Author's note: Here we go, round two, finishing the fight and all that. Several of you have brought up the Master Chief and his return to the fight, and I'm keeping my cards close to my chest on him, but rest assured I'll try to do what feels right as I go. I've been toying with other stuff as well, possibly continuing Morgan's story past the Human Covenant War, but it's as of right now undecided whether anything that comes of those little day dreams and whether or not I'll consider them part of my 'canon'. Anyway, enough of this. If you enjoy my second coming, please don't forget to review and ask any questions you may have!
That lone wolf stuff? It stays behind.
Tell 'em to make it count.
First glassing? Me too.
You're on your own, Noble. Carter out.
I'm ready! How 'bout you!?
You have to leave me, Morgan.
Green eyes, shielded by a golden visor, shot open without a sound, heart thundering in ears that were ringing even now. A green canopy of leaves above shielded those eyes from the sun hanging over head. Voices filtered through the ringing, something familiar reaching her through her muddled mind as something was pulled from her helmet, the disconnect sparking a feeling in her neural lace.
"Radio for VTOL, heavy lift gear. We're not leaving her here."
A tall black man, patrol cap shielding his eyes and a cigar chomped between teeth set into an iron hard jaw, had his eyes locked onto a chip held in his hands.
Something shot through the woman's veins, like electricity. It matched the electric blue that had once filled that chip, and a darker shade of blue covered the armored arm that reached for the man's own, the one that held the chip.
"Yeah, you're not," came the raspy voice from within the helmet as she began to rise up.
The man, Sergeant Major Avery Johnson, looked back at Morgan-B312, Noble Six, with what was either amazement or concern. "You crazy fool, what were you thinking jumping out of that ship like that? One of these days, you're gonna land on something as stubborn as you are, and I don't do bits and pieces."
The woman known as Noble Six didn't answer, merely reaching for the chip and taking it back from him. The sergeant major didn't fight her for it, and with a gaze that looked into the hollow center for longer than was needed, Six reinserted it into the slot in her helmet.
"Where is she, Six? Where's Cortana?"
Don't make a girl a promise, if you know you can't keep it
Green eyes peered through the golden visor, and Johnson saw only his reflection in the golden hexagonal pattern. "She stayed behind." A tone that was weary from a lifetime of battles fell flat, and the Spartan made no move to say anything more.
Marines looked between each other, Johnson, and her, before one of them came closer with a handheld terminal in his hands. Johnson, shoving the cigar back into his mouth, gestured to the Marine. "Make it quick, Corporal."
The Marine, looking down to his terminal, keyed a few commands in. "Sorry, sir." Looking back to Six, he held his terminal up, still fiddling with it. "Your armor's still in partial lock down. We'll have to do a few calibrations, make sure you're green, and then we can get moving again."
Six only nodded, her throat feeling raw from the incident on High Charity, the nightmare that she had nearly lost her life in, and swallowed roughly. It would clear up eventually.
Checking movement of all her major joints, shield system tests, and dumping her armor's diagnostic log into the terminal had the Corporal nod in satisfaction before closing the terminal and sliding it back to the small of his back, just underneath his pack.
Stepping aside, the Marine nodded to Johnson. "She's green, Sergeant Major."
Six heard something, a rustling, and then she saw it. The way the light bent at an unnatural angle, the height and slowness of a stalking predator, and the rush of adrenaline that flooded her veins once more. She didn't see Johnson nod to it.
A blue armored hand snapped out, yanking the magnum from Johnson's thigh holster, and it was up in a flash, buried between the mandibles of an absolutely massive Elite that wore elaborate gray armor, a set that she had seen only once before.
"Six, wait! The Arbiter's with us now!" The Elite, with a pistol barrel shoved into the roof of his mouth, made no move in defense against the Spartan's actions, and Six felt a pair of hands on her shoulder and arm, lowering the magnum. "Come on, now. We've got enough problems without you two trying to kill each other."
Six glanced to the left with her eyes, hesitating, before finally lowering the barrel. Johnson had been in the Corps longer than she had been alive. He had been at first contact, had fought aliens for the entirety of the war. She trusted him, and so, she lowered the pistol.
Still in her grasp, the Elite shook her off, flexing his mandibles. "Were it so easy," he muttered, before pulling away and striding off with his long hoofed legs. "We must go. The Brutes have our scent."
Johnson took a deep drag off of his cigar, exhaling slowly. The smoke covered her visor, and she frowned. Taking an assault rifle from one of the Marines, he handed it to Six butt first. "Then they must love the smell of green," he answered, before putting his hand up in the air and waving it in a circle motion. "Form up, we're moving out!"
Six held the assault rifle up, checking it over just in case. The ammo counter could always be wrong, but she was somewhat pleased to see that it wasn't. She took her first steps forward, and felt her hips and shoulders cry out in pain, and she stifled the groan that rose up from within. The fall had hurt more than she thought it would, even with the armor locking down. Soreness went through all of her muscles, reminding her of the nonstop fight that had occurred just hours before.
Nobody caught on to it, however. Johnson didn't miss a beat, commanding his men even as the Spartan returned to her senses completely. "First squad, you're my scouts, move out as quiet as you can. Go!"
Several Marines split off from the squad making its way through the underbrush, disappearing amongst the trees as they jogged ahead. In the distance, a howl went up, something that made at least a few of the men shiver a little. "That was close."
"Yeah, too close," another replied.
A voice came over the comms, filled with statics and cutting some of the words. "Johnson, be advised. Hostiles are- on the move- eyes on a Brute pack- Over."
Johnson, trying to reach the Marine on the other end, shook his head. "Say again, Gunny? You're breaking up."
Even if something had come through, it would have been drowned out. Overhead, a Phantom dropship passed, searching for something in the heavy foliage.
Johnson cursed, pulling the cigar from his mouth and snuffing the cherry out against his boot before shoving it into one of the pockets on his vest. "Split up, a group like this will draw more attention than we need. Six, Arbiter, go for the river, follow it down to the hydroelectric plant, our evac will meet us there. 2nd Squad, you're with me. Go!"
Six watched as the Marines split off, climbing up the rock face to the right and pulling Johnson up after them, before scattering into the woods as only experienced warfighters could. That left her alone with the Arbiter, an Elite.
Another howl went up in the distance, but Six only had eyes for the alien next to her, a supposed ally. "You. I saw you, when that Flood form had us."
The Arbiter, craning his long neck back to look at the Spartan, flexed his mandibles. A spreading movement that had her fight the urge to shoot him then and there. Muscle memory was a hell of a thing. "The Prophets have lied to my people, have deemed us no better than yours, and I have learned the truth of the Rings."
Six's eyes narrowed behind her visor. "You didn't seem all that convinced when we last met."
The Arbiter didn't respond, his orange colored eyes merely blinking as he gestured over his shoulder with a jerk of his head. "A single Brute, and the Grunts it brings for assistance."
She put the conversation aside, but moved up next to him to peer through dense foliage that covered them, even her blue armor that would normally stand out was cloaked well by her efforts to conceal herself. Ahead of them, a Brute and several Grunts milled about in a clearing, with the Brute standing on a log and overseeing his troopers. The clearing led to a cliff, where a Phantom hovered in support with a Grunt manning a side door mounted plasma cannon. Even now, Six saw something black hanging from the edge of the door, barking orders. A Brute chieftain clad in black and orange armor growled something and stepped back into the Phantom.
The Phantom suddenly cleared out, the door shutting on the plasma cannon and covering it. Gunfire went up in the distance. The Phantom was likely moving to take charge of the situation. That left only the infantry in Six's way, and she took aim with her rifle.
The trigger was pulled multiple times, single shots from the MA5C cracking loudly and impacting on the Brute's armor. Unlike those she had fought on High Charity, these were once again equipped with powered armor, and rather than have a shielding system like those used by Spartans and Elites, this armor's shields only deflected hits, but would fall off the Brute completely and leave them defenseless after too much damage.
Plasma fire from the Arbiter's plasma rifle whined out, helping to gun the Brute down before he could engage them. His barked order, however, led the Grunts to charge the two enemies of the Covenant. They were dispatched without much issue, but Six noticed that they weren't as cowardly as those she normally fought.
"The Grunts are acting different. Not nearly as cowardly as usual. They're acting like the ones that assaulted New Alexandria."
The Arbiter looked back at her. "Your large city, on the world that birthed other demons like you. Brutes led the assault there. The Grunts' new-found courage is but fear. When we are victorious, all those who serve the Prophets will be punished."
Six remembered. Elites weren't present during the fighting at New Alexandria, only Brutes. Grunts led by Elites were more effective, but cowered upon the loss of their leaders. Brutes, however, led differently. The Grunts were more suicidal in their fighting, but it was likely because they knew if they ran they would be killed either way, whether it be by the UNSC or the Brutes that sould sooner eat them than let those that retreated live.
It mattered little to Six in the end, and a fight through another squad led her and the Arbiter to a cave lit by flares, the red chemical based lighting filling the cave with a dull glow, smoke wafting up from the flares before dissipating.
Exiting the cave left Six looking over a dozen sleeping Grunts scattered in a large forested expanse. Brutes, Jackals, and active Grunts patrolled the far side, looking for any Humans that would be stupid enough, or crazy enough, to engage them.
Six aimed her rifle, but a large hand rested on the railing that acted as her sights. "Quietly, while they slumber." The Arbiter muttered in a low voice. "I will deal with those on the other side."
Six didn't protest, the Elite cloaking and disappearing from view as she slung the rifle onto her back and pulled the knife from its scabbard on her hip. The blade made a hissing noise as it was pulled from the self sharpening scabbard, glinting in the light that got through the trees above.
Her first target sat snoozing in a shaded area, and had no chance to make a sound as the steel blade entered beneath his chin and swiftly, yet silently, ended his life. Others met similar fates, until Six had cleared out all those that were sleeping. Then it all exploded.
The whine of plasma rifles went up on the other side of the clearing, and the crack of a carbine in the trees reported the presence of a Jackal sniper. Six refused to stay on the elevated land when a sniper had an eye on it. Leaping from it to the valley below, she fell on something, and it made a sickening crack as her boots sunk into it.
Looking down, she realized that yet another Grunt had been asleep, and she frowned. Her boots were covered in the blue gore that Grunts held inside of them, and with a shake, she shook some of it off. Stepping off of the corpse and into the foliage, the undergrowth began to stick to her. If nothing else, it would act as camouflage at least.
A roar went up as the Arbiter, energy sword glowing brightly in the darkness of the African jungle, bisected a Brute with a single sweep, flowing into a graceful flurry of strikes that snuffed out everything it touched.
Six arrived just in time to see the blade shut off, smoke curling into the air from where the gore that had splashed onto it was burned away. The two warriors locked eyes, and the Arbiter once again spread his mandibles as he observed the Spartan. Six merely nodded at him, her rifle held at loose ready. She was learning how to work alongside him without the sudden urge to blow him away, and it would take time, but she was Humanity's best. She could do it.
The energy sword went back to the Arbiter's hip, and Six faintly remembered the stolen sword from High Charity that she had used to cut her way out of the infested city. A hand ghosted across her hip, opposite the UNSC issued knife, and she felt emptiness. A sigh, it had been lost in the fall from the dreadnought. She cursed the loss, but it wasn't important.
The Arbiter was already moving, using the loping gait that reminded her of a horse, and was several meters ahead already. Six made to catch up, eyes scanning the trees around them in case of an ambush, but the trap had already been sprung.
Around a bend, Six heard more voices, one a deep guttural tone and the other a choked, yet defiant voice.
The Arbiter pointed it out, and Six saw the Brute, clad in reflective golden tinted armor, holding a Marine by the throat. IFF pinged Gunnery Sergeant Reynolds, Leonard B., and Six already had her rifle up and ready to fire at the Brute holding the NCO. 7.62mm jacketed rounds shot from the MA5C's barrel, impacting the weak deflection shields the Brutes had, and dropped it quickly. Beset by fire, the Brute threw the Marine to the side, where he fell nearly 20 feet into the undergrowth.
The Brute, turning to engage, lost his armor as it exploded from his undersuit. A loud roar filled the air, but was cut off by the choking gurgle that came as a single carbine round, fired by the Arbiter, took the top of the Brute's head off and left him to fall forward, opposite where Reynolds had been thrown.
Pointing to the Grunts that came across the log, plasma pistols barking, Six sprinted forward to get to Reynolds. The Arbiter, understanding, suppressed the Grunts that came over, and corpses started to fall to the other side, nearly landing on the compacted brush where Reynolds lay struggling to get the wind back into his lungs.
Another Grunt fell from the log, and Six moved quickly, covering the Marine with her own body and armor as the Grunt came down. She felt her shoulders shift as she braced herself on hands and knees, and the hefty weight of the Grunt falling on her made her grunt as the soreness in her limbs was agitated even further.
The Gunnery Sergeant, looking up into the golden visor, seemed taken aback. "Th-thanks, Lieutenant. Appreciate the save," he breathed out, finally getting a full lung full of air. "Brute Chieftain, Phantom, pinned us down." Another breath of air, and the NCO closed his eyes for a moment. "Killed my men."
Six frowned in her helmet, standing up and rolling her shoulders, before holding her hand out to Reynolds. "We'll pay them back, Gunny. I promise."
Reynolds, after a second, reached out and was pulled to his feet as easily as a child. He looked at the Spartan towering over him and, realizing she was more serious than he thought, slowly nodded. Recovering his assault rifle from the bushes, he pointed to a ramp of stone, leading up to the log. "One of the hydro complexes is just up ahead, where we're supposed to evac. Johnson should already be there."
Six nodded, holding her hand up and gesturing the Arbiter forward, and the alien closed in before they started to move on, walking across the thick log one at a time to prevent too much weight from sitting in one area. Six saw several IFF pings off the side of the path, and moved to check it out. Reynolds, seeing where she was going, sighed as he saw the corpses of his men.
Six made short work of recovering their tags, holding them out in a bundle of chains. She saw the pain in the Gunny's eyes as the last of his squad, something she felt all too much. Reynolds had her condolences, and she remembered the loss of Jorge and Emile's tags, spirited away by ONI on Cairo and long gone.
A cave yawned open ahead, with the Arbiter leading the way inside. Reynolds followed him, and Six took up the rear, but something was getting to her. The clump of dog tags that Reynolds had stuffed into his fatigue pockets, they reminded her of something, of the last words of one of those she called friend.
"We all make it sooner or later. You better get going, Six. They'll need you down there. Listen, Reach has been good to me, and now it's time to return the favor. Don't deny me this." Being carried to the edge of space by Jorge-052, his last words in this world had stuck with her, echoed in her mind those long nights where she had trouble falling asleep. "Tell 'em to make it count."
She remembered the vision. The slipspace bomb's portal, Jorge's funeral pyre, hadn't even closed completely when she saw more opening, and one of the biggest Covenant armadas ever seen exited slipspace over Reach. Jorge's sacrifice had been for nothing.
Six was startled by Reynolds snapping his fingers in front of Six's visor. "Lieutenant? One of the corpsman radioed, says your vitals just pinged KIA and wants a sitrep. What's going on in that helmet?"
Six shook her head, both to shake away the memories and to still the Gunny's concern. "Everything is fine. We need to keep moving."
Reynolds didn't look convinced, but he didn't push it. Not like he could do anything about it anyway. The Gunny merely nodded, before continuing on. "We need to hurry, I can hear the Pelicans already." He started to jog ahead, weapon at the ready. The Arbiter and Six followed close behind, with Six ready to just get out of this damned jungle.
Pelicans were waiting around the bend, hovering over the rushing water. Covenant infantry was firing at the Pelicans, with the chin turret on one of them lighting the Covie units up with impunity as plasma splashed against the heavy armor plating. A Brute was torn in half by the heavy fire put out by the chin gun.
The other Pelican had its rear bay open, a Marine manning the heavy machine gun in the bay. Tracer fire spewed out and cut into the Grunts, concrete structures, and trees alike as the heavy rounds did their job.
Johnson was hanging on the side of the door, gesturing the stragglers forward. "Come on! We need to get out of here!"
Six put on a burst of speed, reaching the Pelican first and sliding into the bay to suppress anything that decided to try and fire at her. Reynolds made it next, with the Arbiter bending into the bay with little issue in last place.
Johnson, yelling into his comms earpiece, backed away from the door. "Get us out of here, now!"
Six, already keyed into the frequency, heard the exchange.
"We've got new contacts, hang on!" The Pelican they were in spun around quickly, the deck vibrating heavily as the chin turret opened up and shook the entire airframe.
The pilot of the other Pelican was swiveling to engage as well. "Banshees, fast and low! They're coming in too-"
The woman was cut off as a bright green orb splashed against the cockpit, detonating the glass and killing the two pilots, before the Pelican began to spin out of control. Six cursed as it went down, clipping one of the structures and flipping over before sinking into the river upside down.
As much as she hated it, they couldn't pick up the Marines that had gone down. None of them surfaced, even while the Pelican still airborne took fire. An explosion ripped through the Pelican and the world outside started to spin as they took a hit to the right main engine.
Johnson, clinging to a strap in the bay, struggled to stay up. "Get a hold of her!"
"We've lost a thruster, we're going down, Sergeant Major!" The world continued to spin outside of the bay, and Six saw Reynolds start to lose his footing, and a blue armored hand shot out, bunching the material of his collar up in her hands.
His movement arrested, Reynolds looked back at her, the fear back in his eyes. He wordlessly nodded at her, and she nodded back, but she didn't let go. She wouldn't lose another Marine if she could help it.
The Pelican's pilot was crying for help, his words going out over the airwaves. "Mayday, mayday, mayday. Echo Five-One is going down. Repeat, we are going down."
Another voice filled the radio, much calmer and collected as the Pelican fell through the air towards a much larger reservoir where a massive dam was set up. "Echo Five-One, we read you. Bring her down easy if you can. Support is on the way, Hocus is moving as fast as she can, just hang on tight. Crows Nest out."
The Pelican went in faster and faster as it lost energy and altitude. The blocky Pelican wasn't going to be doing any gliding at this speed, or at this attitude. Six, throwing Reynolds to the back of the bay, used her newly freed hand to smack the Pelican's bay door controls, hitting it hard enough to crush the button itself, but the door began to close far too slowly for Six's liking.
The concrete rose up to meet them, and the Pelican smashed against the structure of the dam with enough force to rip the damaged wing, and the thruster that had been hit, free from the airframe. The downed bird began to roll, making a full rotation before coming to a stop resting on its left side.
Inside, Six was thrown against the interior, grunting loudly as she agitated her weary body even more. Black began to show at the edges of her vision, and she fought against it, but it would be futile, and with the sounds of the jungle closing around the remains of Echo Five-One, Six lost consciousness.
Six's vision came back blurry, but quickly cleared, and she could hear something. There was a banging at the bay door, and a guttural hooting as the Brutes that had gathered outside attempted to pry the bay door open. She looked back into the bay, completely dark as power had been lost, and turned her helmet lights on.
Johnson and Reynolds were barely conscious, with Johnson nursing a head wound and Reynolds showing a dislocated shoulder, groaning at the pain as he began to wake up. The Arbiter, orange eyes glowing in the light of her headlamps, spread his mandibles in what may have been a shrug.
The Arbiter turned around, opening the door to the pilot's area, and turned back almost immediately. "The pilots have been killed, and the cockpit is blocked off by the structure we have crashed into."
A frown, and Six nodded in resignation. "They're trying to get in, and I have no doubt they'll make it in eventually. Any ideas?"
The Arbiter wordlessly drew his energy sword, the blade lighting the dark bay up even better than her headlamps.
Six pursed her lips. "Straight to the point, I see."
The Arbiter, confused by her Human saying, looked down at the sword, and then back at her. "My blade has the sharpest point of any seen by Man or Covenant. I will use it well."
Six stifled a smirk. "It was a Human saying, but you've got the gist of it. You ready for this?" She stepped back through the Pelican, coming to the door that separated the bay from the cockpit, and saw the remains of the pilots. Both had been crushed flat by the impact and the way the Pelican had pushed its nose against the building. Behind the rear seat, set for the pilot, Six saw what she needed. The Pelican had been armed with a shotgun for cockpit defense, and she pulled it out of its spot with a nod. Racking the slide, she saw it was fully loaded and ready to go.
In the bay, the Elite readied his sword, giving her a nod. He was as ready as he would ever be, and as Six saw the cutting torch get broken out, she waited. The circle that the torch made in the bay grew, burning red hot in the darkness, and when it was nearly ready to fall out, Six made her move.
A blue armored leg shot out and hit the hole cut into the bay door, launching it out with enough force that the Brute waiting with the torch was killed outright from his chest being crushed by so much weight hitting him at high speed.
The Arbiter was out before she could move, and was already cutting through the Brutes with impunity, his sword glowing like a hungry flame eating away at a forest. Six was out soon after, Shotgun roaring and coring a Brute that tried to hit the Arbiter from behind, and again at another that only destroyed his armor. A roar and a pump and the Brute got put down by a second shot.
Then the shotgun was out of her hands, snatched by a massive black and orange armored hand. Six looked at the owner of it and saw the Brute Chieftain from earlier, the one that likely had killed Reynolds' men.
Her fist lashed out, hitting the Brute like a cobra that had coiled itself to strike, and released the shotgun that remained in the Brute's hand, held by the barrel. Another fist lashed out and broke what teeth hadn't been crushed by the first strike. The Brute roared in anger, blood leaking from his mouth. Six continued her flurry of strikes, the Brute eventually being stunned enough to drop the massive hammer that he hadn't been able to use, as well as the shotgun.
Six, grabbing the scattergun out of the air, rammed her shoulder into the Brute's midsection and chest, knocking it off of its feet and onto the ground. In a way that once again echoed of something personal, she buried her knee in the Brute's chest to keep it down. Finally, she took the shotgun's barrel and stuffed it under his chin, pulling the trigger once and scattering the Brute's consciousness to the wind.
With their chieftain dead, the other Brutes went berserk, dropping their weapons and howling at the one who had killed him, but the Arbiter had other plans. His body was in front of Six's before she could bring the shotgun to bear, and he covered her with another flurry of slashes and cuts, killing off the rampant pack with little effort. As the sound of engines grew, he looked to the sky. Another Phantom had come in, ready to drop off reinforcements, the main plasma turret opening up to suppress those that had survived.
"Split up!" Six yelled out to the Arbiter, racking the slide once more and putting a new shell in the chamber. The giant alien crouched and used his powerful legs to leap onto the structure that the Pelican had fell against, disappearing as his cloaking suite activated. Six, lacking anything like it, was forced to bob and weave under heavy fire from the Phantom. Johnson and Reynolds were still inside the Pelican, and she had to draw fire away from it.
Moving to heavy cover behind another building, Six cursed, switching the shotgun for her assault rifle and returning fire. The Grunt that hung from the side door gun covered his face with an arm, before sliding back into the Phantom as the doors closed. They wouldn't need plasma cannons when the main gun turret was brought to bear, splashing plasma against her cover and melting away material at the corners.
Her radio crackled, a woman with a heavy southern accent sounding through it. "This is Pelican Kilo Zero-Two-Three, inbound hot. Hang tight, Spartan. I'll getcha out of there."
Six pulled back further into cover, seeing the Pelican rise over the trees in the distance, and then a flash appeared at the front of the Pelican's missile launch bays. It was evident these weren't the typical Anvil missiles. Several Python Air-to-Air missiles erupted from the missile launch tubes, screaming forward at a high speed, the Phantom their only target.
"Hocus, Fox Three," she called out, the missiles screeched past Six, the Spartan peeking out of cover long enough to see all three missiles that had been launched impact against the front of the Phantom's sloped nose. One missile detonated against the armor, deforming it. Another detonated inside and ripped the hole wide open as the Phantom lost power and started to fall. The final missile tracked and followed the crippled dropship down, detonating deep inside of the Phantom and ripping it apart from within. "Splash one Phantom. Coming in for pickup now. Your limo has arrived, Lieutenant."
Six sighed with relief, looking back to the downed Pelican where Johnson had stumbled out, with Reynolds leaning against him. The two were basically holding each other up at this point, and Johnson likely had a concussion. Six made her way over, and the Arbiter decloaked not far away. The Spartan gestured him forward, and had him take Johnson to Kilo 023, already hovering in place just off the dam.
With Reynolds shoulder still dislocated, she looked at him, getting ready to set it again as she placed her hands on his arm and collar. "This might sting a bit. We'll do it on three, alright?"
Reynolds nodded, waiting for the countdown that never came as Six wordlessly set it in place. Reynolds bit back a scream, gritting his teeth. "You said on three!"
Six, a small smile on her face at the Marine's reaction, gave him a shrug. "I guess I just count faster than you, Gunny. Let's get out of here, I've had enough of the jungle."
Reynolds mumbled something in return, but Six ignored it, leading the way back to the Pelican where the Arbiter had helped Johnson in and let him strap himself in this time. Reynolds could climb up himself, but he worked the joint, rolling it a few times in its socket as he grimaced. It would sting for a bit, but he would be fine.
Taking the time to give Johnson a once over as the bay door closed, she looked into his eyes, seeing that he didn't have a concussion, he was just shaken up by the fall and being tossed around. "You good, Sergeant Major?"
Johnson waved her off, pulling the patrol cap off of his head and holding it by the brim as he reached for his cigar, stuffing it between his teeth and lighting it with an old metal lighter. "Yeah, yeah," he muttered around the cigar. "Damned good thing I'm indestructible."
The Spartan shook her head, enjoying the Marine's quips once again. "Yeah, it is. I'm glad to see you made it, Johnson."
The old NCO looked up at her, staring at her for a few moments, and the golden visor stared back. Holding out his hand, he nodded. "Avery."
Six, confused for a second, slowly reached her own hand out, careful not to crush his in her larger armored hand. "Morgan."
With the Pelican angling up and vectoring towards Mount Kilimanjaro, Noble Six sat down next to Johnson, feeling that same sensation that she had felt with Noble, with Cortana. They were on a first name basis. Johnson was… her friend. Marines didn't often talk to her unless it was in awe or distant cooperation, but something was different about Johnson, and for a moment, she thought of Gunnery Sergeant Marcus Stacker. The ODST had been friendly towards her. She hoped that he had made it off of Halo alive, and if he was as good as Johnson, then he most certainly had.
Settling into the seat, she allowed herself to revel in the feeling that she had comrades again, not just allies, but comrades. People she could trust, even if it was just Johnson for the time being.
With a weary body, and an equally weary mind, she let herself relax for the hour long flight to Crow's Nest, hovering just between sleep and wakefulness.