I thank Fanpop for the opportunity to post this novel here.


    
NOVEL BY U. COLLINS OKONKWO
THE AUTHOR HOLDS NO RIGHTS TO HALO
THIS IS A FREE NOVELIZATION DEDICATED TO
FANS OF THE AWARD WINNING GAME - HALO COMBAT EVOLVED
PLEASE HAVE A GOOD TIME READING.


BOOK ONE - BLADE OF THE SANGHEILI


PROLOGUE


Thoughts kept going through Corporal Pete Longday’s mind as he sat with his mates in the open cargo-hold of the Pelican drop-ship. It was exactly in the year 2537 that his home planet, Rusein an inner colony world, was completely annihilated, or “glassed” by the Covenant.

Rusein had been completely processed and had been among those worlds terraformed in the earlier years of humanity’s colonization of the Orion arm. It had been Longday’s home and home to many other innocent humans. He had viewed life from a different perspective since after that day.

He was a survivor, he and his pal Coporal Roy Jefferson who sat next to him. Then they had been ordinary teenage boys who were just through with college and were looking to take on whatever challenges the next phase of life held in store for them.

Never did they realize the surprises that fate kept in stock. It was the year 2552, exactly fifteen years after and they had become what they would have never imagined themselves to be back then. It was not a walk in the park attaining a place in the United Nations Space Command as an elite marine. You had to scale through basic, you had to push through the independent armed forces, before making it to the place where you ranked with the top-boys of the violent career.

But the good thing was that UNSC recruited soldiers of every rank, ranging from mere fresh boy Private, to veteran General. As long as your records showed you were up to the task. But that recruitment was a little rampant in these times, showing just how much the dauntingly powerful UNSC was loosing this war to the Covenant. But the men finally got their chance; their dreams had been finally met.

It was a dream they never stopped dwelling on since the Covenant assault on Rusein. And the essence of it all: To get a pay-back chance on the damnable alien race. Roy had lost his mother, but his father and two sisters were safely on the original world, Earth. Not that Longday ever knew what it meant to have family.

He was an orphan living off those special organizations that were solely concerned about people like him. The Rusein Planetary Orphanage Program (POP) only catered for you until you were through high school, and then you were mostly on your own.

He had never known life on the comfortable side until he ran into Roy Jefferson. Today they were like two men sharing one soul. He never experienced what it was to have a brother but for all he knew, Roy was closer to him than any brother he would have ever known in his life.

They had played football together. From that to chasing after women, getting drunk, picking a fight, lazing about, taking a shit in the underbrush, joined the army, got shot, done drills and many other things in the past twenty one years. The two men had been with each other so long that they now existed with intertwined personalities and shared mannerism.

Even in present days, with the crew cut and the mean soldierly appearances, people still asked if they were twins; not that they slightly looked alike. On Longday’s bench, apart from him and Roy was also Lance Corporal Vincent Natoli, a young lad still in his early twenties, and a whiz kid.

Natoli had breezed through high school and college faster than a speeding bullet. With near perfect scores. His joining the army was just his own personal aspirations of achieving something in a more challenging field of life. But you’d question the kind of challenges that the military life threw at a person.

The lanky lad who looked rather weird in a crew cut and antique type eye-glasses certainly knew that his life was on the line when he signed up for that life. Other soldiers kept wondering why he preferred those ancient eye-glasses in these times when other less obvious options of solving sight-impairment paraded all over the galaxy.

Unlike Roy and Longday, Vincent Natoli was born and raised on Earth and was from a relatively wealthy family. He had attained a degree in medicine and when he told his parents he was going to sign up for the army, they nearly called in a psychiatrist to check and see if their dear son was going paranoia.

The Covenant would actually have to dread men like Natoli armed with an M6D. He was so good with the side-arms, he could shoot a bug off a man’s face without leaving a scratch.

Sitting next to Lance Corporal Vincent Natoli was the dark skinned Private First Class Tunde Akindele. Akindele’s type was a typical rarity in UNSC. You only found a few of those African born and bred with the deep accented speech who spaced between words and kept most of their mouth open when they spoke. The marine was so huge his biceps were the literal tree trunk size.

He wore the largest fitting of armor vest there was in the corps, and since those UNSC issue vests which were designed to take a few hits from Covenant plasma weapons tended to make a marine appear a bit larger at the chest and shoulders than he should, the darn thing made Akindele look like a monster; and an Unggoy would probably make away and run for safety scared out of its skin on sighting the marine.

The steel weapon, the MA5B assault rifle which rested in the fold of his arms always seemed a little beat down in size whenever it was held by Akindele. The man’s enlisting in the corps was actually something he never planned from the start just like many others.

He had secretly worked for UNSC at one of the ONI led excavations sites in Africa, as a top and most reliable informant, helping dish out rebel militant clans and clan leaders who were angry at their government for allowing UNSC stick their nose in and do whatever they wanted in another man’s land.

They had thought that UNSC was digging for some valuable stuff and better enriching themselves with it without letting them know all about it. To these people UNSC was actually the real world invaders rather than the Covenant.

Akindele’s stating that most of the militants were also precious stone farmers had explained the entire grudge. Akindele’s first sighting of these men when they raided a UNSC compound in a restricted region guns blazing and tearing down whoever was in their path, was the first thing that motivated him to help in putting an end to the irrational clans.

Tunde Akindele had received tempting sums of money from ONI which he had explained did not mean anything to him when he decided to give information concerning the rebels. This had gone on for almost a year until Akindele voluntarily stopped receiving the money but stated that he would continue to disclose subsequent information nevertheless.

It was after this had continued for a full two years and the militant clans were reduced to small inconsistent and fearful groups that the marine corpse decided to exceptionally throw the man in uniform. And he gladly accepted. He was a natural born hero type who liked to see good overcome evil. And a constantly growing evil was the Covenant.

Their last mission before their unit was flown down to the UNSC fortress planet, Roy and Longday, had been in Africa as a replacement unit for a unit that had done their time on the excavation sites. And that was how they met with Akindele whose military career had begun on the very soils where he was born. Roy and Longday originally belong to a UNSC Earth division termed Fort Alpha.

The men had been recruited into UNSC at the level of Private first Class’s but went on to rise to Corporals after numerous missions and a few notable ones in places of civil unrest around the galaxy. So they were more experienced soldiers fighting alongside Akindele who was still a fresh-boy at the time.

First on line over at the other bench was Corporal Christopher Cornwell. The soldier hat, instead of a helmet, and the four black stripes across the face were a trade-mark with the thin faced recluse.

When often asked why those stripes were so essential to him whenever he went into combat, the blond haired marine who wore a brief goatee would always tell you how the stripes were each reserved for trapping the souls of the four known Covenant races. Even at the times when they had never faced Covenant. Chris had always been part of Fort Alpha and was another experienced soldier, a more experienced soldier than Roy and Longday.

Chris kept both a Bible a Koran and various other religious books. Even when everybody else believed the man was a little sick upstairs due to his weird manners and the habit of constantly keeping to himself, Roy would always tell how he understood the guy and that there was nothing really wrong with him; and would sometimes engage in up to an hour of meaningless conversation with the man.

Corporal Roy Jefferson was that kind of person who nearly got along with everybody he came across. His hairy face which always needed a regular shave steadily maintained a soft smile...even when he wasn’t smiling.

“Psycho Chris.” that was what the boys down at Fort Alpha called Christopher Cornwell when they were sure he wasn’t hearing. Chris owned a secret hand book he called “Death-log” in which he kept accurate record of every single magazine he had ever fired in all his life as a soldier. And number of men, women, and Covenant he had ever killed. While he never recorded any daily events, he called it his “diary”.

The second man next to Christopher on that other bench was Private Hagen Simons who was the only marine seated in the Pelican who was not of Fort Alpha. Simons was a UNSC direct recruit, and a fresh-boy.

He was recruited from one of the inner-colony worlds which were yet un-invaded by the Covenant. Rather than experience, luck had managed to bring him this far. He survived the Covenant boarding parties on the Pillar of Autumn, and was one out of two marines who were the only survivors of escape pod 443B1.

While Hagen was already on the UNSC fortress world, the men from Fort Alpha had been flown in not less than six months before they were told about an important top ranking mission to capture a Covenant ship with the aid of an Elite Spartan task force in other to find the coordinates of the alien home planet.

They were going to be among the four hundred plus marines to go with the Pillar of Autumn to embark on this mission; which had the entire Fort Alpha unit which was originally a squad of twelve men, to be joined to the Pillar of Autumn’s combat team Vector.

All was set and the mission was to kick off in a couple of days but a surprise attack by the Covenant on the fortress world, REACH, greatly interrupted plans. And not only did Fort Alpha company loose nine soldiers during that attack, but all the Spartans which were for the mission were lost.

And according to current reports, every single Spartan on Reach was killed by the Covenant, except for one: Spartan 117 Master Chief. The super soldiers were more of weapons or things rather than people---if they could be termed like that, because they were never called by name.

They were going to meet with this Spartan on their current mission; they were actually on their way to be deployed within a Covenant cruiser which currently held Captain Jacob Keyes, Captain of the Autumn, to serve as additional reinforcement for the Spartan 117 who was already engaged in a rescue mission.

While Fort Alpha unit managed to defend their sector on the Pillar of Autumn as much as they could, and the order to begin boarding the pods was given, they managed to make it into the same pod and had held together from that time until now.

Their Pod had crashed in the midst of a rockslide on a region of the strange ring-world. The pod 446B8 had been piloted by Pilot Lieutenant Joshua Tommasi. The landing was successful but there was one casualty. One out of two other marines who were separated from their combat teams in the battle within the Autumn, whom was a sniper named: Sergeant Jeremy Lincoln.

Together with Tommasi and the other separated marine who was named: Edmond Takayaki, who had survived, the men of Fort Alpha tried to radio and see if there were any survivors close to their crash site and if a regrouping was already being organised.

Radio was down and it was not long after their crash before one of those funny U shaped Covenant drop-ships began deploying a search and destroy party at their position. The shooting was intense, but the outcroppings and boulders in that area had made for good cover and hiding. The popping of human weapons and whooshing of Covenant artillery lasted for almost an hour but the human team was on higher ground and had made efficient use of that advantage.

By the time they were through eliminating the first group of Covenant, they were seriously short of ammo; and the next thing they saw to their disheartening was the landing of another drop-ship, and more Covenant approached their position. They had thought that it was the end for them considering the number of Covenant troops and the fact that they had nothing more to shoot at them with.

They tried again but radio was still down. It was when they had fallen short of hope that the roaring engines of a warthog sounded in the distance. First Sergeant Brad Evermoore, leader of Fort Alpha unit, handled his binoculars and took a look. “We finally get back up,” he had said in relief. “Two marines and...” he had to pause in surprise before he completed: “A Spartan.”

The marines of Earth’s Fort Alpha division had heard stories of the Spartans and how effective they were in combat but had never witnessed one in action; even on Reach where there had been a whole company of them. They did on this occasion. One of the marines on the warthog had been a sniper, and had taken out few of the Covenant before the rest took cover amidst the clustered boulders.

It was like watching a live movie as the men observed from their elevated position as the Spartan single handedly took out the remaining Covenant with jaw-dropping efficiency. They never said much those cyborgs. When he was done, he simply asked if there were any incapacitated, then radioed for evac by help of the Pillar of Autumn’s shipboard AI.

Even as the men boarded the Pelican by the time it arrived, they still watched in earnest admiration from the cargo-bay as the Spartan made off in the warthog still accompanied by the two marines, in search of more survivors.

The Pelican had flown the men of Fort Alpha unit to a temporary command post where the regrouping was already taking place. The place was a huge futuristic structure of some sort but was among the smallest scattered all over the ring-world.

The place was filled with marines, wounded marines, supplies and vehicles and ammo and every possible thing they must have needed; for the most part, food. For the first time they were surprised at how fast those pelicans could easily move troops and supplies.

The men later did some refreshing and finally got some rest but there was hardly sleep in the eyes of anyone that night, considering the devastation that was witnessed on Reach, and on the Pillar of Autumn. Report came in early the next morning that the entire Command crew on the Pillar of Autumn, along with Captain Jacob Keyes who managed to perform a salvaged landing of the Halcyon-class cruiser, had been captured by the Covenant.

A rescue team was immediately dispatched and before long it was reported again that not all of the command crew was captured. A large group of the Autumn’s command crew was eventually rescued at a location where the Covenant was overpowering them in another one of those large structures where they took refuge. The Captain and a few others were reported to have been the ones already captured by the Covenant and most likely already held within a Covenant cruiser.

A few hours before nightfall the exact cruiser was located in which the Captain was held. According to reports, the aliens called it the Truth and Reconciliation. Fortunately it was not in orbit but on surface. A team of marines along with the Spartan embarked on a rescue mission. By nightfall they had succeeded in boarding the alien cruiser.

Everyone had expected something of the nature when report came in that of all nine marines that managed to board the ship with the Spartan, none remained alive.

The present situation described that the Spartan was currently having a difficult time inside the cruiser and needed reinforcement. That was when First Sergeant Brad Evermoore stepped up to state that the marines of Fort Alpha regiment were willing to carry out the task, being that the Spartan had saved their lives the day before. All the men were glad to hear that they got the opportunity to fight alongside the Spartan 117 Master Chief.

But as the Pelican soared through the night sky heading in direction of the Covenant ship, the marines seemed to do a lot of musing. Doubt and nervousness suddenly began creeping in. Being deployed within a Covenant cruiser could be compared to dropping a slice of cheese into the swarming bowels of an anthill. The men of Fort Alpha were definitely wondering if there was anyway they were going to make it out alive. They wondered what their chances were.

It might not be so perilous a task for the Spartan considering the fact that he managed to stay alive when every other marine was dead. For them it was different. The mission suddenly seemed like a suicide run. Longday knew it was exactly the same thoughts which ran through his mind that equally crept through that of his mates. The unnerving silence spoke it all.

For many of them the past hours was their first time coming face to face with Covenant. Too many deaths had they seen in the past say—sixty hours or so. Reach was completely destroyed before their eyes. The statistical four humans to one Covenant infantry-combat loss-rate was made clear to them in those past hours. Corporal Pete Longday remembered the first Covenant he encountered. He couldn’t actually remember what he felt at the instant sighting of the ruthless monster.

It was an Elite. Combat team Vector had assisted in securing one of the lower decks. The alien boarding-crafts would first rock the ship on impact before they activate their anti-matter charge and melt a hole in the hull. Fort Alpha Company had stuck together and they had waited with other marines in front of one of the first boarding crafts to hit that deck.

The moment the aliens had cut a hole in the ship and began to emerge, one of the marines of Vector group had greeted them with a grenade which erupted tearing grunts in many bits before they could be seen, and letting up a shrouding smoke.

Just at the clearing of the smoke an Elite was the next thing that emerged. Longday only remembered the hairs on his body shooting up, then a blend of nervousness and anger followed, before he opened fire with the rest of the marines. They were able to outnumber and take that group by surprise but other boarding parties had already made it onto the deck.

The bloodshed that took place on the Autumn was enough to weaken the hardest of hearts. Longday had seen Elites grab men and toss them against walls like pieces of furniture, twisted necks, and cracked skulls when the marines suddenly bumped into them at a corner. Even when unarmed the aliens were a lethal enemy.

Considering a mission within a Covenant cruiser just made it clear you were dead. Londgay could bet that some of the men were already whispering some last prayers and reconciling with God, just in case they didn’t get the chance again before their deaths.

Seeing so many human beings die at the same time always changed a soldier’s mood and general view of life. The thought that would linger in your mind for the days to follow would be just what happens after a man’s death. You begin remembering the things the religious people always said about the soul, heaven and hell.

But Longday wondered if hardened soldiers like Sergeant Evermoore who never showed any signs of being human, ever gave thought to such things.

First Sergeant Brad Evermoore though a veteran soldier, had never done any fighting against the Covenant before now. He had been part of the regiment that fought against rebels in the frontier worlds for over a decade. Even Sergeant Brad had just killed his first aliens in the past hours. But killing those Covenant bastards was different. You didn’t feel the slightest pinch of remorse.

It was satisfying for Longday, peppering the last Elite he had killed with rounds of his MA5B till the darn face was just a ruin of purple blood. He knew he had never killed a man with that much prejudice. He had been waiting long years to pour some led into the alien freaks.

Sergeant Evermoore had been in the pelican’s pilot cabin, and presenyly made his way out. The dim lights of the troop-bay caused the Sergeant’s cap to cast a shadow over his face. “Alright you sons of bitches, this is the hour when we got really callous,” he said in his slow husky tone. “We don brought the fight to their doorsteps! We’re gonna let the bastard aliens realize they picked a fight in the wrong end of the galaxy. We’re gonna let them know that detaining a Captain of ours is an awful lot of disrespect that deserves some serious discipline!” He paused and took a watch of their faces one by one from one bench to the other.

Sounding rather drunk as he always did, the Sergeant went on: “You know, I consider myself the only soldier with balls enough to carry out this mission, but then I look at your faces, and I just feel sorry. Hell look at all the goddamn grim countenances I’m surrounded by. I feel awfully sorry for those alien bastards; cos I know they’re gonna get the darnest severest whooping of their ugly extraterrestrial asses tonight!”

Evermoore ran a hand beside his ear. “I didn’t hear you sissies!”

“Hoo ah!” They all hollered.

The Pelican roared through the star dotted night sky on its jet engines, and the giant one-kilometer long Covenant cruiser which hung above a plateau of the desert region of the immense ring-world glared mightily ahead, dwarfing the Pelican even from the distance.

The Shipboard AI could be heard as the Pelican’s COM crackled to life, “Cortana to Echo 419. The shuttle bay door is open. You can start your approach.”

“Roger Cortana, Echo 419 inbound.”

One factor kept Pete Longday positive; if they had survived all the other dangers, they were hopefully going to survive this.






CHAPTER ONE

They Call Me Demon



“Supreme commander,” an Elite Minor mentioned, standing near the access doors. Enoree Orreius stood before a holo panel, observed the giant view screen some paces away. Covenant cruisers dispersed, the giant ring shimmering in the blackness of space. The Supreme Commander kept silent a while before he said: “You may speak.”


“The humans have managed to board one of our cruisers. The truth and reconciliation.”
“The ship that holds the human captain?” the Supreme Commander asked.
“Yes, Supreme commander.”
“Hmm.” He turned around. “How daring...so they are bold enough to attempt a rescue. And the demon, is he with this troop?”
“Yes, Supreme commander. And our crew of the truth and reconciliation confirm that two Lekgolos are already eliminated by his hand.”


Supreme commander Orreius scoffed, and spoke with that tone equivalent with him loosing his temper. He waved a hand toward the screen. “Look what I have out there? The entire daunting fleet of particular justice. Tell me beloved Iron heart; do I have to send every single vessel down upon the sacred ring?”


“No, Supreme commander.”
“No? Then tell me why such information as this should be brought to me?” He turned about again, shook his head while he strode toward the screen. “This is an unacceptable level of incompetence. I want you to leave now, and tell Ship Master Kaziska that if he does not handle situations rightly, I personally will stuff a grenade down his throat if ever I am compelled to leave my station.”


“Yes, supreme commander.” The Elite whirled to make away. “Wait!” the Supreme commander ordered. “I learnt that repairs have been completed on the ship.”
“Yes, Supreme Commander.”

“Then it is to make for orbit immediately...with the demon still onboard. I want all issued objectives unquestioningly nullified as of now. At least that will not be too hard a thing for Kaziska to perform.”
“As you command, Supreme commander.” The doors shifted close at his departing footsteps as the Elite minor left.


2


Master chief tumbled into the corridor, plasma rifle searing in his grip. “Are you sure you’re okay chief?” repeated Cortana’s piping tone within his helmet. “I’m alright,” said the chief as calmly as he always would, but the strain in his voice could not be denied this time around. He dragged himself to sit, leaned against the bulkhead.


Even though the Mjolnir armor was fitted with temperature regulation, inside of the Mark five suit presently felt like it was on fire. That plasma grenade almost tore him to pieces, though it did just that to the two Covenant Major Domo Elites. “Just need a moment to recharge,” he said.


“Um, in my opinion chief that’s one moment we don’t happen to have. More guards are headed this way.”
The chief blew a weak grunt, lifted to his feet. “How far are we from the brig?”
“About two floors away. Sergeant Evermoore and the others are currently one floor below our position. Coming through the north rout we can converge with them at the cross section just behind the last door on the opposite side of this corridor. We could do with any form of reinforcements right now.”


The chief turned briskly at the shifting sound of the access door behind him, pointed his plasma rifle in the same motion. That weapon had come in handy so far, after he lost his MA5B assault rifle in a frightful battle against those twelve foot Hunter aliens.


A pull of the trigger confirmed exhausted batteries. Two furious Elites emerged. Master chief was quick to throw himself behind a com-device just to the right. Lying almost at every corner, he wondered of what use those strange structures served in this Covenant ship; for him it had been serving for good cover so far. One positive thing for now was that his shields were coming up and the inside of the suit was beginning to normalize.


But did they notice his useless weapon? If they did, things just got really ugly. He couldn’t sprint the full length of this passage to the next door without getting fried. To the right was the un-girded space: a long fall back to where this climb had begun. A fall also high enough to crush the very human bones that hid within that mark five suit.


To his left was the oddly purple stretch of bulkhead. “We have to act fast Chief,” said Cortana. Spits of plasma fire flashed past his shoulders next. Then nothing...He wondered...hesitated, and tried to catch a glimpse of what the aliens were about. More plasma shots almost met his visor as he quickly withdrew. The door on the far end before him abruptly hissed open and more Covenant emptied into the large square shaped area. “Oh my chief, they’re trying to corner us”


“We have you cornered demon!” bellowed one of Three Elites who just entered. The chief was an open target for them but they had not fired. “Ship Master Kaziska will take you alive,” The Elite continued, gesturing for two jackals to proceed toward the chief. “Only if you heed such instructions as will be given you now.”


The jackals shields were activated with a loud sizzle, to protect them in their overly tentative advance. The Elite that spoke seemed to be of higher rank, John noticed, than the other two who flanked him, as well as the two who remained behind him. “You will gently stretch out your hands demon! First I will need for you to lay down every weapon such as you currently posses!”


Master chief, placing his gaze on the approaching jackals tapped against the Covenant com-device with his fingers and asked, “How much do you think this thing weighs Cortana?”
“What...you mean the--Ah, you can heft it chief, if that’s what you’re thinking.”


The approach of the jackals got more gingerly with their nearing. The chief suddenly threw the plasma rifle in the air and in that same instance when it forced their attention; he whirled, picked up the com-device. It served for mobile cover as he ran back at the other two Elites. Their plasma rifle bolts fizzled and sputtered against the hard surface.


The door opened once again to receive one of the Elites in his backward flight. Master chief had launched the structure at them, and the other dived aside to escape the missile. Master chief received minor blasts against his back from the other group, flung himself in motion to slide forward on both knees.


He now deftly caught two spinning plasma rifles in the air, which had belonged to his victim of the com-device attack. He released bolts of his new weapons to fry the face of the acrobatic Covenant who was still at point of getting up. Master chief rolled sideways and into the door, in avoidance of the rain of assault that issued from behind.


The barrage fizzled and ricocheted off the door as it slid shut. Facing the closed door, he lifted himself to balance on one knee, weapons clutched tightly and hanging near his visor. “Wow Chief, that was some applaudable choreography,” Cortana said.
“Thanks,” Chief replied.


A moan that sounded more of a rumble suddenly noised behind. The master chief tendered some no-look blasts in that direction for it to fade into a monstrous gurgle. It was the knocked out Elite who tried to recover. And the chief just saw to it that there would be no future recoveries. Cortana chuckled. “What’s so funny?” Master chief asked.
“It’s the way you defy the Covenant.”
“They call me demon, Cortana. I’m just trying to live up to that standing.”


3


As though making himself part of it, First Sergeant Brad Evermoore edged himself against a wall. Four marines in like manner lined beside him. Of seven marines deployed by the pelican upon the Covenant shuttle-bay as additional reinforcement, that was what presently remained. The journey to this point had been bitter.


Mostly for Pete Longday, who seemed a little impatient settling behind cover just next to Sergeant Evermoore.

Sergeant Johnson’s words came back to him: 'All you Leathernecks that wonna get up close and personal with Covenant, today’s your lucky day. But I bet you might not entirely enjoy the experience when the fun and games really begin.'


'You didn’t have to die Roy,' Longday thought. 'you didn’t have to die on me like that.'






CHAPTER TWO

Dreams In Detention


The restraint cords secured them with a firm clasp against their seats as the Pillar of Autumn’s bridge crew, most of them face grimaced, teeth tightly gnashed, hoped that the Captain’s indomitable decision was not going to get them all killed. The continued rumbling quaked and shivered the Halcyon-class warship’s interior, frantic voices hurtling in terrified hysteria. A sudden elongated “boom”, which gave off a most severe reverberation, spoke an abrupt end to their salvaged landing. First there was silence all over, alarmed faces calmed...before shouts of relief and victory abruptly took up the entire bridge.

Like a giant whale washed ashore by a strong tide, the Pillar of Autumn battered and shaken, sat upon an extensive desert region of the immense ring world. So momentous was the shimmering of the sun which glinted off the ships beat-up hull. Smoke danced from the sandy mound formed at the lower sections of her to float into the grey sky. “We made it captain, no reports of any casualties from the crash,” bridge officer Leonard said.

“Of course we did,” Captain Jacob Keyes replied, trashing the loosed cords aside to rise to his feet. “But this is no time for celebrations. You don’t suppose the Covenant entirely forgot about us the moment we plunged into...this thing’s atmosphere. We’ll have Covenant vessels crawling all over this position in little time.”

The Captain commenced a stride toward the console which faced Leonard and two other officers when he added: “We’re more on the safe side now that Cortana’s been separated from the Autumn. Protocols are in check and since we’re sure that the Autumn is undoubtedly crippled, the main subject of the moment will be how we can keep every remaining personnel alive and away from reach of the enemy, before any next line of action can be resolved. So wha---”

“Multiple Covenant vessels incoming on our position sir!” officer Beason shrieked over his shoulder from the opposite end of the room. “Um, sorry to interrupt you sir.”
“How many?” Captain Keyes easily asked, turning to have view of the bridge-officer. Beason returned his gaze to his console wide-eyed. “Um, about...there’s just too many of them sir. The size of drop ships.”

“And that’s what they are. Either they are here to finish off whatever’s left of us, or they intend to take prisoners.” The captain swerved his calm-gaze back to officer Leonard, continuing with that ever untroubled tone he was known with: “Leonard, We’re abandoning ship. Everyone.”


“Understood sir,” curly haired Leonard agreed.
“How many flights do we have left in the hangar?”
“Oh, more than enough sir. Apart from two pelicans that left the ship when we leveled into the pseudo-planet’s atmosphere, no other aircrafts have left the Pillar of Autumn, and that should leave us with eight other Pelican drop-ships.”

“Good. Can we by any chance make contact with those two crafts?” The Captain asked.
“I’m afraid not sir, COM systems are still down.”
“Very well, I want everyone assembled at the vehicle chambers, double time.”
“Right away sir,” Leonard responded, before he whirled to speak into the central intercom.

Captain Keyes stuck his pipe in mouth before he began toward the bridge exit, but withdrew it shortly. “Anderson,” he called, stopping near to another console.
“Sir!” a man rose to salute.
“I want you to take four other men with you and head to the armory. I want all my people armed with weapons.”
“Yes sir.”
“And... are there yet any marines left aboard this ship?”
“No idea sir.”

The Captain whirled to be looking at Leonard’s corner again, while Anderson scuttled off. Leonard’s voice was already ringing around the whole ship at this point. “All remaining personnel should immediately proceed to vehicle chamber for immediate evacuation.” The bridge got a little rowdy with officers abandoning their stations and heading for the exit. Keyes allowed Leonard do his job, and looking to his right, noticed Beason already on the move. “Officer Beason.”
The man saluted: “sir!”


“I understand that Sergeant Johnson went with one of the life boats. But are there any marines left aboard the Autumn?”
“Yes sir. Sergeant Scofield and his team helped defend against boarders in second grid 0144 of the second deck and are still in that sector. Can’t explain how they survived the crash without restraints, but I guess they should be on their way to the hangar by now.”

“Okay. You can be on your way, that’s all I needed to know.” Following toward the door with a casual gait, Keyes delved into the privacy of his thoughts. Reach is obliterated. The painfully nurtured Spartans bitterly lavished. The one ship assigned to my command, downed. This is a dreadful nightmare. I pray to God that these aliens do not by any means locate Earth. I guess I have to an extent performed my role in making sure that does not happen. The Cole Protocol has been fully achieved. It all lies in the hands of our last Spartan to keep it that way. But I trust John. As for these aliens; they seem to be getting too confident in militarily engaging we humans. I’ll make sure they get a taste of what if feels like to underestimate humanity. Even if it has to end this way for me and my crew. Oh yes, they’ll know they ran into a dog-headed human Captain.

“Captain!” a voice shook him back into awareness. He was already past the first two corridors presently. The man that spoke was a sweaty Marine. He had saluted, and trailed beside the captain shouldering his rifle. “We are experiencing a major problem sir. Both routs to the upper vehicle chamber have been blocked off by an explosion. We only have access to the main hangar bay. Which means that we can’t currently gain access to any aircrafts.”
“When did this happen?”

“I don’t know sir, but we can clear the path by hand, just that it’ll take a while.”
“You have to see this Captain,” another man said, who was dressed in the grey of an engineering officer and stood not many feet before the approaching men. He was peering through a view window. Captain Keyes reached and stood beside him to have a look. He observed, still casually.

He had been listening to the intercom repeat the message, “enemy inbound,” but did not expect this. An array of Covenant drop ships already lined around the Pillar of Autumn. “Just how fast are these Covenant?” Keyes muttered to himself. He turned around and told the Marine who stood behind him:

“You can see how little time we have soldier, get a move on, and divert everyone going towards the upper chambers.” The soldier nodded, made to hurry away. “One more thing,” the Captain called. “What’s the exact count of your squad, Corporal...?”
“Corporal Philips sir. We should be twelve in number.”
“Corporal Philips, your job is to make sure everyone is securely in that hangar in the quickest time possible. And I expect to meet your commanding officer there for more orders.”

“Right sir.” And he trotted off. The other man equally hurried away at that command, before Keyes stared out again. He observed the rising spire in the distance. He didn’t know what that structure was or served, but that was their destination. It was the closest thing to the crash site and he hoped it would make for momentary camp while he tried to reorganize his troops, but mostly that it was not some kind of automated military base.

He simply hoped it was as deserted as it appeared, and even if they had to fight an entire Covenant war fleet, they would give a better fight upon a facility that huge.

Captain Keyes’ guiding of his eyes downwards, revealed that the Covenant drop ships, long ramps thumping open, were already emptying troops which Jacob Keyes observed most of them disappear against the Pillar of Autumn’s sprawling shadow. The Captain better understood the urgency required of this evacuation as he continued along the corridor in muse.

He soon noticed the horrible sight. Fires scorched here and there; human, Covenant corpses sprawled all over the place. Those freaks bled blue and purple, and mingled with human crimson, had the foul thing splattered over bulkhead and floor of almost every corner made by the Captain.

In about ten minutes later, Keyes’ shoe-steps clanged lightly against the slanting floor which joined the hangar’s main access hatch. All eyes were pointed at him, of marines and officers grouped below. They all saluted in a manner that did not by any means synchronize.

Hands folded behind back, the captain reached to be standing before them in the hugeness of the vehicle chamber. The crew noticed that he first arrowed a brief glance at the noses of the aircrafts which gaped from their high hung platforms.

With just the LRVs accessible here in the lower sections around them, they wondered what the Captain’s intention was. “Is this everyone?” They seemed quite small in number that it dismayed Keyes, but he hoped that most of the rest of his crew would be eventually numbered with those that exited in the life-boats rather than the dead.

“No sir, Captain!” Sergeant Scofield exclaimed, emerging from the right where the marines were better orderly positioned. “Then who’s left out?” Keyes asked.
“We’re right here sir!” another voice sounded, tangled with multiple boot-steps that hurried down the tilted entrance. All turned to note bridge officer Anderson’s entrance, with four additional men who shouldered packs just like he did. “Good job Anderson,” Captain Keyes said, before he gestured a hand at the floor. “Lay em right here.”

The five men were all sweaty from hauling those packs all the way from armory. They let the bulky packs slip from their shoulders to the ground with followed thumps, after which they proceeded to join behind the lines. It was then that Officer Leonard equally arrived, stomped down the entrance. Keyes briefly noticed the final arrival before he turned to Scofield. “Sergeant, I want everyone armed ASAP, lets see what we’ve got there.”

Scofield briskly fled to squat before the packs and giving up a sharp whiz, the first pack was unzipped by the Sergeant’s quick fingers; fingers that may have gained their quickness from a life time’s hasty shifting of rifle trigger. The stone jawed and narrow eyed marine gathered contents of the bag in both hands. “M6Ds MA5Bs.”

He dropped his first picks and rummaged for more, lifted them into sight and added: “A few frag-grenades, and lots of ammo.”
Captain Keyes retrieved his peek from the open pack, said: “That looks like enough to go round to me.” He tried to search out Anderson at the rear of the lines. “Officer Anderson, why on Earth did you think these other packs necessary?”

“Rocket launchers sir!” Anderson hollered from his position. “And rocket launcher ammo.” At this point, Sergeant Scofield was already done unzipping one of the extra packs. “Rocket launcher,” he said, looking up at the captain with a slight grin. “Hmm,” The Captain went. “Excellent job Anderson, we might just be needing that much fire power. Have three of your men handle those weapons immediately Sergeant.”

“Kelly!” Scofield shouted. “Mathew! Jackoby! You heard the Captain, get moving!” three marines abruptly broke the lines to scramble forward. While the three obeyed that command, freeing the M19SSMs from their leathery coverings, Sergeant Scofield stretched a hand to again reach for the first pack which he had budged to his side.

He handled and shoved it to the right such that it slithered on the smooth floor to brake in front of the file of remaining marines. The Sergeant straightened, looked to the line of soldiers as though checking to see the most suitable men for the task. “Roy! Mackenzie!” he waved a hand. “Double time, make these cakes go round.”

They were quick in parting the queue and hefted the bag in no time by the two straps which they tugged apart to make it gape. Both men meddled through the lines lifting the pack in that manner, while multiple hands consecutively snatched at weapons of choice, with the exception of those already armed from the previous Covenant attack.

Sergeant Scofield looked behind just to satisfy himself with the fact that his boys as fast as lightening, already heaved the cumbersome rocket launchers against their trained shoulders. As the distribution of weapons went on, Jacob Keyes raised his face to catch sight of the gathered crew. “Alright, listen up people,” he began.

“We’ve got bands of the enemy out there already thinking up a way to access the Autumn.” The Captain had dabbed an explanatory thumb at the thatch of bulkhead behind in making that point. “And I don’t consider it to have been a very difficult task for them even while we were in space. That should show you just how much time we have, to make a hurriedly planned exit.”

He sent a gaze at the high flung crafts again. “As I suppose you all know, all routs to the aerial vehicles were blocked off in the Covenant’s internal assault of the Autumn. So we’ll have to somehow maximize the use of the LRVs, which is our only possible option in the present.”

What sounded like a light and distant explosion noised on the outside, forced everyone to look in the seeming direction.

“The Covenant are already breaching the ship sir,” Sergeant Scofield casually told the Captain. Keyes nodded, and went on rather too unperturbedly. “We’ll have to be quick about this. I want...” he paused to observe and make estimations. “The best hands with the wheels; have ten LRVs lined in front of the deployment hatch ASAP. The rest of you, lock and load, we’ve got Covenant blood to spill.”

Like a school of fish suddenly startled by a voracious predator, the lines abruptly dispersed. Apart from the marines, most of the other men gathered around the gun-pack for extra ammo which they stiffly tucked into their belts and pants.

The land-vehicle-deployment hatch was such that it slanted not just on this inner path but after the level platform facing the door upon which the vehicles were now lined, another slant followed and would be revealed the moment the outer ramps drop and the hatch is thrown open.

So wide was the deployment hatch that even after ten LRVs were stationed horizontally on its level platform, it still held enough space for at least half a dozen more. Captain Keyes approached the thrumming vehicles making it up the tilted path. Having handed his personal M6D pistol to the MJOLNIR armored Master Chief, the Captain now equipped himself with another of that preferred weapon of his.

Behind him was Private Jackoby who heaved one of the heavy rocket launchers along. Keyes’ estimations were strikingly accurate, for apart from Jackoby and Corporal Philips whom he ordered to roll up an eleventh warthog, all other LRVs were occupied and no crew member was left out. More faint booms suggested that the Covenant were already gaining access to different sectors of the ship.

Captain Keyes stopped in front of the hatch’s manual release lever, turned to refer to the armored vehicles arrayed to his right. “I hope everyone got this right. Even though we can assume that the Covenant do not have an idea of what we’re about, the moment I release this door, we equally don’t precisely know what we’re going to be faced with out there.

“Nevertheless let us all try our best to keep focused on the main objective... And give em hell while we are at it.” The captain thought he heard a silent “hoo ah” by a marine. “In my opinion people,” he carried on, “the Covenant have pushed us too far. And for all I know, we did not manage to land this ship just to be obliterated by some offensively ugly aliens!” Some of them still possessed spirit high enough for a low chuckle.

Jacob Keyes unusually spoke loudly and passionately as he added: “So we aren’t giving up just yet!” The Captain’s words were stressed such that it reminded Sergeant Scofield of a preacher he once listened to in his childhood days on Earth. “The freaks may be more in number,” Keyes continued. “But their gathered wits cannot by any means be compared to that of any human within this hangar.”

The Sergeant better positioned himself, rifle in hand and battle ready in the passenger seat of the first LRV looking as ready to kick Covenant butt as he ever would. Behind him, a bridge officer gripped the turret with a determined hold nodding in approval of the Captain’s words. Even if they were not courageous enough earlier on, the ardor that streamed with Captain Keyes voice came a long way in helping achieve that now.

The additional vehicle rumbled up the path to brake behind Sergeant Scofield’s ride and near to where the Captain stood. Keyes concluded as he pulled the lever: “And the most imperative command that I shall issue you this hour soldiers...is that you stay alive! Let us go soldiers, for REACH!” and unlike Captain Keyes it was loud; so loud that it echoed in the hugeness of the hangar bay. “For REACH!” they all shouted in response, guns and fists flailing in the air.


A cast of natural light flashed from below to meet their faces as the lengthy hatch groaned apart. Captain Keyes and Jackoby whom he waved along, were quick to join Philips in the last LRV while the others were already barreling down the slope headed towards the lowered outer ramp.

The coalescing of many vehicle engines roared at the hangars hollow interior. The first warthog to thump the sandy ground was Sergeant Scofield’s. The vehicle’s shocks recoiled and rebounded but the bobbing did not stop Scofield from picking off two Covenant grunts to the left flank as the vehicle careened under the Pillar of Autumn’s great shadow.

He heard the deafening turret above his head as it crackled shots that knocked protesting Covenant ground troops off their feet, fountains of sand sprayed by the mounted three-barreled machine-gun in the process. Other vehicles stumbled into the open field, which had Covenant ranks strewn all over it like insects come to feed on a substantial catch.

Turrets crackled, rifles rattled, while pistols banged at the enemy as the vehicles poured into the open. Covenant Grunts panicked, scrambled for unavailable safety. Elites defiantly fired back at the emerging LRVs unflinchingly taking fire against their armor. Of which many were leveled by the human assault.

Scofield twisted his neck further left, along the Pillar of Autumn’s extensive hull, to notice Covenant drop-ships hovering at various positions, whom were vainly emptying more troops into the downed giant. Before them, about half a kilometer or so after the Autumn’s shade, more drop-ships were docked whilst banshees patrolled the brilliant sunlit sky.

Naturally, the Covenant expected two things. Either the humans remained in their ship in fear of the enemy, which the aliens thought most likely; or they attempted an escape with their smaller troopships. They never anticipated this crazy move of ground vehicles hurtling across the sandy span. Nevertheless all Covenant attention was drawn to the LRVs now.

Sergeant Scofield’s warthog made the lead as they managed to thunder past the Pillar of Autumn’s dark shadow into brighter lit area where the sand seemed to dazzle from the sun’s heated touch. One other LRV sped next to it, while the rest maintained a triangular formation behind.

Their heavy tires kicked up sand, had their quick passage engulfed in a trailing mass of shrouding dust. Presently they were free of any disturbance from those ground forces, who remained within closer proximity of the Pillar of Autumn. While they sped towards the docked drop-ships, banshees were already gathering from different angles, brushing through the sky to engage a pursuit.

Two banshees in particular had been the only ones hovering near to the docked Covenant ships and before the approaching human vehicles. They dived, approached head-on in the nearer sky and opened plasma fire. Plasma rounds shattered windshield of one speeding LRV before M19SSM rocket launcher projectiles fled from the herd to squeal toward the aerial assault aircrafts.

Preciseness of those shots met one banshee in the nose. The other was quick to veer off but lost one wing which turned its swerve into an uncontrollable reel. And it reeled out of sight of the warthogs which was a good thing because the other projectile-rammed banshee sent spinning fragments that whipped through the air lunging directly at the escaping LRVs.

The crew of Scofield’s and another Hog which followed to their right ducked their heads in avoidance of what was more of an oversized spinning sword. Smoldering hot, the shrapnel halved the mounted turrets on both rides, cut both turrets and tore two gunners of the next LRVs in half who were the slowest to make an evasive move. Every other gunner dodged and the shrapnel disappeared into the dusty trail left behind by the rides, after it had destroyed five complete turrets and two men.

The rest of the shrapnel that lunged in their direction was small in comparison but were dangerously hot. One hissed past Scofield’s ear. Some pierced into windshields and hung there like assassin darts, while some buried into shoulder and limbs of men who grunted at the pain.

A marine was the driver of one of the warthogs who lost their gunners: Corporal Raul. Raul tried to keep his eye on the road and at the same time urge the bridge officer who was seated next to him to make use of his rifle rather than cringe into the lower part of the car. “More fighter crafts, six o clock!” An engineering officer screamed from the next ride, tore off rounds of his rifle in the direction before others joined to make a deadly barrage.

“Make yourself and that weapon useful soldier,” Raul growled. “We got more incoming!” The man finally got up to aim his rifle backwards just to witness that the gunner who had lost his torso still spurted crimson on the turret stand. He grimaced, more like one who was in some kind of pain, releasing the most awkward shots at the hastily approaching banshees.

At this point the Pillar of Autumn’s crew was drawing nearer to the two docked drop-ships. The space between the two ships was wide enough to take all the LRVs in their V formation. Every gunner of the remaining three-barreled mounted machine-guns were scattering rounds at the pursing Covenant banshees. Of which the new arrivals were more careful to dodge, performed the most aerodynamically impossible maneuvers of avoidance ever seen by the humans.

Three out of what happened to be six banshees dived, closed in almost simultaneously. They fired their dual fuel-rod cannons. The first erupted near Captain Keyes’ LRV which tailed behind and was not part of the formation. The impact lifted a great shower of sand and tilted the left side of the vehicle so that it continued a few seconds on two wheels before bouncing back into balance.

Shots from the other two banshees were aimed to the rear of the formation where it buried into the sand skimming the under side of one LRV. The LRV was thrown high into the air by that force. Like a piece of toy, the light reconnaissance vehicle was aloft and performed a sever spin forward, its shadow slowly flying past the other cars.

As for the banshees that dared come close enough for a fuel-rod attack, not all pulled up quick enough. Rocket launcher rounds from Corporal Kelly and Mathew tore two to shreds while the third already smoking black at its side from turret fire, was lucky to escape a last M19SSM projectile released by Jackoby which breezed wide. The exploding banshees blasted into pieces and tumbled away against the hurrying ground, and were not by any means a threat to the LRVs in this case since the attack came from behind.

The pilots of those two forward drop-ships must have been scrambling as quick as they could to make it to the guns the moment they sighted the LRVs because the U shaped Covenant drop-ships suddenly released huge bolts of scorching plasma from their top-guns, starting with the one on the right, then the one on the left wing. Wide-eyed, Sergeant Scofield threw his face backward waving an arm. “Break formation! Break formation!” the man screamed at the height of his vocals

Though Sergeant Scofield’s driver swerved the vehicle to sway in avoidance of those deadly beams, it was too late for some of the LRVs. One took a direct hit that rained molten windshield into the driver’s face. He screamed in agony, steered too hard to cause the vehicle to tumble violently sideways.

Their gunner was tossed into the air, hands flailing helplessly. The man’s landing was greeted with one of the LRVs accidentally ramming him into oblivion. Other LRVs skewed around the tumbled warthog as it finally ended its crash upside down, tires spinning vainly; Just for another careless driver to slam into it causing both vehicles to go up in blistering flames.

The formation was broken and the humans made themselves more difficult targets swaying left and right like desperate bugs seeking a path out of a flaming maze. They showed their skills dodging those hellish spits of plasma beam that flared through the air in rapid bursts.

Corporal Mathew’s hasty hands were deftly reloading his rocket launcher. The teetering of the LRV made it into a most difficult task. But he succeeded...balanced it upon his shoulders, took unsteadied aim, and slammed the fat trigger to send a missile whistling away. It struck into the top-gun of the left handed Covenant ship to completely neutralize that threat, leaving black plume that smoked from the severed spot.

While the other Covenant drop-ships were too far off to get a precise shot at them, it was just the drop-ship by the right that continued to rain hell at them. The vehicles neared the gap which separated both ships. Getting past that space would mean that they would only be faced with the banshees that stalked above.

It would be more like breaking through an enemy siege-wall in ancient Earth battles. But it was at that moment that the LRV which had been whisked into the air, which had gone spinning overhead of the other warthogs lifted by the banshee fuel-rod cannons, landed headlong in the exact middle of the gap with a dull clatter.

Scofield’s LRV being the first tried to avoid but brushed past it, causing the vehicle to behave in the same manner as the Captain’s ride from the earlier banshee attack. The difference being that Scofield’s LRV continued on two wheels only for the briefest seconds before it somersaulted against the sand.

Other vehicles did good to avoid both crashed LRVs, whipping past in meaningful speed. Just as the remaining cars made it across the gap, Corporal Mathew released his last round of rocket launcher to pluck off the yet disturbing drop-ship gun that had been trailing their progress with frustrating spits of plasma fire.

They had made it across the gap. Their destination loomed before them as the speeding LRVs spat dust at the Covenant forces behind. An expansive super structure with an extensive spire which had some kind of beam extending from it. That was their hope for at least a good fight against the Covenant. It was all open desert from here on

As the dust of their passing cleared...a toppled LRV which had tumbled beyond the gap of Covenant drop-ships was revealed, tires spinning in poignant futility. A figure crawled into view from underneath. Sergeant Scofield bled from the nose, a bloody scar on his left temple; his left leg took on a sharp pain that told him just how damaged it must be.

His frail and trembling left hand clawed at the sand. After all that plummeting, the man had not lost grip of his rifle. His right hand maintained its clasp of the weapon as it reached across the sand. He winced, tried to pull himself into open ground. The pain in the left leg neared excruciating and Scofield grunted loudly, panted, and rested himself from the strain. He sent his gaze to the right, witnessed how hopeless his situation was by the distance his comrades had covered.

Scofield suddenly felt like life tried to force its way out of him. But then came that sound. He could never mistake it. He had heard the sound of those vehicles too many a times in his violent military life not to recognize it. The Sergeant was sure it was a warthog even though the sound echoed in his head. His mind surely did not deceive him as another LRV zoomed past his helpless self.

Sergeant Scofield tried to call for help but discovered his throat refused to function. And they had not noticed him. Swift shadows of three banshees one after the other fled past him in a woosh; Obviously in pursuit of his comrades. There was only one other option and he hoped it would work. He managed to raise the MA5B Assault Rifle’s muzzle high enough to crack sweltering bursts into the air. Scofield hoped his comrades would hear that gunfire, hoped it would not be muffled by the loud sounding warthog...then collapsed.

If it was hours, minutes or mere seconds that had past the man could not tell, but felt both his arms grasped and dragged. That left leg offered a cruel pain as he felt himself finally pulled out from below the vehicle. He heard a man’s voice asking: “Are you Okay, Sir?” and it sounded like Jackoby’s. But there was no more strength left in his weary body. He opened his eyes and it was all blurry, but he noticed the human shape of two faces. He shut his eyes again, for keeping them open seemed to take so much out of him.

Captain Keyes threw Sergeant Scofield’s right arm over his shoulders, curved his own arm around the man’s torso. “Be careful with the legs,” Keyes told Jackoby who hefted the man from the other side. The warthog thrummed standing about fifteen paces ahead of them. Corporal Philips impatiently glanced at them in his position of the driver’s seat.

Both men scampered along the sand with Scofield supported against their shoulders, his dragged feet making a track across the sand. Perhaps Captain Keyes had purposely wanted his LRV to trail behind due to contingencies such as this. And now it seemed a reasonable idealist strategy. Jackoby had taken out one of the three banshees before they made the reverse on picking the sound of that rifle fire.

Captain Jacob Keyes knew that what remained of his escaping UNSC personnel could hold off two banshees till they got to their destination of that great spire which brooded beyond the waiting LRV. The plan had been that casualties might be incurred in the process of escape but that no vehicle was to stop for any what so reason.

And here was Captain Keyes breaking his own rule and putting more lives at stake. He disliked this soft part of him that always sprang up at times but allowed himself be overwhelmed by it nevertheless.

They were less than a meter away from their ride now, and Keyes thought he could hear Covenant forces behind them. Jackoby, even with the burden of a wounded marine upon his shoulders kept trying to glance backwards. They were there. Jacob Keyes reached out a hand to grab the upper fringes of the car...“Boom.” A whitish-blue explosion tore at the LRV, threw the three men backwards.

In the next moments, Keyes opened his eyes to wince at a harsh sunlight that descended from a lingering sky. His breath heaved, rasped, and he thought he heard his own heartbeat. The silhouette figure of what was definitely not a man looked down at him. “Kill him,” an acutely deep voice sounded nearby. “Kill them all.” Keyes watched the barrel of an alien weapon come over his face. The weapon with a loud swoosh, released a substance over the Captain that felt as though the sun itself had descended from the sky to strike him with a heated palm...

Captain Jacob Keyes’ eyes briskly shot open. He ran edgy hands over his face groping his fingers around it in frantic terror. Those anxious fingers went damp with liquid. He widened desperate eyes to look down at his outstretched palms only to realize it was perspiration. He was seated with back against a hard surface. Looking forward revealed a gleaming energy field. Keyes looked around and the realization of where he was flooded back into his mind. He took a breath of relief.

The Covenant detention cell was small and square shaped having that same dour purple color. And the shady confine was not even equipped with necessary nature-call amenities. It made the Captain wonder what the Covenant life was like outside the place of battle.

Keyes wondered for how long he had slumbered. My tired body seemed to get the better of me he thought. But that was not how it happened. Yes it was similar to the real experience but... He touched his face again. My face is not roasted... and I’m still alive. He suddenly remembered wounded Scofield being tossed into a cell opposite him. Keyes reached forward, peered out through the translucent gleam of energy field. Scofield was blissfully asleep in his cell and surprisingly his wounds somehow seemed to be catered for.

Surely there has to be a way out of this
Not without a fight
It can not end like this

Detention station main door hissed, approaching Covenant voices noised on the outside.



2

First Sergeant Brad Evermoore took another peek of the corner, turned to pass instructions to the marines. But Pete Longday whom was nearest to the Sergeant apart from the other three marines, paid attentive ears and at the same time heard nothing, for he was lost in deep muse. Thoughts swirled in Longday’s despaired mind as the death of his friend in the past minutes kept recurring to him. They had lost Roy and simons to a wave of plasma shots that greeted their touchdown on the Covenant bay.

We had made it that far. I and Roy had been more than glad being sent on this mission as reinforcements for the same Spartan 117 who had saved our hopeless situation back on the rockslide of that grassy plain of this ri