Chapter 1

November 9, 2525

As metal hit ground, he smiled. His boots were firmly on the dirt once more. He stumbled as he stepped away from his drop pod and had to pause for a second to regain his composure. The gravity on this planet was somewhat weaker than he was used to, but he knew it wouldn't take long to adjust. However he would have to be sure to regularly exercise his legs and arms in order to prevent muscle atrophy. A bit of a nuisance, but certainly advantageous.

The drop down from the frigate Ivory had gone without a hitch. While he and his team completed their mission, Ivory would rest at a nearby space station for repairs and a restocking of inventory. Once he was done on this planet known only as Beyrem Kel, he would call up the ship and they would be on their way. And the sooner he got off this rock, the better.

He left his drop pod behind and surveyed the area cautiously, bringing his MA5B assault rifle to bear. Overgrown trees spilled their branches in every direction, the leaves an odd blue-green color. The ground was boggy and uneven; he found his boots would sink slightly if he didn't distribute his weight properly onto them. The sky was a very familiar blue, and not a cloud present. To the north was the remainder of the forest. To the south, a large expanse of prairieland and crops maintained by the locals. To the east, nothing but ocean. The west consisted of further prairielands until one reached Rekym Chey, the planet's major city. The vicinity he and his team of super-soldiers had landed in was known for its conservative and traditional inhabitants. It was populated by a human culture that blocked itself off from civilized society and lived the ways of old. Apparently a group of them had broken off and had begun to amass weapons and soldiers that they would use to cause trouble. He couldn't let that happen. If they were to trust the anonymous tipster, the base was in the immediate area. It could take several days of poking around the forest before they found the rebel base, and they would most likely need help from one of the locals. But once located, the base would be neutralized in no time. To sum it up, he was in the boondocks, and he was fighting hillbillies. There were such a thing as crap missions, and this just so happened to be one of them.

Having exited his drop pod, the Spartan Will-043 walked up next to him, an M6 pistol in his hands and his assault rifle slung over his back. He wore the same class of armor as his leader; a slim black catsuit and metal plates on the chest, arms, back, legs, groin, and boots. He gazed off in the direction his friend was looking at said playfully, "So, John, how about some good old-fashioned deforestation?" Will was excellent in hand-to-hand combat, which is why he had been requested by John personally.

"We're not loggers, Will," he replied. "This is an easy mission. Get in, dismantle the base, get out."

"And then get off this rock," a female voice said quietly. Linda-058 sat next to them, gingerly stretching her legs and arms. She was the only Spartan on the squad equipped with a sniper rifle, but that was all that was required to make her deadly. Give Linda a sniper, point her in the right direction, and she'd have the way cleared in minutes.

"Stay focused," John said to his team. He glanced around, Will and Linda giving him their undivided attention. Fighting back a groan, John said, "Where's Sam?"

Linda simply shrugged and looked at Will. He was just as clueless as she was. "Don't know," Will answered. "Did his pod make it down?" The three Spartans heard a loud clanging of metal. Their weapons were instantly up and they crouched into a defensive position. John put up a fist and his team froze. He waited patiently until another loud clang sounded from the north. He stuck up his pointer finger and tapped it in the proper direction. They moved silently through the messy forest, the clangs becoming louder, and closer together. Suddenly John spotted the fourth drop pod in the distance. He quickened his pace somewhat, Will and Linda following suit.

As he approached the pod, he brought his rifle down. "Having some trouble?" he asked to the person inside.

"It's jammed," a voice replied. John set his rifle down and curled his fingers around the pod's hatch. He yanked it forcefully, and it pulled loose, revealing Sam-034 sitting uncomfortably inside. Linda offered him a hand and he took it gratefully as she pulled him up. Sam looked like the rest of the Spartans in his armor, except that he was a great deal taller and more muscular. John always thought of him as the strongest of them all, and the two had been best friends ever since they had begun the Spartan Program.

Sam's head slowly scanned the world of Beyrem Kel. "What a shit hole," he said distastefully.

"But it's our shit hole," Will retorted with mock pride.

"Let's move out," John interrupted before his soldiers could become distracted. "Our objective is west of this point. Linda, scout it out. Will, you take the rear, Sam, you're with me."

They heard a dry leaf crack and all spun around, bringing their rifles up. John immediately held up a fist and his team froze. The sound had come from behind a large leaved plant similar to a gunnera, and whatever had made it had the advantage of a lot of cover. John edged towards the sound, slowly and silently. He knew that his Spartans were aching for some action, but knew that there was no reason to anticipate anything unfriendly. It was just as likely that the sound had been a rabbit as it was a rebel looking for a fight. Nevertheless, he kept his finger close to the trigger, ready to pull it and to feel the force of the rounds leaving his gun; to hold in place it as it spewed murder.

Almost as if it was aware of the attention, the plant became still. Absolute silence. Even the wind held its breath, not wanting to see chaos break out on the land. Slightly disappointed, John lowered his assault rifle and relaxed his body. He was about to turn and tell his team to keep moving when the leaves of the gunnera started moving. His rifle shot up again, aimed straight at where John expected the head of an average human to be. He could feel his team at his back, ready to fire.

Two slender hands slipped between the leaves and drew them apart. John was placed face-to-face with a young girl. She looked up at him with curious green eyes, her head tilted and her posture submissive. John stared at her. Scolding himself, he turned to the rest of the Spartans and made a downwards gesture with his hand. They obediently lowered their weapons, looking at the girl.

She looked to be in early adolescence, only slightly younger than the Spartans, with tan skin and shaggy light brown hair. Her clothing was minimal and simple: a strip of cloth wrapped around her chest, and a bikini-like bottom. She had multiple tattoos winding around her body, the most notable being several dark marks around her eyes and cheeks.

Seeing that the guns had been put away, the girl straightened her back and took a step closer to John. It was clear that she hadn't seen anything like him in her life. She walked slowly towards John, head leaning forward with intrigue. He calmly removed his helmet in an effort to create some closeness with the girl. A local of the area was just what they needed.

"Ooh," Will mused. "Native girl." John ignored him. The girl did too. She was intently focused on his brown eyes, which made John slightly uncomfortable. Face bright, she walked right up to him, merely inches from his face, inspecting every feature of him. She obviously had no respect for his personal space, a characteristic he did not think highly of. He nevertheless swallowed his pride and reluctantly allowed the girl to slide around him, touching his suit gently and running her fingers across his rifle. At last, she stepped in front of him again, satisfied with him and ready to talk.

Not knowing what to say, he decided to communicate in English. If she didn't understand English, he'd teach her English. This mission would be accomplished, and in order for that to happen, he needed native knowledge. John said clearly but hesitantly, "Uh… hello." The girl narrowed her eyes and gave him a look, as if asking him if he was kidding.

"She thinks we're crazy…" Sam muttered in sing song, eyes wandering through the canopy.

John was not about to tolerate insubordination right now. If this were one of their regular high-stakes missions Sam wouldn't be nearly as mouthy as he currently was. "Shut up, Sam," he ordered, and looked back to the girl. She just tilted her head and gazed at him with cautious eyes. Then she started speaking in a foreign tongue, one that flowed up and down like water. She spoke quickly and beautifully, and John was lost in seconds. He put up his hands and said, "Whoa, wait!" The girl stopped talking and gave him a confused look, appearing somewhat irritated that he interrupted her. John took a breath and said slowly, "I don't understand what you're saying."

"But of course she knows what you're saying," Sam retorted with a sarcastic smile. John had had enough of his uncalled-for remarks. He turned his head and barked, "Shut up, Sam!"

At this, the girl smiled. She repeated questioningly, "Shut up, Sam?" John stared at her, and she just looked back, proud of herself and happy that she was communicating with foreigners.

"Cool," Sam laughed, grinning. He glanced at John and said, "Make her say 'Polly wanna cracker'."

Thoroughly aggravated, John spun around and roared, "Shut your goddamn mouth, Sam!"

"Sam?" the girl asked. All the Spartans were now staring, bewildered and transfixed on the exceedingly strange situation. John slowly faced the girl, eyes narrowed with curious scrutiny. Her gaze was in the distance, unfocused. She repeated, more confidently, "Sam."

Honored that this native girl's first words were about him, Sam chuckled. He was starting to like her. His quiet chuckle unfortunately attracted the attention of John, who had continued scowling at him. Seeing his leader looking ready to shoot him in the face, Sam stood at attention. He had definitely pushed John too far. The girl's face fell as her new friend left her and glared up into Sam's eyes. Knowing he was on thin ice, Sam kept his sights forward into the trees, and his back straight, arms down.

"Teach her English, Sam," he said nonchalantly, but with a hidden menace in his eyes. "You're already off to a good start." Relieved, Sam let go of the breath he had been holding. He had no idea how he was supposed to get this girl to speak English, but at least John wasn't going to gut him.

Turning to the rest of the team, John said, "Will, Linda, we're on recon. We'll split up and search a different part of this area every day for two weeks. Sam in the meantime will be playing teacher's pet with our new friend over here, and if we don't find the base, she'll know enough English soon enough to tell us where it is." He gave a warning look over his shoulder to Sam. "Won't she, Sam?"

"Sir yes sir!" he answered, at attention once more.

"That's right," John said with a smirk. He turned to Will and Linda and said, "Will, take the desert. Linda, the river. I'll go to the grasslands. Sam, search the forest while you mentor our friend." They all nodded, and John felt a rush of pride. Finally, some action. This mission would be accomplished well within two weeks; he trusted his Spartans to get the job done. "All right… Move out!" Will and Linda went off in separate directions, silent and deadly. He glanced one last time at Sam, and then ran the other way, his footsteps crunching quietly for a few seconds, and then dissipating.

Once his comrades had left, Sam turned reluctantly to the small girl in front of him. Her posture was straight, eyes firmly on him, arms down at her sides. With a grin, he realized that she was trying to imitate him at attention. Cute.

He removed his helmet and sat down on the forest bed with his legs crossed. His gun sat an arm's length away from him, merely an observer of the situation. The girl looked down at him, confused, but sat obediently, crossing her legs and waiting for him to speak.

"Um, all right," Sam muttered, thinking of how to start. "Me," he said, capturing her green eyes. "I am Sam."

"Sam!" she repeated, happy to hear a word she knew.

He smiled and said, "Yeah, that'd be me. My name's Sam. Your name is?" The girl just looked at him, not understanding a word. Sam groaned and rubbed his neck. "Okay. Sam," he put both hands on his chest.

The girl stared at him for a while, but then leaned over and put both her hands on him, saying quietly, "Sam."

"Right!" he said, happy to be getting somewhere. Gently, he wrapped his fingers around her thin wrists and took them off of his chest. She looked at him, nervous and afraid she had done something wrong. But Sam just took her hands and placed them on her own chest. Then he let go, and she kept her hands there, looking at them. He waited patiently, and he swore he could see the little gears turning in her head as she figured it out.

"Lerelon," she whispered to no one in particular. Sam's eyebrows rose. The girl looked up at him, eyes glittering. "Lerelon?" she repeated.

With a chuckle, Sam said, "Well, I hope that's your name." He brought his hands once more to his chest and waited for her. Understanding what he wanted, the girl said, "Sam." The Spartan grinned and then took his hands off of himself and put them on the girl's shoulders, to make sure she wasn't getting names confused with chests. The girl's eyes were locked on his, and she said confidently, "Lerelon." Sam laughed and patted her shoulder. "Lerelon," he echoed, "Well done." Seeing his grin, the girl smiled up at him, her eyes glimmering with accomplishment. Suddenly, she jumped at him and clamped her arms around his neck. Sam's first instinct was to kill her, but he restrained himself. It was just a hug. The girl rubbed her cheek against his chest and squeezed tightly. "You're a real touchy feely race, aren't you?" he mumbled, uncomfortable.

Lerelon jumped up and looked at him enthusiastically. She pointed to a tree, grinning.

"That? That's a tree," Sam said, an eyebrow raised.

"Lek tuoa remite! Remite tree!"

Sam chuckled. "Hey, I'm supposed to be the teacher here." He glanced around and then pointed up. Lerelon's head tilted way back and she gazed at the heavens. "What's that?" Sam asked her.

"Botibe."

"Sky."

Lerelon looked back at him with her alert green eyes. She pointed to the tree and repeated its English name correctly. Then she pointed to the sky and did the same. "Right, very good!" the Spartan congratulated her. She might be up to a 2-year-old's fluency by sundown.

"Sam!" she cried. He looked up, wondering what was the matter, but she just rushed over to him and pulled at his arm. She would never get him up in that fashion, so he rocked to his knees and stood. He had hardly had time to put his feet firmly on the ground before Lerelon pulled him away. He thought briefly of getting his rifle, but he didn't think it was necessary. Besides, he had a pistol strapped to his right thigh. Not that he needed it to kill anybody.

The two slid down a large hill and settled on a small landing overlooking the river. The land broke off gently into the oddly purple-colored water which flowed south toward the rest of the Spartans. Lerelon dipped her hands into the water and showed Sam the little pool she had collected between her two palms. "Lere," she said intensely.

"Water?" Sam asked, pointing at it. She nodded with fervor and turned to let the water slide back into the stream where it belonged. Then she reached deep down into the river and pulled out a small brown stone.

"That!" Lerelon grinned. "That lo!"

"Lere and lo? So your name has something to do with rocks and water?" Sam smirked. This girl was definitely a native if her name related to things you find buried in dirt. He watched as she put her belly on the ground and clenched the edge of the land with her fingers as she carefully placed the rock in its river once more.

His skin prickled and he heard a slow "click" from across the river. His heart began to race, looking at Lerelon desperately. Before he had time to think, his body was hurtling toward her and she went tumbling into the river, Sam along with her. He heard the gunshot and not a split second later, his foot screamed with agony. Another shot sounded, but this one filled him with relief. Linda and her sniper rifle were not far away. As he struggled to catch up to Lerelon in the forceful current, his wound stained the water red, small swirls of blood stretching out in the river. She swam expertly to a tree whose roots were partially exposed to the river. An arm hooked behind the root and she looked up at Sam. When he began to approach her, she put out a hand for him, which he readily grasped. She tugged him over to the tree and they both clung on for dear life. Sam reached up and got a firm grasp on the plushy groundcover. He pulled his heavy body out of the water and then grabbed Lerelon around the middle, dragging her up with him. Lerelon had just gotten her feet out of the river when Sam started grabbed her arm and forced her to her feet. He led her deep into the forest, until he was sure they were far enough away from the unknown gunman. Sam collapsed on the ground, breathing heavily and feeling the evaporating water cool off his warm body. The native girl looked at him in concern and kneeled down by his side. She placed a hand on his heaving chest, causing him to look up at her exhaustedly.

"Sam," she said gently. "Dele'gin."

A laugh turned into a cough as Sam answered, "That my name now? What's it mean? 'Idiot of the River'?"

Lerelon replied in her language, and Sam couldn't catch a word of it. She probably knew he didn't understand, but it was a soothing sound either way. He could feel his body drain of energy and he hoped Linda could track their position before he lost too much blood.

"So, Rockwater," he mumbled sleepily. "You seen a rebel base around here? About… yea big… lots of guns…" The last thing he saw was the girl's concerned face.

"We land on the planet just as planned, but of course you can't even get your pod open. We try to start our mission but you drag a native girl into the operation. When I give you one simple order to walk around a forest with this girl you somehow get yourself shot in the foot and almost drowned. Are you defective, Sam?"

"No sir," the Spartan replied. He hated when John reprimanded him, but as luck would have it, John just loved putting him in the doghouse.

"You are so lucky Linda was by the river. If she hadn't picked off that rebel gunman both you and your little girlfriend would be dead in the water right now. We could have used that gunman to find the base, but unfortunately Linda had to kill him because she somehow thinks you're worth it. Did she make a mistake?"

"No, sir."

"That's right. You better shape up, Sam. This is a smaller mission, but it doesn't mean we can take unnecessary risks. When I give you an order I expect you to carry out that order. Is that understood?"

"Yes, sir, it is, sir."

"Good. Now I order you to stay here with the girl while Will, Linda, and I inspect the river closer. If one rebel was on the banks, chances are there are more where he came from." John inspected his friend, who bore a resemblance to a scolded child. "And for god's sake, Sam, keep your rifle with you. You're a bleeding idiot, but we can't lose you."

"Thank you, sir."

John nodded at him and then glanced at the native girl, who was spying from afar. She yelped and ducked behind a bush, her face turning red. With a smirk, John ran off to join Will and Linda at the riverfront. When John was a good distance away from them, Lerelon ventured out to Sam.

"That?" she asked, pointing at the squad's leader.

"That's John. He's a good guy, he just gets pissed when I don't do what he says." Sam glanced at Lerelon, who appeared entirely uninjured despite him pushing her into a raging river earlier. "All right, Rockwater. Sit yer ass down and get ready for some schooling, Spartan-style."