Chapter 6: Orca Four Is Down


-[July 2545]-

-[Onyx]-

-[SPARTAN-III Training Facility]-

-[Camp Currahee]-

Ugh… Parade drill; third this week.

This is getting very boring very fast, but Mendez wants the whole company able to parade perfectly, for some reason, so all three hundred of us are stomping around the base in rhythm with some drums and the shouting of the instructors.

It's long, useless and my feet hurt, so right now, I hate this particular training.

To my left, Fal looks totally pissed as well, but then again, she always look like that. Trevor, however, seems to like it, for some reason; he is standing straight in his uniform and parading like the whole UNSC is watching him.

Then again, he's the tallest Spartan in the company so anyone that looks at us is bound to notice him.

Behind me, Abby groans, "I've got a bad feeling about this."

"About what?" Iona whispers back.

"No Id…"

Something splashes across my face and I see Trevor fall to the ground, his head covered in red.

"Sniper! Take cover!" It's Mendez, he's taken out his M6G pistol and is firing at something in the woods.

The other instructors do the same and, all of a sudden, it's chaos; recruits running around, some looking at splotches of red on their gray uniforms in horror and disbelief…

Fear rises, but is smothered instantly as Fal and I each grab one of Trevor's boots, meanwhile, other trainees get shot in the head and back. There is so much red! It's everywhere!

We pull the big guy's body all the way to the middle of the 'Horseshoe' when something hits me in the knee very hard, making me fall to the ground, face first.

"I'm hit!" I spurt, rolling on my back and tentatively feeling my leg.

Iona is with me in a second. "Can you walk?"

"Better than Trevor," I admit, finding a wet spot right on the side of my left knee, "Help him, I'll be alright!"

To emphasize, I push myself on my feet and survey the area.

Everyone is heading for the barracks, obvious choice. Too obvious, if I was the sniper and I wanted to kill the SPARTAN program, I'd plant a bomb in there.

"Let's go to the infirmary!" I yell over the gunfire.

"Reason?" Iona asks as Bob and Abby grab Trevor's arms.

"Guts feeling."

"Good enough!"

Half the company is gone now; soon we'll be easy targets.

I run ahead, the pain in my leg now nothing more than a dull throb, and open the door for the others.

"Big guy sure is heavy…" Bob bitches as he passes me by.

The door shakes on its hinges and groans as a bullet impacts just over my head. Too close.

I snap the door shut as soon as the others are through and look around for a weapon. Fal beats me to it; she already has a bone saw in hand.

"If some fucker opens that door," She begins, while stepping to said door's right, next to the doorknob, "You slam it on their face and I cut 'em up."

Her face is set in stone, no twitching, no smile, no frown, nothing. Her near perfect features are only disturbed by that half-assed Glasgow smile on her cheek.

Fal doesn't scare me, the others think she's unpredictable, but, I don't know why, there's no one I'd rather have at my side in a fight.

With a nod, I get in position and listen as the others check on Trevor. Mendez taught us first aid and field stitching, although it's anyone's guess whether I'd be able to remember it right now or just end up killing him.

Iona and Bob are panicking, searching for the wound, while Abby tries to find a first aid kit. Where's the nurse when you need her?

"Ugh… Ow…"

Wait…

Everyone stops moving as Trevor sits up, groaning. He is facing the door, so he notices Fal and me first.

"Wha…Did yah cut yaslef again, Fris?" He stutters, blinking rapidly. The Russian accent is long gone; he talks like a retard now because he bit his tongue or something…

Iona forces him to lie down while Abby takes a closer look at his head. Well, you can't force someone like Trevor, but you can incite him anyway, and when Iona 'incites' you to do something, you better do it.

Meanwhile, I wipe the blood on my face with my sleeve. It smells like oil and is pretty slimy, but I couldn't say it's abnormal; I'm no doctor.

Abby's outraged yell solves the question.

"It's paint!"

"What do you mean it's paint?"

"I mean it's red paint, used in training rounds and paintballs!" I look at my bruised knee. The pants are covered in red, but underneath the skin is clean, if yellowish in places.

Heh… That's hilarious, not sure why, but it is…

Bob obviously thinks so too, since he bursts out laughing.

The others give him a weird look, but all have at least a slight smile on their faces.

Man this was scary!

0000000000000

-[September 2546]-

-[Onyx]-

-[SPARTAN-III Training Facility]-

-[O-Barracks]-

"Wake up, recruits!"

What? But we just got to bed!

Despite my mental protest, I get on my feet and bump into Bob in the process. He exchanged beds with Trevor so he could get the heck away from Fal. I'm used to seeing a walking wall when I wake up, so Bob, being half a head smaller than me now, goes pretty much unnoticed…

"Oi! Watch it, fatty!" He yelps, jumping out of my way.

I stick out my tongue at him and slip in my jumpsuit along with my boots.

They're new, I had a growth spurt last month and took almost a feet. Although I'm still nowhere as tall as Trevor, I'm now average Spartan height.

Well, average years old Spartan height…

"Listen up kids!" Curtis barks, "There are Pelicans waiting for you out there, you'll get briefed on the way, now move it!"

We file out the barrack and end up in a storm of dust kicked up by the dropships' turbines.

Trevor tries to tell me something, but the seven pelicans make way too much noise. He bends over and yell in my ear.

"Things sure are noisy!"

"No Kidding!" is the only answer that seems to fit.

Iona sits on the first bench, right next to the ramp and Fal sits beside her. I decide to sit next to Fal, because, as it turns out, she doesn't creep me out so much anymore.

That said, I must admit we spent a lot of time picking fights with Sharks and Sabers, so I suppose it's natural I trust her more than the others do.

She gives me a ferocious grin as I look for straps that obviously aren't there.

"Hope we get to beat up some sharks… Although I'd like a rematch with Holly, too!"

I wouldn't, she's nuts, but Kyle and I have a score to settle because of that little 'friendly fire accident' the other day… I still got marks.

Two more squads enter the Pelican, then the ship takes off with a roar of engine that has me clinging to my seat, otherwise I'd get thrown off and would bring Iona and Fal with me. Of course, heavily armed and armored spaceship got no seatbelts!

The camp soon becomes little more than a glowing dot in a sea of trees. Cloudless night I suppose, although I can't really say how high clouds are on Onyx. Abby could, but she's too far and I don't feel like yelling.

"Okay, kids," Curtis announces from where he's sitting, on the ramp, "Grab a chute under your seats, Petty Officer O'Rian will inspect them and make sure you don't kill yourselves. Double time!"

I fetch the olive green backpack before my brain even registered.

We're going to jump from a perfectly good plane in midflight and hope the glorified blankets we're hanging to holds until we touch the ground… Why don't I like the idea?

I still slip the harness without bitching, which is more than Bob can say.

"Seriously, sir! I mean, I'm not sure I'm flight worthy…All that Not-Hollow bones, Non-Feathered, wingless stuff…"

"Recruit, shut up and put on that back pack."

"Yes sir. I'd like to say, for the record…"

"I don't care, Recruit."

"Shutting up, sir."

Once O'Rian's checked all our backpacks –Mine was too loose and I would have died. Reassuring.- Curtis has us all stand in a line. Iona and Fal go first, then it'll be me and Bob.

From where Curtis stands, on the tip of the ramp, he can both see the ones still inside and those going down.

"One one seven, three one seven, you're on!" He yells after hooking two weird ribbons to rails in the roof.

Fal and Iona never even hesitate; they leap out and I think I can hear Fal laughing. Don't quote me on that, but I think the fact the ribbons Curtis hooked to the ship remained hooked to it is a clear sign someone needs to re-think the whole HALO jump concept.

"Fifty one, one twenty-three, move it!"

We both walk up to the edge of the ramp. I really shouldn't look down, but, what the hell, I'm about to be thrown out the back of a VTOL, sue me.

It's weird, I've never been so high before. Everything is tiny… Hard to believe there is absolutely nothing behind me and the ground, just a huge bloc of air… That won't keep me from splattering on the ground… At least a thousand meters bellow… Oh fuck I'm gonna die here.

Bob must see the blood retreating from my face because he elbows me in the ribs, bringing me back to reality.

"If something goes wrong, pull the ring on your chest! Only if the first chute doesn't deploy, get it?"

"Yes, sir!"

"Jump!"

I elbow Bob shouler, "Race ya!" before jumping.

Abby yells something just before I do, but I guess it can wait until we're on the ground.

Then, I hear a loud metallic sound that causes me to look up.

I see Curtis' face. Never good when your stone hard trainer has a panicked expression. Then I see the ribbon.

It's still linked to my pack.

Told you not to quote me on that…


Chapter 7: Orca Four Got Nicked


0000000000000000

For just one second, I imagine what it would be like to hit the ground at that speed; the wind is screaming in my ears and I could swear I hear laughing and whispers.

It's strange, the air actually feels solid, like a mattress or something, but I'm still falling, the ground is still climbing to give me a solid hug.

The ring.

Fingers pat my chest for just a second, looking for something round and metallic.

Gottcha!

The thing is hard to pull, but I've got molten rock in my veins and ten thousand volts running along my spine, so the backup parachute still deploys.

Thank you Jesus, Buddha, Allah, and any other bearded guy up there!

The straps bite in my shoulders and chest as the glorified blanket gradually slows my descent.

"Curtis!" I roar, "I'm so going to kick your ass for this!" And then, as an afterthought, I add "Sir!"

Then I hit the ground so hard everything goes black. I takes a second for my sight to come back and, when it does, Iona, Curtis and Fal are kneeling over me.

"So, " I groan, my voice strange, as if coming from underwater, "What went wrong?"

00000000000000

-[September 2546]-

-[Onyx]-

-[SPARTAN-III Training Facility]-

-[Mendez's Office]-

Last time I was in Mendez's office, I was expecting to be shot in the face… That was months ago. It seems much smaller now, but not as intimidating, somehow. Mendez, however, still looks like he could strangle the life out of the Commander, and the Commander's a Spartan-II

Adrian, Shark leader, is standing at attention next to me, terror and confusion painted in his face.

"Can you tell me, Two seven, why Fifty-one's static line, although passing all pre-flight check, somehow ended up tearing like wet paper?"

The terrified Spartan opens and closes his mouth like a fish out of water.

"Sir," Interrupting the Chief is never a good idea, but what the heck. "Did you stop the jump exercise after the accident?"

Mendez gives me a black look, but nod.

"So no one from the second wave, other than me, jumped, right?"

"Get to the point, recruit!"

Yeah, the point… How could the sharks know an Orca would be using this parachute? There were two other teams in that dropship and none of us knew there was going to be an exercise. And I took a seat at random; anyone could have been sitting there!

"Sir, I think someone slipped a few sabotaged parachutes in the exercise, I just happened to be the first and only to end up with one."

Mendez's expression is unreadable, but I think I can see a few veins sticking out of his neck.

"This would be consistent with your horrible luck, recruit, but this also means one of my staff is a rat…" I would hate to be that guy right now. "You two, don't tell anyone about this, and don't try to look for the one responsible; it's an order, understood?"

"Yes sir!" Adrian and I bark in perfect sync.

He dismisses us with a nod and we both quickly exit his office.

Adrian put both hands on the wall, using it as support for his shaking knees, and finally resumes breathing.

"Shit, I almost craped my pants…" He laughs before leaning backward on the concrete. "Thanks, man…"

I put my right hand on his shoulder and ram my left in his guts. As he falls to his knees, struggling to breathe; I grab a fistful of his over-regulation hairs to force his head up.

"If you had anything to do with it," I hiss, hoping to sound threatening, "I'll snap your neck and burry your corpse under the latrines."

He lift his thumb and mutter something like "'s'cool…".

I turn away and leave the office area.

Hey, I can actually scare the shit out of someone! I think I'm spending too much time with Fal…

0000000000000

-[October 2546]-

-[Onyx]-

-[202 Kilometers North-West of Camp Currahee]-

-[-]-

"Word is, Beta remnants came back," Bob whispers from where he's hiding, next to me, "Curtis tried to find some of his mates, but… I dunno, all they said is that stuff went wrong…"

'Stuff went wrong'… Two survivors; I guess it's a way of putting it.

I saw Curtis at the mess hall yesterday with the other Beta washouts… They won't show it to us, but that's weighting hard on them. They talked about some colony called Pegasi. Thing got glassed and Beta along with it. From what I understand, it happened almost a year ago, but they only released the info now.

"What's Curtis' first name anyway?"

Now that's a good question. I know Connor's name's Erik, Mendez's Franklin and Ambrose is Kurt, but Curtis…

"Petty Officer First Class." I offer, earning a chuckle.

I flatten a rebellious cluster of high grass that keeps getting in my face and flatten my cheek on the rifle's stock.

"What kind of parents would name their kid 'Petty'?"

"Yours did call you Bob…"

"Get stuffed."

"Four, Two, shut up."

I tap my suit's comm.

"Copy, One."

"Bugger, when did Iona become such a bitch?" I glance at Bob from the corner of my eye. He's the main shooter, so his gun's bigger than mine, which, given his size, makes him look a bit dumb.

He couldn't peek in the scope while in a prone position, so he has to sit behind the weapon, like it was a mounted machine gun.

"I didn't, you just grew more stupid. Chris, punch him."

I bump his shoulder with my fist, hesitantly.

"Sissy."

Flipping the bird to your commanding officer is considered insubordination in pretty much every branch of the military, yet I get away with it by pretending I was checking wind speed.

"Target in sight." Bob suddenly announces, interrupting the exchange.

I peek down my own scope and whisper "Confirmed." When Adrian's head jumps into view.

"Sharks!" Bob and I curse at the same time.

Curtis and Connors are having way too much fun pitting us against each other, I'm sure it's criminal.

In the distance, Adrian walks out of a round concrete structure with a flag on top of it. He surveys his surroundings before checking the electrified fences surrounding the bunker.

The door is facing away from us, so we can't get a shot at those inside.

There is approximately seven meters between the entrance and the fence, our position on the cliff gives us a perfect shot and our dart guns are just within range, so as expected…

"Take the shot, two, four, someone will check on the target, take them out too."

I tap the mic twice and peek down the scope.

Next to me, Bob is slowing his respiration and entering that state of perfect focus he gets in before every shot.

For just a second, the jokes, wiseass attitude and childish behavior is replaced by ice cold, steel hard focus.

Then he squeeze the trigger and snicker "Take it up the arse, bitch."

"You're a sick person, Two, nice shot anyway."

Another Shark who's name I never bothered to learn runs out of the bunker…

I place the crosshair a few degrees over his head and to the left.

Inhale. Hold. Rel…*Fffttt!*…ease. The dart flies in a pronounced arc before hitting the Spartan in the neck. He pulls it out, staggers backward a bit, then collapse like a corpse.

"Sucker down." I whisper.

"Three, Six, you're on! Five, cut the power! Two provide sniper support, Four, get down there and meet with us at the bunker."

As I fold the bipod on my silenced M392, Bob slaps my shoulder playfully.

"Don't worry, mate, I got you covered."

I nod, then hook my rappelling wire to the bolt we placed in the rock earlier.

"One small step for man, one giant leap as far as I'm concerned." I recite before starting my descent. The rope is burning my hands even trough the gloves, but I'm not about to loosen my grip.

Fucking cliff is thirty meters high.

Quite surprisingly, I clear it in five jumps, which also means I must hold even harder in the future…

Or just avoid hanging from cliffs on a nylon rope…

Gunfire from the camp reminds me I have a flag to take.

The forest is thick and having to hold a gun while maneuvering in it doesn't help. I step over a downed tree and do my best not to disturb any foliage.

I jump over the same stream we hid in years ago and this time avoid the mud.

Twenty seconds later, I reach the clearing where the battle is taking place. Dropping to a knee, I survey the area; Sharks in the bunker, Fal and Trevor on the right side, hiding behind tree stump, Iona and Abby to the left and I'm at the front.

Shark is shooting trough the lateral openings, leaving the front one completely un-checked and giving me a perfect shot.

Making sure there's a tree hiding me from eventual retaliation fire, I line my

Sight with Kyle's neck and send him to la-la land.

The others fire a few shot at me and I duck behind cover, but they forgot about the others, more accurately, about Fal.

The door behind them burst open and the Sharks end up with a dart up their collective ass.

Annnddd that's when I feel something sharp in my shoulder. Before I can check it, however, my body stops obeying me and I fall face first against the tree.

Shhhhiit, I got nicked.


Chapter 8: Whiskey Tango Foxtrot?


000000000000000000

-[September 2546]-

-[?]-

-[?]-

-[?]-

"Wake up, Spartan" A robotic voice orders.

Oh man, you're fucked!

I open my eyes and realize it's true; I'm in a small circular room, tied on a chair with a blinding light shining in my face. I can hear peoples screaming in the background and the whole place has a sewer feeling to it.

A shadow moves behind the light. Creeping the shit out of me. The robotic tone suggested an intercom; I suppose he's actually wearing an armor.

"Good! I am Loki, right now, you are my prisoner, but I am hoping this will change soon."

"Prisoner? Where am I" I grumble, faking sleepiness.

I must be a good actor, since the guy orders someone else to get some water.

While he's busy, I test the bonds tying my hands behind my back. I am not tied to the chair, actually, my wrists are just attached together with what seems to be nylon ropes.

If only I could reach my boot and grab the scalpel there. Now that I think about it, do I even still have my boots?

A short visual inventory confirms that they only took away my armor, helmet, gun and ammo, I still have my military trousers and shirt.

This means I still got a surgical titanium blade in my boot and these suckers don't know about it.

Well, that's all neat, but I do hope I get to use it before they shoot me in the face…

"Well, Chris," The distorted voice begins, "I will be blunt; the SPARTAN Program is doomed to fail. What happened to Alpha and Delta will happen to you, to their eye, you're expendable, just a piece of equipment to be tossed away when it is convenient."

"Yeah," I spit, defiantly, "but I'll get to kill covies and that's good enough for me. What do you think? Want me to side with you or something? Forget it! I'm a Spartan numbnuts, I'll sooner crush your skull than betray Earth! In fact, I'll crush your skull either way at some point or another, that's a given."

A nice rant, I wish I actually believed in it. Wonder if Loki did.

"You'll change your mind, eventually. Bring him to the cells!" Guess he didn't.

I get lifted from the chair by two guys armored from head to toe with what seems to be an older ODST BDU.

That they drag me through the door without my feet so much as touching the floor is somewhat humiliating, but I'm too busy wondering how I'm going to escape this place to really care.

So… Accessing something in your shoe when your arms are tightly tied in your back would be quite a feat, one I really don't think I can accomplish.

We… They walk dark and damp tunnels for a few minutes before reaching a dead end with three steel doors on each side. Cells.

"Where do we put him?" The one on the left asks.

"Boss said we should put Orcas with Sharks, less chance of them working together."

"Yeah, I just hope we don't have to clean up the mess afterwards."

The other one scoffs and opens a cell. The first on the right.

They toss me in without much care and I hit the cold metal floor face first. I don't know what it is, but as my face scraps against the floor, I feel something, poking out of the latter, dig in my cheek.

The second the door closes, I decide this is not a drill. The Chief would never do that to us.

Would he?

"So, How'd they get you?" A familiar voice asks.

Kyle. He's sitting in a corner of the cell, arms behind his back.

"Fuck off." I growl.

"Charming."

God I'd love to charm his face with my fist right now.

Let's stay focused. I roll on my back and push on the heel of my left boot with my right foot. Of course, I fucking had to tie them up so damn tight!

"Need help stripping?" Kyle scoffs from his corner.

"Yeah, actually." I hiss back. Somehow, I manage to clear my heel and only have to shake my foot around for the boot to fall off.

"Dude, this place stinks enough as it is, could you please…" He freezes.

As he was cracking wises, I was on my knees facing away from the shoe and picking the battered but still unused surgical instrument from a slit in the ankle.

All he sees is a glitter of metal and that's enough to make him smile.

"Did I mention I loved you?" He scoffs as the scalpel slowly but easily cut away at my bonds.

Fucking thick ropes are thick…

Footsteps behind the door interrupt me and I toss the blade in the boot, facing the door to hide the half cut rope.

It's one of those prison doors, like in the vids, with a sliding thing at eye level, allowing the wardens to check on the prisoners.

Of course, cameras are so hard to get.

The thing slides open and a black visor appears.

"Why'd you take your boot off?" a mechanical voice asks.

"Figuring a way to throw it in his face." I explain, nodding to Kyle, who gives me a shocked look.

There are a few awkward mechanical chuckles and the sliding thing slides back shut.

Three seconds later, give or take, I'm free and shoving Kyle on flat on his face.

"Ow! Asshole!" He snaps as I cut him loose.

I help him up and glance at the door.

"What now?"

I shrug, "I got us free, you think of a plan."

He glances around, in deep thought.

"Well," He begins, after a second, "I could pretend to beat the shit out of you, you pretend you're still tied up, they come in, try to stop me and you jump them while I keep them busy."

Hey, that's actually pretty good… Except the part where he's beating the shit out of me. I might have grown pretty tall, but most Sharks followed suit, only the girl is smaller than me now.

"You're bigger," I protest, "I'd better attract their attention while you knock them, better chance of success…" I grin at the next thought, "Besides, I know how to take a beating."

He cringes but nods, "Fine then."

Kyle lies on the ground, arms folded under him, while I proceed to give him a few light kicks, giving a good swing before coming to a stop just as I'm about to hit him, turning a hard kick into a rough nudge.

"Ow! Fuck! Guards, do fucking something! Asshole's trying to kill me! GUARDS!"

Pretty convincing, but I decide to… add some realism and kick him once in the ribs.

"Ow!" He yelp, before hissing, "You did that on purpose, didn't you?"

"Maybe…"

Footsteps behind the door and frantic metallic sounds confirm that, for once, our plan is working.

The door opens with a very loud bang and two guys, wearing the same black suits, walk in, electrified stun sticks in hand.

Shit, that's some armor plates they have, I really don't see Kyle knocking them out.

One of them tries to poke me with the stick, reminding me I actually have to fight these guys, while the other maneuvers to get behind me. I dodge the attack pretty easily, since I'm not weighted down by all this metal, and glance at Kyle.

He's on his feet trying to figure a way to knock the two guards unconscious.

I have an idea, but it's stupid… Then again, if it's stupid and it works…Well, reality's stupid.

I grab the chest plate of the guy behind, put my naked feet on the front one's boot and grab the electrified tip of the same guy's sti…

OH MY GOD THE FUCKING PAIN!

There is nothing else, just the burning in my foot, hand and the feeling I have a jackhammer piercing my back along the spine.

Every nerve of my body screams in agony, my ears are burning and freezing, my eyes are dry and aren't sending me any information, except dancing spots.

Why won't it stop! How long has it been? A minute? Someone make it stop, Fuck's sake!

I try to walk away, to move, to speak, anything. Doesn't work. Feel like my muscles turned to stone.

Then, the burning in my hand and foot vanish as I start shaking wildly. Feels a lot like hypothermia -in bursts-, except only about half my nerves are telling me I'm freezing, the rest seems to think I'm on fire. At least most of the pain is gone.

After what seems to be an hour, the spasms finally stop too and I can see again, although the reception is crappy and I'm only getting a black and white image.

Wait, what?

I don't know how being drunk feel, but if it's anything like this, I'm so never touching alcohol.

Worst. Plan. Ever.

Yeah, but it worked.

I push myself off the ground, bones replaced by lead, and sit as Kyle picks up a stunstick from a downed guard. He tests it on the guard, who moans and curls into a ball, then turns to me.

"You okay, Toasterguy?" The Shark asks, handing me the second weapon.

I grab the thing and take his hand, "Just a bit crispy." I joke as he pulls me to my feet. "How long you think they'll be out?"

"Not long; you got up fairly quick and you're about half their size."

With that in mind, I set to take away their helmets and keys while Kyle keeps watch.

The first helmet takes a while to figure out; it's like a pill bottle, push and twist, although I have to zap the guard back to unconsciousness halfway through.

The man is definitely not UNSC; he has long hairs, a piercing in the lower lip and a goatee. I look at Kyle confirms it.

"Innies," He spits, "Bastards got some guts coming on our planet!"

I zap the second guard for more safety –and fun- and quickly remove his helmet.

Bald with a spider tattooed on his scalp.

"Guess it ate his brain." Kyle scoffs.

I grab both sets of keys and head out, tossing one to the Shark.

"Let's get to others out of here."

Kyle nods and jogs to the cell right in front of ours.

I pick up my boot and limp after him, locking the cell behind us. Meanwhile, he finally unlocks the door to the other cell…

…And gets pounced by Abby. She start hitting and punching Kyle, who can only hold his arms up in defense, I'm not sure what she's yelling, but I think it's Spanish.

"Man, do something!" He cries between two blows.

Yeah, we don't have time to play. I lean on the wall smirk.

I must admit, seeing Kyle get the crap kicked out of him is immensely satisfying.

"Abby, it's a Shark, stop punching him."

She gives me a puzzled look.

"Of course it's a Shark, but why should I stop punching?"

"Because I'm telling you to!" Iona yells from a cell, to the left.

Abe pouts but gets off Kyle who's bitching is interrupted when my brain finally catch up with reality.

"Abby, why aren't you tied up?"

She scoff, "Untied myself."

"How?"

"Shitty knot?"

...Guess that makes sense. I peak in her cell.

"Why didn't you untie Shark boy too?" I ask upon recognizing the guy I shot in the neck earlier.

"Didn't feel like it… And he didn't say please."

Okay…


Chapter 9: Out the Big Door


Once everyone is free and I am done cutting ropes with my scalpel –and answering incredulous questions as to how I got the thing in the first place-, we all form a circle and begin planning our escape. The sharks want to beat everyone in the facility/ship/sewer to a pulp, Iona just wants to get the hell out.

"They're Innies!" Adrian objects, "We can't just let them get away!"

"And if they catch us back, we won't be able to warn the others! And it might still be an exercise, you know the chief!"

I hate to contradict Iona, but I still have to point out the outdated gear and unprofessional attitude.

"Doesn't matter, we still have to warn the Chief about these guys."

"Aye, we'll probably get to whack some dumb cunts in the process." Bob points out.

So, escape it is! There is a short consensus as to who should have the stunsticks and, in the end, everyone decides me and Kyle are the best suited, so we both take point with the others ready to jump in the fray should things go bad.

After about five minutes of poking around without meeting anyone, Bob squeezes between Trevor, Fal and Adrian to walk between me and Kyle.

"Oi, Chris!" the sniper begins, apparently not sure how to say what he has on his mind, "Uhm, I just want to say, I'm sorry I dropped the ball back there…"

I lean at a corner, no guards, just pipes, steam and steel.

"What do you mean?"

We move past the cloud of steam and I pause just one second to analyze the hallway.

Door on the right, ten steps away, corridor splits in two, five steps further. No threat.

"Well, I said I had you covered, but they jumped us … It won't happen again, mate."

As Kyle checks what's beyond the door, I turn to face Bob.

"Shit happens, buddy, we're just ten, I don't know what you expect. You made a mistake, the same as I did, we thought there was only Shark and us in the area, so these bastards jumped us easily. We're not making that mistake again."

The sniper nods slowly before returning to the rear, just as Kyle decides that's the janitor closet.

We take the left branch and reach another door, this one locked by a keypad.

"Shit," Adrian curses while checking the thing, "Dead end, we'll have to go back."

Abby shoves him aside and grins.

"Leave it to the professional, cabrone, no keypad is a match for my leet haxor skeelz!"

The Shark leader gives me a 'What the fuck?' look and I shrug.

Wish I knew.

As our favorite Latin batshit uses my scalpel to rape the door –for a lack of better term-, Kyle and I take position at the bend, stun sticks at the ready and ears wide open.

"We're not on a ship." Kyle notes after a few seconds.

"Oh?"

"Yeah, no engine."

I look at him but don't say anything.

"Come on, you've never been on a ship?"

"Once, was too high to remember it though… Think they brainwashed me."

He smiles awkwardly and continues his explanation, "Ship engines are loud, even when they're not moving, you can feel it in your feet. I don't feel it now."

Interesting theory.

Speaking of which, things are starting to seem weird. No guards, no cameras, no alarms. What's this? Sewers or prison? And steam pipes on Onyx? No, wait, Innies on Onyx? From what Mendez told us, this planet doesn't exist and anyone who says otherwise better be sure no one hears them.

And those two amateurs in the cell back there with their outdated military vacuum suits and dock worker looks, is it all the innies expect it will take to stop twelve Spartan trainees?

A shouted "Open Sesame!" ends my train of thought. Abby opened the door, it seems, or had a brain spasm, I don't know.

Kyle and I keep watch until Iona tells us to fall back, then we jog trough the sliding door and end up in… a hangar bay.

"It's a ship." Kyle concedes.

Two Longswords, a Pelican, weapon crates, perfectly clean deck and walls, UNSC emblem all over the place.

"Where did these guys get all this stuff!" Trevor's voice echoes in the large room.

Iona jogs over to the Pelican –having to duck under the Longsword's huge wing on the way- and we follow her as she explains the overall situation.

"Doesn't matter, there's no engine sound, so we're on a planet. With some luck, on Onyx." She runs up the ramp and I turn around to guard the ship. I'll get in only when I'm sure we're ready to leave, wouldn't want one of Loki's boys sneaking up on us.

Behind me, Iona continues distributing orders, "Abby, you took piloting course last week, you certified yet?"

"Certifiable? Or can I fly this thing?"

"Abby!" Iona's not the type who gets angry easily, but Abe's one of the very rare person who manages to piss her off.

"Okay, okay, calma te, I'm on it!"

I think it's funny how she uses Spanish words every now and then, even though she can speak perfect English, I wonder if she'll ever stop, though, because that makes Curtis real mad.

"Chris!"

I look at Iona over my shoulder.

"Yes?"

"I need you to go open the hangar doors, in the control room."

"What control room?"

She walks out of the Pelican and point to the left, over the first Longsword.

There's a room with an airlock and large windows. Steel staircase twisting its way up right under the small room.

Why is it to the hangar door's left anyway? Shouldn't it be directly in front of it or something?

"Uh… I'm on it."

How could I miss something like that? Good thing we work in team or I'd be stuck in here running in small circles.

I dash under the longsword's wing and climb half the stairs before tripping and slamming face first on the metal spikes meant to keep boots from slipping.

The whole right side of my face flares in pain and I slide down four stairs, scratching and cutting my cheek along the way.

Ow!

Two seconds later, I'm up and climbing slightly less hastily than before.

The door hisses open as I reach the last step.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm going as fast as I can." I groan at the inanimate objects pressuring me.

Once I'm in front of the console, I am faced with a slight understanding problem; I had expected 'Open' 'Close' buttons, yet it seems all there is here are switches and levers without any indication as to their respective purposes.

Okay… The hangar doors are all that keep workers from being sucked into vacuum, so it must be controlled by something that doesn't poke out and is easily identifiable, to avoid accidents.

There is a large red handle to the left, it seems like the kind you see with the words 'Emergency Release' on them in most Pelicans…

I pull it down and…

An alarm blares across the cargo room while the doors slides open, revealing Onyx's dense forest beyond.

Oh… Shit, that sound's going to attract every single innies in the ship! Good thing is, I won't die by vacuum once I leave this room.

I rush out the door, climb down half the stairs before jumping over the side, landing on the Longsword's wing.

On the othe side of the interceptor, I see the dropship rise slowly and turn so that its access ramp is aligned with the longsword's right wing.

Iona and Adrian are both standing on the ramp and waving their arms frantically.

That's right, bro, RUN!

I sprint across the hull and, just as I reach the beginning of the second wing –the one that leads right to the Pelican-, I hear Iona's voice:

"Chris, down!"

No need to tell me twice; I drop on my ass, sliding on the perfectly flat wing, as a thunder of 'pings' and 'clangs' erupt around me and bullets bounce off the Longsword's armor.

Fuckfuckfuck-fuckity-fuck!

I lose my momentum halfway there and need to crawl the rest under my fellow Spartans' cheers.

Yeah, right, go Chris! Next time, let someone else open the damn door.

Even at the tip of the wing, bullets wheeze past me and fragments of what I think is rubber scrape and pick the exposed skin of my face, neck, hands and ankles, the whole shit coupled with the fact my right eye is now covered in blood.

Go Chris indeed.

"Come on, man!" Adrian yells over the gunfight, "Jump!"

There's a two meters gap between the wing and the ramp. How the fuck am I supposed to jump that from a prone position?

Answer? I need to stand. Under heavy fire from rubber riot rounds and without any kind of protection.

Hey, I should have thought about that before I signed up.

I stand, shielding my face, and earn a searing spike of pain in my left flank, followed by one just under my shoulder.

As I jump the gap, arms ready to grab onto anything within reach, a shot hits me in the jaw and everything goes red for a split second.

When my eyesight returns to normal, I'm slipping down the ramp and flailing my arms around wildly, looking for some kind of grip.

Just as my lower body slips off the Pelican, somebody stomps hard on my right wrist, causing a pretty worrying crack, but stopping my fall in the process.

Adrian. He smiles as I look up, holding himself onto a cargo netting.

"Gottcha!"

For a second, I think he' going to kick me off, but he just hold me there as Kyle and Fal rush to help me into the dropship.

A few seconds later, we're all sitting on the floor, laughing our asses off.

Iona checks my face and stops laughing.

"Damn! You've got the worst luck ever!"

"Yeah, but at least I'm not called Bob." I answer, wiping the blood from my eye and causing another burst of pain.

"Get stuffed." Is the only answer I get from the sniper.

That makes the Sharks laugh.

Well, it seems years of rivalry can be ended by having a common enemy.

Now if only the Innies could get that one.

Fal punched Adrian in the face without warning and laugh at his confused expression.

Okay, maybe it's not that simple.


Chapter 10: S2's SIIIs


-[September 2546]-

-[Onyx]-

-[SPARTAN-III Training Facility]-

-[Mendez's Office]-

Curtis and Connors were both sitting in Mendez's office, feeling like kids about to get grounded.

The Chief was smoking a Sweet William cigar and reading the report for the fourth time, perfectly calm despite the circumstances.

"So," He finally began, putting his cigar in an ash tray, "Your two groups suddenly start working together, manage to disable two Army Spec Ops officers and lock them up in the ship's brig before somehow leaving their training area, steal a Pelican, crash it in the courtyard and get out screaming they were abducted by Insurrectionists… Could one of you please explain to me just how that happened?"

Both trainers exchanged and equally confused look, but it was Connors who spoke first:

"Senior Chief Petty Officer, I'm afraid our monitoring equipment was not set up at the time; we have no idea how they escaped other than what the two guards said."

Mendez leaned back in his seat and took a long drag of smoke.

"Erik, are you still convinced about the Section Two project?" He asked the older instructor, who's mood suddenly seemed to lighten up.

"Absolutely, now more than ever, sir! Although I think that'd be up to Curtis…"

The concerned instructor blinked twice and looked at the two men with total incomprehension.

"You see," Mendez sat upright while talking around his cigar, "Connors has been pestering me ever since your little fight began to remove your trainees from the competition to SPECWAR…"

Curtis' face became red at that and he was about to defend his kids when the Chief shut him up with a wave of his hand.

"… And assign them to a prototype project of ONI Section Two."

"Wha…" Curtis made a quick mental review of what he knew about S2; ONI's public face, in charge of maintaining morale and the ones behind the SPARTANs MIA protocol. "What project, sir?"

"Spartans are stuff of legends in the colonies, and like every legend, they are slowly fading away. Peoples are doubting there is any left beyond Sierra-117 and they are somewhat right. We must show them that the UNSC is still looking after its own, that we're not dead yet, which is why Section Two wants a small squad of Spartans to work in tandem with a Marine division, fight in broad daylight, for all to see, kill covenants by the hundreds and laugh about it, peoples our soldiers will look up to, but who'll still do their job flawlessly.

The Sharks were the first choice, but Connors convinced me Orca is better suited.

Now, the real question is; Do you think they're up for it?"

000000000000

-[September 2546]-

-[Onyx]-

-[SPARTAN-III Training Facility]-

-[Infirmary]-

Lucy, the nurse, checks my face and turns to Fal.

"You're going to lose your title as the team's Scarface if you let him wrestle every single inanimate object he comes across!"

Fal just shrugs and Lucy turns back to me.

The only other trainee wounded enough to require medical aid is the Shark girl; she caught a stun stick in the face during the crash. Lucy just finished bandaging her head and had her enumerate every muscle in the human body by name, to keep her awake.

I don't remember much of the crash, because I cushioned Trevor's landing with my face, but I remember Curtis' bewildered expression. He wasn't glad to see we were fine; he wondered why we were back so soon.

"So," The nurse checks the result of my scan, "broken wrist, cracked rib, severe epidermal damage to the face, somewhat important blood loss to the face, second degree burns to the hand and foot and face, signs of a very nasty electrocution and possible head trauma… To the face…" She looks at me, then the chart, "…What the heck are you on, Chris? I've seen Marines go down from less than that!" She muses in an incredulous tone.

"I'm a Spartan, Ma'am." This earns me a 'Boo-ya!' from Bob, Abby and Trevor as well as most Sharks.

Lucy nods and scratches her chin, "Well, I suppose that's a good enough explanation, just remember, while being tough is nice, not getting hit is always nicer. When you get in combat, don't rely on your ability to take as much punishment as a tank, you're small enough to use cover and smart enough not to get shot, use that and keep your superman stuff as back up, okay?"

I nod slowly. I never heard Lucy being that serious before, seems like she knows something we don't.

I try to find some sort of double meaning to her words, but give up after a minute. I'll probably find out soon enough anyway.

0000000000000

-[July 2548]-

-[Onyx]-

-[SPARTAN-III Training Facility]-

-[Projection Room 6]-

An holographic teacher stands on the table, teaching students she can't see or hear. She speaks Korean, I hate Korean, but understand nonetheless.

"This theory poses that every colony should focus on whatever they are the most skilled at and outsource all other productions to exterior markets. A sound strategy on the paper, but as you've seen, many colonies are left out by this method and the UNSC's general production is not optimal…"

Fal leans closer, "Why?"

Abby tried to explain a minute earlier, but ended up confusing Fal even further.

"Let's say Reach can produce a thousand tons of lettuce or a hundred warships, while Sigma Octanus can produce nine hundred lettuces or fifty warships… Makes sense that Octanus would make veggies and Reach warships, even though Reach can produce more lettuce, yeah?"

She blinks, then shakes her head, "Can't be that simple…"

"It's simple, instead of focusing on what you're good at, you should focus on what everyone else is good at and ensure you get the most production into the global network."

"It's teamwork, then?"

"Basically."

And we've just spent an hour learning the basis of teamwork.

There's forty of us in this room, all of which understand this concept since before they even entered this room.

We're not learning abstract concepts here, we're actually being taught which colony does what, which one can be sacrificed, which one is vital to humanity's economy and exactly what would happen if we lost each.

Some would cripple our starship production; others would prevent merchants and warships from re-fueling, effectively severing entire sectors from the UNSC. Has happened already, whole swaths of human population just out of reach.

Reach is vital, of course, by its strategic position on Earth's doorstep and in that it allows us to project forces all over the Orion arm, we lose it, the war's over, we can't do shit but wait for the Covenants to finish us off…

Humanity spreads in every direction, no just Orion, we'd still have hundreds of colonies if they took Earth, but these would have no organisation, no economy, barely any production and would soon be flooded by refugees, which would lead the Covenants straight to the biggest All You Can Eat in the galaxy.

"As you now understand, public relationships and morale are vital parts of the war effort; people must go to work, investors must maintain their confidence, the market must not collapse, or so will the economy and the production, mankind would lose the war because it could no longer pay for its fleets' maintenance fees."

That's why they revealed the SPARTAN-II Program, instigated the MIA protocol and broadcast only images of victory; wouldn't want investors to see that multi-billion suit they paid for get trashed by a well-place plasma mortar shot…

Makes sens, all that PR bullshit, the psychology class we must take every Monday, they want us to look good, keep the confidance high and the money flowing.

The course ends in a flash of statics and we're brutally awakened by halogen lights lining the ceiling suddenly puking electric illumination throughout the room.

Bob's got only one question, that he asks no one in particular:

"We actually getting paid for this?"

0000000000000

-[November 2550]-

-[Onyx]-

-[10 Kilometers South of Camp Currahee]-

-[Playground 4]-

Twigs crack under thick boots. A few adjustments thicken the soles, reducing noise to a minimum, though at the cost of traction.

The SPI's adaptable camo takes the texture of concrete as I hug the compound wall.

The thing stretches on twenty meters before reaching a spot where the electric fence –more like electric barbed wire… Atop a ten foot wall… Yeah, they really don't want us going in there- is within reach, thanks to a tree growing close to it.

"Boss, got a spot." I whisper in my comm.

Iona winks her acknowledgment light and I facepalm my visor.

She fucking loves those lights, it's unbelievable, yesterday she tried to wink them at me while I had my helmet off… And she was just two meters away!

Bet she tries to wink them even when we're not suited up!

A knee to the ground, I bring the MA5K's iron sights in line with my visor and survey the woods, my heartbeat and slow breath for only company.

The SPI's air filters do their job, scrubbing all heat and vapor before exhaling my oxygen. Before we had these, I actually had to keep snow in my mouth to prevent the small white puffs from giving me away.

Abby appears from the forest at my left, holding a large duffel bag. She flashes her wrist-light twice in a slow rotation and I do the same.

"What do you have in there?"

"Presents, cabrone," She laughs, running two fingers over her visor, "Can't you see I'm Papa Santa?"

Whatever. I bring the MA5K back up and cover her while she does… Whatever it is she does.

Climbing with a SPI armor is a pain in the ass, and Abe is very vocal about it during her ascension.

We learned Spanish long ago… Well, let's just say I always did get the overall meaning, but never suspected there were so many mentions of goat in it.

By the time she's up, Fal and Bob have finally reached us.

The sniper shows us the pictures of the compound he took from a tall tree.

Five buildings, one warthog, no guards, no sentry…

"Whole place is deserted." I note, taking the holocamera from Bob.

Iona, seemingly appearing out of nowhere, takes it from me without a word.

"Might be a trap…" She mutters before nodding, "Yeah, definitely a trap… Chris, you'll go first with Fal, disarm it if possible, if not, just spot and report it to us. If things go south, run your asses back here, we'll complete the mission while they go after you, got it?"

I just shrug, "One of these days, I'll be used as something else than human meatshield and that day, mankind will finally recognize my genius!"

Bob runs his fingers on his visor at that and I return the gesture.

A few seconds later, Fal and Trevor arrive from the east and south respectively.

"What did we miss?" The big guy asks, re-adjusting his grenade belts. Yeah, belts, with an S. He just loves explosions.

I point to Fal, "You just got volunteered for a suicide mission."

She shrugs and tosses her shotgun on her shoulders. "Will I get to blast something?"

"Most likely."

"Count me in." Never was her choice to begin with.

We all look up to Abby, who's hooking boosting cables to the electrified fence from where she's hanging upside down on the branch.

"Si, si, I'm going as fast as I can, puta madre…" she whines upon noticing we're all staring at her.

I think the idea is to avoid triggering an alarm by just cutting the fence; she needs to make sure the power still flows once we remove a part of the barbed wire, thus the boosting cables… Unless she just doesn't want to get zapped.

Anyway, it takes her another minute to finish whatever it is she's doing, but when she finally cuts off the wire, nothing happens, which is good.

"Six, Four, you're on, Recon and fall back, you have ten minutes, after that, we're going in guns blazing." Iona announces.

Fal has no problem reaching the first branch and climbing from there using just raw strength, but I need to jump twice before reaching it, from there, however, everything goes smoothly; I'm a good climber, just not as good as Bob.

Once we're both past the wall and in the long grasses surrounding the camp, Fal slaps my shoulder and wave her hand above her head once in a quick and precise gesture. I nod and flick my MA5K's selector to semi-auto before sweeping the area while she moves forward with her shotgun in hands.

No one really knows where she obtained the silenced M90 CAWS or why no instructor ever tried to take it from her, but I suspect both have something to do with her… Unique attitude.

Frankly, the only thing that really surprises me is the silencer; I didn't know they made some for shotguns too.

"Careful, guys," Iona's voice whispers in my ear, "We're using live rounds this time, the tangos probably will too."

Fucking A. I can hear Fal's evil giggles over the comm.

It seems some of us are more eager to go into real combat as others…

Something moves, near a window, but closer inspection tells me it's just a bird.

…Not that I don't want to fight, I've been training for it all my life, but Iona and Curtis taught me that battle is actually only ten percent of the possible ways of disabling a threat; there is diplomacy, manipulation, bribe, intimidation, assassination… Direct confrontation with the Innies and Covies seems like a waste of SPARTANs to me.

There is three hundred of us, if ONI could identify every leader of the two faction and sent only two of us after each of them, we'd end this war in a year flat, but that'd be putting a lot of trust in unstable, revenge hungry orphans and would require so much resources the UNSC would be unable to defend itself.

Economics of war. I hate it, we're putting our lives on the line for these civvies, the least they could do is pay their goddamn taxes and do what they're told!

Nevertheless, we'll have to settle for frontline duty, to Fal's immense pleasure.

As for the others… Well, Iona has the utmost trust in HIGHCOM, so if they say we're more useful on the front, she agrees. Abby thinks she'd be most useful reverse engineering Covenant tech, but is too nutty for a lab job, so she can forget it.

Bob and Trevor are harder to read; Trevor simply says he'll never shoot a fellow human unless he's directly threatening his friends and Bob just keeps cracking wises about it.

I think it's his way to cope with the fact he'll have to see his victim's face before taking the shot and most probably have to shoot peoples who weren't even shooting at him.

"Hey, Chris." Fal calls on the comm., sounding just as cold as she always does.

I wink my acknowledgment light green.

"I walked on a mine."

With a short sigh, I open a channel, "On my way, don't move."

Flicking my selector back to Full auto, I crouch-walk across the grasses for about ten meters before walking on something hard myself.

"Fuck. This is Orca Four, the place's a minefield, Orca, standby."

"You need assistance, Four?" Iona asks, worriedly.

"I don't know, One, I'll take a look at that little bastard and report, Four out."

Leaning forward a bit, careful not to shift my weight to much, I push the grasses aside.

It's not a mine, it's a pressure plate, an alarm system.

"Fal, retreat!" I scream in my comm.

The shotgun wielding Spartan does as told and breaks into a sprint, heading for my position. Nothing happens for a second; she's halfway there when two black dots appear in the sky.

"Down!" Fal barks when she's just a few meters away before hitting the ground herself.

Two V67 VTOL drones scream over us a second latter, spitting rubber all over our position.

I wink my acknowledgment light green twice and Fal does the same. Then, we stand as one and open fire on the drones in perfect synchronism, if in completely different manners.

I take stroke the sensitive trigger every second, leading my target with all the calm I can muster in that moment. Fal just pisses buckshots in the sky like World War two AA guns.

The VTOLs hover around for a second before facing us and straffing our position once more, creating waves in the tall grass, starting five meters ahead and crawling closer as the machines draw closer.

We both roll out of the way a split second before the stream of rubber reaches us and resume firing at the flying machines, to little effect.

Fal slaps my chest and load slugs in her shotgun while slowly moving closer to the drones.

I get the hint and remove my silencer.

It's so hot, the grass shrivels and darkens when I toss is on the ground.

Now making a lot of noise and light and get designated primary target by the machines. They rear up like horses and steady themselves to adjust their fire, hovering above ground and rocking back and forth with each shot.

I need to dance and crawl around a lot more now, some bullets still pinging off my armor in the process.

Hurry the fuck up, Fal, I can only take so much rubber…

Of course, right after that thought, a sledgehammer hits me in the back as a third drone opens fire. Take a guess what at.

I roll on the ground and spin around; the bot is barely a few meters away and spitting thumb sized rounds from his twin Gatling canons.

I line up the red dots of my sights with the big sensor bulb and squeeze a four bullet burst in it, shredding the Plexiglas casing and blinding the thing.

It still keeps firing blindly and almost six rounds hit me square in the face, cracking my visor and fucking up my HUD before I can jump out of the firing line.

Although they are farther and their bullets pack less punch, forgetting about the two other drones seem to have been a mistake; I get showered in surprisingly accurate fire the moment I recover, forcing me to dive in the grass again.

Once the bullet stream somewhat diminishes, I push myself to a knee and return fire, once again forcing the robots to dance around and use evasive maneuvers.

That is, until Fal fills them both with .38 slugs, turning the two advanced pieces of UNSC tech into piles of glorified scrap metal.

"C'mon, Chris, let's fall back." She breathes in the radio, a few seconds later.

We jog our way to the breach in the wall, taking down two more drones on the way, and quickly climb a rope the others were kind enough to leave for us when they got trough.

The drones don't follow, so we both hide in the wood and wait for the all clear by the others.

I run my hand along the crack in my visor, just over the left eye, and sigh. Curtis will be pissed.

Something moves to my right, and I aim my gun at it, but it's just some kind of rat or squirrel.

Fucking wildlife is gonna give me a heart attack one of these day.

"Four, Six, mission accomplished; we've got the package, head over to extraction and secure the area, Three and Five will link up with you there."

"Roger that, One, Oscar Mike." Fal answers as we get out of hiding and head east toward the landing area.

The woods are thick, but Mendez taught us how to maneuver in them the same way panthers and wolves do; you have to impregnate yourself of the environment, find its natural paths and not try to muscle in, become part of it and you'll be able to navigate it's veins without a single sound.

It takes a shitload of focus too, to avoid walking on dry leaves, twigs or hitting low branches…

Despite the three meters spread between us, I can hear a few cracks where Fal's focus was… insufficient…

"Stop smiling." She hisses on the comm.

"How do you know I'm smiling?"

"I know you."

I'm still grinning when we reach the clearing that serves as an extraction area. Fal smacks me for smiling and moves in while I cover her, this time keeping my eyes on the sky.

She circles around like a caged predator, daring any possible ambusher to try and jump her, although anyone in his right mind would slowly ease away at the sight.

Since nothing happens, she throws a green smoke grenade and crouches next to it.

Five seconds later, half a dozen drones appear from the trees, spitting a steady stream of rubber.

They are only going after Fal, which leaves me completely free to take aim at their sensor bulbs and blind them one after another.

They shine in the sunlight, sparkling all over my cracked HUD.

Short controlled bursts take out the first wave before Fal can fire a shot.

The second wave counts eight drones and this time, half of them are heading my way. I take one down before having to duck behind a tree trunk. A peek around it reveals three shiny dots angrily maneuvering to flank my position… I'm about to relocate when the drone sparkle under a shower of small caliber rounds; Abby's SMG.

While they are distracted, I blind one and duck back to cover. We repeat the process three more time, ignoring a set of loud pops, and finish the flying bots with ease.

Further down the clearing, the four that went after Fal got filled with shrapnel from Trevor's grenade launcher, which upsets the shotgun girl to no end.

"Kill stealer!" She hisses at Trevor as he gets out of the woods.

The large Spartan just shrugs, "Did not see your name on 'em..." Trev's accent is still there, but only because he likes it, the slow, broken speech puts the fear of god in whoever stands up to him.

I exchange a high five with Abe on the way to the smoke and laugh as Trevor keeps Fal away with one hand on her helmet, big brother styled, while she trashes about trying to get to him.

If she really wanted, of course, she could tear him to shreds, but Fal, despite her very aggressive behavior, would never hurt one of us.

Anyone outside Orca team, however, is fair game as far as she's concerned.

The dropship arrives pretty much at that moment, so Trevor lets go of Fal's forehead. She crashes face first in the ground.

"I hate you a lot." Comes the inevitable groan as she wipes dirt off her dome-shaped visor. She then gives Iona the all clear signal, our own four note tune.

Our boss comes out of the bushes a second later, quickly followed by Bob, both of them carrying a large coffin-like… Thing… What's that supposed to be anyway?

They shrug when I ask them and just throw the thing in the back of the Pelican before climbing in.

Trevor and I cover the others while they board and both sit on the edge of the ramp when the thing take off. Trev's afraid of heights, so he retracts his feet and hold onto a cargo strap.

I'm not really courageous, but I sat here often enough to stop worrying, so I just wraps my had around a strap and leave my legs hang in the wind, my assault rifle ready, in case the Chief has any other surprises for us.

Hell, I got thrown out that same ramp on my first year, this is nothing in comparison.