Chapter 21

August 17, 1025 hours, Somewhere in Eposz District

The wind blew over the barren plain whipping up small clouds of snow from the ground. Despite the awesome sight of the crashed Covenant supercarrier filling the horizon nothing moved the trio who pulled up in the Warthog.

Private Shoemaker swore under his breath but loud enough for the other two to hear it.

Corporal Brown took a deep breath then sighed heavily, not looking at the ONI officer sitting beside him who'd dragged them out into the wilds and away from safety. "So, where is he?" he asked.

"I don't know," a stunned Natalia answered. She took the transponder Kat had given her and began to search but nothing came up.

"Anything?" the driver pressed, trying to sound calm.

"No, nothing," Natalia confessed.

"This is great." The soldier's eyes burned into her, finally crossing the breaking point. At first he'd thought it gallant to help the woman on this mission but as it progressed he had not only become more scared but also increasingly frustrated.

Shoemaker still hadn't said anything but it was clear from his body language he wasn't happy.

Turning away in disgust Brown grabbed the radio. "Foxtrot 5-5 to Fox Den," he called out. "This is Foxtrot 5-5, do you read, over."

Nothing but static came over the radio.

"Radio's down," Brown declared pointedly to Natalia.

Though aware of the reactions of the two soldiers she was in a state of shock. Her perfect plan had fallen apart. The image of her running to Mike and him responding was still fresh in her mind though it was starting to break apart like sun on a morning fog.

While Shoemaker swiveled back and forth warily on the Warthog's M41 Brown hopped out and began to look around. It didn't take him long to find the abandoned reentry pack that had been emitting the signal they'd followed.

"Well, this is it. Where's the Spartan?" the corporal asked anew with a note of accusation in his voice.

"Maybe burned up in the atmosphere?" Shoemaker called back, making Natalia shudder.

I don't know. It doesn't matter, he's not here," the other replied.

"So what do we do now?" the private asked.

"We bug out and return to base before the Covvies get to us," Brown stated emphatically.

"No…we have to find him," Natalia declared quietly but without conviction. "He's… he's out there…I know it."

"Listen ma'am," the driver retorted without respect, "the op was to get this guy and bring him back. He's not here." Looking at the scanner he could see a few red blips on the outer edge of the IFF. "We got bad guys inbound and not a lot of fuel."

"But…but….I have to find him." Then the tough woman lost it. Natalia burst into tears and buried her head in her hands, totally defeated.

Corporal Brown walked away in disgust while Private Shoemaker jumped down from the back to put some distance between himself and the crying ONI officer. The angry soldier had thought a sight like this would have made him happy considering the number of times ONI had screwed them over but he wasn't. The plight of the helpless woman, despite her flamboyant red MJOLINIR armor, was unsettling. He walked away kicking some stones, then something caught his eye well away from the abandoned reentry pack. Josh Shoemaker had been a hunter as a child, taught tracking by his father. It was one of his fondest memories. He found a depression in the ground that looked like something heavy had landed, something shaped like a Spartan. Kneeling down he could see the impression of footprints going over to the abandoned pack.

"Shoe, saddle up! We're out of here," Brown called out to the gunner.

"Hold on corp," he called back. "I've found something." The soldier walked over to the reentry pack, examined it and then moved past, picking up more footprints.

"What's up?" the corporal called.

"I found something, Brownie," his partner called.

Natalia perked up at the declaration and moved towards where he stood followed by the other soldier.

"Look, the reentry packs been popped and the Magnum taken from it," Shoemaker pointed out. "Plus there's footprints, heavy ones, leading away from it in that direction," he pointed out.

Mike's alive! Natalia's mind lit up. "We're going after him," she ordered.

"Hold up there," Corporal Brown countered. "We have no fix on him and he's been moving for over a day. We can't do this, it's too dangerous."

"I don't think he's moving too fast," Shoemaker countered. "See this? He's dragging his leg which means he's injured so he can't have gone too far."

"Which also means he could have bled out over that next rise," Brown shot back. "There's no sig for him and we've got Tangos creeping up on us."

"Please, we need to find him," Natalia begged, all pretense of authority gone. She knew she was at the mercy of the two soldiers. "Please, I'm begging you."

"Can I have a word with you?" Brown grabbed Shoemaker by the shoulder and pulled him out of ear shot. "What the hell are you doing? We need to get out of here."

"It's not right, Brownie," Shoemaker declared doggedly. "Look at her. She's a mess. This is more than a recovery mission for her."

"She's ONI, who cares?" the unconvinced trooper spat back.

"He's a Spartan, he deserves better."

"So when did you start caring, Josh?" Brown lashed out. "You've been whining about this op ever since it started."

"Because it means something to me now," the younger soldier countered. "Listen, I can track him. We can move fast in the Hog. Let's do this. It's the right thing to do."

"You're crazy man," Brown shook his head, then turned away in exasperation. He looked up to the dark sky, as if seeking counsel from the divine before turning back. "Okay, let's do it." Looking to Natalia he called out, "All right, we're going to get your boy."

Natalia was so overjoyed she ran up and hugged the two of them spontaneously. "Sorry about that," she apologized in embarrassment.

Both soldiers beamed, suddenly aware that something good might be able to come from this whole degenerating situation. With renewed conviction the trio pulled out and began to follow Mike's trail.

Noble Six had been walking off and on for hours. He'd holed up in a shallow cave for a few hours to get out of the elements and some rest during the night but didn't sleep. He did have some rations from his emergency pack but they were slim picking. He hadn't checked the time, he didn't care. His leg was killing him and his pace had slackened considerably the last three hours. He'd run through his stock of Biofoam so now was on his own even in terms of his medical condition. If that wasn't bad enough, there'd been several hostile pings on the IFF in his HUD so he knew he needed to keep moving. To top it off, his communications system still was down probably from the interference of coming through the planet's atmosphere. It would likely need a reset which wasn't going to happen in the barren plain he travelled on. Step by dogged step he carried on, clutching Jorge's dog tags. All in all it was shaping up to be a pretty lousy day.

Come on Wolf, don't give up. You need to live. Mike tried to keep pushing himself but then another voice entered in: for what? Why do you NEED to live?

He thought about that for a moment. Was this rhetorical? No, there was something there.

You know why, he stated to himself emphatically. Then the doubt crept in anew. For her? You're delusional. Sure, she may be interested but it's never going to happen. Daddy wouldn't let it. You're nothing. A tool in his hands…or a fool. Bottom line, we come from different worlds. It's stupid. Just give up man. Lie down and die. Better yet, put a 30mm round in your skull. No one's going to notice and no one's going to care. Reach is finished anyway. Jorge died for nothing. We're all finished.

Mike stopped walking and pulled the Magnum from the holster on his hip. He looked up into the slate grey sky knowing above the cloud cover hundreds of Covenant warships circled, ready to end it. What WAS the point? Why keep going? He was insignificant, a blip on the radar of life and eternity. No, he was worse- a genetically modified freak, alone in the cosmos, designed for one purpose-to kill. Besides, he was so tired, so very tired. Rest would be welcome.

Do it…

He flipped the safety of the high-powered pistol off and his hand tensed.

NO!

A new voice inside his head screamed so loud it startled him. He would not give up that easily. If he was to die let his life be taken in battle facing his enemy but he was not going to surrender it. His life was a gift and he was no mere tool. He'd learned to feel again after years of not ever since his family had been killed and he wanted to feel again. He had a father, mother and sister who loved him and he'd loved before they were taken from him. He came from a rich heritage of service to mankind. The name Nantz meant something and just as his namesake in the 21st century had done he too would serve to the end. He sought no medals, fame or fortune. His was a desire to serve, to do the right thing, to help those who couldn't help themselves. He was not a freak; he'd been given a gift: the ability to fight a vicious foe and cause them to fear.

Mike could feel himself breathing hard, his heart racing due to the internal struggle. Slowly he returned the pistol to its holster, feeling a slight shake in his hand.

All he needed was a sign, something to tell him he was on the right track. But until that came he was not going to give up, he was going to press on, fight and if he were to die, so be it, but it would count. With new resolve he took another step and then stopped.

A dozen green dots popped up on his HUD.

Friendlies.

He'd received his sign.

Getting a bit choked up at the realization, Mike held his position. Taking a seat on a rock to rest his aching leg he waited for the approaching group. The solitary Spartan actually sighed in relief to be joining up with others.

How quick things change, huh Wolf? He thought to himself as the UNSC troops were identified by his IFF as Kilo Company of the 7th battalion, a group unfamiliar to him.

He was surprised to see a trio of Orbital Drop Shock Troopers in olive drab UA/BDU armor come over the rise warily, their assault rifles tracking a wide arc. The lead scout hand signaled behind and the three moved past Mike though the first one gave a head nod in acknowledgement which the Spartan returned.

Following them nine ODST Operators appeared led by a tall, lanky gunnery sergeant wearing a forge cap instead of helmet.

Stopping in front of Mike, the shock trooper NCO declared, "Well I'll be," in a thick southern drawl, "it really is a Spartan. Boy, what are you doing here?" he asked.

"Long story," Mike responded removing his helmet wearily, realizing he hadn't slept in nearly 60 hours. "I'm just glad to see you guys."

"Well I'm glad we happened to come along this way or we would have missed you," the sergeant responded. Then he held out his hand and introduced himself. "Marcus Stacker, 7th Battalion, 105th Shock, but my friends call me Pete."

Mike took it and returned the shake, recognizing the famed ODST division. They hadn't been on Reach prior to his arrival so if they were here things were worse than he knew. Then again, the arrival of the Covenant armada pretty much sealed that. "Mike B-312," he responded to the introduction. The he added, "Noble Team."

"Really?" the ODST's head came up in recognition. "The B-312? The Lone Wolf?"

One and the same," Mike replied embarrassed by the enhanced interest.

"If you're here I guess things are worse than we thought," Stacker responded.

"I thought the same thing when I heard who you guys were," Mike answered, "though I got here just before things kicked off. I thought I was here to fight Innies."

Stacker chuckled then became grim. "Bad luck for you."

Mike shrugged in resignation then changed topics to something more pertinent. "I need to get in touch with my team, let them know I'm alive."

Stacker gave Mike an odd look at the request but didn't ask for details. The sergeant knew the nature of special ops. "Regional comms are off-line. Covvies are jamming them. Local comms are good but that's not likely any help to you."

Mike sighed heavily still feeling alone despite being surrounded by the squad of ODST's. "Okay. So what brings you to the neighborhood?"

"Me and my team've been playing hide-and-seek with a group of hingehead zealots and their posse," Stacker answered. "It's weird. It's like they've been looking for something specific. Mind you, hasn't stopped them from hitting anything human that moves along the way."

"Yea, we found that too," Mike confirmed. "They've been digging all over the planet since they got here. Intel is they're looking for some sort of religious relics, that's why they haven't glassed the place."

"Well, they're slippery buggers," the sergeant confessed. "Couple times we thought we had them, and they slithered out. They even turned the tables on us once. We lost a couple guys. But now, with this new fleet, it's a new ball game." He paused as the gravity of his words sunk in. Shrugging his shoulders in resignation the ODST continued, "We saw that big-ass carrier come down yesterday so thought that might be a good place to hunt since the Zealots seemed to disappear afterwards."

Mike seemed to perk up at the mention.

Stacker suddenly got a hunch. "You don't happen to know anything about that do you?"

Mike didn't say anything but his face betrayed the truth.

The gunnery sergeant clapped him on the back. "You're welcome to tag along with us if you'd like. In fact I'd appreciate having you join up."

"Happy too, gunny. Thanks for the invite." Mike stood up and winced in pain.

"You okay son?" Stacker asked, noticing the obvious discomfort which was not the norm for stoic Spartans.

"Got busted up," Mike answered. "Legs got at least one fracture in it. Biofoam's wore off and I got no refills."

"We can help you with that," the ODST responded. "Muñoz," he called to one of his troopers. "Bring up Army and the rest of the group."

The rear party of the platoon moved up and along with them were three UNSC army soldiers and a female medic.

Mike looked quizzically at the NCO. "Their Pelican was shot down by ground fire two days ago. We pulled them out before the Covvies got to them. Medic's young but she knows her stuff. The others are okay. They know not to get in the way," Stacker answered. Seeing they were going to need to take a break, the sergeant called to one of his squad leaders. "Wentworth, we're going to take ten, set up a perimeter."

While the stocky African-American swung into action Stacker then got in touch with his scouting party. "Chin, we're taking a rest break to consolidate. Take your team a klick ahead and see what's up," he ordered over the radio.

"HUD's clear, gunny," Corporal Lu Chin reported back.

"I know that. I don't like it," Stacker responded, unmoved. "I want eyes on, not some read out."

"Roger that," the spry Asian scout confirmed.

"Hang tight Mike," Stacker said, turning back to the Spartan. "We'll get you sorted out and back in the fight in no time," he encouraged. Then the sergeant moved to check on his troops as the ODST's fanned out.

As Mike sat down again, he relaxed, happy to be among people once more. He watched the petite female Army medic with a caduceus medical symbol prominent on her helmet

trot over and remove her backpack with the Red Cross on its back. As that was going on the other three UNSC Army troopers with her followed casually behind and relaxed.

Mike could see that despite a grimy face, behind the dirt was an attractive young woman, likely a couple years younger than him. Her shoulder length chestnut brown hair was pulled back into a pony tail that became more prominent when she removed her helmet. Though only about five and a half feet tall and with delicate features she also seemed to have a toughness about her that made for an interesting contrast.

The medic took out a scanner and used it to take some readings but held back a bit, smiling shyly, her chocolate brown eyes avoiding contact.

"You okay?" Mike asked, uneasy by the reaction.

"I'm fine, sir," she responded stiffly, not looking up from the scanner.

The tone of voice and furrowed brow of the medic caused Mike a wave of panic, figuring his situation was worse than he'd thought.

"What's the matter? What's wrong with me?" he burst out.

Oh, no, it's not that," the private guessed what he was thinking. "You've got a fractured Tibia, some internal bleeding and several lacerations. Nothing I can't fix."

"Then what is it?" Mike pressed, standing up to his full height.

"I've never met a Spartan before, sir…you don't seem like a…," she paused, overwhelmed by the 6 foot 9 inch supersoldier in full MJOLINIR armor.

"Killing automatons." Mike finished with little emotion.

"I'm sorry…I meant no offense, lieutenant, really," she reached out spontaneously and grabbed his arm.

"It's okay," Mike answered, realizing the woman meant no offense but instead was intimidated by him as he towered over her. "It's all propaganda but it's to help give confidence that we can win this fight." Taking a risk, he held out his hand and introduced himself. "I'm Mike Nantz."

"Mandy," the woman replied happily taking it, "Mandy Campbell, sir."

"Forget the sir stuff, okay, it's just Mike."

"Okay." The striking medic smiled again which warmed Mike's heart for some reason. She opened her health kit and pulled out a hypo, measured an injection and popped it onto a port on Mike's armor to inject the medication.

An instant wave of relief coursed through Mike's body and he sighed in satisfaction allowing himself to relax for the first time in days. The medic observantly caught the reaction and smiled anew, pleased she could help. In turn, Mike saw her reaction and that made him happy he could bring some sort of pleasure to the person trying to help him.

He thought about Jorge and some of the advice the big Spartan II had given him, about living life for himself. He thought about Natalia and about making what they'd gone through together count. The image of Jorge standing in the landing bay of the corvette haunted him and a dark blanket of despair enveloped the Spartan.

Mandy had been watching the man, intrigued by the obviously lethal soldier. An insightful observer, she could instinctively tell there was something different about Mike Nantz. She'd been around soldiers before and despite the reputation of the Spartans this one she knew was not like the others, especially not the aggressive ODST's. She then saw his face change from content to pained despair.

"Are you okay?" the woman asked genuinely.

Mike wasn't sure how to answer. Then he caught too late a shimmer in the middle of the Army troopers standing idly around. A flashing energy sword materialized in the center of the one of the Army private's chest lifting him off the ground. A moment later a second trooper's head was lopped off by a slashing sword cut as two Special Ops Elites in dark red armor dropped their active camouflage and materialized in center of the group.

Before the ODST's could respond to the threat in their midst other Covenant forces lead by a group of Elite Zealots attacked the static squad.

Mandy screamed in terror at the sight as the third trooper tried to run but was cut down from behind by the first Sangheili. The second bounded over to the female medic, slashing down in a high arching thrust towards her head. The woman cowered in shock, held in place by fright.

Mike got there first.

Despite not wearing his helmet Mike charged in catching the arm of the Elite in mid-swing and turning it aside. The deadly blade whooshed harmlessly past the woman as the Spartan grabbed hold of the Elite and used the warrior's momentum to cause it to fall to the ground. The Spartan was dragged down on top of the Elite who dropped its energy sword to the ground. They rolled around in the snow, each trying to get the advantage on the other. Mike deftly pulled out his combat knife and tried unsuccessfully to stab it. The Sangheili responded by head-butting Mike in the face with its helmet.

Mike saw stars and lost his grip. Despite the burst of pain he saw the other Elite moving in to kill the frozen medic. Releasing his hold he threw his knife at the advancing warrior. Though the blade clattered harmlessly off the Elite's shielding it did create a distraction. Mike kicked savagely at the one he'd been grappling with, catching it in the neck just below the helmet pushing off the one he'd been grappling with. Using the prone Sangheili for leverage, who reflexively grabbed its throat at the blow, Mike powered off it to charge into the other Spec Op.

The Elite made a wild swipe at him with its energy sword landing a glancing blow which cut deep into Mike's unprotected neck. Despite searing pain he didn't stop, grabbing the bigger Sangheili in a bear hug.

Mike knew he was outmatched, that he shouldn't be fighting this way, but the sight of the helpless medic, who had just been trying to help him made him angry. He allowed the anger to be fed by thoughts of Jorge, and his family. Adrenaline began to pump as did the synthetic drugs injected into him years ago to make him a Spartan all fueling his survival instinct. Anger turned to rage, the Lone Wolf let go and turned it towards this superior fighter. With a primal yell Mike picked the Sangheili off the ground and using the momentum he'd gained slammed it into a rock outcropping. The sheer force of the blow drained the Elite's shield as it dropped its weapon. In one motion Mike threw the warrior to the ground and jumped on top. Ripping the Sangheili's helmet off he began to beat mercilessly with his gauntleted fist into the mandibles of the now shrieking Elite. Blow up blow rained down on the Elite as Mike unleashed his fury. How many he didn't know, he didn't care. He was letting it all out on this unfortunate. Heart racing, nose bleeding from the previous head butt and sweat pouring off him Mike stopped and looked down at the smashed in face of the dead warrior. He turned in time to see the now-recovered Spec Op Elite bearing down on him, energy sword raised in retaliation.

Out of position, Mike braced for the death blow but the air came alive with a stream of 7.62mm full metal jacket rounds from an assault rifle. The intensity of the burst turned the Elite aside. Pete Stacker charged in, reloading in one smooth motion with a fresh magazine and continuing the unrelenting rate of fire on the Elite warrior. Another ODST joined the gunnery sergeant and together their combined fire overcame the Elite's enhanced armor dropping the dangerous fighter.

"Perimeter clear!" one ODST called out.

"Roger that, Covvies are pulling back," another confirmed.

They'd survived the ambush.

Mandy came out of her shock at the unexpected attack and her gaze fell on Mike. She saw him stagger to get up, face bloody, and fall again onto his hands and knees. Immediately she was on her feet running to him. But instead of medical care she spontaneously embraced him almost knocking him over. Despite the bulk of his armor she turned him gently onto his back and held him steady, tears flowing down her face pressed against his.

"You saved my life," was all she could say between sobs before he blacked out.