*Prologue

11^th of October, 2553

UNSCDF HighCom, Russia

Earth

The frigid wind whipped across the frozen plain. The sun was a veiled disc in the sky. Standing atop the duracrete-and-metal watch tower, Private Horatio Zerba squinted at the distant eastern horizon. Clouds, grey as the tower they stood upon, crowded the aforementioned horizon, making it a blurred line. From the pouch at his belt, he withdrew a powerful monocular. More of the split-chins new-fangled technology. Sticks in my gut, using it. Placing it to his right eye, he sighted along the horizon. Nothing in the middle of nowhere.

Horatio sighed, the sound barely audible over the sound of the howling wind. This *** winter was choking the life from this land. The by-product of something the UNSC hadn’t foreseen. The Elites’ partial glassing of Voi months ago had triggered a climate change in-of all places-Russia. As a result, everything was frozen.

Horatio didn’t care that the Elites had helped them defeat the Covenant, or to stop the Flood infection. The bastards had burned Madrigal to cinders, along with his family and friends. Hell, the only reason he’d signed up was to kill Elites. Now they were allied with them.

A month ago, a Sangheili corvette had arrived with a message. The Arbiter and the Shipmaster had finished whatever they had been doing on their planet. A delegation was on its way, to thrash things out with the top brass. They were expected on this day.

Since the old HighCom building was in ruins, a new one was commissioned. The best engineers in the military were hauled off all their duty posts to construct this place. So far they had managed to get the main building, air pad and outer defenses done. Anything else was hoping for just too much. Even the squad’s saboteur, Private Xavier, had been pressed into service.

A clank behind him. Horatio turned, to see the his squad’s corporal and point man, Len, pulling himself up the ladder. A sardonic guy, Len never missed an opportunity to get one over his teammates. But he was a loyal member of the squad, and had saved everyone’s ass on more than one occasion.

Len’s breath plumed in the cold air as he faced the east. Scratching a razor-cut sideburn, he said, “Having fun?”

Horatio’s expression soured through his ski mask. “You tell me, Len. I’ve been stuck up here for six hours freezing my nuts off while you and the rest are sitting around in the barracks jacking off.”

“Takes one to know one, douchebag.”

Horatio grunted a laugh and gave Len a playful shove. After a few moments the pair returned to their contemplation of the icy wastes. Eventually, Horatio asked, “So, any idea what Hood and the rest are up to?”

Len shook his head. “Nup. Cloak and dagger stuff with ONI, I’d imagine.”

Horatio exhaled noisily. “Well, at least when this is over, we can head out of this one big cryo bay. Back to where it’s warm.”

“Wouldn’t be too sure about that, if I were you.”

Horatio faced him. “So you do know something!”

Len grinned and tapped the side of his nose. “Trade secret, buddy of mine. You’ll just have to wait your turn.”

“Screw you, “said Horatio irritably.

Len cackled and made his way over to the ladder. “That’s “screw you Corporal” to you, Private…”

Horatio returned his attention to the east, only to see a purplish glow through the iron-coloured clouds. The thrum of an anti-gravity generator could be heard. Horatio stared in awe as the massive bulk of the feared Sangheili flagship, Shadow of Intent, dropped through the sky towards the ground. The rumble of its engines shook the tower on which Horatio was standing. Grabbing a nearby beam for support, he watched as the colossal ship settled into a steady hovering position. From its hangar bay doors, he saw a Spirit dropship emerge and fly towards the complex.They decided to finally show up. Horatio ran over to the ladder and hastily made his way to the ground. Running over to the field where the barracks was situated, he got to the doors of the squat, hastily erected building and flung them open.

Inside was one big room. Steel cots, most of them unoccupied, were positioned along each wall. A few heating units had been attached to the roof, with tangles of multicolored cables hanging off them like a carpet of vines. The few soldiers that were here lay around, staring at the ceiling or cleaning their weapons. Horatio found his squad down the far end.

Apart from himself and Len, there were four others in his squad-Terry, Ollie, Xavier and their sergeant, Kyle. Terry was the official stealth and scouting man-the guy could find a way to disappear in the middle of a bare plain, and when they had fought the Covenant, they had learned the hard way. No less than fifteen Brutes had died at his hands.

Ollie was the tech specialist. A former cryptology expert, he had joined the Marines because his skills were so vital to the war effort. He was as good as any AI, and was handy with the SMG, his weapon of choice.

Xavier wasn’t present, but had a near-magical ability when it came to ordnance. His greatest achievement, as he so often boasted, was setting off ten kilograms of C-12 on a Covenant power plant on Jericho VII and eliminating an entire battalion of Hunters. Not the brightest guy, but brains weren’t a huge requirement in his occupation. He was close friends with Terry, whom he’d known from childhood.

Last was Kyle. Grizzled and gruff, he nonetheless had a steadfast devotion to his men. A former company commander, he had been busted down early in the war when he’d removed a general from his command in order to save the lives of a platoon of marines who were pinned down by Covenant air assault. Several other officers had vouched for him, but to no avail. Still, he looked after his men.

So we have experts in just about every field. And where do I fit in? No, Horatio, don’t think that way.

 Clearing his throat, Horatio said, “Sarge, the Elites’ cruiser has just arrived. Delegates are on their way.”

Kyle grunted. “About time. Alright, ladies, grab your gear. We have an appointment with some aliens.” Shouldering his battle rifle, he rose and headed for the door. His men followed him.

Other people had been alerted-at the makeshift airfield, landing lights were being activated by technicians, halogen beams lancing into the air. A large red X painted the landing site. The Spirit dropship hovered overhead, its blue stasis field rippling between the “prongs”.

Len was waiting for them, standing off to one side. As Kyle and the rest arrived, he remarked, “We might want to step back, Sarge. It’s gonna need more room.”

The squad collectively stepped back, as the troop ship made its landing. The engines hum faded away. The side doors of the aircraft opened.

Out stepped eight Elites-three were garbed in golden armour, a sign of high rank-they were most likely Shipmasters or Field Masters. Three others were SpecOps soldiers, their matte black combat harnesses glistening.

The other two were the Arbiter and R’tas Vadum, the chief Shipmaster.

Horatio had only seen the Arbiter once, during combat in Voi and from a distance. Yet from what little he could recall of his appearance, little had changed. Amber eyes glinted through the eye-holes in his armour, filled with anticipation. He still wore the same armour-it was covered in dents, stains and scratches. Evidently he had been in fighting recently. When he could have been helping us.

R’tas Vadum, however, had changed his armour. It was a burnished orange, with white trimming. Atop his triangular head, he wore a silver headdress. Unlike the Arbiter, who was unarmed, he carried an energy sword at his side. The golden Elites were similarly armed. They were still wary of the unexpected, it seemed.

From behind Horatio, a procession was approaching. At its head was Lord Hood. Age was taking its toll on him, but he retained his old vigor, with a sharp gleam in his eyes. He was dressed in his old Navy dress uniform. His retinue consisted of the Marine generals and Navy captains that remained.

Hood strode up to the Elites. He withdrew a hand. “Arbiter, Shipmaster. Welcome back to Earth. Good to have you. I trust you’re well.”

Arbiter shook the hand firmly. “Well met, Lord Hood. Forgive our lack of assistance in relief efforts, we have been busy policing Sangheilios and the surrounding systems from Jiralhanae incursions. Know now that we will send regular aid.”

Lord Hood nodded, pleased. “That’s good to hear. Shipmaster, how have things been on the home front? Have our reinforcements been of use?”

R’tas’ slitted eyes went to Hood’s face. “Manageable. The Jiralhanae are like the L’upe cattle of our world-simpleminded and lacking initiative. Without their Prophets, they are no significant threat. In truth, your ships are not needed. Feel free to keep them where they are needed. That will change, however, when he strike deeper into their territories.”

Hood nodded a second time. “Well, we can discuss all that and more in due time. Follow me to the main building.” Hood turned and walked towards the huge structure that was the main building of HighCom. The respective retinues followed him.

Horatio couldn’t help but show open hostility as the Elites passed by. One of the SpecOps Elites half-turned to him as he passed. Horatio stared straight back at the Elite. A few moments passed, then the Elite’s mandibles broke apart in a wide grin. “Until later, human.” The Elite ambled off.

Horatio turned to his squadmates, all of whom were grinning. “What’s so funny?” he demanded.

Ollie snorted his laughter. “Dude, you shat your pants when that alien looked you over. You should have seen your face.”

“Oh, I don’t think he was scared, “ Len chimed in.

Horatio grunted. “Thanks Len….”

“I’d say he was in love.”

Horatio thumped Len on the shoulder. “Shut up man.”

Len continued unabated. “Saw something you liked, eh Hor? Thinking of asking him out? Heard the Caribbean’s pretty good this time of year…”

“I told you, shut up!”

‘Enough, “ growled Kyle. “This ain’t a mother’s group. Terry, it’s your shift on the watchtower. Grab some rations and haul ass.”

“Aw, Sarge…”

“That’s an order, Private!” Kyle’s voice could cow a lion into submission when he got ticked off.

Terry grumbled sullenly. “Don’t see what the point is, the Elites have arrived, what the hell am I up there for?”

“I swear to God, Terry, you don’t shut your yap I’ll shove a plasma grenade down it. Go.”

Still grumbling, Terry slunk off.

Kyle turned to the others. ‘Rest of you get some sleep. We’ll be moving out at dawn.”

“What for?” Len asked.

“None of your business, corporal.” The sergeant stalked off towards the main building.

Ollie and Len headed off to the barracks. Horatio followed them, but his mind was not on the subject of getting rest. The Elites were in discussions regarding peacekeeping. So far, expeditions to retake Covenant-held worlds had been in theory only. Yet now, something was definitely going on.

The Elite’s comment worried him. Just how closely were the humans and Elites going to be working together?

Good news my...erm...army of fans. New chapter! Not a lot of action, but there will be in the next one. 

*Chapter One

13^th of October, 2553

UNSCDF HighCom, Russia

Earth

“So it is agreed-our joined fleets will begin incursions as soon as they have been outfitted-a month, you said? Excellent.”

Lord Hood nodded. “As soon as these discussions conclude, a battle group will follow Shadow of Intent back to the frontier. A quartet of ONI Prowlers will be with them, to help in reconnaissance efforts.”

“Your contribution of troops, however, leaves much to be desired.”

Hood rubbed his eyes and ran a hand along his shaven head. Facing R’tas Vadumee, who sat across from him, he said, “I will concede that point, Shipmaster. But our new orbital platforms will require a massive amount of labour and manpower. Manpower we can’t spare on the frontier. We must attend to our situation at home first. Surely you understand that.”

R’tas nodded. “Only too well. But our warrior crèches are sorely pressed. We always achieve victory in naval combat-but the Jiralhanae have demonic ferocity on the ground. Coalitions of Loyalist Unggoy and Lekgolo have recently joined their ranks. Outpost worlds Virtue, Hanlbu and Poldun have fallen.” Beside him, the Arbiter sat silently. He had said nothing during the whole meeting. Hood suspected that wasn’t about to change.

“I wasn’t aware of that, “murmured Admiral Dinnigan, Hood’s second-in-command. A recent promotion, Dinnigan had a level head nonetheless, and had no qualms about the alliance, treating the Elites with respect.

R’tas sighed, a long, rumbling sound. “It is so. Orbital bombardment is out of the question-we will not repeat our senseless destruction once again. More worlds turned to lead and ash. The Sangheili will not countenance this. Also, we have not the time. Every day more Jiralhanae insurgents infest more systems like maggots inside a corpse. This punitive campaign must be waged quickly. “

Hood tilted his head in acknowledgement. “I understand this, Shipmaster. But it seems we will agree to disagree. I suggest a compromise.”

R’tas stared at him. “What ideas do you have?”

Hood smiled, and gestured to the Marine commanders arrayed at his side. “For starters, these men will liaise with your Field Masters. The situation, as I understand it, is that we lack self-contained combat units, ready for any contingency. Accordingly, we are both suffering on the ground-”

One of the Elite Field Masters, clad in armour the colour of argent flames, snorted, the noise echoing throughout the small room. “What would you know of combat on the ground, human? We Sangheili have fought this war, while you and your mewling citizens cower on this cramped sewer you call a homeworld. You have sent none of your armies-”

R’tas’ fists tightened into balls. “Urit Gebur’, you speak like a blind elder with the poison tongue. I am tempted to reach across the table and choke the smirk from your face.” His right hand loosened and fingers drummed on the hilt of his energy sword suggestively.

A moment’s awkward silence, then the Elite Urit Gebur’ grunted his assent and ducked his head. His fellow zealots scowled at him.

Hood cleared his throat, re-shuffling the papers on the table. “As I was saying, we have suffered as a result. So what I propose is a conjoining of our forces.”

R’tas cocked his massive head. “That has already been done. Our Seraph fighters fly alongside your Longswords in battle, and your Marines fight with Sangheili warriors to guard their backs.”

Hood nodded. “Yes, but they have always been opportunistic. UNSC forces and your forces have never deployed themselves with mingled forces. We both possess certain advantages in battle-why not combine them? To foster trust, camaraderie and most important of all, forge a lethal fighting force, capable of defeating the Brutes.”

It was a convincing argument, and Hood saw many commanders on both sides nodding their heads. R’tas, however, looked hesitant. After a while, he tilted his head. “An interesting idea. But before we execute it on the fields of war, it must be tested. On these frozen plains.”

Hood smiled. “Certainly. I can see you’ve brought some of your best.” He nodded at the black-armored Elites seated on the left of R’tas. “And I pulled some of our best all the way from Micronesia. We can begin planning an operation whenever you are ready.”

R’tas hummed doubtfully. “Those marines we saw at the landing zone? A motley array. I did not see much in them to suggest efficacy.”

Hood smiled a second time. “Oh trust me when I say, Shipmaster, that they are the best.”

*****************************************************************

Xavier cursed in his native Japanese as the flare’s solvent ignited, setting his clothes alight. He attempted to throw snow onto his khaki vest, but to no avail. Shrieking, he rolled back and forth. No-one in his squad helped him, as they were laughing too much. When it was clear that Xavier couldn’t extinguish the flames himself, Horatio sighed, pushed himself off the wall he was lounging against and grabbed the nitrogen foam canister bolted on the wall. Aiming it at Xavier, he pressed the button.

Xavier’s screams stopped, but then he was being buried in icy foam. When he tried to shout at Horatio to stop, he got a mouthful of foam instead.

Len nudged Ollie. “Not his favourite flavour, I take it.” Ollie snorted with laughter.

By this time, Xavier had managed to spit out the foam. “Alright, alright, stop, I’m drowning!” Grinning, Horatio let go of the trigger.

Kyle shot Horatio a glare. “Now Xav won’t shut up for the next two days. Congratulations, dumbass.”

Xavier was indeed a compulsive whiner and a pessimist-as soon as he had finished scraping off the snow, his tirade began. “Thanks a lot for the help, assholes. Look at this-I’m gonna get hypothermia ‘cause of you, Horatio. Haven’t you noticed how *** cold it is? I swear to God-”

Kyle tore off his helmet and threw it at Xavier, missing his head by scant inches. “Your own *** fault in the first place, Private. Stop messing about with your chemistry set and check your equipment.” Chagrined, Xavier removed his M6C/SOCOM pistol and started cleaning it with a rag.

Horatio put the canister back in its slot, questions crowding on his tongue. Why were they here? What was their role in this whole mess with the Elites? And why were they checking their gear?

The squad was sitting just outside the barracks. Why we’re sitting out here in the cold is yet another question I’ve got. Sarge had been acting really tense ever since the Elites got here-checking his own equipment, and spending regular hours at the makeshift firing range. All of this was sending alarm bells through his head. He had to know.

Horatio turned to Kyle and was just about to ask him what this was all about when he spotted a lone figure approaching them. It was Lord Hood.

“Atten-shun!” Kyle barked as Lord Hood walked over to them. The entire squad snapped to attention.

Hood smiled and waved a hand magnanimously. “At ease, men.” He beckoned Kyle. “Sergeant, walk with me.” The Sarge nodded and the pair went off a little ways to talk.

Horatio exhaled, a worried frown creasing his brow. “Don’t like this, guys. Something’s going on.”

“Well no ***, “said Terry sarcastically. “But cool it, man. It’s not like Hood’s sending us on a suicide mission.”

‘Wouldn’t be so sure, “muttered Len. Everyone immediately turned to him.

Ollie prodded him with a finger. “Alright, out with it. Ever since the Elite’s got here you’ve been walking around with a swagger as big as that cruiser up there-and now this! Spill, Len.”

Len smiled. “Where’s your clearance, Private?” When he saw Ollie’s face going red, he held up a hand. “OK, OK, calm down. I’ll tell you what I know.” He laced his fingers together and began talking.

“Command’s worried ‘bout the lack of experienced troops out there. Could threaten the whole alliance, seeing as we don’t have all that many to spare anyway. Elites won’t stand for empty promises. So…we’re gonna mix and match.”

Horatio’s hackles rose. “Whaddaya mean, “mix and match”?”

Len shrugged. “ODSTs are too few to do much real hurtin’ on their own. And we sure as hell can’t send regular leathernecks on hot-drops. So-that leaves the Elites. And whatever we got left.” He clasped his gloved hands together, a satisfied smirk on his face. “Smell the coffee now?”

Horatio couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “What?! You mean we gotta mingle with the split-chins in combat? No way.”

Len shrugged again. “Whatever dude. But you may as well face it. We need each other in this war. Besides, this sorta thing’s already being done. What we’re doing is just a little more involved.”

“B*llshit, “ Horatio said harshly. He shook his head. “I’m not working with the ***-sucking bastards who glassed Madrigal, not now, not ever-”

“Men.”

Horatio spun around to see The Sarge and Hood standing in front of them. Cursing his loud voice, he quickly and cleanly saluted.

Hood cleared his throat. “Men, what I’m about to tell you will be fairly momentous, so at ease.” The squad all sat down, looking up at Hood like schoolchildren at a teacher.

“I’ve reviewed all of your profiles-and you’re all veterans. Men like you are desperately needed in this war. Now, you’ve probably been wondering why I chose your squad, out of all the others. Time’s come to tell you why.

“Two problems have stood out, more than any others, so far in the war. One-a lack of experienced combat teams. We just don’t have the manpower. Two-the increasing amount of incidents involving Marines and Elites. If this continues, the alliance could potentially fall apart. Thus, we need to kill two birds with one stone. I have an idea to do that. But it needs testing. And not by run-of-the-mill Marines. Nor can the same be said for the Elites. That’s where you come in.”

Hood paused for effect-and got it. The squad was hanging on his every word.

“As you’ve probably noticed, the Elite’s brought a combat team of their own. They are, as of now, your new teammates. Your squad has been combined with theirs. Get to know them-they may be Elites but they’re fellow soldiers. Tomorrow at 0630, you will all participate in a combat exercise. I’m aware of all of your respective fields-and we’ve designed this exercise to suit them. The Elites are also experts in certain fields, so expect them to handle themselves.”

Hood cast his gaze over each soldier in turn. “Some of you may still have prejudices towards the Elites. I’m asking that, for the sake of the alliance and the war, you put them aside. The Elites have accepted us as allies, and that’s good enough for me. It should be the same for you. I’m aware this may not work, but I will not have the reason be that you didn’t play nice. I’m counting on you all. Good luck.” Hood nodded to Kyle, then trudged back towards the main building, flurries of snow marking each footstep.

Kyle eyed his men sternly. “You heard the man. Get prepped for a combat mission. I want you all locked, loaded and wired tight. Ollie, get your tech together-I want viral scavengers, long-range sensors-the lot. Xavier, if I don’t see at least five Antilon mines in a few minutes I will force-feed you a HAVOK warhead. Terry, find some camouflage and find it now. Len, do whatever it is the hell you do, and see me later. Horatio, you see me later as well-the armoury, at 2130. Snap to it!”

The squad, hardened by years of fighting, did what they had done so many times before-got ready to kick some ass.

Horatio knocked on the door of the armory, and the massive stainless-steel door slid open. The scarred face of Kyle greeted him. “Private, come in. Got some news for you.”

They walked down the long, dimly lit corridors in silence. In racks that reached up all the way to the ceiling, there were guns, bombs, and other equipment-all the paraphernalia of war.

“You know, “Kyle said slowly, “I never really had a vital use for you in the squad. That’s not to say you haven’t been a good soldier, but still. You’ve probably noticed, I ‘spect.” Horatio nodded, despite himself.

“But that’s changed as of today.” Kyle turned and faced him. “Before you arrived in my squad, I’d lost five other men. Your predecessors. Know why? Those *** Jackals and their beam rifles. We never had anyone that could stick it to ‘em. Now, though, I think I’ve got a solution.” A rare smile spread across his features.

“You’ve got a good eye, Horatio. Not to mention good accuracy. That’s why I’m giving you…this.” From a slot in the wall he pulled out a long metal case and handed it do Horatio. Opening it, he found a pristine, mint-condition SRS99D-S2 AM sniper rifle inside. He looked at Kyle in disbelief.

Kyle grinned and nodded. “That’s right; you’re officially the squad’s marksman. Good luck son, and make ever shot a good one.”