Halo: Custodia

This fanfiction article, Halo: Custodia, was written by Stellar Elite and Lieutenant Davis. Please do not edit this fiction without the writers' permission.

The author of this article, Halo: Custodia, urges anyone who reads it to provide feedback on the quality of the article. Thank you!


Halo: Custodia
"Think we should bail NOW?!" "Definitely!"
Protagonist	SPARTAN-103 and SPARTAN-142
Author	Stellar Elite and Lt. Davis
Story Series	DoH and AAO stories
[Source]

Halo: Custodia is a Demons of Hope and Against All Odds story taking place on the planet of New Zaječar in 2543, a UNSC colony famed for its industrial prowess. However, it appears all may take a turn for the worse when the Covenant are reported to be heading towards the planet thanks to the Office of Naval Intelligence. The only thing possibly standing in their way is the Spartan Centurion Team, an entourage of SPARTAN-IIIs lead by a pair of II's. What follows is an impossible odyssey as a tiny Spartan team repel a Covenant invading force.

Cast[]

Story[]

Prologue[]

Exact time: 6:23:53

Location: UNSC-controlled space, Inner Colonies

0623 Hours, May 15th, 2543

Since the start of the Human-Covenant War, humanity has always harbored secrets from the Covenant. The Cole Protocol has been declared, preventing the alien onslaught from discovered humanity's homeworld. The United Nations Space Command's desperation grows, as their xenophobic armada looms over the Inner Colonies. However, there is one particular planet that is soon to catch the Covenant's eye - an industrial gem with a hidden secret.

New Zaječar.

Out of slipspace lurched forth a powerful Marathon-class cruiser, called the UNSC Kasaan Bay. It was quite boxy in shape, but never the less, it was formidable, far better than its aging predecessor the Halcyon-class. However, that was not the intriguing thing about this ship. On board, it carried a very special individual, one with a rocky past.

Doug-103 held his hand up to his face, water dousing his skin. A SPARTAN-II super-soldier, he stood like a giant among giants, at an enormous seven feet and eight inches. His head was almost touching the ceiling, and he needed to kneel in order to look at the mirror. He was cleanly shaven, having just trimmed a beard several minutes ago. Doug was still recovering from his three-year abandonment by UNSC recovery forces on Kholo, forced to perform a mercy kill on someone very close to him.

He jammed his eyes shut, the big Spartan slumping his head downwards. Nearby in this room was the modified, Mark IV CH252 helmet, the [MP] variant. The visor was slightly cracked, and Doug re-opened his eyes. He shifted his gaze towards it.

Colin-142 stretched out his legs inside the troop compartment of the D77-TC, sighing as he did so. He had been cooped up in the passenger seat of a warthog for nearly an hour on the way to Air Force Station Valkyrie. One thing that had been nice about the long drive was getting to look at the scenery of New Zaječar, something he very rarely got a chance to do on deployment.

New Zaječar wasn't the nicest looking planet he'd ever been too, but it wasn't the worst. One thing it had going for it, was that it was still habitable, spared the burning wrath of the Covenant and their energy projectors. It still had people on it, and it was still producing war goods for the UNSC.

He shook his head slightly, reminding himself that he wasn't here to see the sights, he was assigned here because of increased Covenant activity in nearby regions, including the destruction of New Warsheikh, of which he had just returned from. He thought to himself that HIGHCOM must've taken the proximity of the recent conflicts so seriously that they'd deploy not only him, but another SPARTAN-II. In his line of work as a solo operator, he didn't get to see his comrades very much, save for when it was deemed necessary for him to boost other SPARTAN unit's numbers.

He briefly wondered who it would be, but abruptly stopped, standing up and walking towards the cockpit, looking out at the large assembly of ships in orbit, dozens of frigates and destroyers, and a massive Marathon class cruiser, the UNSC Kasaan Bay. It was that cruiser which the dropship was currently headed for, where he would meet his old comrade, whoever it my be, and be debriefed on this situation. For the moment though, he returned to his seat, and stretched out once more, placing his helmet on his head as he did so.

Chapter 1: Glassed Colonies and Pretty Lights[]

Exact time: 2:00:42

Location: Covenant-controlled system, orbiting New Warsheikh

0200 Hours, May 14th, 2543

Fleetmaster Lem 'Bralosee sat aboard the floating chair that overlooked the burning colony of New Warsheikh, which had been glassed just a few hours before. Lem was a well-known Sangheili Fleetmaster who was a taciturn and stoic leader, who said much but was as direct as possible in his speech. One finger on each hand were missing and he possessed a missing eye, these scars being a testament to his long-running commitment to the Human-Covenant War.

He was a steadfast opponent of the human race, exhibiting xenophobic tendencies stereotypical of Sangheili. He commanded the Fleet of Gallant Discretion, and the ship itself was the CAS-class assault carrier Dauntless Internecine.

The Ultra Domo Stel 'Vadamee strolled on to the bridge, calling out to the Zealot as he closed in on him.

"Fleetmaster," the heterochromatic Sangheili spoke. His tactical overlay was down, exposing his condition - he possessed one blue eye and other green, as well as a sporting a few scars here and there on his face. Stel had graduated from his studies of warfare and enrolled in the Covenant military not even a decade ago. By Sangheili standards, he was quite young for an Ultra Domo.

Lem's chair swerved around on its anti-gravity mount, facing his fellow Elite, the latter of which was encased in gleaming silver armor.

"Ultra Domo 'Vadamee." The Fleetmaster's mandibles folded into a nefarious smile. "I had been expecting you. This colony is exterminated. Is your lance extracted?"

"All aboard, 'Bralosee. They are awaiting their next mission as we speak...may I inquire we were are heading to?"

Lem gazed out the observation windows before averting his eyes to Stel, lifting himself out of his chair as it landed. He gestured his head behind the chair, looking out of the windows with his hands crossed behind his back.

"Sensors indicate another human ship has passed by. Not from this colony, however. Most intriguing indeed. As soon as your men are ready, as well as the other Ultra Domos and the Field Masters, I will take us out of this system and see if we can track it."

"Where do you think it would have headed, brother? Surely, it couldn't have gone far." Stel's mandibles twitched, his curiosity peaked.

"I do not know, but it was certainly not a hopelessly random pattern of retreat. They have a sense of structure as to where they are heading. It could be a colony closer to their home planet."

"A shame we have not discovered it yet. We must exterminate these meddlesome primates before finding the Sacred Rings, or those primitives will hamper our efforts."

"I could not have said it better, Ultra Domo." Lem curled a fist over his chest, bowing his head in a traditional Sangheili salute. "That is all I required. You may retire to your barracks."

The Ultra returned the gesture before walking out of the bridge, rolling his heterochromatic eyes with his back turned to the Fleetmaster. He had been operating under a facade of xenophobia as not to attract attention from any of his fellow Covenant followers. He held no real animosity towards humans, and his suspicions about the Covenant arose during the climatic Battle of Kholo. He was never a devout believer in the Great Journey, either. He was not one to throw himself at a singular religion that had not been proven nor disproven, preferring a level of fundamental uncertainty, nor was he one to judge an entire race by a handful of its own.

But unfortunately, he had to do a duty of all of its own. It was not pleasant for him, as he was humble. He kept most thoughts to himself or he would be suspected of heresy of the highest order. He, in fact, felt sympathetic for the humans. Another species branded as filth, their very existence treated as a blight on the galaxy. All Stel could do however, was perform his duty.

Exact time: 7:02:23

Location: UNSC-controlled space, Inner Colonies

0702 Hours, May 15th, 2543

Doug-103 stood at attention on the bridge of the UNSC Kasaan Bay waiting for the ship's commanding officer, Admiral Teobaldo Ortiz, to finish conferring with one of his bridge officers. He stood there with his helmet held by his side, resisting to scratch the stubble of his freshly shaved beard. Suddenly the Admiral turned to him and said, "We're almost ready to begin the briefing Spartan, we're just waiting on the other Spartans. They're on their way now.

Doug looked puzzled for a moment, he thought to himself Spartans? I thought there'd only be one other. How many are they bringing in? His question was partially answered when a large man, wearing aqua and olive, walked into the bridge. At first, Doug didn't know who the Spartan was, until he took off his helmet, revealing short, grayish hair. His eye's widened as he saw his old training buddy for the first time in years, but he contained himself, only nodding at the new arrival, who nodded in return.

The Admiral spun around suddenly, addressing the two supersoldiers.

"Gentlemen, you've both been briefed on why you're here, but what the officers with you on your way here didn't know was who you'd be working with."

Colin spoke first, "Sir, what do you mean, I was under the impression that'd it'd just us working in tangent with other UNSC forces to investigate the facilities."

The Admiral shot him a look.

"It was just you two, but after the loss of New Warsheikh, ONI felt the need to send another Spartan team to augment the forces here. They will be here within the minute, they just entered the hallway to the bridge."

No sooner had he said this, than several armored Spartans entered through the doors to the bridge. One of them, with steel and maroon armor, walked up to Ortiz and saluted.

"Sir, Senior Chief Petty Officer Vincent-A271, leader of Centurion Team, reporting for duty." The Captain returned the salute briefly, before looking back to the two SPARTAN-IIs still standing quietly.

"Spartans, this is Centurion Team, you'll be attached to them for the duration of your deployment here. Any problem with that?" The Admiral looked over to Colin, who's eye had developed a slight twitch since the new Spartans showed up

Looking away from he Spartans to the Captain, "No sir, no problem at all."

Admiral Ortiz smiled and turned back to a console, "Good, you're all dismissed."

All the Spartans saluted, and turned to leave. As soon as Centurion Team was out of earshot, Doug turned to Colin.

"Hey, what's with their tags? Those didn't seem like SPARTAN-II tags."

Colin turned his head toward Doug, "That's because they ain't SPARTAN-IIs, they're these cheap ass guys called SPARTAN-IIIs. ONI made 'em to try and replace us, they won't say it, but I'm pert' near sure that's what they're fer. Only thing is, they suck. All three hundred members of the official unofficial company died during PROMETHEUS."

Doug made a quizzical face, "PROMETHEUS? What's that?"

Colin chuckled slightly, "It was this big operation where this prowler, the UNSC Razor's Edge I think, attached a telemetry probe to a retreating Covenant frigate, found this big Covenant shipyard, dropped in the company, all three hundred, shipyard was destroyed, but they all got offed."

At the mention of the prowler, Doug's eyes went wide, then his expression morphed into irritation.

"So, the first time I try to do good, I get 300-odd people killed..."

Colin looked puzzled for a second before the realization hit.

"Oh shit, that was you? I heard it was a lone operator who did it, but man..."

Right before they reached the staircase, Doug leaned over, and began speaking in a slightly hushed tone.

"Hey, how did you know all of this? Wouldn't this be some top-secret ONI shit?"

Colin smiled, "Yeah man, but remember, I'm up there with ONI. I asked, and so I did receive."

"Don't you think ONI would be a little upset with you telling me this?"

His only answer was a lazy shrug and a "Hmmph."

Doug, seemingly satisfied with this answer, continued on down the stairs, heading towards the Mess Hall.

Out of another slipspace portal, a second vessel lurched forth.

And another. Another. And another...

Dauntless Internecine, the CAS-class, lumbered out of its portal, flanked by a small entourage of corvettes. Stel 'Vadamee leaned on the surface of the coffin-sized boxes that were the Covenant drop-pods. The Covenant equivalent of the the UNSC SOEIV used by Orbital Drop Shock Troopers, these pods were commonly used by Sangheili to land in areas of heavy combat. Stel awaited the orders to drop, since within not half an hour did they discover the location of the next colony.

The Fleet of Gallant Discretion awaited their own orders. This was little more than a probing raid, as the rest of the corvettes awaited elsewhere.

When the Covenant ships rudely awakened the Kasaan Bay's crew, Doug-103 was about to consume an apple, and the room was suddenly awash with blaring red lights and the sound of sirens wailing. The big Spartan simply glared at his terrible luck, sighing with displeasure.

"Not a single moment before we're thrown right back into combat, eh?" He asked from Colin, right across from the table, who was half-away through a sandwich.

Colin simply shook his head before swallowing. "Goddamn. Welp, looks like we need to save another planet."

Chapter 2: Dissidents Onboard[]

Exact time: 2:00:42

Location: UNSC-controlled system, UNSC Kasaan Bay

0200 Hours, May 14th, 2543

Doug rushed to the armory of the Kasaan Bay, his former pace quickened by the announcement of Covenant boarders on the ship. On the way there he saw several Corpsmen assisting wounded Marines down the corridors. He stopped a shaken marine sergeant and asked her the situation.

"Covvies are pushin' hard. We've already lost Hangar 2, and they're about to take Rear Armory 1-3."

He nodded and was about to continue towards the armory, when the sergeant called out.

"Wait sir! You need to know, the Covvies are laying traps everywhere. They'll have grunts run around and lay bombs on walls and next to doors, then lure a bunch of our guys and detonate them. Lost half of my squad to those damn things."

Doug nodded once more, and ran the rest of the way to the armory, when he got there, Colin had already grabbed an MA5B and M6D, along with additional ammo and grenades. When he noticed Doug enter, he pointed to a table, with an M45E Tactical shotgun, MA5B assault rifle, grenades, and assorted ammo neatly lying there. As he reached for the weapons, the ship violently shook as it was fired upon by a Covenant Corvette.

"Damn, we need to 'urry up and get off this 'ere ship. Bastards are blowing 'er to pieces." Colin said as he loaded his rifle.

"Agreed, lets see if we can link up with Centurion and ear that hangar that the Covenant captured."

"Eh, do we have to find them first? I'd much rather ride to the surface with some competent soldiers."

Doug chuckled slightly, "Don't worry, you can sit on my side of the pelican. You'll be fine there."

He was pleased to see Colin smile briefly, before another volley from the corvette shook the Kasaan Bay once more, followed by Captain Ortiz announcing that Covenant troops have landed on the planet. By the time the brief announcement was over, both Spartans had their helmets on, their weapons loaded, and were running down the corridor to an elevator.

Upon reaching the bottom of the shaft, and the doors opening, they were greeted by two marines being sent flying across the hallway by a plasma explosion. This was followed by a group of Grunts, led by an Elite in blue armor, coming around the corner and making sure the two unfortunate marines were dead.

Doug and Colin, who had hid in the elevator to avoid detection, nodded to each other and popped out, firing into the backs of the Grunts, dispatching several of them before the others and their Elite commander turned around. Taking a firing position inside the elevator, they continued to fire in short, controlled bursts, until one of the Grunts threw a plasma grenade at them.

Colin's eyes followed the little blue ball of light as it flew inside of the elevator. Behind his visor his eyes went wide.

"Shit, grenade! Get out!" he yelled.

Even as he was yelling, Doug had already combat rolled out of the elevator, with Colin following, and mere moments later, the grenade detonated. Coming out of his roll, Doug brought his assault rifle to bear, taking out several more Grunts, including the lucky bastard that threw the grenade. Colin followed, using his inertia to leap over a supply crate, and land on top of the Elite, grabbing his knife and brought it down on the poor alien's throat. Standing up and wiping the blood from his knife, he looked back at Doug, who had finished off the remaining Grunts.

"Looks like we got 'em here. We need t' move, God knows what Centurion has gotten 'em selves into." he said as he pulled his assault rifle back out.

"Oi, cut them some slack man, they're probably fin-" He was suddenly cut off by a burst of COM static, followed by the voice of Vincent.

"This is Centurion Team, we're pinned down in the hangar by Covenant reinforcements, they brought Hunters, we need assistance!" His voice was drowned out by the sound of several assault cannons firing.

Colin only shook his head before he sprinted down the corridor, soon reaching one of the entrances to the main hangar, and was meet with the sight of another Spirit dropship bringing more troops.

"Ah hell..."

Within time, the SPARTAN-IIs found they way to the hangar bay, the Hunters firing at them. More Unggoy and Sangheili could be seen in the distance.

"Well, you know the drill, Aqua! Get to cover!"

Doug slung a hand forward and pointed towards one of the many very large green boxes that were always convenient to use as cover, as a Mgalekgolo pair landed on the ship floor with a thud. Doug unholstered his M45E and pulled pack the pump. Colin slid up next to him and unloaded, firing in controlled bursts to nail his selected targets. He attempted to hit the Hunter in the head, where it was mostly unprotected, but it quicker rose up his shield. Colin cursed, as Doug looked upwards to the top of the box.

Given his height, it wasn't much of an effort to pull himself up on top of the box, giving him a good view of the Hunter pair. One of them was charging towards the box already. The large Spartan poised and leaped off the box, landing behind one of the Hunters and one-handing his shotgun. He squeezed the trigger and felt the weapon unload and slam into the creature's back, killing it near-instantly and causing orange worms to spill all over the floor in an alien, bloody mess.

Colin's Hunter unloaded several rounds from its assault cannon into the room, one of them landing right above his head. He rushed forward as the Hunter closed in, its shield braced to smash him in the face. Instead, Colin simply slid right underneath it, between its leg, and jammed a combat knife right through its abdomen, spilling gore in various directions before unloading with several M6D rounds into its head. The Hunter finally fell over, dead, as Colin holstered his knife.

Not taking a second to dwell on his kill, Colin began unloading controlled bursts of assault rifle fire towards the remaining Covenant troops. Doug kept moving towards the Pelican, where Centurion team was pinned at, unloading shells into the bodies of the Elites and pumping after every shot. Within a minute or so, they were completely slain.

"Righ', that's all done n'all. You alright, threes?" Colin shot a glance at Vincent-A271, who breathed deeply and sunk his rear into one of the nearby seats.

"I think that'll be a yes, Colin." Doug answered, as he casually unloaded another shell into the face of a dying Sangheili without so much as a glance.

The SPARTAN-II pair climbed aboard as Gaelin took the pilot seat, and the hangar door closed up. Doug and Colin took their seats from across one and the other.

"Well, looks like the Kasaan Bay is a little torn up." Doug put a finger to his helmet. "Admiral Ortiz, do you read?" No response.

Vincent shook his head. "Damn. Looks like we'll just have to head for Zajecar...let's go, Gaelin." The Pelican unhinged itself from the hangar bay and shot out of the ship, heading towards New Zajecar's surface.

Chapter 3: Field Trip[]

Exact time: 3:00:24

Location: UNSC-controlled system, UNSC Pelican

0300 Hours, May 14th, 2543

The Pelican ride down to the planet was a lot smoother than Boško was expecting. That was probably because most of the Seraphs were busy engaging the Longsword Interceptors and point-defense weapons of the UNSC fleet.

He peered out the tiny piece of glass at the top of the Pelican's loading ramp, seeing the teardrop-shaped fighters weaving in between showers of gunfire. One in particular was hit by an anti-ship missile, the burning husk tumbling into another Seraph with its shields down. Unfortunately they impacted with the bridge a Paris-Class Heavy Frigate, the UNSC Brightwood. Boško looked away as he saw bodies being sucked out due to decompression.

He then focused his attention towards the rest of the Pelican, Gaelin in the pilot's seat, Ivana trying to wipe some Grunt blood off of her visor, and Vincent exchanging awkward glances with the large Spartan in blue armor, while the even bigger white armored Spartan sat with his legs crossed and his hands folded behind his head.

"Well, that there wasn't...exactly, how we'd planned that'd go out..." Colin drawled, his hands together as he leans forward.

Doug glanced towards Colin, shaking his head. "You can say that again. Bloody Covvies'll start popping out of the furniture next."

Vincent gave an odd look to the white Spartan, perking a brow behind his helmet, and speaking.

"Not exactly the best foray into enemy territory. How many did you think survived?"

Colin spoke. "I don't think we can count on that, III's. We just need ya t'do yer job, and us to do ours."

"As you say." He looked away and muttered. "I think."

Ivana finished cleaning the blood from her visor, looking up. She spoke, too.

"So, big guys. Where we headed?"

"Borovac. Zajecar's capital." Vincent answered.

"Borovac? 'asn't that come under Covvie attack already?" Colin asked with more than a hint of curiosity.

"Не, не још." Ivana began. "The Covenant haven't deployed that fast. They hammer our naval assets first, then they roll in and keep us cornered on the planet."

"That was Serb. You a native?" Doug inquired.

"The name's Slavic, but...yeah, I am."

The Pelican shook somewhat violently as an explosion soundlessly detonated in space next to the craft, shaking the Spartans inside around. Colin held tight and Doug was dislodged from his comfortable position, while Ivana and Vincent managed to keep their footing.

"...They're really pushing it, aren't they?" Bosko quipped from below, having fallen flat on the floor from the sudden jerking. He helped himself to his feet and dusted off his sage green armour, before hanging on to the rail.

"What about you, Bosko? How'd you end up here?" Ivana asked.

"Me? Well, I was born on Bassania."

"Bassania...that fell a while ago now, didn't it?"

Bosko nodded. "Yeah. Grew up in an orphanage on New Harmony, before getting some nice new armour, and here I am."

Gaelin finally spoke, looking back. "You guys back there, we're entering the lower atmosphere. Almost at Borovac."

"Right back into the action, aren't we?" Doug spoke to the group, a smile coming across his face. The battle had only just begun.

Exact time: 2:00:42

Location: UNSC-controlled system, CAS-class Assault Carrier, Dauntless Internecine

0200 Hours, May 14th, 2543

As the carrier lumbered out of Slipspace, Huka 'Feramee sat at his station on the bridge of the Dauntless Internecine, staring out at the large Human fleet lying in wait around the planet. Most of them were the common double prow Human frigates, then the arrow shaped destroyers, and a dozen or so of the large, blocky cruisers. He could also make out the shape of three massive orbital stations, each with a large protrusion coming out of what appeared to be the top. He looked over to Fleet Master Lem 'Bralosee, sitting on his hovering chair, his golden combat harness shining in the light of various consoles.

"Fleet Master, the Human fleet outnumbers us, two-to-one."

"Good, like Doarmir to the slaughter. This will allow us to burn the heathens inside their metal boxes. It doesn't matter how many ships they waste protecting this planet, as our righteous, holy flames will cleanse them and this world."

From inside his pod and with the rest of his unit, known as The Lance of Domineering Will did Stel 'Vadam awake from his brief slumber, his miscoloured eyes flickering to life as he started at the holographic screen in front of him. "Sound off if you are ready, warriors."

"Lazil and Depim reporting!" An Unggoy pair sounded up, one a Major the other an Ultra.

"Voro 'Chonakee, ready." Stel's number two, a young Sangheili Ultra.

"Veer 'Wharanee, here." A Sangheili Major. Just two more, now.

"Tano 'Corasee, itching to get to the fight." One of the Minor Sangheili sounded.

"Corun 'Bandolee. That all, 'Vadamee?" The other's voice was heard.

Stel gazed at the screen in front of him again. "That's all. The rest of the Lance is assembled. Prepare for drop." Everyone within the bay who were within their pods suddenly fit a shift in weight, as the anchors that were holding in place shifted, and the doors from underneath their feet opened up. They were spat from the ship in their coffin-shaped drop pods, descending upon the planet with considerable speed.

"Our first objective is the city of filth, the human city known to them as "Borovac". It is one of their larger cities. Perhaps a large stockpile. We are landing there to deliver a powerful pre-emptive strike. We cannot take the city in one stroke, but what we can do, is weaken it first, before focusing on the other settlements. They will be hard-pressed to be defending their other residences when they are attacked on every corner."

"Interesting plans you have prepared, 'Vadamee," Voro remarked,. "I would have simply gone for more firepower."

A guttural chuckle was heard from 'Wharanee's pod. "You always prefer the direct approach."

"Ha! It is hard to be subtle when you tower over most of the vermin we run into the field. Even with an Active Camouflage module, they still hear your heavy steps."

Stel brought another screen to his face, which detailed the outside world to him. He was closing in on the planet's surface now, but he caught something on long-range sensors.

"It appears one of their vehicles managed to slip free from our initial boarding action...interesting."

"Demons, possibly?"

"D-Demons?!" Lazil and Depim voiced in unison.

"Now, now, Voro. Let us not terrify the Unggoy..."

"Apologies, senior Ultra Domo. Still, does my point still stand?"

"...If any humans could escape from that, it would be them."

A solemn silence dictated the conversation and lingered over the most prominent members of the Lance. It was almost a sort of mourning silence. The Demons were the closest, biggest chance that humanity had, a fighting chance that they could legitimately threaten the Covenant with. They were capable of killing some of their best soldiers in droves, no matter what force of will, blade or firepower could protect them from the might of the power-armored battlefield monstrosities.

"Let us not dwell on what they have caused us," Tano, the younger of the Minor Domos sounded. "We must focus on the task at hand."

"Your words of wisdom betray your years, Tano. Clearly, they missed a Swordsman." Corun commented, the older of the pair.

"Let us also not shower each other with sentimentalism. Please."

As the Pelican touched down at Djuro Milošević Air Base, Gaelin could see airmen and support crews running around, arming and fueling Hornets VTOLs, Longsword Fighters, Shortsword Bombers, and Pelican dropships. Lowering the ramp, he followed his team and the two imposing SPARTAN-IIs as they exited the craft. There was something about them that he just could not understand. The aqua one, Colin, obviously hated them, that much was clear, but the other, slightly taller one, Douglas, was different. He had seen him around and heard him talk after the briefing and he seemed very laid back for a Spartan, but whenever he was around Centurion his personality did something of a one-eighty, acting very somber, almost as if being around them made him think of something painful, a memory perhaps.

Gaelin pushed the thoughts from his mind as the Spartans walked towards a convoy of Warthogs, with several soldiers already present. Colin and Doug got into the driver and passenger seats of the first Warthog with Vincent hoping onto the turret, much to Colin's apparent annoyance. The rest of Centurion climbed into an M831 Troop Transport with Gaelin taking the wheel. After the convoy began to move deeper into the city, Vincent spoke up to try to break the uneasy silence that had persisted throughout the flight down to the planet.

"Sirs, what level of Covenant resistance should we expect? That was a pretty big fleet that came out of Slipspace."

Doug responded first, "No clue, it'll be heavy though. We saw dropships heading groundside on our trip down, along with those drop pods, but from what I've gathered, the haven't hit anywhere yet."

Colin spoke up next, "ONI recon units have spotted several clusters of pods landing somewhere towards the south. Dropships are deploying forces elsewhere, but so far no confirmed engagements. Army is takin' this time to get an actual defense ready."

Vincent pondered this, "Sounds like the Covenant want to draw us out. Attack the smaller settlements to get a response out of us, so we deploy forces away from the capital, then attack us when we're vulnerable."

Colin chuckled, "Probably, it's too bad they didn't think of one thing."

"What's that sir?"

Colin and Doug looked at each other and smiled under their visors, "Us." They then fistbumped and drove on.

Ivana looked over to the pair of SPARTAN-IIs briefly and thought otherwise. Her thoughts lingering inside of her head manifested in her behavior as a somewhat nervous rubbing of her hands. They're cocky, she thought, feeling a little bit uneasy around the imposing pair. None the less, she shrugged off the feeling and took a moment to breathe - there would not be many opportunities to do later on, as it was only about to get much, much worse.

As time passed, Gaelin hit the brakes, leaving the Warthog in the street. The Spartans left the vehicle and looked over the building adjacent to their parking - the military headquarters. While the threes had no trouble getting through the door, Doug and Colin had to dodge the doorframe as they walked in. Confronted by what appeared to be a revamped hotel - it was the lobby, crowded by UNSC Marines and Armymen carrying field equipment and their weapons. It was an invasion indeed, chaos reigned in the room as everyone hurried to their duties. One seemed particularly composed as he rushed to the Spartans and snapped a salute in front of them.

"This way, sirs!" He gestured down the hall. Though it wasn't visible, one could practically see Ivana rolling her eyes behind the helmet. Centurion followed suite, hoping to make some sense out of what was going on. As the Spartans walked down the long corridor to the elevators, Colin looked into the various rooms. There were Armymen loading weapons, talking with friends, some laughing and others crying, others sitting alone. They knew that many would die, friends, family, everything they had ever known was in danger of being destroyed by things many of them had only heard about or seen in video. He wondered what that must have felt like, the fear of losing everything, the need to protect those they cared for with their lives. They might not have been augmented like he was, or had armor like his, but by God, they were some of the bravest human beings alive, so willing to go into the darkness, knowing the odds, and still do it. He looked back at the other Spartans and thought about why they were fighting. Him and Doug fought because they didn't really know anything else, no matter how much they tried to argue it, they were raised to wage war. He shifted fix attention to Centurion, these Threes were more complicated than he liked, war orphans, recruited based on an expanded gene pool and desire for revenge.