A very well thought out story. It looks like you put alot of time into it. And it's amazing.

---

www.averagejoesgames.com
^^^The Halo Wars forums may fall, but let's hope the AJ's never do!

Legit TS 0 in 1v1

Chapter 9

Ardent fire erupted along the top of the Spirit of Fire as wave after wave of plasma burned into the upper decks. The ship rocked from the sudden and violent attack, causing all manner of warning lights and klaxons to blare over the bridge.

"Return fire!" Cutter belted out as he clutched to the arms of his command chair.

The recognizable thump of the main guns sounded diminished compared to their usual staccato, and James soon got his answer as to why.

"Multiple hull breaches!" someone yelled from the crew pit, bringing up the damage reports on a secondary screen. "They've taken out most of our deck guns."

"Concentrate all fire on their turrets," James instructed, knowing that the attempt at retaliation was futile. Think, James, think. He watched as the damage assessment lit up the upper portions of his ship, bathing decks 23 and 24 in blood red. He searched his memory banks for some form of tactic he had been instructed long ago in his Naval training, but nothing was coming to mind.

Already, the cruiser had successfully taken out all but five main deck guns, leaving his flank point defense weaponry his only real defense. And even those guns were strained to their maximum height. He slammed a fist down. I've been played the fool. I should have been more cautious, more skeptical that the Covenant were really gone. In all his years of service, Cutter had never seen a Covenant ship that size be able to cloak, but his lack of engagement with such devices was no excuse for his inability to recognize the sick feeling in his gut that something wasn't right.

But inaction is what gets people killed.

He watched as the large deck guns opened up, their recoil sending static tremors over the visual feeds. And when the massive rounds struck the enemy's hull, the shields wavered and in some spots completely vanished. Wavered?

James frowned. "Sensors, what's their shields doing?" he asked, zooming his personal display in on the cruiser's hull.

"Uh . . . they're at . . . minimal power, Sir," the officer replied. He turned his head around to look Cutter in the face. "That active camo must have had a serious drain on their power reserves."

With a fresh wave of confidence, James brought his head up. "Is the MAC ready to fire?"

His female weapons officer tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "It's three-quarters of the way charged, Sir. It will take another three minutes for all four shots."

"Hmm." James worked his jaw for a moment. He knew as well as the alien shipmaster that this fight would be a slugging match. As much as the Spirit of Fire's weaponry was disabled or destroyed, the once-colony ship was built tough and could hold its own against the partially-shielded cruiser. So why did they attack us now? Surely, the shipmaster could have seen the fault that his cloak usage would leave him vulnerable, but at what cost? If the Covenant are up to something . . .

Cutter had to end this fight now, before the shipmaster wised up and called for help. He nodded to himself when an idea came. Three shots will have to do. James keyed in a direct command into the drop bays, alerting the group commanders there of a hastily-made plan and a thirty-second countdown. "Helm, turn us over, 180 degrees," Cutter ordered.

"Sir?"

"Just do it!" he bit out, already running his eyes over the newly-enhanced technical readouts of the cruiser and pinpointing the target zones.

He could feel the eyes of his bridge crew watching him, wondering if the old captain had finally lost it. But hopefully they could read the determination in his rigid posture and trust that he knew what he was doing.

Through the cumbersome maneuver, the cruiser kept firing, melting away armored hull plates and peeling back others as if they were ripened fruit. As the Spirit of Fire presented its right side to the Covenant ship, the starboard guns unleashed a barrage, causing the shields on the cruiser to waver once again.

Drumming his fingers anxiously on the arm of his chair, James watch the stars rotate outside, swapping the asteroid for the enemy ship. He knew the Spirit of Fire's MAC was designed primarily for ground-based targets and didn't pack as big a punch as every other ship in the Fleet, but with the cruiser's shields being as weak as they were, he could definitely do some damage. And if his MAC gunner could hit the specified spots, it could indeed open up the fight for . . . unconventional tactics.

"Weapons, stand by to fire."

---

"Close the outer doors now!" Jerome yelled, pulling Anders back into the relative safety of the hallway. His immediate concern was for the health of those under his escort while his secondary concern was for the prize that they were after. But Bradley just stood there, open-mouthed and shaking at the sight of the Phantoms screaming down on their position.

The rest of the techs were bolting for the doorway, and one of them grabbed Bradley by the arm and tugged him along in her wake.

"Close the-" Jerome growled, and he plowed past the running techs. He lunged for the outer door release and pressed the button on the wall with an outstretched hand. A single plasma round burned down through the opening of the closing doors, melting the floor a few meters away from the dislodged FTL drive.

When the doors slammed shut, Jerome got to his feet and snarled. He had already been through this same series of events earlier today, and by all accounts he had had enough. "Everyone okay?" he asked, searching the worried faces.

Anders answered for them with a nod. "What now?"

Jerome frowned. The comm was already lighting up with all sorts of panicky chatter and he was trying to half listen while making up his mind on his next move. "Anders, take them down a few levels and lock yourselves in a room somewhere." He pulled out his M6 pistol and offered the Professor the handle. "Take this, just in case."

Anders excepted the gun without question and stuffed it inside an over-sized pocket. "Where are you going?"

Hearing the last transmission over the comm, Jerome tugged the MA5B from his back and slammed a fresh clip in. "The Covies managed to breach the Starboard Docking Bay. Alice and Doug are already engaged."

---

Nathan Parker could hear his heartbeat in his ears getting louder. From the inside of his HEV, he looked down past his feet where the blast doors had retracted and open space was underneath. Open space? He was expecting to drop down onto the crashed mapping ship where they would fend off the Phantoms and secure Tradewind once and for all. But there was no asteroid below, only shifting stars.

"What the hell?" Toril exclaimed.

Nathan was about to verbally echo her sentiments when a dark mass rotated into view. His stomach froze instantly. "Holy sh-"

"All ODSTs, stand by for launch," came Captain Cutter's voice over the comm.

"He can't be serious," Toril added, as the Covenant Cruiser filled their collective view.

From somewhere near the bow, the MAC fired off three successive rounds, striking the underside of the cruiser looming below. Nathan squinted his eyes to see the crippling impact the blasts had against the weak shields of the cruiser's hangar bays. The shields collapsed instantly, unable to withstand the might of the slugs, and it gave the ODSTs a clear view of the inside of the enemy hangars.

His squad leader, Gunnery Sergeant Gregory Williams, flashed into existence on his left display. "Our orders are simple: board the cruiser and disable it," he said with the usual disregard for pomp and circumstance. His head dipped down momentarily. "I've uploaded your nav computers with the LZ. Good luck and I'll see you on the cruiser."

With an extremely loud rumbling overhead, his pod began to shake. Then two short tones followed by one higher in pitch sounded, and he was jettisoned out towards the cruiser. All around him, Nathan could see other HEVs launching, riding on orange trails of flame. The small gravity bubble he found himself in was less straining than usual, and he felt as if his seat had dropped from under him.

Even through his nervousness, Nathan felt a fresh burst of adrenalin rush into his veins. Being launched in an HEV was flying by the seat of your pants, literally, and Nathan loved every minute of it. He never considered himself a "thrill seeker" but anything that helped to contrast his boring upbringing was a welcomed endeavor. It wasn't that he hated growing up on a farm, he rather enjoyed it, but one can only fix so many dairy processors with improvised parts before growing numb.

The Covenant was quick to react, and soon streams of pulse lasers filled the area around the ascending pods. The HEV to Nathan's immediate left was suddenly washed in a blinding red haze, and the explosion rippled a turbulent wave, causing him to adjust his trajectory.

A soldier's scream was cut off with static, but Parker pushed aside the emotional spike the loss of a comrade ushered into his heart and focused on the shaking red box that outlined his destination: the central hangar. Nathan twisted his pod around another destructive pulse, narrowly missing it. Trying to steer an HEV through a battlefield was akin to driving an Elephant into oncoming traffic on the Beltway.

He checked the distance to target: 300 meters and closing fast. By now, the laser pulses had reached the limits of their usefulness and smaller plasma turrets started to light up the remaining distance. The crossfire was thick, but his pod was moving nearly as fast as it would have in atmosphere. A burst of pink energy flew past his port side and Nathan could feel the heat the plasma gave off, even through the reinforced plating.

A shrill over the comm brought his head around to starboard, and he spotted an HEV flipping end over end with pink fire burning on its port side. "Holmen?"

Through the grunting noises, he could tell she was the one that had been hit and was out of control. The turrets were no longer tracking her pod, but she was drifting way off course. Gritting his teeth, he readjusted his trajectory, nearly using up all of his thruster jets' limited fuel. Now both HEVs were heading towards what looked like a small, forward docking bay. Unlike the once-shielded hangars situated along the cruiser's underside, this bay was most likely sealed through a magnetic containment field.

"Parker, what are you doing? Stay on course!" Williams ordered.

"Holmen's in trouble, Sir," he pointed out.

"Get your-" Williams growled something under his breath.

Nathan checked his range to target and figured his commander knew there was no way to form up with the rest of the group. "Sorry, Sir."

On the screen, Williams shook his head in resignation. "We'll link up inside the cruiser."

And with that last transmission, Nathan prepared himself for impact.

---

Alice lobbed another grenade at the base of the gravity lift two dozen meters away as two more Elites dropped down from the Phantom. They both rolled to their left, but the blast had brought one of the alien's shields down and Douglas easily picked him off with a headshot.

"This is not good," 042 said over the racket of battle. "We're outnumbered two to one."

"We've dealt with worse odds," Alice offered, ducked back down behind the dropship as green plasma flew past. Fox Three's surface was quickly becoming a charred mass and would eventually leave Alice and Douglas without protection. And the marines to fend for themselves.

Shrugging more to her own thoughts than to punctuate her remarks, she cracked a wry smile. Her sudden promotion into the commanding ranks by Captain Cutter had left her with a stale taste in her mouth. Leadership was something you couldn't really teach, some people were just born with it. Being a Spartan usually meant barging into unpredictable territory or cleaning out an Innie nest with the trigger held down, not wiping marines' asses while they reloaded. If anything, Alice held to the dictum: lead by example. And as she picked off another Grunt with an M6 round through it's neck, she figured she was doing a pretty good job of it.

The two squads of marines were spread out behind the two, rear-most Pelicans, using the birds for cover. The two Spartans were running point as they tried to thin the enemy ranks before the marines got a crack at the Covies. The tactic was proving useful for the first minute of the engagement, but now the enemy looked as if they were gathering to overwhelm their position.

But the Covenant troops never advanced, and they seemed to be content with keeping the UNSC soldiers at bay. Instead, they fanned out, taking cover near a stack of heavy crates situated along the left wall, and started to provide a single Elite with suppressing fire while he hefted something unto his shoulder.

From Alice's partial view, she couldn't tell what the black-clad Sangheili was holding, but it did resemble a fuel rod cannon. "Doug-"

"I see 'em," he said, taking aim with his pistol.

An Uggnoy turned and spotted the two Spartans and opened fire with his Needler. Deadly pink projectiles stabbed into the side of the dropship and two of the needles hit Douglas on the forearm. He reeled away, plucking out the spikes before they could pop and do serious damage to his armor.

Alice spared another glance around the dropship but found the same response of needles. She turned back around, spotting six marines off to her right and one marine in particular. Crap, what was his name? "Sergeant," she tried into the comm.

From behind both Pelicans two men poked their heads up and she waved one off. "You, have you men concentrate fire on that group," she ordered, pointing to the partially concealed enemy.

"Acknowledged," the sergeant said. The squad of marines shifted their fire from batting down the right flank to the designated targets farther away.

Alice spun back low, with Douglas standing tall . . .

But the dark-armored Elite had already pressed the trigger and the tip of his weapon began to glow a deadly yellow.

"Get down!" she yelled into her comm, pulling Douglas to her side.

The most unique sound Alice had ever heard from a Covenant weapon boomed over the click-clack of the marines' assault rifles, sounding more like an amped up blender than it did a plasma dealing gun. Puzzled, she risked a peek around her cover. What the hell?

The shouldered weapon was now glowing a bluish hue and had sent tendrils of light to reach out into the rafters high above. A stuttered cry rang out and Alice quickly recognized the sound.

"It's that stupid Monitor!" she exclaimed.

"What the hell is it doing here?" Douglas asked.

"I thought it was with Anders," she commented to a confused looking Douglas.

Contrite Variant was sucked into the mini electrical vortex, and the Sangheili stumbled backwards when the Monitor slammed into the shouldered device's glowing end.

"What do they want the Monitor for?" Douglas asked while switching to his SMGs.

But a glowing orb of blue landed at their feet to delay any reply Alice could muster. She could hear the tell-tale whine of the plasma grenade pitch upward even as Douglas scooped it up and tossed it back. The grenade exploded in mid-flight, and it was by sheer luck of the angle that Fox Three had absorbed the majority of the blast.

"Spartans, those Grunts on the right have you zeroed in," the sergeant yelled from behind the Pelican's rear starboard maneuvering jet.

They didn't need to be told twice.

Alice and Douglas were in a full bore sprint towards the Pelican when the dropship was practically bathed in plasma grenades. They dove to the protection of a landing strut just in time. Blue light illuminated the entire bay as shrapnel and burning bits of metal spewed forth. Alice imagined the explosion was deafening to the marines and even the Uggnoy, but it left everyone a little dazed. She shook her head to clear some of the fuzziness away and found Fox Three's hull crumpled beyond repair.

Already poking his head around the other side of the Pelican, Douglas growled. "They're taking it with them."

"What?" But sure enough at the far end of the docking bay, the alien group that had swiped the Monitor were heading up their gravity lift into one of the Phantoms. Alice swore under her breath. What I wouldn't give for an M19. She spun around the opposite side and spied the second Covenant group, this one mostly comprised of Grunts, continually laying down covering fire on the Pelican to her right, pinning those marines in place. As soon as the first Phantom was away, the Uggnoy started a casual retreat, walking backwards toward the lift of the remaining transport.

"Douglas," Alice warned.

"They must have got what they came for. No sense in them sticking around," he murmured. Douglas sighed and turned to face her, his pair of SMGs ready for combat.

Duplicating his sigh, Alice nodded. "For whatever reason the Covies want that thing, we can't let it happen. The fact that they came out here, knowing exactly where to look for it, is cause enough to deny them."

"Agreed. You up for a ride?"

"As long as you're driving." Alice took one more look at the retreating Grunts and realized she and Douglas had to move now. "On me." She moved past him on the port side of the Pelican and kept to a low squat-crawl to the nose of the ship. The burning hulk of Fox Three would mask their approach, but the remaining 15 meters to the lift would be an open killing ground. She just hoped that reciprocity was not in play.

With a final deep breath, she was up and running toward the flaming mass they would use for cover. Douglas was right on her heels and took a position back and to the right, as if he were a wingman in a Longsword. When they reached Fox Three's remains, Alice pulled out a grenade, held three fingers up, and then ceremonially counted down.

The Covenant troops never saw the frags coming. The dual explosion rocked Alice forward and she braced herself against the floor with an outstretched hand. When she recovered, she waved Douglas on. "Let's go!"

As if running on an invisible track, Alice first ran in an arc to her left, getting some distance on the remaining enemy but achieving an attack angle that broke their formation rather quickly. With the lone Sangheili in pieces on the floor, the two Spartans opened fire on the six Uggnoy, taking down the two closest to them. Alice kept her MA5B leveled, sweeping her fire across two more Grunts farthest away and wounding them. The aliens cried out in terror and gripped the places their dark armor was seeping out blue blood.

The last pair of Uggnoy turned to this new, unexpected threat in the form of an assault rifle and filled the air with green plasma. Alice tucked and rolled to her left, trying to reload in the process. But Douglas was fast, faster than Alice had ever seen him, and he crossed the distance to both targets in an instant. He brought his submachine guns up and simultaneously whipped the two Grunts across the face, snapping their re-breathers off and sending their unconscious forms to the ground.

He silenced the two injured Uggnoy with a short burst from a meter away.

Alice struggled to her feet and realized she had taken a plasma round to her right side. Her armor had absorbed most of the impact and she took an experimental breath. She caught Douglas heaving deep breaths and looking at her. "I'm fine. You?"

He lowered his SMG in his left hand to reveal a burn mark on his upper chest. "I'll live." He quickly looked up at the Phantom hovering a few meters above. "Hurry."

The pair of Spartans were a blur when they entered the bluish-green gravity lift. Alice was poised with her weapon as was Douglas with his. They rode the lift up into the troop compartment, finding it dark and nearly empty. Douglas reached out to a side panel and shut off the power to the lift with the back of his hand.

There was only one alien in the compartment sitting in a side jump seat, strapped in and ready for take off. It was an Elite that appeared to be wounded, as evident from the pool of blood gathering at his hooves. He brought his long neck up and flexed his mandibles in silent shock. Alice took one fast-moving step towards him and brought the butt of her MA5B down on his head with enough force to crush his skull. He slumped in his seat, never to awake again.

Douglas was already inside the cockpit and Alice had to step back when he tossed the dead pilot out. A single knife wound across the Sangheili's neck was proof that he wouldn't be trouble anymore.

She plopped down in the copilot's seat and strapped in, watching Douglas study the controls. "You remember how to fly one?"

"Just give me a minute," he said, sounding like a child to a concerned parent. He finally pressed a few buttons and grabbed the flight stick. "You want to pick up anyone else?"

Glancing out the cockpit's window, she saw the first Phantom well on its way to the cruiser. She bit her lower lip. "No. The more time we waste, the sooner they'll figure out our little charade and blow us from the sky."

"That's if our own ship doesn't do that first," he pointed out.

The Phantom lurched into the air, nearly banging into the docking bay's ceiling, but Douglas got it moving forward. He pushed the throttle to maximum and sped away towards the Covenant cruiser, traveling in the first Phantom's wake.

---

Jerome rushed into the Starboard Docking Bay just in time to see a Phantom heading out. He surveyed the condensed battlefield, finding the dropship destroyed and two Pelicans offering shelter for two squads of marines. But what he didn't find were his fellow Spartans.

"You just missed all the fun," came a voice at his side.

Jerome distractedly took his gaze off search-mode and found a grinning corporal with a rifle resting on his shoulder. "What happened?" he demanded.

The marine caught the seriousness in Jerome's tone, and he straightened up to a more formal stance, his smile fading. "Two Phantoms arrived at the far side of the bay. Their troops outnumbered us, but they never advanced on our positions."

"Where's Doug and Alice?" he interrupted.

The corporal frowned. "Who?"

Jerome closed his eyes. "The two Spartans that were with you."

"Oh," the marine said, still wearing the same expression. He pointed up to the cross beams supporting the bay's ceiling. "Well, the Covies managed to capture that floating machine that the Professor was all buddy-buddy with and got the hell out of here. Your two friends commandeered the last Phantom and left in hot pursuit of the first one."

Growling to himself, Jerome took off in a sprint towards the magnetic containment field to try and catch a glimpse of the fleeing ships. Running past the mangled bodies of friend and foe, he noticed there wasn't much left of Fox Three. He mentally shrugged at the display of carnage.

When he finally skidded to a halt at the edge of the bay, he looked up to see the multiple flashes of HEV pods careening into the underside of the cruiser. Well, that's one way of doing it, Captain. He searched the skies for the two Phantoms, but wherever they were, they were lost in the backdrop of the larger ships' firefight.

He keyed his comm. "Doug, Alice, you guys read me?" But it was of no use. Either they were out of range or they didn't want to risk giving away their location by broadcasting out in the open. He swore and returned to the group of marines.

But even as he opened his mouth to ask about the Pelicans, he knew they would never make it in the vacuum of space. A massive hole had been blown into the side of the one on his left, while the other transport had the forward starboard wing nearly torn off from constant plasma rounds burning through the flexible joint that connected it to the fuselage.

"Sh*t," he hissed through his teeth. He angrily bounced a clenched fist off the end of the damaged wing and the joint finally broke, sending the scared hunk of metal to the bay floor with a crash. He rumbled another curse and keyed his comm again. "Spirit of Fire, we need transport off Tradewind, right now."

A voice he didn't recognize, most likely an officer from Flight Control, answered. "That's a negative. We can't risk sending out any Pelicans at this time."

Jerome cleared his throat. "This is Spartan 092, requesting immediate evac," he tried again with a more aggressive tone.

"Stand by, 092," Captain Cutter's voice answered instead. "We're in the middle of maneuvers, but transport ETA should be around three minutes."

"Copy," Jerome said, sighing out loud.

Frustration and anger swirled around in his mind, and for the time being, he was trapped on Tradewind while Alice and Douglas were off on their own.

And that made his stomach turn into a frozen pit more than anything else.

---

New story out! Halo: Below the Brine
(it's the best story you're not reading!)

Chapter 10

 

"ODST groups 12 through 24 are away, Sir," an ensign called from the crew pit.

"Helm, continue to rotate us till we're upright again, and get us moving forward, full speed ahead." Standing facing forward, Captain Cutter folded his arms across his chest as he surveyed the growing list of damage reports on a diagnostic screen. The red script had slowed as the UNSC ship was finally able to return a devastating volley into the smaller Covenant ship's port side weaponry. Fire erupted along the hull of the cruiser, but just as soon died as blast doors and emergency protocols caught up with the sudden loss of atmosphere. From somewhere in the crew pit, an officer let out a short, victorious yelp.

As the Spirit of Fire continued its maneuver to get out from underneath the cruiser, the battle quickly shifted from full-out engagement to both sides seeking to limit their own attrition. But James was able to spot a slight window of opportunity when the cruiser began to pull away from the asteroid. "Hard to starboard. All weapons, prepare to fire on their engines," he ordered, now watching the secondary viewscreen that was showing a rear view. If I play this right, I could end this fight now.

As James watched his ship make the turn he saw his luck evaporate. As if anticipating his own weakness, the shipmaster brought his ship's bow around and exchanged a few long distance barrages from his undamaged starboard side with the Spirit of Fire's remaining deck guns. Neither did much damage as the distance separating the two vessels grew.

James frowned at the apparent retreat of the cruiser. "Sensors, what's their hull integrity look like? Can they still jump?" He chewed on the inside of his cheek, hoping that his ODSTs could quickly overwhelm the Covenant on board and take the ship before it could slip away. Those alien bastards were looking for something, and I need to find out what exactly they were after.

"Believe it or not, Sir, the enemy ship has only suffered ten percent power loss throughout her frame," the sensors officer replied. "But it will still have to clear the debris field around the asteroid in order to jump. There's too much magnetic distortion and rock to be able to accurately plot a course."

He nodded. "Weapons, keep them pinned down. Conical-patterned fire."

James let out a quiet sigh. For all intents and purposes, logical strategy would be to neutralize the target and get the hell out of here. But his gut instinct was telling him that he needed to find out why this mystery cruiser was out here all alone. If the ODSTs could regroup on the enemy ship then he would hopefully have his answers soon.

---

With his vision still spinning, Nathan Parker reached forward to key the hatch on his HEV open.

Then a muffled crash echoed in the bay.

Suddenly remembering where he was, Nathan's finger froze over the release button and immediately hit a few switches on his side panel, killing all unnecessary power to his pod. He leaned forward, trying to focus his hearing on the distant noise, but the rumbling thrum of the cruiser's engines masked any other sound.

When his HEV had passed through the magnetic containment field, his pod's momentum pitched him upward to bounce off the ceiling and land into the left corner of a second-tier, semi-wraparound balcony. The upper level layout was an odd design, using purple balustrades to support glowing pink handrails that separated the level into three sections, each with their own unique decor. Nothing looked utilitarian through his brief visual scan of the area, but then again anything truly alien never did.

Nathan figured the bay most likely served as a personal bolt hole for the shipmaster or a high ranking official. Either way, the banners draped down from the rafters still wavered in an artificial breeze, demanding respect.

Instead of popping off his hatch, he opted for the more silent easing of the hydraulics and crept out into the darkened upper portion of the small hangar bay. Retrieving his sidearm and SRS from his HEV, he immediately flipped on his helmet's VISR mode and scanned the area. The balcony was surprisingly void of any real activity and apart from his pod's dent left in the ceiling and the corner where it landed, he wondered if the enemy knew anyone was up here.

Keeping his pace quick but quiet, he ran to the glowing handrail and leaned his head out to peer below. Through the invisible magcon field he could see neither the Spirit of Fire or the asteroid, only open space. To the right of the large opening was a row of crumpled crates . . . and settled on its side was Toril Holmen's HEV billowing a small cloud of black smoke.

Movement down and to his left brought his head around and he spotted two Sangheili guards emerging from an opened door carrying long metal staves with glowing blades at the top end. Crap. One of them appeared to sniff the air, while the other pointed to the direction of the crates. Instinctively, Parker raised his sniper rifle and magnified his scope till both Sangheili's heads filled the reticule.

Nathan leaned back against a circular support pillar, seeking to steady his shaky aim. But the Elites were already on the move, marching with their deadly poles lowered in attack position. Swearing silently to himself, he dropped down to one knee to rest his SRS on the handrail. While the move did help him line up a shot on the guard to the right, the glowing pink bar sizzled and crackled under his weight.

Both Elites halted in their tracks and craned their necks up to spot him, but Nathan was already squeezing the trigger. The first alien collapsed to the ground with a piercing shot between the eyes. He shifted his aim to the left and only found empty space where the other guard had been standing. Nathan lifted his head up and spotted the other Sangheili running for the door where he would surely be able to call for help.

Taking a few steps sideways to get a better angle on the alien's retreat, he aimed down the sight once more and fired. His first shot sailed overhead, striking the ground a few meters from the doorway. Due to the Elite's proximity to the flower petal-shaped door, it started to open. Gritting his teeth, Nathan fired again and the round hit its mark square in the back. With a gasping grunt, the Sangheili fell forward to the ground with his stave still in hand. The glowing blade extinguished, sending an audible crack that almost masked the last few reverberate reflections of the SRS firing.

Cringing at the loudness of his weapon, Nathan pulled his sniper rifle back and strained his ears for the sounds of approaching soldiers. But none came through the still opened doorway, and he let out the breath he had been holding. Whether the Covenant were tied up fight off the other UNSC troops or massing for an attack on this particular bay, Parker had to be quick and get to Holmen before anyone else showed up.

After a brief negotiation in sliding down a support pillar, Nathan was in a full-out sprint to Toril's HEV. He took a long stride to reach the top of one crumbled crate and found purchase with both hands on the next stack over. He pulled himself up over the edge and jumped down where the fellow soldier's pod had crushed the crates underneath. Hold on Toril.

The pod itself was intact, but one of the hinges on its hatch was mangled beyond repair. Nathan grabbed the lip at the base of the hatch and pulled up for all he was worth. Even with all his strength, he was only able to crack it open. Pulling out his sniper rifle, he slammed the butt end down on the broken hinge a half dozen times. He stopped to examine his handiwork and found that the hinge had separated from the pod's frame.

Nathan tried prying it open once more and was able to expand the crack wide enough to fit a hand through. Blindly groping for the emergency release, he came across the embedded button. Preparing himself, he hit the button and hastily backed away. A few undamaged red lights flickered on in warning and the entire front part of the HEV hissed. Due to the warped upper hinge and the damaged state of the pod, the hatch merely fell open like an instrument case, spilling out Toril Holmen in the process.

"Toril!" Nathan was immediately at her side, cradling her neck in his hands. She was breathing, but her body was still lifeless. Pulling out his field medkit, he found the tiny bottle filled with a pungent odor. He carefully removed her helmet and brilliant blond hair fell around her face to frame it. Nathan paused with the bottle still in hand and just stared at her. Toril looked as if she was just peacefully sleeping, and the contrast of her beauty with the dire straits they were in caused his heart to warm and freeze at the same time. He gently brushed a loose strand of hair from her forehead and waved the smelling salt under her nose.

With a sudden jerk that even startled Nathan, Toril's eyes shot open. She worked her jaw for a moment, seeking to produce some moisture in her mouth, and looked up at him. "Parker?" she said with a frown. She tried to sit upright by propping an arm underneath, but Nathan quickly forced her back down.

"Easy," he soothed. "You might have taken a knock to the head."

Experimentally, she brought her left hand up and felt around her scalp. Next, she pulled her legs up and tried her best to hide a wince. "I'll be okay. I'm just a little banged up."

Nathan eyed her suspiciously but did help her into a sitting position.

Toril lifted her gaze up, past Nathan's face, to stare at the unfamiliar surroundings. "Where are we?" she asked, holding up a hand to forestall his protest of her getting to her feet.

"I'm not sure. This might be a personal bay for the shipmaster or a dignitary," Nathan answered, watching her fasten her hair in a tight bun and handing over her helmet.

"Nice," she said mildly. Securing her helmet on her head, Toril bent down and retrieved her SMG and pistol from inside her pod. "Where's everyone else?"

"When your HEV got hit by a plasma turret, your trajectory changed and you missed the LZ." He gave her a weak smile. "You were in trouble so I followed you here."

Still keeping her head moving to the left and right to look past him, she snorted. "Well that was dumb."

Her snide comment nearly rocked Nathan back on his heels. "What?"

"Oh, don't get all defensive," she joked. "Now Williams will be missing two members of his squad, not just one," she casually pointed out. "Have you tried raising him on the comm?"

"Not yet," he said, still off kilter from her comments. "Though we probably should try to maintain comm silence until we know how to get over to the LZ."

Toril nodded. "Don't want to alert the Covies of our whereabouts." Her head seemed to perk up, as if a thought had just occurred to her. "Then these could be useful." She unfastened two short, black barrels attached to her left hip and held them out.

Nathan frowned. "How did you know to bring sound suppressors?"

She playfully bounced the metal rods off his chest and smiled through her visor. "You boys never think past your next meal." She then brought her hand over her chest and gave a theatrical sigh. "I, on the other hand, figured we might be in a different sort of trouble."

His expression shifted over to a more confused look. Why didn't I think of that? He hefted his SRS in his hands and stared blankly at the loudest weapon of the lot, second to a rocket launcher.

"Yeah, that thing isn't so subtle," she said with a smile. Toril reset her shoulders and shifted into the professional manner the situation demanded. "So how do we get out of here?"

Turning to look at the door from which the two Elite guards had come, he pointed at the dead bodies. "I already got those two over there, but that door will most likely be the source of more Covies."

"More targets," she corrected him. "What, so up then?" Toril asked while motioning to the balcony with her SMG.

"Looks that way."

---

Alice watched the distant leading Phantom disappear into the small, forward hangar bay, away from the compromised central bays, and pointed. "There they go."

Douglas gave a short nod. "I see them." He took their commandeered ship into a tight turn and gunned the throttle. "You think there will be a committee to greet us?"

Cracking a smile, she shook her head. "I think they had no choice but to head towards a bow docking bay. Cutter really gave them a sucker punch with the MAC," she commented. The two giant vessels were now breaking off from one another which meant self preservation was now seen as a viable tactic.

"You want to link up with the ODSTs on board before we go romping around?"

Alice pursed her lips. If all the Covenant wanted was to nab the Monitor and jet off, then the Spartan's allies would need to carry out their orders of disabling the ship. She personally didn't have the slightest idea how to do that, but then again, her expertise was in killing, not contemplating. Still, she felt a twinge of guilt for not reading up on Covenant vessel design more than she had. "No, I'd say we've got a Priority 1 asset that needs securing."

"Yeah. And if the Covenant don't know we are coming, so much more the tactical advantage," he replied with a clipped, mocking tone, doing a fairly good impersonation of Serina.

Alice tilted her head in thought. "You know, it's times like these I kind of wish she were-"

"Don't say it," Douglas cut her off, flashing a warning stare. "Besides, once we land and drop out of this thing we kill some Elites, rescue the Monitor, and get the hell out of there."

"Simple enough," she agreed.

Douglas steered them gently through the containment field and settled their ship to the left of their target Phantom. The Covenant troops had already exited the transport and were regrouping just off the port bow of the ship, giving Alice almost a bird's eye view of the enemy. One Elite was barking at another and pointed off to the right. Alice leaned forward to try and peer around the other Phantom, but couldn't see what had gotten their attention.

"We better hurry, Alice," Douglas said, flipping a few switches on the console in the process.

"Wait, can you bring this thing's cannons online?" she asked shrugging off her restraints and getting to her feet.

Douglas reseated himself and quickly brought up a visual feed from the starboard bow plasma cannon. "Done."

"Good. Give me fifteen seconds, and then take them down." Alice patted him on the shoulder. "And Doug . . ."

"Don't hit the Monitor, I got it," he said in a knowing tone.

She smiled. "Mark."

Alice carried the mental countdown in her thoughts as she flew to the back of the Phantom. She quickly reloaded both of her weapons and made sure she procured some plasma grenades. She took a deep breath . . . three, two, one.

She activated the gravity lift and jumped down to the deck of the hangar bay. Alice hit the ground running even as Douglas rained down fiery pink plasma from the forward cannons. She saw two Sangheili take three quick bursts and their charred bodies fell to the ground. Another Elite tripped over one of his fallen comrades and Alice obligingly unloaded six pistol rounds into his torso.

Douglas continued to rake his fire across the floor, super heating large metal plates and vaporizing limbs that were unfortunate enough to be caught in its path. Billowing clouds of acrid smoke began to fill the area as Alice finally spotted Contrite Variant still attached to the odd device the Sangheili was holding, only now the Monitor was being dragged in the alien's wake. She quickened her pace towards her target just a dozen meters away and switched to her assault rifle.

By now a few Covenant troops were returning sporadic needler rounds and yellow plasma bursts, but it only help Douglas pinpoint those still fighting. Alice was almost within range when a hollow shot rang out. Her first thought was to suddenly find cover, but Alice faltered in mid stride when she recognized the sound.

It was a UNSC SRS sniper rifle.

Way off to her right, two Sangheili warriors toppled to the ground when two white streaks passed through helmet and skull. Alice traced the source by snapping her head up and around. Half concealed on an upper floor behind a glowing railing was an ODST. Apparently his squad has already made it this far forward.

Above her, Douglas ceased fire, allowing Alice to quickly overrun the last Elite. The alien snarled a challenge, placing one of his hooves on top of the Monitor. He looked as if he was threatening her with Contrite Variant's destruction, and Alice skidded to a halt, her weapon up and ready to fire.

Whether or not the Sangheili in question had heard the previous three SRS rounds, he surely heard the fourth. The ODST was accurate if not subtle, and put the Elite down with a bullet through its temple.

Covering the distance to the lifeless Monitor in two seconds, Alice quickly deactivated the energy device used to capture it by depressing the trigger underneath the dead Sangheili's long-fingered hand. With a short pop and crackle, Contrite Variant's eye flashed a brilliant orange before returning to its normal blue hue. Disengaged from the device, the Monitor backed away from Alice and lifted up off the ground.

"It's okay," Alice said, holding up her left hand and maintaining vigilance with her eyes. "You're free now."

"Oh, my." After stopping his retreat, Contrite Variant gave an approximation of a nod. "Thank you, Reclaimer. I didn't realize that-" The floating machine stopped in mid comment and took in the alien hangar bay with a panoramic sweep of his eye. "Is this your vessel?"

"No, this is the Covenant Cruiser," she replied.

Behind her, Douglas landed hard on the deck and was at Alice's side in seconds, shifting his SMGs aim at the various smoldering bodies. "What a mess," he commented and nodded to Alice. "Is Cyclops okay?"

Either Contrite Variant didn't understand the jab or chose to ignore it. "So we are aboard a ship capable of entering the Slipstream?"

"Yeah . . . so?" Douglas asked slowly.

Alice could detect his frowning expression by the way he shaped his words. "But we need to get you out of here," she quickly added. The Monitor was looking back and forth between the two Spartans as a kid wanting permission to venture off. And she didn't like it one bit.

"Splendid! Then we can finally be on our way." And with those words the Monitor turned to go.

"Grab him!" Douglas yelled, reaching with both arms extended.

Alice took one long stride and lunged for the Monitor. Her hands made contact with its hardened shell and she immediately felt a jolt of pain in her hands that quickly ran up her arm. Little lightning tendrils played over her armor and increased in intensity. "Aah!" she belted out and let go of the floating machine.

Douglas abandoned his pursuit of the fleeing AI and caught Alice on her way to the floor. She had suffered a partial armor lock and her suit was now quickly dissipating the charge she had received. "I'm fine," she grounded out between clenched teeth. "Just get him."

But Contrite Variant was moving faster than Alice had ever seen, and the AI was already through the only door on the far side of the bay. With a resounding thud, the petal-shaped door closed and glowed a dark purple, signaling it was locked.

"Great, now we've got an alien AI on the loose," Douglas growled. He pulled Alice up to her feet. "You sure you'll be alright?"

She flexed her fingers and found the tingling sensation nearly completely gone. "Yeah."

He looked down at the dead Elites. "Who gave you the assists?"

A short whistle from above turned both of their heads around. There were two UNSC soldiers now waving at them, beckoning the Spartan's upward.

"Well what do ya know, ODSTs." Douglas picked up the long barrel-shaped device the Elite had used to secure the Monitor and inclined his head at the pair above. "You want to tag along with them?" he asked Alice.

She just gave a silent smirk and nodded.

After a short climb, the Spartans were face to face with the two ODSTs. Alice was slightly surprised to find them with very different postures. The sniper had his visor depolarized and stood with a rigid back as if he had a wooden stick straightening him up. The other ODST was a female who appeared almost casual as her fingers drummed against the barrel of her silenced SMG.

Expectantly, the sniper spoke first. "Corporal Nathan Parker," he identified himself. "And this is Corporal Toril Holmen," he said with a slight nod of his head towards his companion. "It's good to see you two."

"Spartan 130," Alice introduced herself. "Thanks for the help."

Parker shrugged uneasily. "I'm afraid I might have been the one that brought them here. I had already taken down two guardsmen."

Alice waved a hand to dismiss the thought. "No, we were pursuing that lead Phantom."

"And anytime we can get sniper support it is much appreciated," Douglas cut in. "Spartan 042," he said as he offered an armored hand.

The ODST shook it in return. "Then you're welcome," he said with a forced smile. His expression turned grim and he gestured toward the locked door below. "I take it you were after that . . . thing?"

"Yeah," Alice sighed. "It's an unknown AI that has been blabbering on about some mission since we found it."

"And it's what we're after," Douglas added. He brought his chin up. "We could use some backup."

Holmen stirred and mumbled something to Parker. The male ODST gave an abbreviated nod. "We have our orders, but since we're cut off from the main group-"

"Sure, you can form up with us," Douglas quickly offered diplomatically. He looked down at Parker's weapon of choice. "Though an SRS isn't going to be much good inside a Covenant cruiser."

"It sure did the job of saving your ass earlier," Holmen butted in with a pointed finger.

Alice watched the color in Parker's face nearly flush white and she suppressed a smile. Holmen was a sassy one and her unexpected demeanor was a little humorous. "Point taken."

When Parker realized the two Spartans were not going to rip the ODSTs apart for insubordination, he nodded. "Ma'am," he said to Alice. He poked a thumb over his shoulder. "There's several doors that lead out of here."

"Shall we?" Douglas asked, moving past the ODSTs to head toward the nearest arched doorway. If he was annoyed at the lack of respect by Holmen, he didn't show it.

Alice had only taken two steps when she heard the first tell-tale signs that the ship was maneuvering. "Doug?"

042's response was to bolt for the door.

It was then that the normal hum of the space-faring vessel picked up and the ominous tone of a Covenant Slipstream drive vibrated the floor underneath.

---

"Radiation detected!"

James Cutter's eyes darted to the tactical readouts of the cruiser. "What?" But his vague question needed no clarification as the enemy ship's bow lurched upward, it's nose pointing to the relative sky.

"It's going to jump," one of the ensigns breathed.

"Impossible, there's too much debris. The shipmaster wouldn't dare risk tearing his ship apart," another commented.

Narrowing his eyes, James peered at the secondary screen. "Sensors?"

"Confirmed, Sir. Slipstream rupture is inevitable."

Cutter pursed his lips. There was nothing he could do. If the shipmaster had truly lost his alien mind and wanted to jump in such a hazard environment, there was no way to stop him. But maybe talking to him will reveal his plans. "Open up a comm channel to them." He got a nod from the communications officer and he swallowed. "To the shipmaster aboard the Covenant Cruiser, this is Captain Cutter of the Spirit of Fire."

The main viewscreen flickered when the transmissions were linked, but the Sangheili captain did not appear. Instead, the image was of a single glowing eye that filled the entire screen. "If you will not return me to Installation B-23, then I shall use this vessel," Contrite Variant replied bitterly.

Shock and confusion fought for control over James' facial features as the image of the Monitor winked out of existence. The bridge suddenly fell silent for a long, bated breath.

Finally, the helmsman cleared his throat. "Do we pursue, Sir?"

But even as words were forming in the Captain's mouth, the circular, sparking void of slipspace formed and swallowed the Covenant cruiser. And with it, two Spartans, nearly half his ODSTs . . . and a renegade artificial intelligence.

---

Jerome paced back and forth along the edge of the Starboard Dock Bay of Tradewind. His impatience was forming a knot in his stomach that was quickly brewing with the empty feeling in his chest, seeking to erupt into an all-out internal storm.

He could see the pair of Pelicans off in the distance swooping their way down to him and they seemed to be moving in slow motion. "C'mon, c'mon."

Jerome really didn't know how one would be able to steer the cumbersome transport past the cruiser's point defense systems, but he had to board that enemy ship. A Longsword would be better, he thought to himself and wondered about making the request over the comm.

He started waving the approaching Pelicans down, all the while keeping his magnified gaze on the cruiser. The sleek enemy ship suddenly turned upward, making a mad dash away from the moon-sized asteroid. A large black circle blossomed just off the cruiser's bow, and Jerome knew his chances were now shot.

Multiple chunks of rock and debris followed in the cruisers wake, some fairly sizable while smaller ones dinged off the ship's hull. The slipspace rupture closed as quickly as it opened, leaving a large empty space in the thin atmosphere of the asteroid.

As the blast of the Pelicans' engines washed over him, Jerome dropped to his knees in defeat. Of all the battles he had fought with both Douglas and Alice, he had never been separated from them for long. Nor had he ever been without at least one of them within comm's reach. And now, that old demon of survivor's guilt was latching onto his shoulders, seeking to tear his armor off and seize his heart for good.

For the first time in a long time, he felt fear begin to swirl around in his skull. Fear he would truly be alone.

And he was alone, destined to deal with the guilt by himself.

---

New story out! Halo: Below the Brine
(it's the best story you're not reading!)

Chapter 11

 

Standing in the middle of the cramped storage room, Ellen Anders tucked a loose strand of her black hair behind her left ear and frowned. "They're gone?" she asked into the comm. "Why would the cruiser just up and leave? That doesn't make any sense."

Beside her, a tech grumbled. "Since when did anything the Covies do make sense?"

"I'll fill you in on the details once you return to the Spirit of Fire," Captain Cutter said with a weary voice.

To her other side, Engineer Bradley keyed his own comm. "Sir, what about the FTL drive?"

"We're sending down more Pelicans. I suggest you get your team back up to the Reactor Proper and get the drive prepped."

Once again back into technician-mode, Bradley straightened up to his full height. "With pleasure, Sir." He waved the other techs to follow, and they left the room to head to the lift lobby.

Tagging along at the rear of the group, Anders heard her comm ping a short tone, signaling she had a private transmission queued up. "This is Anders."

It was the Captain. "Professor, I have something to ask of you."

She came to a stop in the doorway as the others moved on ahead. Ellen just closed her eyes and waited. What could be more important than fitting the FTL drive aboard our ship?

Cutter sighed. "I need you to repair Serina, get her up and functional again." He lowered his voice down to a whisper. "I think we're going to need her before we reach our next stop."

Ellen's frown deepened but she considered the seriousness of his tone. "Sir, what's going on?"

He took a while in answering. "Just before the cruiser entered the Slipstream, that Monitor transmitted a message to the Spirit of Fire while on board the enemy ship."

"Wait, how did it get aboard the cruiser?" Ellen asked, starting for the now empty lobby.

"That's one of my questions," Cutter answered. "He mentioned something about returning to an 'Installation B-23' and how he would go there himself without us." He sighed again, and this time she could hear his frustration. "I just don't know where that cruiser went."

Why would it change from "Research Facility to "Installation"? Nearly freezing in her tracks, Anders pulled out her datapad and eyed it suspiciously. "I think I may know where they went, Sir." She resumed her trot towards one of the lifts and entered the center-most one. "The Monitor nearly blew up my datapad's memory with information on B-23. If we grab the memory banks from Tradewind, we could probably pinpoint the cruiser's destination."

"Very well, Professor, but I'll send a team down to retrieve the archives. I still need you to get Serina's systems up."

"Yes, Captain," she said as the lift car ascended. She pocketed her datapad and when the doors chimed open she found Spartan 092 standing there. Anders internally smiled when she didn't jump from his sudden appearance, but the way the armored soldier stood slack told her something else was going on.

He nodded to Ellen. "Ma'am, you ready to get out of here?"

Raising an eyebrow, she nodded in return. "The Captain wants me back on board the Spirit of Fire, ASAP."

His chest heaved with a deep sigh. "Then follow me to the extraction point." He waited till Anders was nearly squeezing past him before he marched on toward the Starboard Docking Bay.

Oddly enough to Ellen, the Spartan didn't leap out in front at a hurried pace, but rather stayed by her side. She mentally shrugged and pressed on, ignoring the small voice inside her head that was telling her to ask the Spartan if something was wrong.

---

Gregory Williams had been convinced at a young age that it was his lot in life to lead others on the battlefield. He had seen countless worlds and engagements, both large and small. But this- this was a suicide mission. Greg would never question Cutter's orders, but something that must have slipped the old captain's mind was the chance that the shipmaster would flee the scene before the ODSTs could triumph. He immediately pushed aside the stray thoughts when he recalled in perfect detail how Cutter had beaten back the Covenant on that 'shield world', using Gregory's own unit to punch a hole in their defenses.

But now he was in an all out firefight in the heart of a Covenant ship- in the middle of a slipspace jump. "Watch that left flank!" he yelled to a young private. Greg lobbed another grenade at a fresh wave of Grunts that had just exited a pair of doors dead ahead. The frag dropped perfectly in the middle of the pack and managed to take out all but three Unggoy, which he quickly dispatched with his M6.

As originally planned, the majority of his unit had "crashed" into the central hangar of the cruiser, catching the Covenant off guard. It was a bold move, but the effectiveness of surprise was quickly becoming void as more and more enemy troops poured into the large, expansive hangar. He needed to think fast if he were to save his fellow ODSTs from the onslaught. A tap on his shoulder brought his head around.

"Sergeant Williams, Miller is trying to raise you on the comm," a corporal said with unusual calm.

Greg frowned, then mentally smacked a hand off his forehead. Sometime in the last few minutes he had accidentally switched off his communication device. "Williams here, Miller."

The fellow sergeant got right to the point. "Location?"

"LZ 2, pinned down between two damaged Phantoms smack dab in the middle of the hangar," he answered with disdain. "And you?"

"Slightly better at LZ 1. We've managed to rid ourselves of some snipers perched on the upper level, but they keep sending Grunts to halt any progress we make in getting out of here."

Williams looked to his left to stare briefly at the thick wall that separated the two hangars. "Where are you exactly?" he asked Miller, ducking back down and consulting his own virtual map. Right on cue, a red ping lit up on his display just twenty meters to his left.

"We're behind a row of crates along the North wall," Miller clarified. "You've got an idea?"

"Maybe." Williams took a quick survey of his soldiers, trying to find one in particular. "Private Burns!"

The redhead hopped off the line and was at his side in an instant. "Sir?"

A stray plasma round sailed overhead, making Williams bend down farther. "You have your explosives with you?"

Burns pointed a thumb at his backpack. "Enough to last till New Years Eve."

Greg cracked a smile. "Then let's celebrate early." He nodded towards the left-most wall. "Think you can bust through that?"

"Sure," Burns replied, but as he looked up at the never-ending barrage of plasma and needles, his face went a shade paler. "How do you propose I get over there?"

Williams gave the Private a frown. "Just set the timers and toss 'em over."

Burns pursed his lips. "Right, sorry, Sir."

"It's okay, we're all still adjusting."

It was true. Given the diminished numbers of ODSTs after the final battle on the shield world- and the fact that they were lightyears away from an outpost to officially commission soldiers, Williams, along with other group commanders, had appointed a handful of leathernecks into the ranks of the Helljumpers. It was as crazy as it sounded, but when a squad in trouble saw a Spartan come to the rescue, well . . . ODSTs were the next best thing. Even if some of them aren't completely out of training diapers.

"Miller, get clear of the wall's dead center. We're going to punch a hole through, then your guys lay down suppressing fire while we make a run for it. We'll link up at LZ 1."

"Copy that."

Even as Burns removed the cylindrical explosives from his pack and armed them, his face remained pale. "We're going to run for it?" he asked with a quivering voice.

Greg nodded. "Son, we'll be overrun with Covies in a matter of seconds. We've got little choice in the matter."

Burns swallowed but readied himself for the toss. "Fire in the hole!" He drew his arm back and was about the throw when a pink needle stabbed into his forearm right between the lightly armored plates. He cried out in pain, and clutched his arm with his free hand.

Only he had dropped the explosives in the process, spilling them on the floor to roll away in multiple directions.

The sizzling pop of the needle tore through flesh and synthetic layer as it burst.

The surrounding ODSTs were quick to react, turning around to find a fellow soldier in agony. But their heads immediately turned downward as the thin metal rods came to a stop at their feet.

"Get them clear!" Williams belted out, as he snatched up two of the explosives and tossed them at the wall. The other ODSTs, too busy to focus on the Sergeant's previous plan, just chucked their own palmed explosives into the onrush of Covenant.

The force of the multiple blasts sent the ODSTs to the ground in a daze. Williams ducked away from the cloud of dust billowing out of the unseen hole in the wall. Flaming debris and partial limbs of Unggoy fell all around their once sheltered area, as the full effect of the explosions could be seen. One of the already crippled Phantoms had its nose completely blown off while the other was a fiery slab of melted metal.

Greg swore to himself. If he had taken the time to examine the explosives Burns had pulled out, he would have seen the markings and realized they were of mining-grade. Williams was just looking for something that could slag a half-meter wall, not take out a whole colony of Innies . But the damage was done- literally, and his men were starting to come to. He did a quick head count and found each of his troops, and thankfully, all looked coherent.

That's when Gregory noticed the eerie silence. He poked his head above what was left of their cover and spotted a half dozen retreating Grunts. "Miller?" he asked into the comm.

A sputtered cough answered. "Holy sh*t, Williams. You trying to kill us?"

"Sorry 'bout that." He glanced over his men. "Everyone okay?"

"We'll live," Miller commented with another cough. "Give us a second . . ."

"Sir, Burns is injured but the rest of us are okay," a corporal informed Williams with a nod. "Sir, I don't see anymore Covies."

Frowning, Greg stood up slowly and scanned the hangar. Sure enough, the last of the Unggoy were hobbling away from the blackened areas the explosives had created and were breaking for the last opened door. He pointed a finger at them and ordered, "take them out!"

The corporal's stuttered SMG fire was accompanied by a few others as they mopped up the last of the enemy.

When the echoes of gun fire died down, Greg finally heard the reason for the Covenant's retreat.

The hangar was venting atmosphere.

Somehow, one of the explosives must have tore through a weak spot in the flooring, and the hiss of air escaping through a crack was the sign. Warning klaxons blared as the doorway the Grunts were heading for flickered pink, telling Greg he had little time till the thick blast door would close and leave them to suffocate or freeze, whichever came first.

"Miller! Change of plans. Get your people in here, now," Williams barked, hauling Burns up on his feet by his collar. "Gentlemen, let's move!"

Without question, three dozen soldiers vaulted the burning rubble and joined the other group from LZ 1 in a dash for the slowly closing blast door. Burns was moaning the whole way but did match Greg's speed. The large silver door was half closed when the last of the ODSTs ducked through the opening.

Sergeant Miller tapped his visor twice to depolarize it and Williams could see the odd expression on his face. "Hell of a way to break an enemy line," Miller said, wiping the dust off of his chest plate.

Williams allowed the unit's medic to take Burns from his grasp and shrugged. "Hey, it worked didn't it?"

"Unconventional as always," Miller murmured. He turned to looked down the dim corridor. "So what now? I sure don't want to cripple a ship I'll need to use to get back home."

Williams chewed on the inside of his cheek as he thought about his options. At first, his mission was simple: plant charges along key energy conduit points and disable the cruiser. But now, a critical systems failure while in the Slipstream was a very, very bad idea. With the likely endpoint being a Covenant garrison of some sorts, Williams concluded that they needed to take the bridge in order to bring the ship out of the Slipstream safely.

A suicide mission indeed.

"Miller, I don't think I've ever been on a Covenant bridge before," he commented casually.

Sergeant Miller shifted his weight to one leg and brought a tapping finger to his lips. "Come to think of it, neither have I."

---

Although Nathan Parker kept up with the two Spartans, he was mesmerized at their ability to stay quiet in contrast to his harsh steps on the hexagonal-patterned floor. Even his own breathing boomed in his ears and he forced himself to walk that fine line between calmness and alertness. Still unsure of his current weapon choice, he kept wanting to switch to his SRS, but the battlefield didn't really call for it.

The Female Spartan came to a stop at the end of the corridor where it took a sharp turn to the right. She slowly leaned her head around the corner and held up a fist with two fingers extended. She swapped positions with the male Spartan and he also poked his head out for a look.

Beside Nathan, Toril raised her SMG, but 130 held out a hand to forestall any action.

It was then that Nathan could hear voices shouting, followed by a growl and stampeding steps against grated flooring. He looked at Toril questioningly, but she merely shrugged. The sounds of the footsteps became more distant as the seconds ticked off the mission clock. Covies mobilizing. But to where?

042, turned back to face the three and nodded. "Let's go," he whispered.

They moved as one, keeping their weapons raised, Nathan with his silenced M6. He immediately noticed the abrupt change in decor when it shifted from the normal purple-on-pink to a more industrial look. The ceiling rose up by almost three levels with large piping and conduits running both horizontal and vertical. An eerie green mist was spewing from several large, circular containers, but the fact that they generated no noise added to the creepiness factor.

"This must be where they retrofitted the Active Camouflage into their design," Toril commented, her voice barely audible.

As he stepped out on the grated floor, Nathan realized the huge room extended downwards by several more levels. "Whatever technology the Covies are using, it sure does take up a lot of space."

The male Spartan led them across a catwalk, always sweeping his submachine gun in preparation for battle. He was holding something else that Nathan thought was a fuel-rod cannon, but he couldn't tell for sure. "With this much room dedicated to a massive cloaking device, I wonder how many actual Covenant are on board," 042 said with faint curiosity.

"You would think this would be located towards the rear of the ship, near the reactor," the female Spartan pointed out. "I bet we're dealing with a Spec Ops vessel," she added gravely.

"That would actually explain a lot," the male Spartan said. "A lone ship sent out to capture an AI? Sounds about right to me."

Toril tapped 130 on the arm. "What is that thing? One of ONI's newest toys?"

"Only the best," she replied playfully yet quietly. The female Spartan shook her head. "No, it was the device an Elite used to capture the alien AI back on Tradewind. It has a little tracker built into it . . . if Douglas is reading it right."

"I heard that, Alice."

So they do go by names, Nathan pondered, but figured the numeric tags were still required by "little people" like him and Toril.

"You mean they have problems with their AIs too?" Toril asked, sounding slightly amused.

"I don't think it's a Covenant AI," Alice answered soberly. "And whatever the reason the Covies want the thing, it can't be good."

Nathan nodded. With all the ONI secrets out there, this was obviously something the two Spartans deemed necessary to solve with all haste.

Douglas waved them forward and pointed the barrel-shaped device to his left. "This way."

---

Relieved to finally be somewhere other than the bridge, James Cutter stood with arms folded across his chest, watching the two Pelicans touch down in the main hangar. The thick metal cables that were suspending the cargo slackened when Tradewind's FTL drive settled down between the two transports.

Standing beside James was Prescott with datapad in hand. "It's in better shaped that I imagined," the Chief Engineer said over the roar of the mechanics and other crewmembers cheering. "We'll have it fitted in no time, Sir."

Cutter felt a tightness in his throat. Here, right in front of him, was the Spirit of Fire's chance to return to UNSC-controlled space . . . and yet, James wasn't sure he could. He felt a shiver run up his spine as he replayed the last transmission from the Monitor in his head for the umpteenth time. Not only would he have to explain abandoning his ODSTs aboard an enemy ship but come up with a good reason why he stranded two Spartans.

Of course there was the fact that his ship was in desperate need of repair and how he would be heading into unknown territory- again. He sighed out loud. His actions were becoming a databook example of how to thin one's ranks, and the last thing he wanted was to loose any more of his soldiers. James knew the backlash from the crewmembers not wanting to do anything but head for home could lead to a mutiny. And where would that leave us?

"You alright, Sir?"

James caught Prescott's concerned look out of the corner of his eye. "What would you do, Drew?" he asked quietly. When Prescott's face turned to one of puzzlement, Cutter clarified. "Return home or go get our boys on that cruiser?"

The gray haired man shrugged. "I'd do whatever made the most sense." He tucked the datapad underneath his arm pit and held out his hands like a scale. "If we head to the nearest UNSC outpost, we could muster a fleet from Reach or wherever and hope our troops are still alive." He lifted his left hand higher. "But if we follow the cruiser as soon as we get this FTL drive installed, we could catch them off guard." He grabbed his datapad and started some calculations. "But don't get me going on crew morale. I'll leave that to the experts."

And with that final comment, Prescott waved the technicians over to start adapting Tradewind's FTL drive to the Spirit of Fire's empty Translight Engine Room.

Morale. Was that all any UNSC ship survived on in this campaign against the Covenant? James shook his head and turned to go.

"Captain."

He spun on his heel to find Ellen Anders coming to a stop. Oddly enough, at her side was Spartan 092. "Professor, Chief," he greeted them.

Anders pulled out her datapad and keyed it for a transmission. "During my ride up here, I sifted through the data Contrite Variant gave me and found a string of galactic coordinates."

James raised an eyebrow. "That thing has a name?" he asked, pulling out his own datapad and accepting the coded information. "Any locations stick out as unusual?"

Anders nodded emphatically. "Yes, Sir. Arcadia was just one of a handful of sites within UNSC space, but there was one in particular that took up the largest cache of data." Both of their datapads beeped an affirmative. "That has to be Research Facility B-23."

Captain Cutter nodded slowly, working his jaw for a moment. The blur of activity around Tradewind's FTL drive was increasing, almost disorienting, as James weighed his options once more.

"We are going after them, right, Sir?"

Cutter's eyes darted to the golden visor that was the source of the question. 092 was standing with rigid posture, extreme even for a Spartan. James could detect the desperate plea underneath the calm professionalism of the super soldier's words. The Captain closed his eyes long enough to let out a sigh. He opened them again and gave a curt nod to 092. "Yes, we are." He laid a heavy hand on the Spartan's armored bicep. "And once the new drive is installed, we'll be on our way."

"Yes, Sir." Spartan 092 nodded once and marched on in the wake of Prescott's engineers.

James watched him go, wondering if there was something else he should say, but he decided to let the man be. "Anders," he prompted, turning back to face the young scientist, but her eyes were still on the wandering Spartan.

She looked back at Cutter and shifted her shoulders. "Yes?"

James eyed her with concern. Her hair had almost escaped the tie used to secure it, and her eyes looked weary. "Why don't you get some rest before working on Serina."

Anders brought a hand up to rub at her eyes with thumb and forefinger. "I'll be okay. Priorities, right?"

He gave her a flat smile. "Very well."

She stuffed her datapad into her satchel and frowned at the crowd filing out of the main hangar. "Will he be okay?" she asked, gesturing to the Spartan with a tilt of the head.

James turned to spot 092 with his gaze downward. "I hope so, Professor." I hope so.

---

Jerome felt like a stranger looking through the glass of a storefront window. He stood outside the Drive Room, watching as an endless stream of techs and monitoring equipment were circling around the small FTL drive. All he could do was watch. Jerome never had any expertise with electronics, let alone higher physics, but he knew enough not to get in the way.

"This is amazing, isn't it?"

Bringing his visual focus closer, he caught the reflection of Engineer Bradley in the glass. "What?" Jerome asked disinterestedly.

"This," he replied, pointing to the interior of the room. "We're actually going to make it home now."

Jerome gave the slightest turn of his head and noticed Bradley wearing a stupid looking grin from ear to ear. He was clutching a handful of datapads to his chest with his eyes lit up like the bright lights shining down from the ceiling above. "Do you have an estimate of how soon you'll be done?" Jerome asked with fatigue.

Bradley looked up at him with a larger-than-life smile. "No more than another half hour." He bowed at the waist rather awkwardly and ran off down the hallway.

Are all engineers this giddy about their work? Or was Bradley just filling his mind with delusions of grandeur by thinking they would be burning sky for Earth? He shook his head. Jerome wondered if the Captain would even bother to tell anyone the truth till they were at their destination. That would be my way. Just tell everyone "battle stations!" as soon as we exit the Slipstream and they'd figure it out.

He breathed a deep sigh and closed his eyes. He technically didn't have a "battle station" so the request would be irrelevant to him. Instead, he would team up with Douglas and Alice and go find trouble themselves. But now, there really is no where to go. He wanted to believe that the Spirit of Fire would get to his fellow Spartans in time, but that twinge of doubt was eating away at his conscious like a starved beast. He wasn't sure if he was being too melancholy or if he was letting his past failures shape his thoughts.

He clenched his hands into fists and didn't bother trying to force them open. The pressure in his grip was strong enough to kill a Sangheili and toss its carcass into orbit.

Eventually, he unclenched his teeth and pried his fingers from his palms. The past. He had fought so hard to bury the memory of his first engagement into the darkest recesses of his mind, but now, his head was swimming with ghostly reminders. He shook his head violently to rid himself of the pain but only succeeded in bang his helmet off the glass.

The turning of heads in the Drive Room made him focus on something other than his awful memories. It was after someone gasped that he realized he had cracked the window. He growled and held a hand up in apology.

"Whoa, you okay?" It was Bradley again. This time he was void of datapads.

Jerome slowly turned to face the engineer and was rewarded with the shorter man backpedaling. "Finished?" he asked, ignoring the previous question.

As if switching gears on a warthog, Bradley perked up. "Yes, we are," he said excitedly. "The Captain's about to make the announcement."

"Great," Jerome said mildly and march off in the opposite direction, heading down towards an opened hangar. He really didn't care which, he just wanted to see what he figured the Captain would do next.

He wasn't surprised. Down in Drop Bay Bravo, he ignored the Captain's lengthy explanation of his plans blaring over the speakers- that was sure to ruffle some feathers- and stared down through the opening in the floor. Like a wise commander, Cutter knew to leave no spoils of war behind.

Jerome watched as the four tracer lines of the MAC gun targeted the remains of Tradewind . . .

The quadruple explosions tore through ancient hull and rock, obliterating the old mapping ship in seconds. Fire spewed out of the dust cloud as the reactor ignited. Sparks and debris collided together to trigger secondary explosions which just as quickly burned out in the thin atmosphere of the asteroid.

As the last few chunks of warped metal turned into slag, the Spirit of Fire vectored away from the wide crater that once held a UNSC vessel.

When the hum of the FTL drive vibrated the flooring, Jerome couldn't help but envy the ease of which the enormous warship had eliminated that which needed to be destroyed.

In his mind's eye, Jerome wished he could do the same to his own demons.

---

New story out! Halo: Below the Brine
(it's the best story you're not reading!)

ty i was getting bored.

---

Operation Waypoint hijack is in effect!

"ty" ?

i understand if you got bored. this story isn't for everyone, though for some reason i keep posting here....
*scratches head*

---

New story out! Halo: Below the Brine
(it's the best story you're not reading!)

i got bored because no one was posting stories.

---

Operation Waypoint hijack is in effect!

Fan-fiction or not, you'd do well to remember that "said" is your friend--constantly using different words in your dialogue attribution makes your dialogue read sloppy. "Said" is invisible, as your tags should be. If the reader can't tell how your character says something through the content and the context--a reader should always know a character commented, yelled, replied, asked, or shouted, for example--you need to work on that rather than relying on your attributions. 

---

*´¨)
¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)
(¸.·´ (¸.·´ P r i n c e s s

Grim Fandango:Fan-fiction or not, you'd do well to remember that "said" is your friend--constantly using different words in your dialogue attribution makes your dialogue read sloppy. "Said" is invisible, as your tags should be. If the reader can't tell how your character says something through the content and the context--a reader should always know a character commented, yelled, replied, asked, or shouted, for example--you need to work on that rather than relying on your attributions. 

well . . . at least it was a response.

---

New story out! Halo: Below the Brine
(it's the best story you're not reading!)

I'll understand if it goes over your head. You are, after all, writing fan-fiction. There's no motivation for improvement, or sense of gratitude when one tries to help. 

---

*´¨)
¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)
(¸.·´ (¸.·´ P r i n c e s s

Grim Fandango:I'll understand if it goes over your head. You are, after all, writing fan-fiction. There's no motivation for improvement, or sense of gratitude when one tries to help. 

"Who's the more foolish...the fool or the fool who follows him (by reading what the fool is writing)?"
-Obi Wan Kenobi (modified to fit the reply)

---

New story out! Halo: Below the Brine
(it's the best story you're not reading!)

A writer who doesn't wish to improve his craft, there's a fool. Equal to one who quotes fictional characters in ambiguous, inappropriate contexts. I didn't follow you, I read your piece out of curiosity, saw it was massively flawed (in more ways than I have time to discussion) and commented. You got offended, your ego probably bolstered by other idiotic, FF, no-talent hacks. 

 

"commented with another cough," would suggest the cough was his comment, just as "with a nod." 

 

One day, perhaps you'll believe in grammar enough to use it correctly. Good luck with your FF, won't be posting on this thread again. My advice didn't fall on deaf ears, but a blissful pig.   

---

*´¨)
¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)
(¸.·´ (¸.·´ P r i n c e s s

i like you Grim.

i like you a lot. 

---

New story out! Halo: Below the Brine
(it's the best story you're not reading!)

Grim, you are a pretentious fool. Whilst 'said' often is invisible, this isn't necessarily a good thing. It's a very boring, dull word which could mean anything. Indeed, when I'm reading a book, I often find the immersion is broken if the word 'said' is used, due to the fact that it is such a dull, uninspiring word.

It works with stories that are purely driven by dialogue and where the deliverance and description doesn't matter so much (for example, 1984), but when you are trying to describe a world very different to our own, 'said' is a terrible word to use.

I understand that you had good intentions (well, I hope you did), but the way you delivered your criticism was unneeded. I feel that you are the one with a fragile ego; one minor challenge to your feedback and you immediately launched an insulting tirade.

---

"This one has forgotten whether it's heatsink is over capacity. It wonders whether the criminal scum considers itself fortunate" ~ Blasto, the only Hanar Spectre.

Chapter 12

Alice was beginning to get that empty feeling in her stomach, and it wasn't from lack of sustenance. The four of them had snaked their way through the cavernous room without as much hearing another Covenant crewmember. Either all hands were preoccupied with the invasion of ODSTs or tracking down the Monitor wasn't that high on their priority list. She couldn't tell which was worse.

The two tag-along corporals were competent enough to keep a watchful eye on their six, and the female knew when to keep her voice down.

"What are the odds that this AI of yours is armed with defenses?" Holmen asked, stepping over a metal casing that had been knocked loose.

"It's not ours," Douglas said. "Didn't you see Alice take a good jolt when she tried to grab it?"

Holmen shrugged. "I just saw a brief flash."

"It's very likely that that thing can kill us," Alice offered. "I'd rather take the road of the Monitor being fully capable of deadly force than to hope it's permanently pacified." She lifted her chin towards Douglas. "Anything?"

The male Spartan checked the small holographic readout on the Covenant device once again. "I'm not so sure anymore. I think this little arrow points to the Monitor, but it could just be a North-South thing."

Frowning, Alice stepped beside him to watch the needle-like pointer spin in a confusing circle. She gave Douglas a quizzical look. "Maybe radiation leakage is causing interference?"

"Uh, Spartans?" Parker inquired in a low voice. When they turned to look at him, he pointed downward then brought his hand up to the side of his head, as if he was cupping an ear.

Alice focused her hearing and looked down through the grated floor. Humming? She leaned over the side railing of the catwalk and could see a brief glimpse of the Monitor before it disappeared around another steaming cylinder. Darn it. She looked back at Douglas and found him pointing to a human-style lift at the end of the catwalk.

The four silently made their way over to the lift and descended a single level, fanning out once they hit the lower floor. Alice went left with Holmen, while Douglas broke right with Parker.

She led Holmen in a complete circuit around several towering cylinders, and found nothing but more misty catwalks. All the while Alice checked her motion tracker and was frustrated to find the AI's movements undetectable. But if the Monitor wasn't showing up on her HUD, then they were once again short of a conclusive end.

Always keeping her eyes scanning the area, she headed towards that last known location of Contrite Variant. With her MA5B raised, she stepped to the small alien console conveniently placed on a maintenance desk with an array of various tools and gauges.

A blur of motion brought her head up.

It was Douglas. "It's gone again," he sighed. "This is the console the Monitor was using, right?" he asked, placing the Covenant contraption down on the desk.

"Yeah. Think you can find out what he was doing?" Alice turned her back to his as the ODSTs took flanking positions to guard against any incoming threat.

"I can try,"Douglas replied.

Try. Alice smiled to herself. She knew of no one better, maybe aside from the Professor, who could interface with Covenant technology. Alice didn't know if Douglas was just a natural or if he had been given special ONI training on the stuff. All she knew was that she had never had anything more than a crash course of terminology and basic hardware function.

Douglas swore. "He's locked this console." He paused his fingers over the keypad. "But maybe I can at least see what he's changed in the system using a subroutine . . ."

More techie talk. Alice focused her attention on her surroundings and tried to keep an awareness akin to the days of her training. She really did miss not having Jerome around. He had always been their leader, whether or not he agreed with that statement. She shook her head minutely. Jerome never would have let that AI escape the hangar.

"Got it. Now hold on . . ." Douglas said. The console beeped and a new image flashed on the screen. But Douglas' posture went rigid. "Uh oh."

Alice turned around. "What?"

Douglas pressed a few more keys and a star chart appeared. "The Monitor has taken control of the ship," he breathed, and pointed to the dots on screen. "And he's taking us somewhere the Covies have never been."

Alice watched as a dotted line connected their previous point of origin in interstellar space with a small, three-planet system that was unlabeled. "Um, where is he taking us?"

Douglas spun around. "Do you remember what the Monitor said about an installation?"

Her eyes grew wide. "Yeah, something with a numeric designation. You don't think he's-"

"Going back home?" Douglas completed for her.

Parker stirred to Alice's left. "If a floating AI can take control of a Covenant ship this fast, I'd hate to see what it's creators are capable of."

"We'll know soon enough," Holmen said mildly as she looked at the console's screen. "We're almost there."

A countdown had blossomed in the lower right corner of the screen. Although the unfamiliar symbols were ticking down awfully fast, Alice could still figure a decent guess of their ETA. "What do you think, Doug, an hour? Tops?"

She imagined the scrunched up expression he was wearing beneath his visor. "Probably less than that." He picked up the retrieval device from the desk and checked the readings. But when the console beeped in tandem with the locator's readout, he turned his attention back to the screen. A schematic of the cruiser overlapped the image of the star map, and a white pulsating beacon appeared on the forward-most part of the ship: the bridge. "That's interesting."

Alice frowned. "I think that thing just synchronized with this console." She hefted her rifle on her shoulder. "And we've got a waypoint."

Both ODSTs leaned in to stare at the screen. "The bridge is going to be crawling with Covies," Parker pointed out cautiously.

"Noted," Douglas said with an exaggerated nod. "But right now, it's where our target is."

"How did it get there so fast?" Holmen asked.

Alice pursed her lips. "I don't know, but something tells me the shipmaster isn't going to stand by and let the Monitor take over his ship."

"Uh, it already has," Holmen added with a nervous chuckle.

Douglas pulled away from the console. "Well, not completely. There's still breathable air and gravity, so it must want somebody alive."

Suppressing a shudder, Alice nodded. "Let's just hope it doesn't wise up and start venting entire sections of the ship."

---

Two main corridors ran parallel down the length of the cruiser. Williams led his group down the starboard side while Miller's team went down the port side. This tactic accomplished two things: it allowed the ODSTs the most direct route to the bridge, and it gave either team a quick out to the opposite corridor if an attack was sprung. All in all, Williams felt it was the best way to take the ship. Or die trying.

For the most part, the Covenant were almost non-existent, which made everyone on edge. Williams and his team had only seen a handful of Elites that looked as if they had stumbled out of bed and into the corridor in a stupor. They appeared surprised that there were even humans on board, let alone ready to defend their own ship, and five seconds later, they were dead on the floor without getting a single shot off in retaliation.

"Miller, you have anything yet?" Williams asked into the comm as he stepped over a Sangheili carcass.

"Nothing yet," the sergeant replied. "This is getting a little spooky, you know?"

"Copy that," Greg said, not willing to break from the professionalism of proper comm language. Miller was a fine soldier, but he tended to revert back to the old-life wordage of his youth.

It was no coincidence that both Gregory Williams and Steven Miller were in charge of the two teams. They had both signed up for the Helljumpers at the recruitment center in Trenton City, Iowa, and were immediately whisked away to an orbital platform. They had gone through Basic together, but were soon separated to fill in voids of other squads. As fate would have it, they ended up back with each other on Harvest, helping to push the Covenant out long enough to give the planet a respite, even for just a few weeks.

They were never really that close growing up, but the military changes things. When fellow soldiers die the survivors tend to bond fairly quickly. Greg figured he and Miller had nearly polar opposite childhoods. Steven was from the troubled urban areas most governments try to prop up with tax dollars rather than fix the real problems, while Williams grew up on a strip of pastoral land his grandfather had owned. He was never a farmer, but he got his hands dirty at a young age, always playing War with his brothers and cousins. And now, that childish game was a mere echo of his years of UNSC service.

Miller seemed to take the role of a soldier almost too naturally.

"Contact," a corporal's voice boomed in his ears.

Williams held up a fist and waved his men off to either side of the corridor for cover. He ran over to his left to hunker down behind the relative safety of a protruding bulkhead. "Where?" he asked the corporal two meters in front of him.

"Thirty meters ahead; no movement yet."

Squinting, Greg flipped his visor's magnification on and peered forward. There was Covenant, alright: three Elites and four Grunts, all leaning against the corridor walls.

But none were moving.

Williams frowned. He shifted his view to the floor where the enemy stood and found it covered in charred blood, blackened by some unknown source. "Miller, we've got something. Nothing hostile, but hold tight."

"Copy," he sighed, not hiding the fact that he was a little disappointed that his group had not found anything worth a call over the comm. "Don't keep me hanging."

Greg brought his squad up the corridor, keeping their weapons aimed at the motionless Covenant, and came to a stop near the edge of the dried pool of blood. To him, it appeared the aliens had been slammed up against the curved corridor walls and died where they stood. But who or what had killed them? Even their weapons were still in hand, but their eyes and faces were frozen as if they had been etched from stone.

He knelt down and plunged a finger experimentally into the once-colorful blood. Or rather tried to. The pool had melted into the symmetrical-patterned floor and was still warm.

"I didn't think any of our guys had made it this far forward yet," an ODST murmured.

Wiping the crusted blood off on his thigh, Williams stood up and paused when he remembered two of his squadmates. "Actually Holmen and Parker had veered off course and landed in a forward bay." He pursed his lips. "Much farther towards the bow than this."

"Well, it was one hell of a grenade placement," the ODST laughed. "Maybe they should request a transfer to the Artillery Division."

Williams shook his head. "No, a frag grenade would have torn through these Covies. See how there's no real damage to their armor?"

The ODST leaned in to get a better look at a Sangheili. "Huh. So what did they use?"

Greg looked down at the frequency adjustment on his comm unit. Blown cover or not, it was time to hail the isolated pair of soldiers. But just when he was about to dial in his squad's personal channel, Miller's voice sliced in.

"Williams! We're taking heavy fire," Miller barked into the comm. "We could use some help."

Abandoning the scene of devastation, Greg raised his hand and circled a finger round. "Let's move; double time!"

Williams and his men quickly found a cross corridor that connected the two main corridors and sprinted toward the sounds of distant gunfire. "Miller, I need intel."

"Single enemy squad with heavy weapons. Took out three of my guys before we even heard them."

"Hunters?" Williams asked with a wince, silently wishing it wasn't.

"Negative. Just a pair of Grunts with Fuel Rod Cannons and a dozen or so Elites with an endless supply of plasma." There was a fresh burst of gunfire followed by a curse. "We've fallen back a ways to secure defensive positions, but if the enemy presses, I'm not sure how long we can hold them."

Still running down the cross corridor, Greg situated his thoughts. One option he had was to supply suppressing fire while Miller's team would break for the starboard side corridor and avoid the enemy squad altogether. But the likelihood of the Covenant having the same trap farther down the main corridor that Greg's team had just left was high. No, if we have to break through to the bridge, we have to do it here. "Alright, Miller. Hang tight."

"As ordered," Miller commented. "But be careful, Williams. They're wedged in pretty deep."

A click on the comm brought Greg's attention to his HUD's map of the cruiser. He slowed his pace and that of his team, and consulted the new information Miller had transmitted. The Covenant were held up in a large, oval-shaped gravity lift lobby that allowed access to two cross corridors with the portside main corridor. Centrally located were two cargo-sized lifts that were framed by four smaller personnel grav-lifts. And to complicate matters worse, the entire lobby floor was littered with crates stacked in various heights, making for a very difficult through-way.

In fact, it would be nearly impossible to breach.

"Ah, Sir? That's about as impregnable as it gets," a corporal murmured. "Why don't we just blow past them?"

Williams pressed his lips together. He now had a third option. If Miller's group could occupy the enemy here and make the Covenant believe it was the bulk of resistance on board, then Greg's team could press on towards the bridge relatively untouched. Would that be the coward's way out or just the tactician's? He frowned. Mission parameters always came first in any engagement, but Williams had already been on the wrong side of that creed before and it didn't turn out well. If they left now, Miller's team would surely be wiped out.

Growling to himself, Greg depolarized his visor and turned around to face his men . . .

But then an idea sprang into his mind and he let a smile spread across his face.

"Sir? You okay?"

"Just fine, Corporal." He pointed to pairs of ODSTs. "You four, head back the way we came. We left something behind."

---

Steven Miller fired off another burst from his MA5B and ducked back behind the bulkhead just in time before a Fuel Rod round slammed against the corridor wall. "Say that again, Williams?" he asked in disbelief.

"When I give you the alert, my squad will fire on your team from a forward position and you guys retreat down the hall," Williams said for the second time. "We won't hit you; we'll just make the Covies think we're trying to gun you down."

"Yep, still sounds crazy." Miller looked back at his men doing their best to stay in cover while sporadically firing at the enemy line. "You know that when we make a break for it we'll be easy pickings?"

"Not completely," Williams muttered. "Stand by."

Growling, Miller switched his comm to his team's frequency. "Alright fellas, new plan. Get ready to fall back to position Bravo."

The turning of heads was as expected, but the ODSTs knew an order when they heard one. The portside corridor had plenty of smaller passageways branching off of it, but none were in the group's immediate vicinity. If they really wanted to make a fight of it they could have pressed forward and made it to a cross corridor, but the locked door would have given the Covenant ample time to cut down a tech while he interfaced with the panel.

Miller just hoped his fellow sergeant's plan- what ever it was- worked. He got to his feet, and prepared to make a dash for position Bravo. "Okay, Greg, whenever you're ready," he said to himself with clenched teeth.

As if hearing Steven's whisper, Williams' voice cut into his earpiece. "Now!"

The supposed locked door twenty meters ahead to Miller's right sprang open to reveal four charged and ready plasma pistols pointing in his direction. But the weapon wielders were not using the shaped doorway for cover, but rather angled themselves so as to be hidden from view of the Covenant line ten meters past them.

"Go now!" Williams hissed into the comm, and his words were punctuated by a discharge of plasma flying up into the ceiling near Miller's head. "Go!"

And then the realization hit him. "Let's move!" Miller yelled over his shoulder, mimicking the poor aim of the Covenant weaponry by firing his assault rifle at the wall on the left. Another charge of yellow plasma burned down the corridor to splash harmlessly on the floor, as Miller bolted back the way he had come.

And as if in wonderment, the deep thumps from the Fuel Rod Cannons ceased and the only rounds exchanged with Miller's group were wild pot shots from the small squad Williams had stationed with the loaned plasma pistols. Even at the distance Miller had covered, he could clearly hear the triumphant yell of the Unggoy as they vaulted over the crates they had used for protection. He risked a glance over his shoulder and found six Elites joining the smaller Covenant troops in a mad dash to get their weapons in range.

Miller allowed himself a smile. Like hounds to the hunters. He looked forward again to find the break in the corridor where it bent at a thirty degree angle just up ahead. Almost there. When Miller heard another Fuel Rod round fire he dove towards the ground. "Take cover!"

The superheated plasma flew over his head and exploded against the angled wall in front of him. The shockwave pitched Miller back onto his feet and he fell backwards against the corridor wall. Stars bloomed into his vision when his head hit, and the impact knocked the wind out of him. He slowly slid down the wall on his back, and when he came to a stop on the floor, he found himself facing the upside-down view of a pair of charging Elites, already switching to wield energy swords.

Blinking back the fuzziness, Miller craned his neck and spied the squad of ODSTs from Williams' group that had emerged from their doorway.

Only this time they fired at the enemy.

The two sword-wielding Sangheili stopped dead in their tracks when their shields popped from charged plasma bursts. The staccato of UNSC gunfire cut into the short silence like a knife and in a handful of seconds, Miller's team was clear of hostiles.

Steven let out an exhausted breath and relaxed his neck. Unconventional, as always.

---

The surprise attack was enough to tip the scales of battle as Williams' ODSTs spilled out into the portside corridor, unleashing a deadly barrage of bullets on the handful of Sangheili caught off guard by their sudden appearance. Expecting a fresh wave of allies from a previously unknown location, the Covenant troops were in disarray.

With the enemy line broken, Williams led the rest of his men towards the grav-lift lobby, firing away over the crates at the exposed Elites. He slammed a fresh clip into his MA5B and slid to his knees, using his running momentum to come to a stop at the row of crates the previous two Grunts had used for cover. He readied a grenade and chucked it at the remaining mass of enemy troops trying to break for the lifts.

But they never made it. The explosion rocked a stack of crates to fall and crush a retreating Grunt, while the other ODSTs mopped up the last of the Elites. Greg's gambit had paid off and the Covenant was routed.

"Defensive positions," Greg ordered, pointing to the fortified areas guarding the four main entrances. "We don't know if they've got anyone else coming." He squeezed past the soldiers filing into the lobby and headed back towards Miller's group.

The second team was already starting for the safety of the lobby, but William's noticed his fellow sergeant still on the ground, stiff as death. There were two ODSTs kneeling beside him and Greg picked up his pace.

The bubbling nervousness in his stomach subsided when he came to a stop at Miller's side. If anything, the sergeant looked . . . content. "Hey, Miller, you okay?" Greg asked, looking down from above.

Miller's visor was depolarized and his eyes looked up to meet Williams. "Oh, hey, Greggy. You get 'em all?"

Frowning, Williams nodded. "Yeah. How are you?"

Grunting with exaggeration, Miller pushed himself up into a sitting position. "Just got the wind knocked out of me. I'll be fine in a minute."

"Take it easy, Sir," one of the accompanying soldiers said. "You hit this wall pretty hard."

"I'll be fine," Miller rumbled. He waved the man's helping hands off and finally stood up on his own. His legs looked shaky and Williams could tell Miller was in pain by the scrunched up expression he wore. "Okay, so back to the task at hand?"

Still keeping his concerned look on Miller, Greg sighed. "If you're up to it." Deep down he knew there was no way he could convince Steven to sit this one out- apart from knocking him unconscious. He just hoped that the shipmaster waiting for them on the bridge would announce a surrender and call it quits.

---

"Approximately 124 hours, Sir."

James Cutter frowned as he paced back and forth in front of the main viewport. "At this short distance of a jump, I'd have assumed it would take three days or four, tops."

Engineer Prescott's sigh sounded like a wash of static over the bridge speakers. "Tradewind's drive isn't as strong as our previous, but it should get us there in one piece."

"Five days," Cutter muttered under his breath. "Very well." James walked back to his command chair and switched off the small hologram of their plotted course to the unknown facility. "And Drew . . ."

"Yes, Captain?"

"Thank you for your hard work. Make sure you get some rest soon."

"You too, Sir," Prescott said.

Rest. James shook his head and plopped down in his chair. He was as tired from the engagement, but the day's events weighed down on him strong enough to keep his mind racing with thoughts or how he could have done anything different. Second guessing during a battle- especially for a ship's captain- was about as condemning to his career as it was to the crew. Luckily for Cutter, he had learned to hold his secondary thoughts at bay till after the bullets stopped flying. It had been something that had plagued him for most of his time as a UNSC captain, but it was also a way to analyze his own tactics to see if they were worth using again.

However, there was still work to be done. Cutter pressed a few buttons on the keypad on the arm of his command chair and dialed in Ellen Anders' personal comm frequency. "Professor?"

"Yes, Captain?" came her quick response.

"Location?"

There was a pause then the sound of a throat clearing directly behind him. "Here, Sir."

James spun around in his chair and found Anders sitting on the ground at the base of Serina's bridge pedestal. She had a datapad in hand with wires connecting to the pedestal's innards, and she wore a tired expression- which James was certain he was returning. "Status?"

Ellen sighed and set her datapad down. "Running the last of the diagnostics now. All of the hardware appears to be okay, but I'm really going to have to dig deep into her programming to get a solid reboot. Otherwise she'll only last long enough to scold me on my poor workmanship."

Cutter gave her a grin. "You work at the pace of ten techs," he said with a slight chortle. James leaned forward, placing his elbows on his bony knees. "I assume you heard our ETA?"

She nodded and rubbed at her eyes with the palms of her hands. "I'll definitely have her up and running by then, Captain."

He stared at her for a moment longer, watching her struggle to keep her eyes from blinking like a strobe light. "Why don't you get some sleep first."

The Professor shook her head. "I'd really just like to get this done first." She frowned. "What's the ship-time anyway?"

Cutter glanced up at the bridge chrono placed above the tactical display. "Almost 0300 hours."

And indeed it was late. Most of the ship's crew had left their stations a few hours after they had entered slipspace, leaving only a few crewmen on night-watch just in case anything happened with the FTL drive. Several altercations had broken out when the announcement was made to follow the cruiser rather than return home, and at least two dozen crewmembers were staying the night in the brig. All in all, Cutter figured it could have been much worse and he was glad that things were settling down. And whether he liked it or not, he needed to sleep.

"Tell you what," James said. "You work on Serina as long as you'd like, but I'm not going to ask for an update until 1100 hours." He raised an eyebrow. "And I don't expect much progress," James added with a knowing tone.

Anders smiled. "Alright, Sir." She detached the wires and closed the panel on the pedestal. "Actually, I believe I'll finish up down on the Observation Deck."

"You mean your lab?" the Captain offered.

"Yeah," the Professor said with a fuller smile. She got to her feet and nodded. "Sleep well, Captain."

"You too, Professor." James spun back around to face the forward viewport and stared at the pure blackness of slipspace. The gentle hum of the FTL drive beckoned him to close his eyes and fall asleep. He rubbed at his eyes with thumb and forefinger and exhaled loudly.

Eventually he stood up and started for his cabin, hoping slumber wasn't too far away.

---

New story out! Halo: Below the Brine
(it's the best story you're not reading!)