Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN HALO OR ANYTHING CONCERNING HALO EXCEPT ALEX, SPARTAN-109 FOR THE BAZILIONTH TIME.

0744 hours, August 30, 2552 (Military Calendar)\
Epsilon Eridani system, unknown location,
Planet Reach.

30 minutes later, Alex had entered a dense forest area. This was where Mendez had dropped them in the middle of winter on one of his missions. They were each given different portions of a map, and expected to find each other and piece them together correctly. They then had to find the extraction zone and they would be given a 'transport' back to base. It hadn't turned out just like that, but Alex had no time to start dwelling on his memories

He crouched down in the morning dew, listening for any sign of covenant. None so far. He had to depend highly on training and senses because his helmet had been fried back at the generators. It made him nervous to have part of his armor dysfunctional, and no sensors or com. unit. His arm throbbed.

The Spartan popped a stim. pill to keep him awake, and checked his armor visually. It wasn't in too bad of condition. He had no shields, no hydrostatic gel, and no biofoam. He would have to be careful until he could find a dead Spartan and replace his parts with... he couldn't think on it anymore. Taking other Spartan's armor made him feel sick. Like he was robbing one of his family.

Alex pushed himself up, and grabbed his gear off the forest floor. He ran on, not trying to be stealthy at the moment. Suddenly, he heard the drone of two banshees approaching. Acting quickly, he rolled behind a tree and brought up his MA5-B. The banshees grew steadily bigger. He peered intently, trying to get a good shot in and down one. Three...Two...One... Just before he fired, Alex saw the glint of dull green armor. Spartans? He rushed out of his hiding place, waving his arms and screaming, but it was too late. They flashed over his head, and rapidly disappeared over the horizon. He noted the trajectory, and ran full tilt in that direction.

Had it been Spartans? Or had he imagined them? It didn't matter. If it wasn't Spartans it would be covenant. And if it was covenant they would be going to the bigger group, or attacking the others. Either way, he would eventually meet his comrades. Good.

At 0800 hours, Alex came to a shallow stream that ran through the valley he was now in. He cautiously approached when he saw that it had been scorched black with plasma fire, and the mangled body of a Hunter was strewn on the ground along with two banshees. Avoiding the twigs and leaves on the ground, he tread softly despite his heavy armor towards the edge of the stones. The Spartan waited awhile, listening and looking for danger. When he found none, he crept out and observed the carnage. The Hunter had been run over by one banshee; the other banshee was further back. It had skidded fifteen feet, leaving a deep furrow in the earth, stones piled up in front of its nose, smoke drifting from the fuselage.

He wondered where the other Hunter was. They always traveled in pairs, and would die for each other. The other one must have chased after whoever had killed his brother. It must have been the Spartans he saw earlier! His spirits lifted. They were alive! Maybe, if he was fast, he could catch them. He determined which direction the two had gone by the pounded earth and displaced stones that had been thrown up as the sprinted away.

Alex jogged after them, staying utterly silent despite his speed and size. He hoped to catch up with the other Hunter soon and help it along with its goal to 'transcend the physical' and join its blood brother. Eventually, the sound of confusion and chaos reached his ears. Slowing down, he crept on his good hand and knees towards the top of a small hill covered with underbrush. The other Spartan's had lain in the same spot, he realized as he inspected some extremely faint imprints. When he crested the hill, the Spartan saw an amazing sight. Wrecked wraiths with tendrils of fire streaming from them littered a shell-shocked ground that had been charred glassy black in many places. Grunts and jackals were strewn everywhere, and still others were nosing around trying to find out what happened. A few were firing at random places. A trail of crushed grunts and brush left by two surviving wraiths led away from the carnage and onwards to where Alex could hear more loud uproar.

The Spartan lay there for awhile, trying to digest all of this, when one of the jackals let out a harsh cry. They had seen him. The grunts charged the hill firing madly, and jackals formed a little wall of shields. Alex rolled back down the hill, and spotted a damaged wraith off to the side. Maybe... Alex shot the first two grunts that came to the top of the hill, sending them spinning backwards. Others came to take their place, and poorly aimed plasma burnt through the air. Alex rolled to the side towards the Wraith. His shield bar was quickly receding as flames licked at his armor. He took cover behind the wraith, and readied a plasma grenade he had scavenged from the dead covenant before. Waiting until the group was nearly on top of him, Alex primed the grenade, stuck it on the small plasma reactors in the tank's guts, and sprinted away.

Unless he got about twenty meters away, he would be toast. He wished he had Kelly's speed. Plasma chased angrily behind him, one connected with his right hip. He kept going. When is it going to detonate? Alex thought nervously as more shots splashed over his rapidly depleting shields. Suddenly, just when his shield gave out, the Wraith's reactors exploded, sending a wave of white-hot plasma in all directions. Alex didn't know how far he got, but it was far enough not to be toast and close enough to give him first degree burns on every inch of his body.