2104 Hours, November 27, 2525 (Military Calendar) /
Onboard Covenant Cruiser, in orbit over Chi Ceti 4

Sam stood their silently, his rifle slung over his left shoulder and his right hand pressed up tightly against his wound. He watched as his friends ran off through the Covenant ship, they never looked back; he didn't expect them to look back. They were Spartans, just like him and they knew what they had to do. Sam also knew what he had to do and he had less than three minutes to do it in. By now the ship was wailing with alarms and what sounded like high pitched chirps and squeals.

"Well, if I'm going down I'm going to take this whole ship with me," he said calmly to himself as he got into a ready position, the butt of his weapon pressed tightly into his shoulder.

Tactically he moved for cover, knowing that the Covenant would be coming in a hurry. The creature which had earlier been alerted to the Spartans presence had now gained the courage to come from cover and began firing wildly at Sam. The plasma shots scourged around him, all of them way off target. Sam took his time, remaining calm under the pressure of the shots. When he saw his opening he took it, firing into the very center of the energy shield, slicing through the creatures' wrist and removing the hand from the rest of the arm. It screeched in pain, dropped the pistol in his other hand and clasped the wound. Sam fired one more burst into its chest finishing the job.

2:10…

He wasn't scared, not even in the least bit. The only regret he had was that he wasn't going to live long enough to kill more Covenant. Sam moved from his cover and scanned the area, when suddenly the door across the room opened up and four of the shield wielding creatures stepped out. As they brought their weapons up a different alarm sounded and what looked like terror crossed their birdlike features. Sam dove for cover, but when he emerged he watched as the creatures took off through the door of which they came, following a blue light that resonated from the ground. They knew this ship was going to blow, just as much as Sam did.

1:43…

Instincts kicked in and he took off after the creatures. Not a single one of them was going to live to land on Chi Ceti 4 and transmit the location of the facility to any other ship. If he had to hold them in with his bare hands he was going to see that they all shared the same fate as he was about too. These creatures were fast, but not fast enough to get away from the genetically enhanced human. Sam caught up to them as they rounded the corner, he leapt for the slowest one, tackling it to the ground and crushing it under the weight of the MJOLNIR. Air and blood shot from its beak as it chirped its dying breath. The others turned to face the noise, but Sam was already on top of them, striking one of them in the face with the butt of his rifle.

1:03…

The others brought their shields up, but the space was too cramped and they fumbled with getting their weapons in place. That split second was all Sam needed and he lunged forward, knocking both of the creatures against the wall. He heard the echo and the crunch as one of their skulls bounced off the smooth face of the corridor. Blood drops went everywhere as one of them fell to the ground, the other reached out and latched onto Sam's arm, swinging its shield at him and striking him across the helmet. It was a weak strike, but it gave the creature enough time to escape toward the end of the hallway. Sam rose to his feet and watched as the creature, in a state of panic, began punching commands into a panel.

0:50…

Sam raced forward, bringing his rifle to his shoulder and fired perfectly at it, striking it just as the sliding doors in front of it opened. The weapon clicked and the magazine dropped out, the sign that the ammunition was gone. He dropped the weapon and drew his fist back, snapping it forward with full momentum and struck the dazed beast in the head with a massive punch. Blood splattered and the momentum carried both of them through the doors. The room was smaller than Sam anticipated and they slammed into the rear wall. No sooner had they crossed the threshold did the doors slide shut and the humming of equipment turning on could be heard.

For good measure Sam slammed his fist into the creatures head again, turning it into nothing more than a purple pulp of bone and flesh. He rose and walked toward the door, tried typing in something on the keyboard but all he got in return was a loud beep in conjunction with a red light. Cursing he slammed his fist against the door; it was then the jolt happened. His body jerked and he hit his head against the door with such a force his vision blurred. It felt as if he was moving, but before he could put it all together there was another jerk and again he slammed his head against the door, this time it was enough force to drop him to his knees and then finally to his side. For a brief moment his vision came back, though hazy he could still read the countdown on his HUD.

0:05…

A sigh escaped his lips and he closed his eyes, he felt his consciousness begin to fade and he smiled. The last thing he heard was a massive explosion and then everything went to black.

0518 Hours, October 20, 2517 (Military Calendar) /
Military Reservation 01478-B, plant Reach

"Sam," the voice whispered past his ear. "Sam, wake up."

He lay silently on his cot, motionless and fast asleep. Whoever was trying to wake him up would just have to wait; this was his time to himself.

"SAM!" The sudden shout jolted Samuel out of his slumber and sent him stumbling out of the cot, hitting the floor with a thud. "We have to get out there or we're not eating tonight!"

Now he recognized the voice as Kelly's, the girl who he had just befriended some three weeks ago. Though his eyes were still waking up, he could easily make out the irritated look that was on her face. Their little click, John included, had grown fond of being on time and more importantly, on top—of everything. Regardless, sometimes Kelly would still have to put her foot down on Sam, especially in the morning. Groggy, disoriented, and a little upset by his rude awakening, Sam forced himself to his feet and instinctively headed towards the doorway. Kelly stayed close behind him, making sure he didn't try to sneak back in and go to sleep.

The morning sun still hadn't risen over the tree line and the air was bitterly cold. Sam's lungs burned with every breath that he took, causing him to cough repeatedly in response. As his senses came to him he looked around, seeing all of the other children doing their own personal stretches, wrestling with one another, or sitting silently by themselves. Since they've been here all of them had started waking up beforehand, for fear of receiving the "encouragement" from the drill instructors; Sam was still one of the stragglers. Kelly stepped up next to him and punched in the shoulder; he winced and shot her a glare, which she happily returned with a smile.

"Big day today!" The excitement she had was unnatural for this time of the day. "You remember what today is, don't you?"

"Sausage for breakfast," he replied with a grin; she hit him again.

"No, Sam! Chief Mendez is going teach us more of that close combat!" Her eyes were lit up like a child who had gotten the present she had always wanted for her birthday.

"Which means I get to rub your nose in the dirt, Sam," John had pushed his way through the crowd of kids, showing up at just the right time to slap Sam with an insult, like always.

Sam shook his head, puffed out his chest, and folded his arms in front of him, "You wish! I'm going to make short work of you!"

"Stop it, you too. We all know I'm going to beat you both," Kelly interjected.

Both John and Sam looked at each other, then at Kelly, then back to each other and shrugged, "She's probably right," Sam finally said.

They all shared a quick laugh, one that was made even quicker by the sound of Chief Petty Officer Mendez's whistle. Like trained dogs they rushed towards their master, lined up in formation and remained completely still as Mendez studied them. He walked up and down the rows of the formation, looking for untied shoes, strings on their shirts, anything that he could use to administer more punishment. After about ten minutes he finished his rounds, stepped back to the front of the group and glared over the bunch of them.

"I counted three untied shoes and eight unclipped threads," he said with a calm voice, almost as if he was pleased that there were mistakes, "you all know what that means."

With a sharp blow of his whistle the children let out a grown and got down into the push up position, grumbling amongst each other. Another whistle blow and the children started doing their push up's in cadence, calling out the number that they were on in unison.

"Twenty push up's for every infraction," explained the Chief as he walked through their ranks, making sure no one was slacking, "that seems fair enough to me."

Thirty minutes and an additional fifty push up's later, the children were jogging towards their training ground. They talked quietly amongst themselves, trying to figure out who didn't tie their shoes, but no one was going to admit to it. John, Kelly, and Sam maintained their position near the front of the formation, just like every morning, running side by side. Two miles later they were at an open field, filled with several chalk-lined circles in the dirt, each about ten meters in diameter. There were roughly ten circles total, each one with a drill instructor standing by, holding on tightly to a baton. Sam grimaced at the sight of them and nudged John, nodding his head towards the batons. He shared the same feeling towards them as Sam, but Kelly, she seemed to never get an "encouragement" shock. The Chief jogged them into the middle of the field, ordered the halt and for them to fall in on him.

"Listen up; today you will be conducting hand-to-hand training. I will not have a repeat of what went on last time we were up here. As you can see, my instructors are standing by the fighting pits," he pointed towards one of them, "and they each have brought with them their own form of motivation. If, like last time, some of you decide that you would rather use this time to relax or not fight at all, they will be more than happy to motivate you to do otherwise. Am I clear?"

A unison reply came from the children, Sam grumbled under his breath. This was the kind of training that he hated the most, mainly because he was always paired up with one of those kids that didn't want to do anything. After batting him around for a few minutes, he got bored with the whole thing and then he would be getting the motivation that the Chief was referring too.

"Now, I am not completely heartless, so today you will be allowed to pick who your training partner is," John and Sam immediately looked at each other, glaring their eyes as they did, "with that said, fall out to a circle and make yourself ready."

The children started to break off slowly, picking through the crowd to find their partner.

"I mean NOW!" Chief Mendez shouted and knocked the children in to hurry mode. They scattered like cockroaches in the light and rushed towards their respective circles.

John and Sam made it to the first one, took positions on either side and started the stare down. Their drill instructor explained the rules, but neither of them was really paying attention to him. The only thing that they were listening for was his mark to begin. When they finally heard it, Sam lunged across the circle towards John, who met him halfway. They tackled each other, both stopping in their tracks before falling to the ground. There they rolled around in the dirt, each one of them trying to gain an early advantage over the other. When they both stopped rolling, Sam managed to find himself on top, pinning John down with his left hand holding John's right arm down and his right forearm pressed up against John's neck.

"I got you," whispered Sam as he continued to apply downward pressure, now starting to see the color fade from John's face.

John gritted his teeth, pushing up as hard as he could with his free hand, trying to force Sam off of him. Sam, though, was slightly bigger than John and was using gravity to his advantage. With a last ditch burst of strength, John managed to push Sam's forearm up just enough so he could cradle his chin down into his chest. He sucked in a deep breath, regaining his composure, then kicked his legs up, flipping both Sam and him end-over-end. They landed in a heap of dust and both struggled to their feet, bringing their hands up to protect their face in the event of a quick strike. They danced around each other for a second, before Sam charged again. This time John didn't chance going toe-to-toe with him and he side stepped, letting Sam pass right by him.

As he did, John turned, slipping one arm under Sam's arm pit, raising it above his head. Sam, caught by complete surprise, hesitated in his reaction or he would have countered this move. With his other arm, John reached around the front of Sam and locked his forearm under his chin, then leaped up, wrapping his legs around Sam's waist and fell backwards. John crossed his heels in front of Sam, pushed down with his legs and pulled up with his arms. Sam let out a loud gasp as air was unwillingly forced from his lungs. He struggled momentarily, but within the first few seconds his world start to go black, until all of a sudden…

1558 Hours, November 28, 2525 (Military Calendar) /
Onboard Covenant Escape Pod, Unknown Location

The sound of metal slamming against metal woke Sam up from his unconsciousness. He took in his surroundings, trying to recall his last memories. At first he thought that he was dead, but the searing pain that still tortured his side was very much alive. As he looked around his memories came back to him and he soon realized that this is where he had chased the Covenant creature to seconds before the explosion. The dead body next to him reinforced this, that and the pool of purple blood with Sam was lying in. He rose to his feet, did his best to wipe some of the blood off of him, and then shook his head back and forth, trying to focus himself. Another loud noise echoed throughout the small craft and Sam looked up towards the ceiling. He felt a light jolt, and then a change in direction as the craft started to be pulled. His first instincts kicked him and he started looking for a weapon or cover of some sort. There was nothing around, except for the dead creature. Sam reached down and picked it up, holding it in one arm in front of him. It wasn't much of a shield, but it would surely distract anything that he threw it at.

Sparks lit up the crafts doors and chatter of men could be heard on the other side. Were they speaking English, Sam wondered, but he couldn't make them out clearly. He watched as the lit from the flame started near the top of the seal of the door and worked its way down. Once it had reached the bottom, two metallic prongs were slammed between the doors and grunts of strength replaced the chatter. Slowly, the doors started to become pried open and Sam lifted the creature up, hiding his head behind it, peaking under is limp arm. Just as the door was only open about six inches, then prongs were pulled away and bright light blasted into the craft. Sam's visor tinted automatically and he continued staring forward towards the entrance, watching and waiting.

"Sierra-zero-three-four, are you in there?" Called a voice on the other side, it was a human voice. Regardless, Sam said nothing.

"Judging by the silence, I'm going to assume that's a yes. I am Captain Gabriel Hawke and you are on the UNSC cruiser, Hope. You have been out for over twenty four hours, Spartan; I can understand that you are a little fuzzy. If you come out peacefully and don't kill any of my men, I can explain everything. What do you say?"

Again, nothing, but Sam did lower the body down so that its legs laid on the floor, his body now more relaxed.

"Don't make me order you, son." The voice finally said after ten seconds.

Sam grumbled under his helmet, tossed the creature aside and stepped forward, placing both of his hands on each door and pushed outwards, forcing the doors open. As he stepped forward, the bright light was turned off and his visor returned to normal. Standing before him in a half circle was a platoon of armor clad Marines, each one with their Battle Rifles at low ready. Right before him was a taller man, about six feet, three inches, still much shorter than Sam. His hair was graying at the sides and barely within regulations. A holster hung over his shoulders, with the pistol tucked underneath his left arm. The uniform that he wore was a black urban camouflage, not something that would be suited for the Captain of a ship. He looked Sam up and down, his eyes resting upon the wound at his side.

"Medic to the cargo hold," he said loud enough for one of the Marine's to hear.

One of them scrambled off, shouting out "Medic!" as he did. The others kept their eyes on Sam, watching his every movement.

"Sierra-zero-three-four, welcome aboard the Hope. Now, let's get you patched up. I have a mission that might peak your interest."