Colonel Ackerson and I that these Spartan survivors can be put to better use on things other than suicide missions" The Colonel, evidently Ackerson, glanced over at Roe, but did not say a word. The Admiral stopped her pacing, and addressed the Spartans.

"Okay boys-" She noticed Sal. "-and girl. As the mission reports will now state, every single one of you has just been killed during the operation, and until I, or any of my successors says so, you all stay dead, clear?"

"Yes ma'am" twelve voices echoed round the room. Admiral Parangosky turned and stalked away, closely followed by Ackerson. The Spartans were stood with Doctor Roe, who still had a strange look about him, like a child looking at a new toy. It reminded him of the look that Major King had upon his recruitment, six years ago. Finally, he spoke.

"I am Doctor Calvin Roe of the Office of Naval Intelligence. You are all now part of the second generation of Project SIGMA. The twelve of you will comprise UPSILON and TAU Teams, as part of a new Spartan initiative. Your work for humanity has only just begun"

Catharsis
7am. Martin walked calmly towards the crowd around the stage where several veterans and officials would be making their speeches for the memorial. Ignoring the stares and startled expressions of the civilians around him, the SPARTAN-III walked up to the steps at the edge of the stage. A couple of security guards glanced at him, and his rifle, but made no move to stop him as he walked up and took his place next to a dignitary from Earth, who stared at him in awe. Martin looked around at the gathering crowd. There were at least a few hundred people here.

He actually felt glad that he didn't have to say anything here; he had never been one for speeches. His mind wandered as he half-listened to the speech being made. It was about honour, nobility and sacrifice. The usual stuff. Looking at the speaker, a chubby, middle-aged man in a grey suit, he noted that he had probably never picked up a gun in his life. He had never had to take a life, or watch a friend perish. Martin envied him. For the first time in over a century, humanity seemed to finally be at peace. Whole generations could grow up without the looming threat of war, and the horrors it had brought with it.

After some time, the ceremony was over, and the crowd dispersed into the museum and statue plaza. Martin allowed several passers by to take pictures of him, clad in his shining blue MJOLNIR armour. he didn't mind. In fact, he was beginning to feel happy, at peace. A young man, wearing the dark grey uniform of a Navy Officer, began walking alongside him. He smiled when Martin looked at him, and saluted. Martin returned it. He didn't like that smile. It reminded him too much of Doctor Roe, a man whom he still had nothing but the deepest loathing for after his actions many years before.

"Lieutenant Hector Trill, Fifth Fleet. It's an honour to meet you, sir" He held out his hand, which Martin took. He had the air of an excited child around him. "Sir, I've been looking over your service history. What you've done over the years is truly remarkable. Surviving PROMETHEUS, defending Fargad, the sacrifices made on Reach and your years battling Insurrection with Shrike, not to mention your actions in leading Yankee Company in the Civil War. You're a hero!"

Martin shook his head, much to the surprise of the Lieutenant. Something about this man bothered him greatly. He didn't give a damn if this man was with ONI, if he had saved thousands of orphans from a crashing ship or was the UEG President's son. It was time for the Spartan to speak his mind for a change. He was old, tired, and more importantly, pissed off.

"No, I'm not a hero. never have been. I didn't take up arms because of an ideology or belief, I've never had one. I didn't carry out my actions out of loyalty or honour. I've simply been a weapon for the last century, to be pointed and used against whoever my superiors have deemed an enemy. A soldier fights for what he believes in. I have nothing to believe in, Lieutenant"

These words seemed to stun the young officer. Martin looked him in the eyes, making sure that he got his point across clearly. He was glad to see that he had made the young man practically shit himself. Trill tried to speak. "Yes, well...if, if you'd like to come with me then I can show-"

"Leave the man alone, Lieutenant. That's an order"

The voice had come from behind him. It was rough with age, yet still carried a resonant tone of command. The colour seemed to drain from the Lieutenant's face. He immediately walked away, a lot faster than normal. Martin turned round to see who it was. Hie eyes widened in surprise. The man, who was sat in a large, mechanical chair, was wearing a simple black suit bristling with medals. His face was heavily lined and scarred, though he was obviously quite muscled and fit, despite being confined to a motorised wheelchair. Martin smirked.

"Commander Hollister" Martin said, snapping to attention. The man in the chair shook his head and chuckled.

"It's Kane to you, Martin. No ranks for old friends, especially when I'm the retired one here. Nice job with the ONI brat, by the way. You were always one for the angsty speeches, before and after the war"

Kane-099. A SPARTAN-II of the SIGMA Program and one of the best marksmen he'd ever seen. The old man was also one of the few people still alive who had known Martin in his younger years, even being a sort of mentor to him. "Good to see you're still alive and kicking" replied Martin, overjoyed to see his old friend. Kane looked down at his useless legs. "Not exactly kicking, but I see what you mean. Believe it or not, I prefer things this way"

"Why?" Martin had never understood why Kane had not taken his loss of movement very seriously since a near-fatal wound had crippled him a decade ago. "You know, with the medical facilities we have on Earth, you could walk again" Kane simply waved him away. He pressed a button, and the chair rose a few inches off the ground, a faint hum of power emanating from the base.

"I'm much happier this way. This repurposed Covenant technology has actually come in useful for once. Anyway, I'm useless to the military as a soldier now, though I'm often used for tactical advice. Better than fighting, in my opinion. Oh, and I've got my books"

"Yeah, I've read your autobiography. It's a real bestseller back on Earth" Martin had considered writing his own, but had little time to do so, even in his old age. He had his memories, things that he wouldn't want to share with anyone else. That would do for him. "What was it you called me? 'The overconfident one with skills to rival mine', as I recall"

Kane shrugged, and began to move towards the exit. Martin followed him. "Where are we heading?" he asked. Kane had taken up residence within New Manassas after his retirement from military service, and lived in a spacious penthouse in one of the city's classier districts. The SPARTAN-II kept on going, his hovering chair leading Martin out of the plaza, away from the crowds. They went along in silence for several streets until they came to a cafe situated on the edge of a busy market district. Martin ignored the stares he was getting and entered the cafe behind Kane. Though it was barely quarter past seven in the morning, there were a fair amount of people inside, many turning to look as the Spartan entered.

"Morning Kane" called a middle aged man behind the counter.

"Morning John, is your grandfather around?"

The man, obviously an acquaintance with the elderly Spartan, nodded to an empty stall in the corner, where a frail, aged man was hunched over a newspaper. The stall was noticeably wider than the others, seemingly build to accommodate Kane's chair, which settled behind it comfortably. Martin sat in another seat, which creaked under the weight of his armour. The elderly man glanced up from his paper, took one look at Martin and stood up shakily. He raised a trembling hand and gave a salute to the Spartan.

"Major William Cross, 105th Shock Troops Battalion, sir!"

Kane sighed. "At ease, Bill. He's with me. You retired fifty years ago, remember?" Cross sat down. Martin noticed that one of his legs, along with his left eye, were robotic prosthetics. The aged veteran sat back down and took a sip from a flask. Kane eyed it suspiciously.

"You know, drinking whiskey like you do, I'm surprised that you haven't dropped dead yet"

The elderly soldier chuckled and patted his stomach. "Well, this is my third liver, I'm hoping that this one won't go kaput anytime soon, Kane" He nodded towards Martin. "Who's your friend? Didn't think there were many Spartans active these days". Cross' grandson, the owner, brought Kane a cup of coffee, and asked Martin if he wanted anything. He declined, noticing that Kane was not asked to pay for his drink in any way.

"Bill, this is Martin, Spartan Alpha-One-Three-Six. You've met already. Fargad, 2547" Martin thought back to the battle in which he had first met Kane and Sigma. The situation had been pretty desperate at the time, a lot had happened. As he tried to remember where he might have met Cross, the old man slammed his palm onto the table.

"Ah! I remember now. I never forget a face...or visor. We were on that Wet Navy Battleship, remember? I was the one who discovered that stealth elite that your team hunted down" Now Martin remembered. The ODST had alerted them to the enemy presence and likely saved their lives that day. "Thanks" said Martin, eighty years too late. Cross shook his hand, and stood up, taking hold of his walking stick, which was propped against a nearby wall. "If you'll excuse me, I'd better be off to church. Nice seeing you gentlemen again" He hobbled out of the cafe, and headed off down the street, whistling cheerily. Kane downed his coffee in one and sighed.

"You know, he was exactly the same half a century ago as he is now. A hundred and still going about his business. He's seen some horrors in his time, believe me. Still, pretty impressive for a non-Spartan"

Martin stood up and allowed Kane's chair past, giving a quick farewell to John as they left. Out on the street, the market was in full swing. The two stopped and watched for half a minute before Kane finally spoke. "So, what will you do now?" he asked. Martin was over a hundred years old, and had still not retired from active service. In fact, his residence on Reach was a military barracks by the city spaceport. He shrugged, unsure of what to say. He could retire easily, it was one thing that he felt he deserved, but had no idea of what he would do after. His MJOLNIR armour, which had protected him for many, many years, suddenly felt very heavy. He couldn't keep this up much longer.

"How do you get by, Kane? I know you can't fight any more, but how do you live from day to day after all this time. You've been fighting even longer than I have"

The SPARTAN-II looked at him intently, his usually calm face suddenly showing every day of it's age as he shook his head sadly. "The truth is, Martin, that I know if I stop working on something, then chances are that I'll drop dead someday. Hell, Mack said it himself a few years back, and was right. I remember being at the funeral, looking at one more of us gone. You were there two years ago" He seemed to be overtaken with sorrow at this point, his eyes watering slightly as he rubbed them. "Then we had Marco and Elena the next year. I grew up with them, they were like siblings to me. They had to go down fighting though, they wouldn't have had it any other way. At least the two of them were together, in the end. Now it's just me. The last of my kind. Alone"

Martin looked down at the tired old man sitting in the chair next to him. He put a gauntleted hand on his friend's shoulder. "Look, you're not alone. We're your family. Me and Louie are still around, so are Kate, Jason and the rest of the SPARTAN-IV's. The Fives may not have met you but they're still Spartans. That's what brings us together, Kane"

His friend took a deep breath, and exhaled for several seconds. It was like he was breathing out his entire life. He blinked several times, then looked back at Martin, a steely look in his eyes. "You wanted to know what to do with your life?" Martin nodded. The outburst of emotion from the Spartan was over; he was back to his usual, analytical self.

"First, you retire. No more fighting. We've fought long past our time. Then, you devote what time you have left to doing some good in the galaxy. That's what I'm doing. You see, I've had it all wrong. All these years, it was Marco, the toughest and bravest of us all, that wanted peace the most. I supported SPARTAN-IV and SPARTAN-V because I thought we could make peace through force, and look where that ended up for us. Perpetual conflict, friends killed in the name of 'peace' when all they have done is fan the flames of war. My friends died fighting for what they believed in, and I would too, if it came down to it. We may be old, but we have experience on our side. We've seen the way things have changed, and it's not too late to make a change ourselves. That's all I can offer you, Martin. Do some good. Atone for your sins...or something like that"

He finally stopped, breathing heavily, though there was still that intense, burning look in his eyes. With one last glance at the SPARTAN-III, he activated his anti-gravity chair's lifts and sped off before Martin could respond. Typical Kane. The old Spartan felt alive, invigorated. He had spent the last few hours trapped in the past, looking over his early life, keeping his vigil over the statues of his brethren. He had to put the past behind him, and move onwards. He wasn't dead yet, and had no plans on dying any time soon. Placing the helmet back on his head, letting the familiar HUD screen come up, the Spartan walked out into the sunlit street as church bells rang in the distance, ready to make his own decisions for the first time in nearly a century.

THE END

Note: Martin-A136's career after PROMETHEUS and in the years following the Human-Covenant War can be read in the upcoming Halo: Sigma and Halo: Shrike.