I'm Alone

by AmbroseVox

As the Human-Covenant War rages on, a tight-knit band of marines find themselves fighting side by side the dedicated crew of the super heavy cruiser UNSC I'm Alone, but the ship's commanding officer shares a bond of fury and anguish against one of the marines, which will ignite a personal conflict that could divide the titanium world they live in and last throughout the war.

25. Chapter 25: A Legend's Last Stand

Chapter 25: A Legend's Last Stand

---

The rain had finally stopped. Camp Havens was now a blasted battleground. There was hardly a tent left standing, most of the sandbags had been demolished, and the tiered structure in the center had been completely flattened by the aerial attack prior to the infantry assault. An hour and a half had passed since the Scorpions had arrived. Marines and army troops were now resting all over the place. Some were huddled around the tanks, trying to warm up from the heat their engines gave off. Many were in the foxholes, under blankets and canvas sheets, asleep side by side. Some had managed to construct a few measly sheds and shacks, that were more or less just four pieces of wood put into place with a sheet of metal or wood balanced on the posts as a roof. Others had tied up thinner poles and draped a canvas sheet over them. There was no concentrated group, everyone was scattered around the inside of the camp. No one was outside; the Covenant dead were still out there, unmoved, bloated, soaked with rainwater, covering the entire field. Each little group of marines or troopers sat around a small fire, which danced in the breeze.

Jasmine was with Frost and his squad, resting underneath a canvas sheet on three poles. Grant was sitting beside Moser, with his arms folded on his knees and his head lowered. Moser was laying on his side, practically curled around Grant, sleeping on his helmet. Bishop and Maddox were sitting shoulder to shoulder against a small supply crate they had pushed under the canvas; they were under the same blanket with their heads leaning against the other, sleeping. Knight was lying down near them, holding a picture of his wife and son in one hand. He stared at it, his hand shaking a little. Langley was next to him, sitting up, staring off into the middle distance. Frost was sitting beside Steele, his head on his knees, asleep. Steele was awake and smoking. Carris was sitting with her back to Steele's left, acting as a wind barrier. The armored operative did not move. She had removed her helmet though, and her black locks swayed in the breeze. Her expression was unreadable. Jasmine walked over, holding a pair of canteens.

"Took a bit of scrounging, but I found some clean water."

She handed one canteen to Steele, and the other she gave to Langley. Members of the squad who had been sleeping woke up, took a sip, and then went back to sleep. Frost was the last one to take a swig from a canteen and handed it back to Jasmine as she sat down beside him.

"How's your back?"

"Hurts. I think the bandages are wet. I tried to find some but the wind knocked over the last few tents in the night. It's impossible to find anything."

"We'll get you back on the first Pelican and get you back to the I'm Alone. They'll fix you up."

Frost seemed to think for a moment.

"I saw you getting all those people out of the tents. That was one of the bravest things I ever saw."

"Anybody else would have done the same."

"I didn't see anybody else racing through plasma bolts to usher people from the tents."

Jasmine said nothing. She was just glad no one had been caught in the tents.

Silence returned to the camp. Every so often someone coughed, or a wounded soldier would moan, followed by a hushed voice. A brief conversation sprung up here and there.

"Hey, Frost," Steele said suddenly.

"Yeah?"

"Do you remember the time when we were on that planet...uh...Romy?"

"The one with all the taigas? Colder than anywhere else we've ever been? Yeah."

"Remember how we came across that snowy town and were stuck there because of the weather?"

"Yep."

"Remember how there was only one toilet in the house we were in, and the pipes were only unfrozen for an hour each day? And there was twenty-seven of us in that house?"
"Yeah, and if you tried to flush when the pipes were frozen the toilet would clog. Everyone would rush to the bathroom at midday because that's when the pipes were unfrozen, and everyone would try to take a shit in thirty seconds."

"Man, that house fucking reeked, eh bruv?"

"Yeah."

Both men laughed. Jasmine grimaced at the thought.

Katz walked up to them. He was filthy and looked thoroughly exhausted. His camera hung around his neck by its strap and he was slouched over. Dirt clung to his thick hair which spilled over his face. Jasmine and the squad looked up at him as he knelt by the fire.

"Hey, lad," Steele greeted, "how'd you fair in the night?"

"I keep wanting to throw up but I don't have anything in my stomach."

"Yep," Frost said, matter-of-factly, "that'll pass soon."

"I kindly doubt that," Jasmine muttered, feeling quite sick herself. That made Frost laugh as he took off his helmet and bandana. Katz flopped onto his side right next to the fire and fell asleep almost at once. "Poor guy."

She regretted the statement instantly. It had been a reaction, said without thought. But here she was sympathizing with the correspondent who hadn't done any fighting, while soldiers who fought like devils and worked like horses sat around her. If her words had annoyed anyone, she couldn't tell. Maybe they were too drained to care. Or maybe they felt the same way about Katz. Frost didn't seem the type of man to get too upset over words. Everyone had their limits, of course, but he seemed to her a paragon of virtue. Not a total saint however; as much as she tried to play the neutral party, there was a part of her that remembered that he had killed five teenage girls when he was a teenager himself. A war crime? No, but another kind of crime in itself. Life was too precious now for humans to be warring among themselves. Yet, despite all that, Frost was a man who managed to smile, who managed to inspire, who had patched her up with a little guidance. There was something strange and mysterious about him that Jasmine just couldn't place. As he sat there with a somber smile on his face, she tried to figure him out. On his dirty, bearded, tired face, she saw acceptance. Acceptance of what? Perhaps this life, his duty as a soldier, or something even further than that. In his cool gray eyes, in his little comfortable, precise movements, Jasmine saw some measure of confidence. Cold confidence, a kind that showed her that he was never going to die in battle. Men and women died like dogs by the day, savaged by their Covenant enemies. Most new recruits didn't last the year. This man, though, this man, had survived for five years, against humans and aliens both. All the wounds he had sustained hadn't been enough to stop him. His body wasn't becoming weaker with time and wounds; it got stronger and more resilient. He was something else altogether, different from the common soldier. Hell, different from the rest of his oddball companions in the 89th MEU. Vivian had told her what Hayes had said of Frost. Yes, he was honorable, that was for sure. Brave, too. But he truly was the best of them all. And as awed as she was, there was a part of her that was made somewhat nervous by that. What would this deity-like soldier, so harmonious in body and mind on the battlefield, do when he got home? How did he use his time when he wasn't fighting? Training only got someone so far. Vivian's perception of him was skewed, obviously, but she talked of him as if he were a rabid animal looking for someone or something to sink its teeth into. A man of war with no battles to fight in? What would happen to him? What would he do? Jasmine remembered a poem she had once read: I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked dragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn looking for an angry fix. She saw him, imagined, him skulking down a city street with that characteristic way he walked; his arms swinging slightly, his hands balled into tight fists, his gray eyes dark and distant. When he walked alone, he appeared liable to strike anyone who dared to look at him the wrong way. A time bomb ready to explode at any moment, that's what he would turn into. Unless whatever was in his head was taken out. Like all problems, current and potential, there was a source. Jasmine, on those blood stained grassy flatlands covered with the dead, she decided that she would help him. Skopje seemed to be the foundation of where all this pent-up fury he unleashed on the battlefield came from. If she was to prevent that anger from following him into his post-war life, she'd have to figure out a way to get what had ever happened on that planet out of his mind.

"You alright, Jas?" Frost asked.

Jasmine was broken from her thoughts.

"Huh?"
"You look like you've seen a ghost."

"I'm alright. Just thinking."

"Thinking about what? You were staring at me for so long I thought you'd burn a hole right through my forehead."

Jasmine became a little red in the face. She didn't realize she had been so lost in her own thoughts that he had caught her staring. Hopefully, he didn't take that the wrong way. If he did, Frost didn't show it. "You could never stare at my second older sister for too long, she'd get paranoid and get angry at you."

She was relieved that he had taken the conversation away from her. Perhaps he had seen how embarrassed she looked. Frost seemed a gentleman in that way; too good-natured to really embarrass someone. She admired that. "My sister, her name's Sadie, she's always been super creative, but she was so shy about her art. She'd lose her temper real quick if you tried to look at her work. Her wrath, that's something you never want to face."

"Were you close with her?"

"I was close with all four of my sisters, but I think out of the whole family, she felt closer to me than anyone else."

"I'm sure she misses you."

"I don't know; I don't write them much anymore."

"That's unfortunate."

"You warm enough?"

"Yes." Jasmine was still wearing his combat jacket. It was still wet from the rainfall. All the same, she was still warm. "Would you like it back? You must be cold wearing just that undershirt."

"I'm good."

"Doesn't the cold bother you?"

"I like the cold."

He flashed her a smile, one that was no longer sad. Rather, it was warm. Jasmine couldn't help but smile back.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"Why do you wear that paint on your face?"

"Oh, the war paint." Frost chuckled. His face was dirty and the paint had run a little, but Jasmine could still see the shape of the gray paint; three diagonal, jagged lines across his face. Frost shrugged, "I just do, y'know. Lots of marines do it. Oh, I just forgot. I have your glasses."

He reached into a pouch on his belt. "Geez, I hope they're not broken. I was..." He trailed off. Jasmine knew what he meant. All night long, he had fought wildly. It was not a complete wildness, however. A certain mechanical efficiency complemented it. Savage yet accurate. While a student of medicine, Jasmine had a proclivity towards poetry and other literature, more so than history. History that departed from the realm of medicine did not interest her any further than a piece of trivia momentarily delivered to her and just as quickly gone from her mind, but she had been forced to read enough at school to understand the wars of the past. There were warriors, men who fought with emotion, with brutality, with raw power. And then there were soldiers, trained, precise, and cold in their actions. Frost was the melding of the two, part soldier, part warrior. What did that make him? Maybe he had a word, but she wasn't going to ask then. Something told her, that as much as a mystery he was to her, he had himself all figured out. Jasmine couldn't be certain, but her gut told her that Frost knew too that he was never going to die at the hands of the Covenant. He'd live to see the end of the war, even if they lost. Civilian life, with all its difficulties and complexities from the simple mathematics of warfare, may not prove too difficult for Jack the Ripper after all. Jasmine sighed; she hadn't even started her brilliant plan to help this man and she was already second-guessing herself. She promised herself that she'd stick to her guns, her first instincts.

Frost pulled the pair of glasses out of the pouch. Much to their relief, the glasses were undamaged. Before Jasmine could reach over to take them, he turned them around and delicately placed them back over her eyes. He even pushed them back up the bridge of her nose like she did. "Ah, there," he said. Jasmine laughed a little.

"Thank you."

"What do you wear them for? Seeing far away or up close?"

"Just in general."

"You were using that pistol just fine last night."

She had forgotten about the aliens she had killed. They had just been Grunts, the lowest of the low in the Covenant hierarchy.

"I never thought I'd have to kill someone. I trained for it, I had to, but I never thought I'd actually end up pulling the trigger. I thought it'd be different, though."

"Different?"

"I thought I'd feel sick or disgusted with myself. But...I don't feel anything. I thought taking life was something grave, something that changed you, but..."

Frost shook his head.

"It's different. Killing Covvies is easy. They're genocidal, they've killed millions of our people, and they look like monsters from a nightmare. It's easy. People, on the other hand..."

Jasmine had looked away for a moment, but her eyes returned to the veteran soldier when he trailed off. His mouth was cocked in a thoughtful way and his brow was slightly furrowed. Then he clucked his tongue and shook his head a little. "Mm, never mind." He gave her another smile, "It's a fine morning. No need to spoil it."

"I think you're right."

Sometimes, Jasmine forgot that she was friends with the man who had killed the five compatriots of her closest companion. What a strange world she lived in, she thought, in which friends of friends were enemies.

---

Vivian didn't wait for the Pelican to finish touching down before she hopped out the rear compartment. Immediately, her nose was met with the smells of the battlefield; spilled guts, drying blood, bloated bodies beginning to decay, fire. The scent of blood and gunpowder was the most familiar. She remembered it from that night so long ago. Just faintest whiff caused memories to flash through her mind. It took a great deal of energy to fight them off. Pushing the past away, she focused on the present: finding Jasmine.

More reinforcements had shown up in the last hour; a carrier group from Reach had arrived. Fresh marines descended to the planet and began to man the defenses of the camp, help load wounded personnel onto the Pelicans, and bring fresh supplies for the beleaguered defenders. Most of the medical staff that had landed on the planet with Jasmine had been evacuated during the battle, as well as most of the wounded, but she knew there was more. All night long her concern had mounted; she took every opportunity to rush to the hangar to see if Jasmine would be climbing off of the next Pelican. Radio transmissions during the battle had been brief and confusing; every time she had asked for Jasmine, she couldn't get a straight answer. Her reports had stopped just before the attack. Now, with the situation at the Triangle reducing to mopping up, she could search for her friend.

She found the majority of the defenders situated in the open spaces of the camp. They were a sad looking bunch. Mud clung to their wet, bloodied uniforms. Soldiers were sleeping in terrible conditions and most were exposed to the wind.

With her was General Sacco, who had flown to the I'm Alone to deliver his report in person. She was surprised that a general had come to see her personally, as if he had to answer to her. But he had insisted on it and shook his head in amazement.

"Get these men some help, please General," Vivian said quietly. Sacco wasted no time; he directed marines and GIs over to them. Medical aid was administered, casualties were evacuated, food and water were passed out, blankets laid over sleeping troops.

Vivian helped soldier after soldier to their feet, making sure they go everything they needed. She asked after Jasmine, and was pointed to a familiar group. Vivian scrutinized Frost and his squad, equally tired and filthy as the rest. As she walked over, Jasmine spotted her.

"Viv!"

"Jas," Vivian rushed over, ready to fling her arms around her friend. Jasmine stopped her.

"Be gentle if you're gonna hug me. I'm wounded."

"What? How?"

Vivian was about to push her aside and sock Frost. How could he have let her get hurt? Jasmine shook her head.

"I was hit by one of those cannons on a Banshee. I've got second degree burns all along my back. Frost got my out of there and treated me."

Vivian nodded slowly. She saw the name 'Frost' in black letters on the left side of the combat jacket was wearing. Jasmine sighed. "Go easy, Viv."

With Jasmine a few steps behind her, Vivian stood in front of Frost. Before she could get a word out, General Sacco joined them. Sacco was a man in his forties, tall, fit, bald, and with a thick beard.

"I heard some maniac marine charged Camp Havens all by his lonesome," he said with a smile. Frost stood up slowly.

"Yes, sir," he said rigidly.

"And that some sergeant led the defense all night long, too. That you too?"

Frost said nothing for a few moments.

"There were officers, sir."

"Yeah, but I didn't hear any stories about them barking orders, breaking phalanxes, or fighting like a madman."

General Sacco extended his hand. "Well done, son."

Frost gingerly took it.

"Thank you, sir."

"I'll be speaking to your commanding officer. You saved a lot of my people, defending this camp. You deserve a medal."

"I didn't do it alone, sir."

"I know that," Sacco said, giving Frost a thump on the side of his shoulder. "Your squad did a hell of thing. And you," Sacco turned and pointed at Jasmine, "you're the crazy doctor who decided to run through Banshee fire to get everyone into cover. Brass balls, I tell you, brass balls. Both of you saved a lot of lives and you have my thanks."

Vivian looked at Jasmine, who shrugged a little. Sacco looked around. "Did I interrupt something?"

"I need to address my men," Vivian said.

"Oh, of course. I'll oversee the rest of the cleanup operation."

Sacco walked off with his combat staff, leaving the group alone. Vivian glared at Frost.

"Vivian tells me you helped her with her wounds."

"She just told me what to do and how to do it."

Frost appeared apprehensive, like she was going to punch him. His eyes were wary of her. Vivian did want to hit him. She wanted to do more. Speaking with him was like pulling teeth. He was insufferable, the way he spoke, the way he looked, everything about him.

"Petty Officer Carris," Vivian said. Carris quickly stood up at attention in her armor. Vivian studied her pale face for a moment, then said, "I heard that you were a force multiplier during the fighting these past two days. I'd like to extend an offer to you."

"Yes, ma'am?"

"We'll take you back to Reach to speak with your superiors. If you should so choose, however, I have opened a posting for someone of your expertise in my battle group."

Carris blinked for a moment. Vivian cleared her throat. "Uh, so, if you want to transfer, just say the word and I'll have our mission handler work out the details."

"Thank you, ma'am. I'll have to give it some thought," Carris said.

"Of course."

Vivian turned her attention back to Frost. A wave of disbelief passed over his face, followed by realization. He smiled a little.

"Thank you, Captain Waters," he said quietly.

Vivian grimaced and leaned forward.

"Listen to me," she whispered in his ear, "this doesn't change anything. This is only because of Jasmine."

She began to withdraw, but lingered as another thought came to her. "If she ever tries to get on the ground again, don't let her."

"Understood, ma'am," Frost growled. Vivian stepped back. "Your Warthog has been dropped off. All able-bodied troops, Army and marines, are to report to the city garrison. Unfortunately, there is still a sizeable Covenant presence on the planet."

"I thought we took the Triangle," Steele grumbled as he finally rose to his feet.

"We did, but the right flank was scattered and a large force of Covenant were able to slip the lines. We've been unable to track their progress, they disappeared in the night."

"Orbital fuckin' scanners, 26th-fuckin'-century technology, and we still lost the fuckers?" Maddox mumbled.

"We need as many troops as possible at the ready. You'll be provided with bunks, hot food, water, and showers at their garrison. Fresh troops will maintain a presence here and go searching for the Covenant."

"We don't get a lift?" Bishop asked, sniffing as he wiped his nose on his bare forearms.

"You have a Warthog. I need the Pelicans to ferry reinforcements, supplies, and wounded. I take it you can still drive."

Frost nodded and gave a little wave.

"Let's go squad," he said, and he led them back towards the deployment zone.

---

As soon as the squad began walking to the deployment zone, Jasmine instinctively began to follow. A gentle hand took her by the upper arm.

"Where do you think you're going?" Vivian asked.

"With them?"

"You need to get back on the I'm Alone for treatment."

"Oh. Right."

Vivian laughed kindly.

"Did you forget that you're wounded?"

"I guess I got kind of used to walking around with the pain," Jasmine said. Then, uneasily, she asked, "Can't I just see them off? They've taken care of me."

Jasmine watched her old friend sigh, her features sagging a little. Then, her emerald eyes glowed a little.

"Alright, go on, I'll meet you at the LZ."

Jasmine had jogged after the squad and found them still hobbling to their Warthog. Aside from Carris, they all walked like a pack of elderly folks. Who wouldn't after such a terrible night? But she lingered instead of trotting up to them, following slowly behind them at a few yards distance. She just wanted to listen for a moment.

"Do you want me to drive?" Frost asked Steele.

"Yeah, could you?"

"Sure."

"Anyone else feel like they want to hurl?" Knight asked.

"You always feel like you want to puke after a big battle," Maddox grumbled.

"What do you want me from?" Knight retorted, "I'm older than all of you."

"You're not even thirty yet!" Moser laughed.

"Carris is thirty-one," Steele said, "she looks no worse for wear."

"Women age better than men," Langley said, half-teasing.

"Bull-fucking-shit!" snorted Bishop, "My auntie is five years older than my uncle and he looks like he just hit thirty-five instead of fifty-five."

"Your auntie?" Grant teased, drawing the word out, "What are you, seven years old or somethin'?"

"You want me to clout you over the fuckin' ear?"

"Oh, I'm so scared."

"Knock it off fellas," Frost said like a tired father trying to police his unruly kids.

"Do you think you can sing on the ride back?" Grant asked.

"Only if you all sing with me," Frost said, slinging his rifle over his shoulder. He was holding his helmet and then his bandanna, the former in his right hand and the latter in his left. They were only a few paces from the Warthog. Jasmine called out to them.

"Nate!"

The veteran soldier paused and turned around, facing her completely. A gust of wind struck them then. It wasn't too powerful, but enough to tousle his hair to the side. To Jasmine, it seemed that an invisible hand had reached out and swept his brown hair to the side. Despite the dried mud on his bearded cheeks, the bags under his eyes, and the grime on his uniform, something about him then struck her as handsome. A quiet, soldierly, attractiveness. She felt silly wondering what she looked like then, wearing his coat; she felt her own thick hair thrown about to the side as well, and she was shivering a little.

He didn't say a word, he just looked at her with cloudy gray eyes that matched those in the sky above. Jasmine had entirely forgotten what she had wanted to say, what she had wanted to do. So she said, someone blurting, "I'll make sure to take your armor back up to the ship."

Frost smiled that same boyish smile, exposing his missing tooth.

"Thanks."

Before the silence could fall between them again, Jasmine spoke again.

"Thank you. For yesterday."

"You're welcome," he said, earnestly. He seemed like he wanted to say more, but instead he held his tongue. Jasmine guessed he wanted to say something humble, like telling her she treated wounded all the time, trying to denote his own actions. She was glad he didn't.

After another moment, he said, "You'd best be on your way. Those burns aren't going to treat themselves."

"I guess so."

"Goodbye, Jasmine."

"Goodbye."

Frost turned on his heel and walked over to the driver's side of the Warthog. The rest of the squad were already piling in.

"Here, you sit in the passenger seat, love," Steele said.

"You can have it," Carris responded.

"Nah, I'll sit here," Steele said, planting himself on the raised dividing bar between the driver and passenger seat, straddling it. Carris didn't argue and climbed in, holding her helmet in her lap. Bishop turned the turret around and leaned on the tri-barrel, while Maddox slumped over the rear of the machine gun. Knight sat on the bridge between the open cab of the Warthog and the truck bed, his back facing the cab. Langley sat at the right side, resting her chin on her folded arms which sat on the edge of the truck bed. Moser sat on the left side, laying down on the actual bed with his legs stretched out over the side. Grant sat at the rear, with his legs dangling over the side. The motley crew almost looked goofy, piled together in that Warthog, like they were part of a circus act. But to Jasmine, there was something charming about them. She couldn't quite place it; there wasn't one word that sprung up to define the sight before her or the individuals residing in her view.

Frost started the Warthog up, driving slowly to an entrance of the camp that was nearby. As he did, he began to sing:

"Poor old Johnny Ray,

Sounded sad upon the radio,

But he moved a million hearts in mono,

Our mothers cried, sang along, who'd blame them,

You're grown...

So grown...now I must say more than ever,

Come on Eileen!"

And then his entire squad, save Carris, joined into the song:

"Too ra loo ra too ra loo rye aye,

And we can sing just like our fathers...

Come on Eileen, oh I swear, what he means

At this moment, you mean everything,

You in that dress, my thoughts I confess,

Verge on dirty,

Ah, come on Eileen..."

Jasmine watched them join a convoy of Warthogs of varying types carrying haggard marines and exhausted Army troopers. As the convoy trundled away, Jasmine didn't take her eyes off the squad, and listened to their singing until their voices faded away.

---

"Frost, Frost, wake up."

Frost felt himself being shaken and sat up quickly. After the squad had eaten and cleaned up, they had been taken to the garrison's barracks to rest. They had been given a selection of cots and had all flopped down to rest. At least, Frost knew he did. The last thing he could remember was dropping his kit and falling face down on the pillow.

He rubbed his eyes and looked at Grant, who had a hand on his shoulder. The barracks, a large white room with a barren concrete floor and hundreds of beds and footlockers, was filled with sleeping, snoring men. Only a few lights were on.

"Covenant?" Frost asked. He knew the answer before Grant gave it.

"No, not Covvies. But they still haven't found the ones that had slipped away."

"Right. If it was Covenant, there would have been an alarm. That's how our Army cousins do it..." He yawned. "What's the matter then? Out with it," he said light-heartedly with a smile.

"I can't find Steele."

Frost's eyes snapped open.

"What do you mean you can't find Steele?"

"After we hit the showers and came here, I saw Steele walking out of the room. I caught a few hours sleep and when I woke up, I couldn't see him. I've looked everywhere but I can't find him. All of his gear is here except for his boots and uniform."

"Ah, fuck. Okay, I'll go look for him. You stay here, don't tell the guys anything or they'll get worried."

"Alright."

Frost had been loaned an olive drab over shirt and undershirt, which he slipped on before putting on his boots, making sure his pistol was holstered, and heading out of the barracks.

The garrison was a typical city-based UNSC complex. There was an airfield with numerous hangars and helipads. A barracks, usually consisting of a few rectangular structures. An armory and supply dumb was situated within the high walls complemented with guard towers. Vehicles were parked neatly at the motor pool; a few garages also stood nearby. There was a parade ground and and a training area consisting of basic PT courses and firing ranges. There was a lot of concrete and titanium armor plating and lots of open space within the actual walls. Frost had seen plenty in his time, though he had spent more time sleeping on starships than on planetside bases.

He spotted a group of soldiers milling around the motor pool. A few were talking with one another. With no other leads, Frost chose them as his first stop.

"Hey," he said as he jogged up. The soldiers, unfamiliar to him, all grinned.

"Jack the Ripper," they greeted warmly, "how can we help?"

Their manners were not disingenuous. Frost, quite aware of his long-standing nickname and reputation, sometimes forgot that people he had never even met knew of him.

"Have you seen a blonde haired English guy around? He's a bit taller than me, sort of lanky in his middle. If he was wearing his helmet, he's got black sniper goggles attached."

The others stared blankly at him. Frost wracked his brain. "He's kind of an asshole? Tells stupid jokes?"

"Oh. I saw him, mate," said another soldier. "Heard him, actually. He was talking to one the gate guards."

"What was he doing at the gate?"

"Fuck if I know, mate."

"Alright, thanks."

Frost turned and headed for the gate. They had been granted passes to enter the city-once the battle was over. Until then, they needed to be on standby. Rules meant nothing to Steele though, at least military rules. If his absence was discovered by a senior officer, or the military police, which would be much worse, he'd get into deep trouble with Hayes.

"Frost."

He turned and spotted Carris heading towards him. She was still in her armor, with her helmet tucked under her arm. "I heard that Steele is missing."

"Let's not say that just yet. Those yokels over there told me he was chatting with the gate guard."

"He'll be considered absent without leave. So will you, if you go after him."

"Well, someone's gotta go get him. Wherever he is."

"Let me help you."

"Fine."

The pair walked up one of the Army guards who was smoking a cigarette. He was leaning against a concrete barrier and had a scars on his face. Frost nodded at him, "Hey, buddy, you talk to an English guy with a mustache and blonde hair earlier?"

"Yep, I did."

"What did he want?"

"Well," the guard cleared his throat, glancing warily at Carris, "he was asking me where uh...he could find...um...easy women."

"Easy women?" Carris remarked. Frost groaned, running a hand down his face.

"Where did you direct him?"

"There's a bunch of clubs and bars near the central park around here," the guard pointed over at the side of the booth, where a map of the city had been imprinted. "It's the western road leading to the green. That's the best spot to pick up chicks."

"Yeah, thanks," Frost paused a beat, "how the hell did he get out? We're supposed to be on base."

The guard shrugged.

"Maybe I'm a nice guy and let him through because he said please."

Frost stared back, unconvinced.

"Name your price."

"Three packs of smokes, two bars of chocolate, and...how about that knife on your belt."

Before Frost could say anything, Carris reached forward quickly with her free hand, picking the guard up by his shirt collar, and lifted him several feet off the ground.

"Let. Us. Through." She commanded quietly.

"What the fuck!?" the guard squirmed in her grasp, "Put me down!"
Frost adapted quickly.

"Only if you let us through and you give us back whatever my missing soldier gave you."

"Fuck you!"

"Yesterday I watched this operative here crush a Jackals head beneath her boot. Splat. Brains and blood everywhere. And I watched her throw a Grunt like a football. Damn thing nearly flew into space."

"Alright, goddammit, alright!"

Carris put the guard back on his feet. He was sweating profusely now. He handed Frost the chocolate and cigarette packets that Steele had given him. Satisfied, Frost jerked a thumb towards the motor pool.

"Let's grab a Warthog and head out."

The drive hadn't taken too long. Frost and Carris were now driving slowly down the city street the guard had directed them to. Numerous signs of varying colors on the sides of buildings flashed and glittered. People milled about in night attire despite the fact the sun was just beginning to set.

"Look at these people," Frost muttered to Carris, "it's as if there hadn't been a battle at all."

Most times when the Covenant attacked, planets were completely evacuated. People would rush to the spaceports, pushing and shoving and screaming. Invasion reduced them to wild animals; Frost had seen kids used as bargaining chips and elderly people trampled in stampedes. Wealthy individuals waved pearl necklaces, diamond jewelry, and other ornate items to get on board. Others simply waved wads of money, as if that would get them up the ramp faster or before others. One time, Frost had see a young woman take off the large diamond engagement ring she was wearing to get on board, as if the meaning behind it meant nothing. Bribery sometimes work, more in the early days of the war than currently. Starships specifically reserved or designated for evacuation situations were manned with crews that were subjected to an extreme vetting process. Anyone who was willing to take a bribe or bend the rules was kicked out, leaving highly strict evacuation crews. Still, some panicked during an invasion and tried to leave early, which usually got the entire ship destroyed. Occurrences such as those were becoming rarer.

"They should have been evacuated," Carris stated plainly, her eyes running over the oddly dressed individuals roaming the sidewalks.

"People are getting used to this war," Frost murmured, "that's not good. Getting complacent makes us weak, more predictable. People need to be afraid and ready. If I were in charge, I would have evacuated the Outer Colonies and wiped every trace of the Inner Colonies and Earth from planetary databases."

"A cleaner version of the scorched earth policy," Carris commented with a nod, "not entirely unsound."

Even after hundreds of years, there was still a collective human knowledge of what scorched earth policies were. Their greatest historical debuts had occurred in Russia, first when Napoleonic France invaded and then well over a century later, when Nazi Germany blitzkrieg-ed across the border, shattering their non-aggression pact. Both would-be conquering nations found a land on fire, if one were being extravagant.

"I'm not saying we destroy our planets. The Covenant do that anyways. Why the brass haven't evacuated the Outer Colony population and fortified the Inner Colonies is beyond me."

"Earth is the heart of humanity, our political, social, cultural, and military foundation. The Inner Colonies are our industrial heartland. The brass are stalling," Carris shook her head. "Every time the Covenant stop to invade and glass an Outer Colony world, that derails their progress towards the heart. I wouldn't go so far to say that they're sacrificing planets and people, but..."

"Sounds like you've been listening to Steele."

"You don't approve of his lack of trust to our superiors."

Frost sighed.

"Trust is important. Absolute faith is dangerous."

He pulled over to a bar that had caught his eye. Before he jumped out, he said to Carris, "Steele's a good soldier, despite everything he does to make people think he isn't. He's always had a disrespect towards the upper echelon though; anybody who isn't boots on the grounds, and even then, he's not whole trustful of them."

"Why?"

"That's just the way he is."

"You two make fine friends for total opposites."

"Total?" Frost grinned.

"He told me not too long ago you need to see the truth in things."

Frost blinked, surprised. But he recovered quickly enough.

"I believe in what I do. That doesn't mean I trust the brass entirely. It's good to take things with a grain of salt. Now, come on."

They walked onto the sidewalk, Carris's armor earning many strange looks from passerby's. Next to the door of the bar was a woman who looked to be in her thirties, wearing a little bit of makeup and wearing a short skirt. Frost went over to her.

"Excuse me," he said politely. The woman looked him up and down and smiled, taking a puff on her cigarette.

"Hi there, soldier," she said in a smooth, oily voice. "Want to buy a girl a drink?"

"Hi," Frost cleared his throat, "are you aware of any...services...for men around here?"

The woman blinked.

"I'm not sure what you're talking about."

"You know," Frost cleared his throat again, feeling hot in the face, "services, for men...who have uh...been away for a while."

The woman's eyes widened a little bit.

"Oh..." she grinned then, and took his hand. "If that's what you're looking for." She started leading him to a door to a crummy looking apartment building that was right next to the bar.

"Uh, no, no, I'm not looking to be serviced," Frost said, keeping his boots firmly planted on the sidewalk.

The girl seemed confused.

"Then why are you asking?"

"I have a friend that needs to get back on base. I was told he came to this street looking for women. Have you see him? He's blonde, has a mustache, good-looking, bit taller than me, English accent, tells bad jokes and can be kind of a prick?"

"I think I saw someone like that-hey you can't go in there without paying."

Frost had shoved past her but she quickly darted in front of him, blocking the door. Frost smiled, almost sweetly.

"Miss, don't try this with me. I just fought in a battle that lasted all night to save this planet and I killed probably over a hundred aliens. If that's not enough for you, I have a gun and a knife, so why don't you just let me through so I don't have to pull those out."

The girl blinked and then stepped aside.

"You're an asshole."

"You're lucky I don't burn this joint to the ground," Frost growled as he shoved the door open. Carris was right behind him, following him into the dimly lit foyer.

"Would you really burn it down?"

"No way," Frost said, "just need to act tough right now. I want to grab Steele and get the hell out of here, this place makes my skin crawl."

"Did you pay?"

Frost turned to see a guy sitting behind the check-in desk. He went over to the desk and planted both hands on it. The man, who had been distracted by a magazine, glared up at him. He had dark, receding hair and a scraggly goatee.

"Looking for a soldier; British guy, tall, mustache, blonde hair, loudmouth."

"I'm not obliged to give out information about customers."

"Carris, smash his head in."

The man yelped as Carris yanked him over the counter, threw him on the floor, and raised her boot.

"Room B4, second floor!" the man cried, covering his head with his arms.

"Thank you," Frost grunted, "let's go, C."

The pair went up the stairs to the second floor. Frost smiled over his shoulder.

"You're getting the hang of it."

"Just following your lead."

"We ought to fight crime together. Make for a good comic or something."

Carris chuckled.

When they got to the room, Frost could hear moaning and grunting on the other side. He sighed and tried to turn the handle, which was locked.

"Fucking occupied!" came Steele's voice. Frost groaned in irritation.

"Should we tell him its us?" Carris whispered.

"Nope," Frost answered, and kicked the door open. He stepped in as the girl in the bed beside Steele shrieked and hid her naked body under the sheets. Steele had jumped in surprise and was now reaching over for his pistol.

"Who the fuck are you!?" the girl cried.

"We're the fun police," Frost said. Directing his gaze towards Frost, he put on his biggest shit-eating smile. "Hi, Lou! We've come to pick you up!"

"What the fuck, bruv!" Steele hollered. "Why didn't you just say it was you?!"

"Because that wouldn't have been very funny. Get your clothes on and let's go."

"Why? There something happening?"

"No. We just missed you, that's all." Frost's smile faded. "You could get into deep shit doing this."

Steele waved a hand dismissively at him as he pulled back the sheets, exposing himself, sat on the edge of the bed, and lit a cigarette. "We're not supposed to mess around with whores, Steele."

"Hey! I'm not a whore."

"Oh, I'm sorry," Frost said, "is prostitue a better word? You take money for sex, that means you're a whore. Do me a favor and shut up."

"You're in a sour mood," Steele said casually.

"Damn right I am. You sneak off base and I have to risk mine and Carris's ass and waste our time looking for you. How many times have I had to bring your sorry ass back from dives like this?"

"I was gonna come back once I was done. Jesus, mate, you don't even have the decency to let a guy finish."

Frost ran a hand down his face.

"You know better, Steele! She's a whore, she could have an STD for all we know!"

"Actually, they're calling them STI's now. Have been for a for a while, mate."

"You're not even wearing a fucking condom!"

"She's on the pill."

"Jesus-fucking-Christ!" Frost threw up his arms. "Just get dressed and let's go." He pointed at the girl, still under the sheets. "And you! Did he give you the money or did he give the pimp the money?"

"Wha-"

"How much did he have to pay? Because we're getting every penny back."

"Hey!" the girl shouted, pointing accusingly at him. "That's not fair, there's no refunds for this."

Steele stood up then, his dog tags jingling around his neck.

"What's wrong with you, bruv?" He asked angrily, stepping closer to Frost. "You're really going to stiff this girl on the payment? That's damn cold-hearted."

"Damn right. Look at her, she barely looks a day past nineteen."

"I'm twenty-one!"

"You should be in college or something," Frost yelled.

"Oh really? I should? What're you, my dad?" The girl got out of the bed and began to dress. Frost averted his gaze. "You think because you wear that uniform you can talk down to me? Fuck you. You have no idea what it's like to live out here. People can barely scratch out a living in the Outer Colonies. Unless you have a farm or some fancy city job, you're going to be living on dirt. No place will hire me because I had to drop out when my parents died. It's either do this or starve. Don't fucking judge me!"

Still topless, the girl stormed out. Steele shook his head.

"Damn, bruvva."

Frost groaned, rubbing his forehead as a massive headache began to fester.

"Just get your clothes on, get your boots on, and let's get the fuck out of here."

---

Carris had stayed silent during the entire ordeal. She watched as Frost waited impatiently and Steele slid his clothes back on at a snail's place.

"I don't know why you'd waste your back pay on whores."

"Visiting whores is military tradition, mate."

"Don't pull that shit, it's not funny. I'm not in the mood. You should be saving that money for after the war."

"Oh, and when's the war gonna end, Nate? Hm? Next week? Tomorrow? Now?! You know something I don't, mister all-knowing?"

"I'm just thinking about the future, Lou."

"Future? Since when did we give a damn about the future. We're soldiers; the only goddamn thing we should be thinking of is now. The goddamn present."

"Oh, the present?"

"Yeah. And you know what I was thinking? We almost got overrun last night. They're gonna shower us with medals and awards and have a big fucking ceremony. But you know we almost didn't make it. If they broke through we would have been dead. And I was thinking that if I almost died last night, there's a chance I'll die next week, or tomorrow, or hell, maybe even a few seconds. So, before I die, I wanted to have just one more fuck. What's so bad about that, huh?"

"Some way to spend your money before you die," Frost said mockingly.

"The fuck do you know? You've never even been with a women. I've never even seen you glance at a porno mag! You're probably don't even wank, man!"

Frost groaned and shook his head.

"Don't make this about me."

"You don't know what it's like to have your knackers busting, mate. Soon as you're with a woman just one time, you'll understand." Steele threw his arms up into the air. "Bloody hell, man! Fuck the future, fuck the past! We're soldiers, we live in the present!"

"I'm not listening to this. I'm waiting outside. Carris, makes sure he has everything and then bring him downstairs." Frost began to depart but stopped in the doorway. He whirled around and pointed at Steele. "You're pissing in a cup once we're back on the I'm Alone! I won't have any of my squad members catch some disease because they couldn't keep their fuckin' hormones in check."

With that, he stormed out. Carris turned to face Steele. The sniper had finished pulling his trousers back on, had slid his socks on, and was now sitting on the bed lacing up his boots. A cigarette dangled from his mouth.

She wanted to say something, assert an opinion, but she wasn't sure what her opinion was. It veered towards Frost's side of the argument but Steele had a made a fair point. Carris understood both sides. Fearing that saying something might set him off, she instead kept silent. Instead, Steele began to speak.

"Frost's angry because he's worried. He doesn't want me catching some damned illness or something. Wants me combat effective and healthy."

"He's trying to look out for you," Carris said softly.

"Yeah, I know. Have to remind me-self when we bicker like this. Like an old married couple sometimes," he finished lacing one boot and stopped to take a drag on the cigarette. He chuckled nervously and shot Carris a look that almost seemed embarrassed. "Sorry you had to come along, love."

"You're sorry?"

He held his arms out.

"Sure this isn't a pleasant sight for ya."

Carris said nothing. Steele sighed, scratching his cheek nervously. "I hope you ain't ashamed of me or something."

Carris blinked. She had been with the squad for only a short time. It had been time well-spent, yes, but short nonetheless. Their company and humor and conversations and singing had become endearing things to her. Every morning she had woken up with an excited feeling inside her that she had never experienced before, as she knew they were going to do something new and strange and entertaining. Friends. She was afraid of using that word, as she had never had friends before. Not outside the Spartans, at least. Since she had met the squad, she had started to view her fellow Spartans as a family. A phrase that Grant had used during a conversation they had came to her mind. "No, no. Family doesn't count. Family's supposed to love you unconditionally. Anyone outside the family is a whole different ball game." How true that seemed now. For the first time in her life, she felt, she thought, that she had made friends. No matter how the word felt in her mouth, or how it seemed in her head, that was the only word she could use to describe them. Not once had she called them her friends though. She had expressed how she had begun to enjoy them, and they certainly made it clear they enjoyed her. Yet, the word 'friend' had yet to be said in her presence. Something told her then, as Steele sat nervously in front of her, shirtless and abashed, that they were indeed friends.

"Why would I be ashamed of you?"

"Well, you know, folks don't think too highly of those who visit prostitutes..."

"I wouldn't know anything about that." Carris walked over and knelt in front of him. "Can I tell you something?"

Steele, looking perplexed, leaned over and stubbed the cigarette out in an ashtray on the nightstand.

"Yeah, love?"

Carris sighed a little. His voice was quieter now, sweet and soft and fragile and intrigued and concerned and about a thousand other things that Carris couldn't find words for. Something about the way he spoke in a low voice, not in a whisper but not in a normal tone, shed his uncaring attitude.

"Before I tell you, will you promise not to tell anyone?"

Steele smiled.

"Cross my heart."

"I was conscripted when I was seven years old. I grew up with the other kids in a camp where we did nothing but train and study military doctrine. We never learned anything but that. We didn't learn about what alcohol does to the body, or about phrases people use when they talk, or about how people might think differently on the same subject. We didn't learn about a lot of things. And I've spent most of my life being a soldier, by myself; I barely picked up any of that along the way. I don't know any of this." She gestured with her free hand around the room. "I can't judge you. And even if I could, I won't."

"Why?"

"Because...we're friends."

The corner of Steele's mouth twitched, and then slowly smiled.

"Friends, eh? I like that." The smile disappeared then. "What about your old unit?"

Carris had forgotten about them in that moment. Waters had extended to her an invitation to join the task force. But what about the other Spartans? Surely, word had been sent that she would be returning to their fold. What was more important, sticking with her squad, her friends, or returning to her family? Carris looked away, her expression almost pained.

"I...I don't know. But-"

She paused as she heard raised voices being exchanged downstairs. One of them she clearly recognized as Frost's. Steele heard as well.

"Aw...fuck," he grunted. Quickly, he finished with his boots, then pulled on his undershirt and jacket, not even tucking them in. "Come on, the muscle is probably down there."

"Frost won't have any trouble with them," Carris said.

"No, he won't. But..." Steele searched for the words, his hands jittering like he was holding something hot. "We, we just can't let him fight."

"Why?"

"Because, when he fights actual people, he, uh...he, just gets a little mad."

"Angry?"

"No, love, not just angry."

Carris and Steele hurried down the stairs. When they got downstairs, they saw the man who had been at the desk flanked by two large, muscular men. The girl Steele had been with was behind him.

"No, they paid. They didn't take the money back. It's fine," she explained.

"Doesn't matter," said the desk man, "they come in here, threaten me, bust down a door, scare my employee, and interrupted my business, they need to pay up."

"I'm not paying you jack shit, friend-o," Frost said, his gray eyes dark and burning, his body tense, and his voice a deep growl.

"If you don't pay, you fight. Pick one."

Frost straightened himself up. Carris saw his hand slowly going for his knife. Steele did too apparently, as he pushed by everyone and stood in front of Frost, grabbing his wrist.

"Bruv, don't fight'em. Just let me pay them."

"We can take them easy."

"If you fight them, you'll kill them."

Carris wasn't going to stand there and listen. Still behind the pimp and the two muscle-heads, she tapped the one on the left. He turned around.

"What the fuck do you-"

Carris took her helmet and smashed it across his jaw. Teeth and blood went flying from is mouth as he fell to the sidewalk. He clutched his face and wailed. The other swung a punch, but Carris grabbed it with her free hand. She tightened her grip, causing the man to fall to his knees and scream as his hand was crushed in her grasp. Once she heard all of his fingers break, she let go and pushed him to the sidewalk. The pimp looked up at her, his eyes filled with fear.

"What the fuck...you fucking freak!"

Before Carris could take him down, Steele marched forward and grabbed the man by the collar.

"What you just call her, mate?"

"What-"

Steele kneed the man in the crotch several times and then threw him on the sidewalk hard. He kicked him in the gut once for good measure.

"Right," he said, wiping his hands together, "that solves that, shall we go?"

"Wait," Frost said, walking back into the whorehouse. When he returned, he was holding a large wad of cash in both hands. He went over to the girl who had been with Frost, who was standing there in terror, and stuffed both wads into her handbag. "Go home and don't come back to this place."

Steele chuckled.

"We robbin' them? Nice."

He bent over and took the wallet out of the pimp's pocket, and handed all the cash he had to her as well. Before he got into the Warthog, he knelt down over the pimp. "You come after this girl, we'll come after you. You hear me?"

The girl, terrified by the violence she had witnessed, amazed at the money that she had just been given, couldn't say a word. Carris looked at her for a few moments. She was an attractive young woman, with auburn hair that shone in the fleeting, orange sunlight. Her face had fine features and she wore only a dusting of makeup that made her dark eyes look even smokier.

Carris stepped over to her. The girl looked up slowly, shuddering ever so slightly.

"You want some control in your life?" Carris asked. "Then enlist."

With that, she got into the Warthog, and they drove off back to base.

---

Jasmine felt stupid lying on her stomach in one of the isolation rooms on the I'm Alone. Her staff had insisted that, she being the chief medical officer, she get a private room. Despite her protests at wanting to save the room for someone who actually needed it, and her want to be among the other wounded in the medical bay, they wouldn't listen. All of their fretting over her second degree burns was almost embarrassing. They applied more antibiotic cream and burn gel, then wrapped her again in bandages. Now, she had nothing to do but lay in the room, by herself, and rest.

Not once had Jasmine considered that she might once be on one of the medical cots. Perspective was a splendid thing; she found herself looking up, trusting these medical operatives in white lab coats and military scrubs to take care of her. Trust was as important to medicine as it was to daily life. Without it, Jasmine believed, a wounded soldier might give up. It was imperative that when a casualty looked up at the team about to operate on him, that he or she trusted them to heal them, ease their suffering. On that bed, she trusted them and she was proud of her personnel. Training had prepared them, that was for sure, but their own perseverance, their own tenacity, that's what made her want to shed a an inspired tear. They were magnificent.

"I brought you some books. Maybe you can find a comfortable angle to read them."

Vivian set a few of her non-medical books on the stand next to the bed before sitting down beside the bed. "How are you?"

"Good, actually. The pain is down."

"Good."

Vivian picked up one of the books and began reading. Jasmine looked at her for a moment. The master of the I'm Alone looked tired but contented. Little dark bags that had been forming under her eyes for days now had disappeared, her hair was neat, and her face was beginning to glow like it used to.

"You're getting so pale, Viv."

"I know."

"When we first met, you were almost as tan as me."

"Yeah. Now look at us. Nobody would know that you're half Spanish, half Iranian."

Jasmine chuckled.

"I like that we can still gripe about things like we used to."

"Me too. We have to, otherwise we'd lose our minds."

Vivian turned the page and continued reading, a small smile on her face. Jasmine closed her eyes, listening to her friend's quiet breathing. Having the presence of a friend in the room made the boredom of recuperation much more bearable.

Time passed. Vivian kept reading. Jasmine's mind wandered. Soon, she began to titter with laughter. Her companion eyed her with curiosity. "What's so funny...?"

"I was just thinking of Nate."

Vivian inhaled sharply.

"Yeah?"

"You should have seen his face when he was wrapping the bandages around my chest. He looked utterly petrified."

"Why?"

"Because I had to take everything off. He really hasn't seen a girl naked before. I had to help him."

"Middle of a combat zone, he should have quit fussing. He's a grown man."

Jasmine sighed.

"Grown up," she said out loud, "sometimes it doesn't feel that way."

"I know," Vivian murmured. "Sometimes-"

The door slid open. One of the staffers from the bridge appeared.

"Captain, we need you on the bridge right now. Something's happening."

Despite everyone telling her to stay, Jasmine followed Vivian to the bridge. She was wearing Frost's combat jacket, which was now dry. On the bridge, all of the officers and personnel were buzzing with confusions and urgency. Vivian took control of the situation in seconds.

"Everyone get back to your stations, keep your eyes on your console and your data. Sitrep."

"Ma'am, we've got massive movement around Calhoun City. Scans are almost complete."

Jasmine looked at Vivian, who was still as a statue as she watched the tactical screen. She knew what she was thinking. After the secondary reinforcements arrived, there had been numerous air and ground task forces tearing across the planet. Some had landed on the far side, combing the planet for the missing Covenant. Their communication had been so sporadic that it had been difficult to keep track of them. Such operational issues arose when there was more than one unified group. Marines and Army troopers were mixed together on the planet, and with commanders holding the rank of general running the show, they were bound to do whatever they thought was best. Which was expected, but breakdown in communications could occur when ground commander's suffered from tactical tunnel vision.

"It could be some of the untagged reinforcements," Jasmine whispered.

"No, it's Covenant. If it were UNSC, they'd be more organized in approach and not in battle formations." Vivian jumped into her command seat. "We're not waiting for the scans. Net call, net call; all available units on Mors, return to Calhoun City. Covenant assault imminent. Send all assets to Calhoun City, now!"

Just as the scans finished, revealing that the masses on the map were indeed Covenant infantry, the comms began to be bombarded with distressed voices. In a span of forty minutes, checkpoints in the city, scouts, and radio controllers reported an overwhelming infantry assault on the city. Covenant troops had light and heavy vehicles with them. Jasmine winced; they must have evacuated during the closing hours of the Battle at the Triangle. Or they had been clandestinely moved an entirely different task force while the UNSC had been distracted at Havens and the Triangle. The Covenant were slippery like that; they could hide themselves from orbital scans with certain devices, could move unseen and undetected over long tracts of land. Despite all their shiny armor, their growling voices, and their cumbersome vehicles, they were masters of stealth. A bombardment from orbit could never prove enough to kill an entire invading force of them. They could dig in and slip away, and the last thing the UNSC wanted was even a few rogue aliens on a colony world. Not to mention, despite the fact the Covenant were burning worlds like it was going out of style, the upper echelon of the UNSC tried to refrain from bombing their own planets. Their minds were already thinking far ahead, when re-colonization would take place. The less terraforming they had to do, the better. Jasmine found their far-sighted ideas foolish in a war such as this. All of those top brass nestled comfortably at Reach or on Earth were had no idea was it was like on the ground or in space. Their time had been spent fighting rebels, which was an entirely different type of war.

"How many troops do we have garrisoned in the city as of this moment?" Vivian asked.

"The garrison relieved from Camp Havens; about a thousand men from the 89th and a few thousand Army troops," Tsang answered.

"Damn it," Vivian rubbed her chin, "they've barely had a half-day's rest."

"Calhoun City has an extensive automated defense network," Tsang explained. "That'll give the defenders a fighting chance."

Jasmine looked at Vivian, who winced.

"Turrets will only get them so far..." she continued to think. "The turrets will tear Covenant infantrymen to pieces. Why would they risk an all out attack on the city when they could be attacking UNSC forces in the field..."

Vivian stood up then. "The turrets must have a control center, where they would monitor and power the guns. Zero in on its location."

In a few moments the location appeared on the large tactical screen. Red blips in the cityscape were massing around the building, which stood in a small, gated compound. Vivian slammed her fist down on her station. "I knew it! They're going to knock out the control center."

Jasmine pieced it together quickly. Without power to the guns, the entire defense network would shut down. Without the guns...the entire civilian populace would be massacred and the troops in the city wouldn't be able to protect them all. Evac ships were already descending to the city, but they would quickly be overrun without the turrets protecting them.

"They've only got a small contingent of troops at that control center. They'll be overrun." Vivian said, then put a finger to her earpiece. "Any units in Calhoun City close to the turret control center? They're in danger of falling."

Report after report came in: negative. Too many streets were locked down by traffic jams caused by civilians trying to flee one way and UNSC troops heading the other. Other streets were war zones, which troops were pinned down in the open. Platoons, entire companies of Army troops radioed in just before they were silenced and their yellow blips disappeared from the map. Aircraft were having difficulty providing cover to the troops in the city; they were forced to hover low and slow which made them sitting ducks for Covenant ground fire. Falcons were dropping from the sky like flies. Crash zones caused garrison units to be diverted to rescue survivors.

Jasmine watched in silent terror as red blips filled up the city streets. Many large clots of the red dots were still massing at the control center. Vivian had a sheen of sweat on her forehead. "Any units at all? Anyone?"

That's when a large yellow dot caught Jasmine's eye on the map. A familiar voice dominated the comms suddenly.

"This is Sergeant Frost! I've got my squad and a hell of a lot of ordinance, we're diverting and moving fast in a Warthog to the control center. We could use some air cover while we push in. Over. "

Vivian blinked in surprise, but her face tightened in determination.

"You don't have much time, Sergeant. I need you to floor it and get inside the control center. Defend the generator at all costs. Over."

"Solid copy."

"I'll work on getting you reinforcements, out. General Sacco, come in-"

"Ma'am, you should be using the proper call signs," Decatur said.

"We don't have time for that, Decatur. General Sacco, do you read?"

"Sacco here, I'm back at the Triangle trying to reorganize my troops. I'll be pulling all of them back and we'll make a bee-line for the city. Over."

"How long will that take, over?"

"An hour, tops, but-"

"An hour!?" Vivian yelled. "Sir, I have troops trapped in the city and civilians dying in scores. I don't care how much organizing you have to do; grab some ammo, get in your vehicles, and get the fuck over there. Out."

"Captain, he's a higher rank than you..." Decatur began.

"I don't give a damn," Vivian muttered. Jasmine watched her gaze return to the large tactical screen. Everyone's eyes were on Frost's yellow dot. The dot plowed through what looked like oceans of red, busted through the compound's main gates, and stopped right in front of the main entrance. Their comms had been patched in and they were all listening in.

---

"Carris, stay on that gun until it's out of ammo. Steele, stay here and provide cover for her. Maddox, rig some charges on the Hog, we'll use it as a barricade for this entrance. Langley, get on the horn and start calling in gun runs. We're the only unit in this area."

Frost and the rest of the squad had rushed into the small lobby of the building. They hunkered down behind the wall to the right of the entrance.

"What about civvies?" she asked.

"Covenant are all over this area. The civilians here are either all dead or heading to the spaceports. You tell those Shortswords to keep firebombing the streets around here until the Covenant stop coming."

Frost looked around. Shattered glass littered the floor and there were dozens of bodies.

"Moser, Grant, with me. There may be Covenant inside. Let's make sure this building is clear. Bishop, Knight, barricade windows and doors. Maddox, once you're done with the charge, help them."

Frost led Moser and Grant in a sweep of the first floor. Dead Covenant mixed with dead Army troops and technicians. Deciding against a sweep of the second floor, as the building was too large and any Covenant up there would have the advantage. His mind was already swirling with a plan. Defending the entire building with only one squad would be next to impossible, even with Carris and her armor. All of the terminals and panels on the first and second floors were not important; Maddox with all of his technical acumen would be able to reroute the control of the turrets to the terminals in the basement where the generator was located. Turning the basement into a death trap for any attackers was the only way they could prevent the building from falling and to keep themselves alive.

After the first sweep, Frost ordered Maddox went to the central terminal on the first floor and diverted all control into the basement. Bishop and Knight took every single piece of moveable objects to the doors and windows. When the chaingun ran out of ammo, Carris and Steele entered the buildings, allowing Maddox to detonate the charge on the Warthog. Ushering the squad into the basement, Frost began to contemplate. They had just pulled into the garrison compound when the Covenant began to attack. Officers directed the troops to the armory; everyone suited back up, grabbed as much ammo and weaponry as they could, and embarked on the vehicles. Forming a defense inside a city was nearly impossible; skyscrapers were impossible to occupy with even a hundred men, city streets could be turned into death traps for the defenders and the attackers, and no matter how many bodies they put into the field, they'd never be able to hold every intersection. The inner city base and the spaceport were the only areas to form a unified defense. Most of the civilians and the garrison had gone there; the first ones out were either trapped or slaughtered as they tried to ride out and meet the invaders. Scores of civilians had been slaughtered; on the ride to the turret control center, Frost had seen mounds of bodies discarded by the Covenant.

Whether the city would last the night, Frost was unsure. Could it be retaken? Yes. From the chatter he was receiving over the net, Sacco and the other field commanders were pooling their troops and vehicles and were trying to get to the city. If it fell to the enemy fore they got there, they could counterattack and take it back. Although, that meant all of the civilians and defenders who hadn't been able to escape would be dead by that point. As the others set about shoring up defenses in the generator room, Frost found a secluded spot and sat down. He tipped his helmet up a little and pinched the bridge of his nose. The basement they now inhabited was could end up being their tomb and he had led them straight into it. Some master tactician he was; some leader, some friend, forcing them there. When he walked back to the others, they were still working diligently. They weren't blind; they knew what could end up happening down in the basement. Typical siege. They'd hole themselves up in the most defendable spot, make the Covenant pay dearly, but in the end, run out of ammo and be slaughtered as they fought hand-to-hand.

"You good, bruv?" Steele asked, giving Frost a thump on the shoulder. Frost sighed.

"You must be perceptive."

"Whatcha you mean?"

"What you were saying earlier, in the whorehouse. You were smart to take that chance while you could."

Steele shook his head.

"Whatever you're thinking of bruvva, why don't you just get it out of your head, eh?" He smiled. "Tell you what, once we get outta here, we should hit one of those hole-in-the-wall places I saw on the streets."

"Nobody'll be back in there."

"We know how to bloody cook!" Steele chortled. "Now come on!"

Frost followed Steele as they took stock. There were only two staircases into the basement, and Maddox had rigged another charge to collapse the ceiling onto it, rendering it impassable. All of the booby traps they could devise could be placed in the other staircase. Aside from the usual weapons they carried, they had brought more ammunition than normal, and the building had a decent armory. Every crate with ammunition, grenades, or other equipment was brought down. As for weapons, the arsenal was overflowing with shotguns and SMGs, perfect for close quarters combat. The dead had been stripped of ammunition and their weapons as well, morbid as it was to loot a corpse. There had been no survivors, but they had been able to kill the first wave. Frost had found the last man with an empty pistol surrounded by an entire squad of deceased Grunts.

The basement itself was quite small. It was square shape with a machine room to keep the building running to the right from the only passable staircase, and the other functions controlled in another room to the left. Both rooms contained their ammunition; the last thing they needed was a plasma grenade to detonate their ammunition, causing a china reaction that would kill them and obliterate the basement. Within the square was another room, which contained the massive generators that powered the city-wide turret system. The walls were made up of large glass windows, so they took all of the empty crates and furniture such as spare desks and made a chest high barrier in front of the window wall facing the stairs. It would protect the generator from any plasma bolts that were fired in as well as giving them a decent amount of cover. Other hardpoints were created with empty crates at the base of the staircase, where there was a small landing, giving them distance from the booby trapped grenades they had left on the first floor and on the staircase itself. While not as impenetrable as Frost would have preferred, it would serve its purpose well enough.

"Alright, Langley, give me the handheld, I'm making a call."

---

Vivian paced the bridge. She wasn't nervous, just tense. Her eyes kept darting back to the tactical screen, where she watched the yellow marks on the map slowly move towards Calhoun City. UNSC forces inside the city had congealed at the spaceports at the south end of the city and the garrison's compound to the southwest. On the map blue force tracking map-a name she found humorous at times as UNSC marked friendly forces with yellow-they came up as two bulky masses of yellow. The only other yellow dots to be found in the city was a small one at the turret control center.

He was there. Yes, he was there alright. Ready to sacrifice him and his entire squad for the greater good. Vivian wanted to feel a semblance of satisfaction; Jack the Ripper, the murderer, the knife-fighter, the monster, would meet his end. Certainly, he'd receive much more honor than he deserved, but as long as the bastard turned up dead at the end of this, it was fine by her.

That's how she wanted to think, wanted to feel. But something made her think twice. Every so often she'd look over at Jasmine. Jasmine was standing stock still, her eyes never leaving the tactical screen. Anyone who followed her gaze could see that she was watching Frost's squad's dot. Her presence on the bridge made Vivian feel different; not nervous but constricted. It felt to her as though every move she would make would effect Frost's position.

And there was a part of her, the side of her that purely military, that felt furious and grieved and frustrated to leave soldiers out to dry. There was nothing she could do. Nothing! Any actions she could take were limited and would have to be requested by Frost.

"How long until reinforcements can get to the city?" Jasmine asked suddenly.

"It's been almost an hour," Vivian answered, "Sacco's trying to move a large number of troops and armor to one point. Easier said than done; a smaller force is easier to order around and keep track of. We've got cumbersome units all over the field and orders can get mixed up.

"And how long until they reach...the control center?"

"Considering the reinforcements will have to fight their way through, and the Covenant are dug in like ticks now, it may take some time."

"They'll die."

Good. They ought to get it over with.

"We don't know that yet," Vivian said, emotionless.

"Look at all the red...isn't there anybody you can send?"

I'm not risking anyone for that murderer.

"We don't have any reserves."

"I'm Alone, come in, this is Frost."

Everyone on the bridge visibly tensed up. Frost's voice, filling the entire bridge, was unusually serious; cold and dark, like a nighttime snowfall.

"Go ahead, Sergeant," Vivian said.

"We've fortified the basement of the control center. There's only one way in or out. We've got plenty of ammunition and weapons to hold out for a while. The turrets in this area have been holding them off for a while but I think they're getting ready for an attack. We didn't find any survivors."

"Sergeant, you won't be getting anything in the shape of reinforcements for over an hour."

"Can you give me an estimate?"

Vivian looked at the map. She looked at how far away any UNSC forces were, and how slow they were moving. She looked at the clouds of red on the map.

"No, I can't. Covenant are entrenched in the city and reinforcements are a long ways off." Vivian sighed. "You may have to pull an all nighter again."

There was a long pause. Silence gripped the bridge. Even Decatur didn't move. Vivian couldn't wait.

"I need a no bullshit assessment right now, Frost. Can you do it?"

Another period of silence. Finally, in a low voice, he responded. Perhaps he had moved away from his squad.

"I don't think we'll be able to hold."

Vivian glanced at Jasmine, who was hiding her despair well. One of her hands hung limply by her side while the other clutched the collar of Frost's jacket. Rubbing her forehead, Vivian looked at the floor.

"I'm giving you one chance to bug out. Talk with your squad, take a vote, I don't care, you make a decision if you want to pull out of there right now."

"Wait, one." Less than thirty seconds passed before the reply came. "Yep, just got a resounding no on that offer, myself included. We know what we're getting into down here."

Vivian saw Jasmine shut her eyes and shake her head. Before she could say anything, Frost continued.

"Ever heard of Sergeant Yakov Pavlov?"

"Can't say that I have."

"Pavlov was a Soviet soldier during the Second World War. Led a small unit that held a strategically placed apartment building for sixty days against overwhelming odds. They called the building 'Pavlov's House,' after him."

"You won't be in there for sixty days, Sergeant, I assure you."

"Nah, that's not the point. If we hold out in time for reinforcements, I want this building renamed to 'Frost's House.'"

Quiet laughter fill the bridge. Vivian did her best not to smile. She imagined him standing there with the handheld, that smile on his face. Laughter was sweet in the face of death, she supposed. Nothing could raise a soldier's morale like a dumb joke.

"I'm sure Hayes can have a word with the mayor after this is over," Vivian answered. "Good luck, Sergeant."

"Frost, out."

Jasmine went over to Vivian.

"You need to be straight with me right now," she whispered. Anger was rare of Jasmine, Vivian knew, but the urgency in her voice meant she could boil over at any moment. "I know he happened to be in the area, but are you holding back reinforcements because you want him to die?"

"Jas, you've been staring at the map since you came onto the bridge. Do you see anyone I can send over there? Are their troops that I don't know about that I can deploy? You tell me, Jasmine, where are these reinforcements you think I have?"

"You have to do something," Jasmine said, almost pleading. "I could have died down there. He saved my life. We can't leave him."

"Jasmine-"
"Do you want him dead?"
"Of course I do," Vivian hissed, "but I made a promise to you, didn't I?"

Before they could exchange another word, a voice interrupted them.

"I'll go."

Vivian turned around saw Captain De Vos standing in her full ODST attire, her M7 SMG with the optical sight and suppressor in one hand and her helmet in the other. De Vos had returned to the I'm Alone three hours ago to provide a report and take care of logistics. The ODSTs in the field, led by Holst, were having trouble being supplied.

All eyes had turned to orange haired ODST XO. She stood firmly. Vivian approached her.

"What do you mean you'll go?"

"Let me grab some extra ammo and I'll drop into the compound, give them another fighting hand."

"Captain De Vos, you do understand that Sergeant Frost is preparing for a last stand?"

"Yes," said the rigid Belgian officer.

"Reinforcements are a long ways off, you'll have no support on the ground..."

"I understand."

Vivian grimaced. She needed every good soldier she could get her hands on. One of the drawbacks about the task force was that it had a limited number of combat personnel. Victories and successful missions had followed them since they had left Reach, but over time it would begin to drain them of manpower. Ammunition could be replaced. Food could be replaced. Vehicles and aircraft could be replaced. Veteran soldiers could not be replaced. Tactical expertise, experience, bravery, battle prowess, these were all traits of the veterans. Lucky for her, the 89th MEU and Holst's ODSTs were all battle proven. The more she lost from both groups, the less effective they'd be on the ground. Casualties had been light so far; many wounded had wounds that could be treated on the ship and they could be return to duty in a few weeks or even less. Worse wounds held men in the infirmaries for longer durations of time but they could return eventually as well. Soldier who had debilitating injuries or had their minds broken had to be sent away. And the dead ones spoke for themselves. No matter how well a battle went, she would lose people. Losing people made them weaker. Losing someone like De Vos would be a major blow.

De Vos was a well-known, popular, and effective leader and soldier. At the age of sixteen, she had enlisted with the Army and was sent to the Outer Colonies. At seventeen, she joined the Army Airborne, which was no small accomplishment. When she was eighteen, she became a Pathfinder in the Airborne. Becoming a Pathfinder required a good sense of maps, direction, and tactical coordination. She made a name for herself by dropping in ahead of Army counterattacks and lighting up drop zones for Airborne units. During this time she earned a battlefield commission and later volunteered for the ODSTs. Her skills led her to being the right hand of the distinguished Major Holst.

All of that experienced showed in her eyes, green like her armor. Vivian sighed. There was no choice in the matter. A non-military type would have said there was; she just needed to put her foot down and order De Vos not to go. But a soldier volunteering for a suicide mission was someone you couldn't say no to.

"Sosa, bring us over the turret control center." Vivian ordered, then turned back to De Vos. "Captain De Vos, prepare to drop."

De Vos saluted smartly and marched off to the HEV bay.

"Brass balls," Bassot murmured.

"Shut up," Tsang grunted.

"Sergeant Frost, I have an ODST preparing to jump into the compound. We're going to send her right through the roof. Be prepared to nab her and get back into the basement. Over."

"No disrespect, Captain, but does she know what's going on down here? Over."

"She does. Over."

She heard him sigh on the other end.

"I'll take whoever I can get. Just make sure-" there was an explosion. "Here they come!" Frost cried. "Captain, we're going to leave our comms channel open. When you hear someone say, 'last man,' drop a MAC on top of the compound! I repeat, when you hear 'last man,' drop a-Steele, look out-"

Vivian watched as Jasmine took out her earpiece and hurriedly left the bridge. She heard Frost and his squad members yelling over the comms, accompanied by gunshots, explosions, and every so often the barking of an alien. As twenty minutes passed, she slammed her fist on her station. Everyone looked over at her in shock.

"That cuts it," she growled. She changed frequencies, deciding to exercise her operational command, "All UNSC frigates in the AO, enter atmosphere and start supporting the troops in Calhoun City."

"Ma'am, I thought we needed all ships on standby in case the Covenant show up," Tsang said.

"They aren't going to show up." Vivian assured him. "I want a two frigates at the spaceport, two frigates at the army garrison. Lion's Den, Determined Guardian, I want you over Frost's position."

"Ma'am, we're over the turret control center," Sosa reported some minutes later. Once more, Vivian changed frequencies.

"Captain De Vos, are you ready."

"Mean and green, Captain Waters."

"Drop."

---

A descending HEV was better than any roller coaster, De Vos had decided a long time ago. Originally, she had thought jumping from a Pelican at ten thousand feet and falling in a parachute was. After that, performing a high-altitude, low-opening jump from thirty thousand feet was the best adrenaline rush. Yet, it was beaten by an inch by the HEV. HEV's rattled the occupant's entire frame, made their insides roil and roll, made their mind go fuzzy just a little. During combat jumps, Covenant AA would try to take them down. Streams of blue plasma would fly by and green explosive bolts would make the HEV shudder. Nothing beat the landing though, as the HEV buried its bottom in the earth and the hatch popped off, revealing whatever battle-scarred landscape to the occupant. In that moment, when the hatch was gone and the harness lifted, that was when an ODST's mettle was truly tested.

De Vos peered down at the city. Fires created thick columns of black smoke that the HEV cut through. Explosions dotted the cityscape. As the HEV got closer, she could see the dots of Covenant soldiers rampaging through the city, surrounding the control center. With a massive crash, the HEV broke through the roof of the building, smashed through the second floor, and settled on the first floor. The harness lifted as the hatch popped open and De Vos jumped out. The impact had caused a horde of Covenant to dive out of the way, and the concussion had stunned them. Groggily, Grunts, Jackals, and Skirmishers slowly tried to get up. Not willing to give them any time, De Vos tossed a frag in each direction and sprinted through the stunned mob. The grenades detonated, causing bodies and limbs to be thrown all over. Other aliens who were not close by were shocked and confused to see an ODST come storming through the first floor, shoulder-checking Jackals and meleeing Grunts as she passed. They were so startled that they didn't even fire at her.

"Frost, this is De Vos. I'm at the staircase and moving fast. Watch your fire!"

"Solid copy!" came his reply over the comms.

When she started descending the staircase, she was confronted by numerous Covenant dead. Booby traps had gone off and killed dozens, and the walls were pockmarked by bullets. Quickly, she sprinted down and through the makeshift barrier. A hand reached out, grabbed her breastplate, and pulled her into cover. It was Frost. "I'd say it's good to see you but you've entered a world of shit."

"We're soldiers, we get paid to live in shit," she replied. Frost smiled. He looked weary and dirty already. All of his soldiers did. They were panting, reloading their weapons as they waited for the next Covenant assault.

"We've held off three waves since we got off the horn with Waters," Frost explained. They got the jump on us the first time and a few managed to get in, but we killed them with hand weapons. We've got plenty of ammunition in the side rooms, and we've got multiple loaded weapons spread out along here. You run out of ammo in your primary weapon and don't have time to reload, there's another weapon close by."

"Good thinking."

"Ma'am, will you be taking command?" he asked. De Vos de-polarized the visor of her helmet and smiled.

"You've got things under control here. As far as I'm concerned, you're running the show. Rank right now doesn't matter. Where do you need me?"

With a smile he stepped from where he was behind the barrier, "Right here will do," he said. De Vos nodded and took the position. Just as her visor polarized, she felt his hand on his shoulder. "Thanks for coming."

She nodded.

---

Carris watched as Frost sat down and took out a small tin. He popped the cover, dipped his finger in, and applied the same war paint he had just before they came down to the planet a few days earlier.

"Why does he do that? Camouflage isn't necessary in this environment."

"Fuck if I know," Steele mumbled as he took a drag on a cigarette. Something in his voice told her that he knew more than he let on. But she took the hint: he didn't feel like sharing. When Frost finished, he put his helmet back on and stood up.

"Alright guys," he said, his voice possessing a tender tone, "I don't mean to scare you or to lower your spirits. We all decided to get into this hole and fight. We all know how this might play out. I have complete confidence in all of you that we'll make it out of here in one piece, and I promise that when we're relieved, we'll take a walk through this city and find a place to have breakfast." Everyone laughed a little, even Carris. Frost's smile disappeared. "If things turn up the other way..." He sighed. "It's been a good run, huh?"

"Sure has," Bishop responded with a grin.

"Don't want to be anywhere else," Grant piped up.

"Alright then, make sure your heads are clear, and get ready."

Speeches were not his strong-suit, Carris decided, but there was a plain honest in his words and his voice that touched her all the same. Clearing her head was something she had never done before. There had been no need. Spartans devoted all of their thoughts to the operation; objectives, team members, enemy threat, potential snags, mission parameters, support options, exfil. Distractions were never a problem. At this time, however, Carris found herself thinking of home. Tribute, a world she could hardly remember. A school came to mind, lectures from adults too. Dodgeball games played through her mind like an old film reel. Those had been fun. Her mind went to the training she had endured, the rough teachings of Chief Mendez, the attention-demanding but quite tone of Dr. Halsey's voice, the screaming of the instructors. Carris closed her eyes for a moment, glad to be wearing her helmet. Clear your head. But she couldn't. Recent memories began to play out; cooking french toast and preparing Thanksgiving dinner. A hundred conversations and songs. Her eyes gazed out at the squad and for some reason she missed them, even though they were right there.

They won't get any of you.

Carris pushed everything from her mind and focused. Clarity came with situations like these, she supposed. Her eyes then caught a little movement. She saw Grant, bracing his feet, his assault rifle raised, lower his left hand and extended it out and backwards as Moser passed by. Moser gave a low-five as he passed and took up position to his right. Grant then brought his hand back up. Then she spotted Bishop take a swig from his canteen before giving a few pats on top of Maddox's helmet as he stood up. Maddox got to his feet and bumped his fist against Knight's as they all manned the barrier. Knight went up behind Langley and gave her ponytail a gentle tug, which made her smile as she put her helmet back on. Frost came over to Steele, who was beside Carris still, and they exchange a quick hug. A dozen or so little gestures and taps and hugs were exchanged between the squad. They all came to Carris took, bumping fists or delivering a solid pat to her pauldron. She returned the gestures, gently over course, otherwise she'd break their hands. At first she was confused but then it hit her when she saw Frost look back at Steele again, a lifted his hand up for a moment. Steele returned the wave and then returned his attention to the staircase. Yes, she understood now. Just in case, they were saying goodbye.

"Hey, C?"

Carris looked down at Steele, who was holding a DMR.

"Yes?"

He looked at her, his eyes apologetic and sad.

"Sorry you ended up in here with us."

"I'd rather be here than anywhere else."

"You wouldn't say that if you'd ever visit a California beach," Grant said from across the room. Everyone groaned and chuckled.

"Here they come!" De Vos yelled. Carris trained her modified MA5B forward. A horde of Grunts came storming down the stairs with plasma grenades already armed. The squad annihilated them and a series of blue explosions rocked the staircase, sending body parts and blue alien blood everywhere. Jackals came next, tried to form a shield wall again. Grenades quickly sorted them out and they were quickly dispatched. Skirmishers tried to sprint through the fire but shotguns and close range didn't allow them to get through. Brutes came next, roaring and filling the air with their stench. Grenades and shotguns made quick work of them but they got too close, allowing Skirmishers that had been behind them to storm through the barrier. Weapon buttstocks collided with Skirmisher skulls. Knives buried themselves in throats and bellies. Punches and kicks thudded against flesh. Carris picked a Skirmisher up by the neck and delivered a solid punch which practically caved in the alien's face. She grabbed another one of the fragile aliens and tore its arm off from the socket before throwing it down and curb stomping it. Another jumped on her shoulders but she grabbed it by the neck and with all of her strength slammed it on the floor; from the sickening series of cracks she was sure she had broken every bone in its body. An Elite came storm through with an energy's wore but Carris dodged its thrust, pinned its sword arm between her torso and left arm, took her blade in her right hand and jammed it into the Elite's eye socket. Grabbing the energy sword, she parried another attack from a sword-armed Elite and impaled it right in the gut. Kicking the corpse of the blade, she was tackled by a Brute that came rushing right through the barricade. She headbutted the beast several times before it recoiled and she slashed it across the gut; the Brute howled as its intestines came spilling out.

The whole barricade was a mess of flailing limbs. The marines were stabbing and slashed as quick as they could. A few maintained their shotguns, firing at Elites and Brutes before they could get close. Grant was on top of a Jackal, forcing his sidearm in its beak-like mouth before emptying a clip. De Vos delivered a solid roundhouse kick to a Skirmisher before pumping half a clip of her M7 into it. Frost had grabbed a BR55 and was swing it by the barrel, using the heavy stock like a club, bashing Grunts aside. Bishop was practically sitting on the barricade, complete exposed, firing a shotgun until it was out of ammunition. Maddox would then hand him a fully loaded shotgun, which Bishop would fire into the crowd of attacking aliens while Maddox reloaded the other.

As the throng of Covenant finally began to thin out, leaving the squad up to their knees in dead Covenant, they heard a heavy stomping sound. A Hunter appeared at the bottom of the stairs; the huge, blue armored, spiked beast made a strange, garbled roar.

"Oh shit!" someone cried.

"Knight, the rocket launcher!" Frost shouted. Knight slid up the barrier with his rocket launcher, just as the Hunter was charging up its plasma cannon. "Backblast clear! Fire!"

Everyone ducked as the pair of rockets detonated against the Hunter. Grenades followed and when the dust settled, the mangled beast was dead.
"Here comes the second! Grenades, now!"

Frost helped Knight reload but Carris realized the Hunter was going to fire before they could. Seizing the moment, Carris leaped over the barricade, dropping her MA5B as she did. Priming a grenade, she charged at the Hunter. The Hunter ceased charging its plasma cannon and brought its huge shield on the left arm to bear. Carris jumped over the shield as the Hunter swung it, and landed on its shoulders. Before it had a chance to reached, she took her knife, gouged out a chunk of its exposed, orange, worm neck, and with a powerful punch, stuck the grenade into its neck. She then jumped over it, sliding on the floor back to the barricade. The grenade explode, tearing out a section of its upper back, shoulders, and its head. But as the alien began to crumple to the floor, Carris saw that the plasma cannon had begun to charge. She realized it was about to fire. Quickly, she darted forward and kicked the cannon a second before it fired. Instead of hitting the barricade, the blast was fired into the wall right where Carris was standing. As she was thrown back, Carris felt an immense amount of heat pin-pricking her all over. That kind of pain from plasma would have been debilitating to a normal soldier; luckily for her, her armor absorbed most of the damage.

Still, the concussion was powerful and knocked her onto the floor. A direct hit from a Hunter's assault cannon could kill a Spartan, armor and all. Her ears ringing, her vision fuzzy, and her body weak, Carris tried to get up.

"Carris! Carris!" she heard the others cried. In a moment they were around her.

"Drag her back behind the barricade!"

"There's no way we can do that, her armor's too heavy!"

"What're we gonna do then, just leave her there?"

Carris was on her back and could them all standing over her, a few with their weapons raised. Frost knelt over her, as did Steele, who put a hand on the side of her helmet.

"Hey, you in there?" he asked. Carris nodded slowly.

"How much does the armor weigh?"

"One thousand pounds..."

"Holy fuck," Steele murmured. Frost took control quick.

"Alright, if we work together we can get her back behind the barricade. Bishop, take her under the armpits. Knight, Maddox, you two on the left arm. Moser, Grant, you two on the right arm. De Vos and me will take the left leg, Steele, Langley, take the right."

Everyone took hold, finding it difficult even just to lift her arms and legs. Carris watched, still took out of it to move herself. "Alright, one, two, three!"

They hardly lifted her off the ground. "Okay, fuck picking her up. Drag her." Frost, Steele, De Vos, and Langley re-positioned themselves on either side of her and began to pull. To her surprise, they were able to move her. At a snail's space, with their faces red, their voices grunting in exertion, and sweat pouring down their faces, they were finally able to get her behind the barricade.

"I think I need to sit down," Knight groaned.

"One thousand pounds...ain't got...shit...on us..." Steele huffed.

"Got any words of wisdom on combined strength?" Grant asked Moser. The latter shook his head, still panting.

Carris felt her helmet being pulled off and was met with Steele's concerned face.

"The hell was that, huh? You trying to get yourself killed?"

Carris, finally regaining her senses, smiled a little.

"Trying to save our asses from getting turned to goo, you ungrateful bastard," she croaked. Steele blinked and then he laughed. Carris took her helmet back and put it on.

"Here they come again!"

---

Frost emptied his assault rifle and snatched up a shotgun. He fired into the mob of Covenant that was charging at them. The pile of corpses in front of them and around them was beginning to grow higher. It was becoming impossible to traverse. Brass cartridges and spent shells littered the floor, and more than once, someone would trip. Plasma burned by them, striking the barriers in front of the generator. Frost kept firing. Everyone kept firing. And when the Covenant would close in, they use anything they could to fight back. Their knives were slick with purple and blue blood. He was practically going deaf from the amount of grenades they were throwing in close quarters. Bits of shrapnel had skinned his already scarred forearms and had turned the sleeves of his t-shirt. He wondered if Jasmine still had his armor with her. It wouldn't have helped anyways.

He picked up an SMG and began spraying into the charging aliens as they tried to push past the piles of their fallen comrades. He lost all sense of time down in that basement; he didn't know what time it was, how many hours had passed. For all he knew, days could have passed. His hands were numbed from firing for so long. Everyone was tired and dirty. The world above him was shaking. He hoped the lights wouldn't go out.

A hand slapped his weapon from his grasp. Then, Frost was kicked to the ground. Frost looked up to see an Elite towering over him, an energy sword raised high over its head.

"C'mere you son of a..."

Steele jumped onto its back and drove his knife into its neck a dozen times. The alien roared but eventually slumped over. Steele stood up and pulled Frost to his feet.

"Watch out!"
They both turned as a horde of Skirmishers threw themselves over the barricade. Frost drew his knife and began stabbing indiscriminately, trying to claw his way of the squirming bodies he was buried under.

---

"Long before Custer died at the Little Bighorn, the myth of the Last Stand already had a strong pull on human emotions, and on the way we like to remember history. The variations are endless — from the three hundred Spartans at Thermopylae to Davy Crockett at the Alamo — but they all tell the story of a brave and intractable hero leading his tiny band against a numberless foe. Even though the odds are overwhelming, the hero and his followers fight on nobly to the end and are slaughtered to a man. In defeat the hero of the Last Stand achieves the greatest of victories, since he will be remembered for all time..."

-Nathaniel Philbrick, historian

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Author's Note:

This is by far the longest chapter I have written for this story. At 33 pages in Google Docs and standing at 17,447 words (not including the author's note but including the end quote), I have decided that every twenty-five chapters will be a chapter be longer than the usual range I go for. Essentially, every twenty-five will contain some extreme event or events, and will not always be limited to combat. As well, they will present some kind of change in the story; what kind of change remains to be seen. ;) Hoped you enjoy the longer chapter and that it was worth the wait.

I'd also like to issue a tremendous thank you to all of the new followers to this story; I appreciate you taking the time to read. Feel free to PM or leave a comment, I enjoy talking with my readers.

So, comment responses:

Alpha HighBreed: In answer to an earlier point you made that I overlooked (my bad), I'm not too keen on the use of Sparrowhawks. A lot of the vehicles introduced in Halo Wars I really enjoyed but there was something about the Hawk that just irked me. I think it had more to do with the design and the fact that the Hornet was just a more stylish aircraft while the Sparrowhawk looks more like a generic gunship I've seen from a dozen other sci-fi games. Not to mention, as the lore states, they were pretty well used during the fire decade but afterwards became harder to maintain; while stricter deployment didn't hit in full until 2550, I think we can assume in the time leading up to that point they financial and material demands were beginning to take its toll. They'll make an appearance from time to time but seeing as how Hornets already pack a mean punch with cannons and rockets and Vivian's task force has a strong complement of Longswords and Shortswords for air support, the Sparrowhawk is kind of unnecessary in my opinion. As for entities like Grizzlies and Vultures, they will definitely be making their appearances, but not just yet.

As for the combat, thank you. What I'm trying to do is make the fighting as barbaric as possible, but also show how it affects soldiers in that moment, by having them exhibit the full range of emotion; anger, happiness, sadness, fear, etc. Bitterness coincides with anger and joy with happiness, such as surviving and being able to take out their anger on the retreating Covenant. I'm glad that's making for good reading.

MightBeGone: Okay, some I'm a little confused. So is the ship name for Carris and Steele, Starris or is it Cattle? Is it both? XD I'm glad you enjoy the chemistry between the two but anything could happen. And yes, Carris is over eighteen; she's thirty-one in fact. And as for custom characters for the audience, I'm still thinking about it because I'm not sure how well I'd do with requests, know what I mean? As for character deaths, well, that's up to me, MWHAHAHAHA! All I have to do is push one button and POOF, there goes a character! And uh, my profile is the truth. All I have is on this site is this story. I have a DeviantArt profile with some other works, but they're mainly practice works or one-offs or really, REALLY old pieces that I'm not sure how I feel about. I'm no James Patterson, trust me. But I'm planning on some original work over the summer that I'm keep under wraps for now; hopefully I'll be able to publish it for real though.

chase8999: ...well, uh...seeing as how chase has now disappeared in a flash of light...I'm not too sure what to say. Um...guess we'll have to wait until he comes back...uh...hang on to your hats everyone, I've got a bad feeling about this.