Chapter 27: In Your Head

Frost paced anxiously beside the bulkhead outside the bridge. His hands were jammed into his light green foliage MARPAT utility uniform, his shoulders were hunched, and his head hung low. The bridge doors remained firmly shut and no personnel entered or left the compartment. Out in the corridor, there was a single service member except for him. Even the supporting facilities lining the hall from the elevator to the bridge were devoid of life.

It was eerie to the Marine to see a ship with so many thousands of crew members suddenly seem so barren. He recalled when the Pelican touched down in the miniscule hangar of Best of the Best; the mutineers and the loyal crew had boxed themselves up into the most important facilities of the Halberd-class destroyer. All the halls and nonessential compartments were left empty. So many empty spaces made a larger ship appear ever bigger.

When he recalled the barricades, the bodies, and the mutineers, Frost's pace slackened somewhat. The memories came in brief flashes; his KA-BAR knife glinting in the low-level white light of the backup generators, pressing the blade against the mutineer's flesh, and leaping in front of Vivian to take the bullet. Chamberlain, in his insanity, thought he could fight his way out by himself, or perhaps just wanted to take his opponent out with him. Like a feudal lord sitting upon his courtly throne, Chamberlain appeared in his bloodstained tunic and his M6D in his hand. Sitting confidently in the captain's chair, he appeared more like a shadow than a man. Behind him, the mutineers with their weapons raised, took on the twisted, darkened, roiling shapes of shadows.

Then, the bridge of the Best of the Best was enveloped in pale white mist. It was cold and blinding; when Frost opened his eyes he found himself standing in the frozen, snowy mud of the mining complex. In front of him were not the armed mutineers but the smugglers. All were on their knees and had their hands behind their heads. But he wasn't standing where he remembered. The wind was relentless and he had to wrap his arms around himself to stave off the chil. Looking away, he saw himself standing there with his weapon down. Suddenly, the scene was lit in brilliant white light. He watched as his other self surged forward, knocked Steele out of the way, and raised his rifle to the closest prisoner. Raising his hand, he tried to cry out and make him stop, but his voice faltered. The rifle went off and the muzzle flash blinded him.

When the doors to the bridge finally opened, Frost nearly jumped. A cadre of officers from the battlegroup, all clad in gray service uniforms with colorful ribbon racks on their chests, filed out. Many looked pale and depressed, their heads hanging low and their eyes glittering with disappointed tears. Nobody wept openly but their expressions were all tragic and defeated. The rumors spreading throughout the I'm Alone seemed to be true. But Frost refused to believe it. He waited patiently, standing at attention as the officers passed. Then, Vivian appeared. She seemed lost, almost blind, her legs moving on their own and taking her along by sheer muscle memory.

At that moment, all military traditions left him, as did all the experiences shared between himself and Vivian. Frost reached, grabbed her forearm, and brought her to a stop. She didn't resist and turned slightly. The Marine grabbed her by the shoulders and leaned in close.

"Don't say it, Captain. Say it isn't true. Tell me we're not going back."

Vivian stared at him almost in a drowsy state. She blinked for a few moments, as if she was trying to wake up. Eventually, she smiled and her emerald eyes seemed clear.

"Yes, Gunny. We're moving out, rejoining the main task force."

Frost's hands dropped from her shoulders and hung limply by his sides. His jaw dropped and his gray eyes widened.

"We can't fall back now, Captain," he urged after finding his voice. "You chewed them up in orbit and we've been hitting them hard on the ground. We can fight it out."

Vivian regarded him quietly, wearing the smallest, saddest smile. She was usually aglow with energy when she was among her officers or upon the bridge. Even when she took her long, restless walks through the bowels of the I'm Alone, trundling along with her head bowed and hands folded behind her back, she possessed that element of command. No matter how fleeting, it came back in a moment. Her eyes lit up, her posture straightened, and her mouth was drawn in the tightest line. Her gait was speedy and powerful; if she had staff officers in tow, they practically needed to run to keep up. But now she was muted and small. It was beyond jarring to see her in such a way after so many months.

Eventually, she inhaled and walked a few paces away. She stared down the empty hall with her hands folded behind her back. For a few moments, she rocked back and forth on her feet.

"If we try to fight it out, we'll all die. I'm not going to keep getting people killed for my own ego." Vivian looked over her shoulder, still smiling. "When you're in command, sometimes your tactical objectives line up with your own vanity. It makes things very easy. You don't even have to think about it. But it's time to wake up. Grow up. This is war, Gunnery Sergeant, and the only way we can fight is if we're still alive."

"You're talking like the next time we square off with the Covenant they're going to wipe the floor with us," Frost said, holding his arms out. "We've always come out on top. Now you want to quit while we're ahead?"
"We've lost hundreds of Marines, our ships are damaged, our stores depleted, and the Pennier was destroyed right in front of us. I'm not spending any more lives and ships on this fantasy, Nathaniel. Our mission is over until we can get the main offensive back on track. Maybe then we can resume raiding when the situation out here had died down."

"But we've barely started. I know we can keep fighting. We've never underestimated the Covenant."

Vivian regarded him blankly for a few moments. Her gaze fell and then she looked ahead at the elevator.

"It's time we stopped overestimating ourselves. We're not invincible. You should know that by that scar across your face and the man you lost."

Frost felt deflated then. All the energy, the fuel, he conjured in preparation for the conversation he planned to have dissipated. His mouth moved just a little and no words came out. Nothing came into his mind. Slowly, he felt his heart sink and his hands opened, almost emphasizing how empty he felt. Everything he wanted to say felt impotent and infantile. No phrase, no train of logic, could convince Vivian to call off her decision.

She must have sensed his disquiet and looked back. "Go to your squad, Gunnery Sergeant. They need you."

"They're all going to think you're a coward," Frost said, finally finding his voice.

"It doesn't matter what they think of me as long as they're still alive. I'm not going to waste their lives out here."

Vivian entered the elevator, shut the doors, and the lift carried her away. Frost remained in the hallway for some time, looking at nothing in particular. Eventually, his legs moving on their own, he journeyed down the elevator as well. Passing like a ghost through throngs of Navy personnel, he returned to the barracks very quickly. Instead of heading to his quarters, he continued to drift through the passageways. Many other Marines addressed him but he ignored them. Curious, confused eyes followed him as he passed by. Hands in his pockets and his head hung low, he couldn't bring himself to look up. It was as if his neck head was too heavy or his neck was too weak.

It felt like defeat. The I'm Alone won every battle she fought in so far yet they were retreating. Operation: EXALT wasn't close to being finished yet it felt like it was over. Frost knew what losing felt like. More than once, the 89th MEU was driven from the battlefield or forced to evacuate to orbit. Through the cockpit of the Pelican, Frost had to confront their failure as Covenant ships glassed planet after planet. No matter how heavy their losses or bitter their defeat, there was always a subtle, nearly silent understanding among the marines. If they were still alive they could fight again on another day, on another planet, and then they would achieve victory.

Such a notion tried to root inside him. He wanted to indulge it but something was holding it back. This setback was not caused by the Covenant, it was an order. While he couldn't decide if it was a good order or a bad one, all he could say for sure was that he hated it. This was the kind of retreat he couldn't abide. More than ever before, he wanted to fight. They had killed thousands of Covenant troops in just a few months and penetrated into Covenant-controlled space deeper than many other UNSC units had in several years. To go back when their momentum was peaking was an incredible disappointment.

When he finally worked up the courage to enter his barracks, he found the entire squad already waiting there. Everyone was spread out on their bunks, sitting on the edges or laying down. Everyone was in their utility uniforms; even Carris was wearing her Marine-issued camouflage fatigues. Beside her was Steele, sitting on his bunk. Everyone stood up quickly except for Grant, who was laying on his side on his bunk bed. They all wore hesitant, apprehensive expressions.

But Frost didn't see anyone's faces except for Steele's. The sniper was standing up with some difficulty, wincing as he held his wounded rib cage. Carris had to put an arm around him and heft him up slightly. When he was able to stand, Frost approached him. Instead of exchanging any words, the Marine wrapped his arms around his friend and pulled him in close. Surprised, Steele didn't hug him back until a few minutes later.

When they parted, Steele looked at him with a confused smile.

"What's that about, mate?"

"It's good to see you, Louie," Frost said, squeezing his shoulder. Turning, he looked at every single member of the squad. "Well, the rumor is true. We're rejoining the main task force."

There was an explosion of angry noise. The squad swore, turned away, threw their hands into the air, or simply made aggravated sounds of disappointment. Bishop sat on the edge of his bed and buried his hands in his face. Arms akimbo, Langley began pacing back and forth across their barracks. Maddox just swore again and again. Only Grant was silent.

Frost watched them for a time. He expected it. But as it continued, he found his own aggravation mounting. Eventually, his teeth clenched and his hands balled into fists. "Hey!" Nobody stopped. They continued to curse and talk among themselves. Their anger seemed to shift to nervous speculation. With nearly everybody talking loudly, it was impossible to understand anything. Frost slammed his fist against the bulkhead. "Hey, hey, shut your fucking mouths!"

Finally, the squad hushed and looked his way. "What are you all crying about, huh? We've got orders and we're going to follow them. You're Marines, act like—"

"Waters is sending us to the main operating theatre? Is she nuts?" Knight asked. "Nate, it won't be the same kind of battlefield it is out here. We have mobility, we have the element of surprise. Out there? It's going to be a meat grinder!"

"We're going to get killed for sure," Bishop added. "We might be deep in Covenant territory but we're safer than being in a prolonged, toe to toe engagement with their fleet. And on the ground? It'll be a slaughterhouse."

"Think of the odds out there," Langley put in, raising her hand. "They've got twice, no, thrice the number of ships we do and thousands of men from the Marines and the Army. And now they've been stopped? There's going to be more Covenant wherever we're heading than there are here."

Frost's mouth opened slightly and he stared at them in acrimonious disbelief. His gray eyes, now bright with his rage, settled on each individual squad member. Even Steele seemed uncomfortable by the prospect. Stepping into the middle of their quarters, Frost held his arms out.

"Just what is the matter with you people? Have you lost your balls? When did the Marines in my squad get replaced by a bunch of whining, civvie pussies? Jesus, I can't imagine what the Corps will come to with a bunch of amateurs like you in it." Frost turned as he spoke. "Did you forget you're in the Marines? Did you forget that we're at war—that war is dangerous, for Christ's sake! You all know what you were singing up for when you entered the program. You all know what it means to be warriors: you fight and if need be you die."

He whirled around and approached Carris. "You, you know what I'm talking about. When you finally put on the uniform did you know there was a chance you might get killed?"

"Yes, Gunnery Sergeant," Carris replied immediately.

"And are you willing to lay down your life to win this war?"

"Yes, Gunnery Sergeant."

Frost turned around and jerked his thumb over his shoulder.

"See that? That is a fucking warrior. We are fighting for our survival as a species! We either win or we all die!" Frost said. "Now, you better unfuck yourselves real fast or I'm going to remind you what being a Marine is all about."

"I'm scared, Nate," Grant finally said. Everyone looked over at the young Lance Corporal on his bunk. The grenadier rolled over and sighed. Sitting up and swinging his legs out, he regarded Frost sadly. "We've been really lucky, Nate. We only lost one man out here. I think the others are right, if we stay out here, we won't lose so many people. But going back into big battles? I don't like it. I mean, what our odds; Moser was one of the best and he got killed out here. What's it going to be like for us in the thick of it?"

Frost stormed over to Grant, grabbed the collar of his utility blouse, and brought him right in his face.

"You want to know why Moser got killed? Because a Jackal sniper put a round through his throat, because our fucking motion trackers didn't pick him up, because Moser decided to put down his rifle in the middle of a battle! That's why he's dead! That's war, Lance Corporal Grant!"

Frost shoved his friend back onto his bunk and marched over to the door. He looked back at his squad. Carris and Knight immediately went over to Grant and held him sit up. The others were looking at him in shock. Scoffing, Frost shook his head. "You people are a disgrace."

Walking into the hall, Frost shouldered past several other Marines as he tramped out of the barracks. He tried to lose himself in the noise and bustle of other Marines reporting to their stations. But he could hear their own cries of disappointment and anger. Some stormed out of their barracks, unwilling to listen to their squad leaders and platoon commanders relate the order any longer.

He heard footsteps behind him. Although they could have anyone, he knew it was Steele coming after him.

"Bruv, hold up a sec." Frost didn't stop until he came to a hatch at the end of the hall. Turning around sharply, he came face to face with his friend. Steele seemed wary of him. Running a hand through his blonde locks, he inhaled a little before shrugging. "You okay, man?"

"Far from it." Frost shook his head and then leaned against the bulkhead. "I get it, okay? I'm mad, too. I know it's not turning tail but it sure as hell feels like it. I don't want to go back to the main force anymore than the rest of them do."

"Then why are you giving them so much shit for it?" Steele asked, turning around and leaning against the bulkhead.

"Because that's what a leader is supposed to do," Frost replied flatly. "They can whine for a bit but I won't stand for it. And I don't complain to them; they complain to me. I only complain to my superior officers." Frost scoffed a little and glanced at Steele. "And you, apparently."

"You're different these days, Nate," Steele said. He reached into his pocket, pulled out a packet of cigarettes, tapped one out, and lit it. After taking a few drags on it, he handed it over to Frost. Taking it between his fingers, he regarded it for a few moments before handing it back. Steele didn't seem too surprised about it and plucked it from his fingers. "You're angrier. You're blowing up at people."

Steele slowly released a thin cloud of gray smoke. He looked over at Frost, his blond hair spreading out slightly against the titanium bulkhead. "Carris told me about what went down in the Pelican during the last drop. That ain't cool."

"I'm finding the squad's behavior to be lacking. On the ground, they do just find. But there's something about their spirit nowadays. It's not as strong as it used to be."

"You're wrong, bruv. They haven't changed at all. We've always complained and we've always been afraid of what's coming next. But we've always fought just fine and we will again." Steele put the cigarette to his lips and grazed Frost's arm with his other fist. "You're the one who's changing."

Taking the cigarette from his lips again, he looked over almost tiredly. His blue eyes were very dull. "And I think I know why."

"I don't want to talk about that."

"You don't get to say shit like that to me," Steele said. "I was there and I covered for your ass. Skopje was one thing; we were just a bunch of kids playing war and it got to us really bad. But I thought we healed from that, thought we moved on. Now you're back to wasting motherfuckers just for taunting you."

"The bastard deserved it," Frost said, his voice shaking.

"Doesn't matter if he deserved it or not. Doesn't matter what they do, it matters what we do. And what you did, that..." Steele lowered the cigarette, shook his head, murmured something to himself, and then looked back up. "...that was murder."

"I don't need to hear this," Frost said, standing up from the bulkhead. Steele did too and grabbed his arm.

"Actually, yeah, you do. What the fuck's wrong with you?"

"The fuck's wrong with me?"

"You heard me. I know you better than anybody else, even the Doc. You're a stone-cold killer and then you feel sorry over it. It's getting to you just like Skopje did and don't insult me by pretending that shit never got into your head. You have to do something about it. I don't know what, but taking it out on the squad is unacceptable. So figure something out and in the meantime, make shit right with them."

Shaking his head, Steele began walking back to the barracks. His cigarette dangled from his lips and his hand remained over his ribs. Frost watched him go, his hands balled into fists. Unsure of where to go or what to do, all he could do was stand by the gangway bulkhead.

Vivian draped her tunic over her desk chair as she went into her private quarters. Wearing nothing but her tank top and trousers, she took off her shoes and then plummeted onto the bed. Rolling onto her back and folding her hands on her stomach, she looked up at the titanium ceiling. It was quiet in her room save for the I'm Alone's steady, rhythmic humming. All her systems were running an optimal capacity. It was not so much the knowledge that the ship was functioning as it was the low noise she emitted that Vivian found comforting.

Sighing, she ran her hands over her face and groaned into them. She felt incredibly tired but she knew sleep wouldn't come until it was time to go into Cryo. Letting her hands rest by her sides, all she could do was stare upwards in a sat state. Vivian felt pathetic, a feeling all the deeper and harder to bear knowing she was a well-trained Navy officer. Good officers didn't go to their rooms and cry when they suffered setbacks or gave bad orders. The best officers stayed on the bridge and carried out their duties no matter what they were going through.

Jasmine had sent a report to Vivian's data pad on her way up to her quarters. Casualties were light. Most of the ships were damaged but not to an extent they couldn't travel through slipspace. As hairy as the battle got, they came out of it in a good condition. But it did not provide any solace to Vivian.

Her data pad pinged with a notification. She pawed for it on her night stand, almost knocking it off. When she looked at it, she found it was from Decatur. He was asking permission to link to her data pad. She consented and set it back on the nightstand. His blue hologram appeared; he was a bit smaller than usual because of the data pad's small projector.

"That's the way it is, Decatur," Vivian said before he got a word in. "We're throwing in the towel and we'll all just have to deal with it."

"Understood, Captain," he replied, standing straight and tell. Vivian looked over at him warily.

"No thoughts on the matter, Commodore?" she asked him.

"It is not my place to question the commanding officer," he said politely. Vivian rolled onto her side, propping her head up with one hand.

"Even if it's just the two of us?"

"Especially if it's just the two of us," he said. Vivian scoffed and rolled onto her back.

"I'm not sure if it's the right call, Stephen."

"Well that certainly puts me ill at ease," he said, folding his arms across his chest. "As a subordinate, it's not my place to question my commanders, so I must have absolute faith in their orders. But how can I, if my commander is unsure of her own actions? If this might not be the right path, then why should I follow this order? What if I follow it and it leads to my death? What if, what if..."

Vivian turned her head on the white pillow to gaze at him. Decatur smiled pleasantly and shrugged a little. "You're the captain of the ship, ma'am. The decision is yours and yours alone, and when you make it, trust in it. If you trust yourself, then the rest of us will trust you."

The AI then sat down, adjusting his sword scabbard to accommodate his stance. Kicking his legs out and leaning back on his hands, he sighed. "An enlisted man looks upon an officer and sees a different breed. Tis true, tis true. We are different, for we have different duties and different struggles. Perhaps, the enlisted man only sees the rank and imagines their commanding officer reclining on a plush chair, getting their feet rubbed by some foreign minx while being served cool, sweet drinks."

It was enough to make Vivian chuckle dryly.

"A foot rub and a drink? That doesn't sound half bad. I bet you had the Tripolitan girls fawning over you, right?"

"Heavens no!" Decatur said, waving one of his hands. "Even if our hands were not tied by matrimony, my Susie and I were pledged to one another. Do you know she turned down the brother of Napoleon?"

"She was holding out for the real catch," Vivian remarked before looking back up at the ceiling. "You were worth it, I'm sure."

"We had a happy life together, my Susie and I," Decatur mused wistfully. "We trusted each other."

"I think I have some of the best men and women in the UNSC under my command," Vivian sighed. "I trust them to carry out any order I give them. But I don't think they'll trust me after this."

Decatur regarded her briefly before jumping back onto his feet.

"Come now, Captain, surely you would not have given this order if you did not believe it was the best course of action?"

Vivian gazed at him with a quirked eyebrow. Exhaling, she looked up at the ceiling one more time. Eventually, she closed her eyes and sighed heavily.

"We served our purpose out here here for the time being. What matters is ensuring the main objective of the operation—creating a fortified cordon in Covenant space—is completed. Besides, we're exposed out here and we're removed from our main base of supply. To ask support ships to come out here puts them at risk. If the main task force's position was more secure, I wouldn't have made this decision. But if they're in no position to support us then we have to do whatever we can for them. We'll be of more use to them by adding our weight to their fight rather than keeping enemy forces tied up out here."
Vivian sat up a little, resting her back against the bulkhead and sitting on her pillows. Her hands folded in her lap as she thought. "That hunter-killer group found us easily; they must have arrived at our last battle shortly after we left. That's the only explanation I can come up with as to how they found us so quickly. But now that they're dead, and if we can make a few crafty slipspace jumps, we can string them out here looking for us." Vivian looked over at Decatur and smiled. "They'll be chasing ghosts and reinforcing their garrisons, but we'll be lightyears away."

"Why, Captain Waters is a Naval genius!" Decatur exclaimed. He made a fist and swung it jovially. "A master of war, she is able to combat the enemy without bearing arms against them!"

"Thank you, Decatur," Vivian said, drawing her knees to her chest.

"Of course, ma'am. I'll be off; I can't let Lieutenant Tsang get the better of me in my absence."

"Decatur?" The AI paused and looked back at her. Vivian offered him a soft smile. "You're a valuable asset to the I'm Alone, but you're not just that. I rely on you, and so does everybody. I'm very glad to have you with us."

Decatur blinked in surprise. Suddenly, he doffed his cap and ran his hand over his locks. Clearing his throat, he put it back on and turned away bashfully.

"Why thank you, Captain. Tis an honor to receive praise from a respectable Naval officer like yourself."

"Exiting slipspace in thirty seconds," Sosa announced.

Vivian reclined in her chair, her hands gripping the ends of the armrests. She waited patiently for the I'm Alone to break into realspace again. Many found the swirling, golden-blue lights of slipspace to be alluring. The more she was exposed to them, the more Vivian found them distasteful. She could not quite place it exactly, but the flowing lights and the absence of the tangible objects she understood created an eerie void rather than a passageway.

Suddenly, her terminal pinged with a notification. Confused, she looked around. All her officers were busy, either conferring with colleagues or working at their stations. Even Decatur was occupied, exchanging a few quips with an annoyed Tsang. Opening the message, she was surprised to find it was from Jasmine; she was asking for permission to come onto the bridge.

No sooner had Vivian informed the doctor of her consent did she come through the bridge doors. Vivian looked at her warily from her chair.

"You could have just walked on, Jasmine. The bridge is open to someone of your rank."

"Well, I can't help but feel like a bad luck charm seeing as the last time I came onto the bridge the Covenant decided to show up."

"For goodness sake, Jas," Vivian sighed, rubbing her temple. "This is the modern Navy. We don't have that many superstitions."

"Five, four, three, two, one...de-entry!"

The golden-blue tunnel disappeared. I'm Alone plunged into open space and was immediately greeted by the underside of a blackened Covenant hulk. Vivian reached out and grabbed Jasmine.

"Emergency thrusters, port side!"

The I'm Alone was catapulted away just before it collided with the wreckage. The force was enough to nearly take Jasmine off her feet but Vivian was able to hold onto her. When the I'm Alone was on a forward path again, the two friends let go of each other. As Jasmine fixed her glasses, Vivian glared up at her. "Maybe you are."

"You could have said no," Jasmine replied, then looked ahead. Vivian followed her gaze. Over the planet designated Jeannette 5, two opposing fleets were blasting away at each other. The Covenant ships, centered around a carrier, were arrayed in two line formations, one above the other. Set up in three, tiered echelon formations, UNSC ships' MAC guns fired at the Covenant. Golden streaks cut through space and smashed into the purple hulls. Enemy frigates and corvettes caught fire and exploded. Archer missiles arched towards the alien vessels and exploded. Shields blossomed, disappeared, and fires rippled along the hull. Plasma lances and torpedoes closed the distance and smashed into the friendly ships. Some avoided them with emergency thrusters but a Halcyon-class cruiser was caught and exploded. The detonation was so massive it cut the ship in half; the bow and the stern were blown in opposite directions. A Paris-class frigate, threatened by the incoming stern, had to use its starboard side emergency thrusters to get out of the way. Between the two formations of ships were smaller bursts of plasma and cannons. Longswords and Seraphs danced around one another, blowing each other into dust. Behind them, Jeannette 5 was a beautiful green-blue orb. But even from this distance, Vivian could see massive fires on the planet and huge explosions as well. It even appeared a few Covenant corvettes and some atmosphere-rated heavy frigates were in orbit supporting ground forces.

Around the battleground were dozens of hulks from both sides. Some were fresh kills and burned terribly. A few were still rocked by secondary explosions. Beyond the hulks was a massive debris field filled with chunks of armor plating and various, detached pieces from the ships.

"Tsang, begin scanning the systems, there could be lifeboats and Pelicans out there. Koroma, get me patched into FLEETCOM." She waited until the other ships were out of slipspace and registered into the network communication link. "Wedge formation. Port side, in order from port to starboard: Lion's Den, Double Down, Batavia. Starboard side, starboard to port: Determined Guardian, Frying Pan, Best of the Best. I'm Alone is going right down the middle."

The channel buzzed and an indicator appeared on the tactical display: River Styx.

"Captain Rundstrum calling," the ONI officer chimed. "Uh, where do you want me?"

"Make yourself useful, shut your mouth, and find a vantage point to spot targets of opportunity."

"Riiight away, ma'am!" he chimed again.

"He bothers me," Lieutenant Bassot muttered.

"He bothers us all now get the MAC guns hot!" Vivian ordered. "Sosa, take us in, full speed ahead!" She hit the intercom. "Burgess, give the engines and the weapons everything you can!"

"Aye, Captain, aye!"

Koroma turned around in her seat, one hand braced against her earpiece.

"Ma'am, we're being hailed by Vice Admiral Travers."

"Patch him through."

"Waters!" barked the senior officer. "Do you mind telling me what the hell you're doing on my screen!?"

"Sir, we're here to boot the Covenant out of this system," Vivian replied coolly. "But if our presence bothers you, we can always jump out and come back later?"

Everyone looked over their shoulders at the Captain. She grinned at them and they quickly looked back, trying not to smile themselves. There was a long pause over the FLEETCOM link. Suddenly, Travers laughed. Vivian could tell it was the kind of laugh where he threw his head back and his long brown locks went everywhere.

"Give'em hell, I'm Alone!"

"Hell's too good for the Covenant, sir, I'm Alone out," Vivian replied.

As Vivian's formation closed on the Covenant's right flank, half of each line began to veer towards her. Just as they did, all of Travers' ships opened fire in a tremendous volley. MAC rounds pummeled the shields of undamaged enemy ships and heavily damaged others. Many corvettes and frigates were smashed into pieces by the sheer number of rounds striking them. Larger ships' shields flared and winked away.

Seizing the opportunity, Vivian ordered every spare iota of energy into the engines. I'm Alone surged ahead with her sister ships on either side.

"Two kilometers until we reach firing range," Bassot reported, his hands fixing open his terminal keys as he prepared to fire. "One kilometer...five hundred meters...one hundred..."

"Fire when ready, Lieutenant," Vivian ordered.

She watched the distance to the firing waypoint, shown as a numerical readout on the tactical display, dwindle until it reached zero. I'm Alone shuddered as its two MAC guns fired almost simultaneously. Both rounds struck the carrier amidships; one hit the entrance to its hangar. A number of enemy fighters trying to exit the ship simply vanished as the MAC round passed by. Secondary explosions rippled in a ring around the carrier's center. Larger fires broke out from where the hangar used to be and moderate sections of hull were torn off. The second salvo of MAC rounds worsened the previous damage, creating large, black holes in the carrier's hull.

Vivian stood up and went to Bassot's station. Gripping the headrest of his seat with her right hand and gripping the edge of the console with her left, she leaned down beside him. "Bassot, fire Archer Missile pods one through three into those holes."

"Aye, ma'am!"

The pods released their payloads. As the MAC rounds and Archer missiles from the other ships tore into the other Covenant vessels, thousands of I'm Alone's missiles swarmed towards the wounded carrier. Having suffered so much damage to its hull and local defenses, there were not enough point defense blocks to fend off even a minority of the missiles. In a massive barrage, the missiles tunneled into the already gaping holes, plunging deeper into the Covenant ship. A massive plasma explosion sprang from the ship's wound, almost taking the shape of a purple-red mushroom cloud.

As the carrier broke apart, many other Covenant ships shared in its fate. Torn into pieces by MAC rounds and Archer missiles, the two line formations began to falter. Their numbers dwindling, the remaining Covenant ships, mainly those forming the port section of the upper line formation, attempted to fall back to make another stand. Vivian would let them.

"Pods four through six! Get ready to nail them with the point defense units!"

"Aye, Captain!"

The I'm Alone and her battlegroup passed through the broken line of enemy ships. As the missiles pummeled their hulls, the point defense guns on each ship began blasting at them from point blank range. They were so close Vivian thought she could reach out through the glass and graze a Covenant's frigate's hull with her fingertips. Such a thought thrilled her.

Sustaining heavy damage on all sides and with no shields, the Covenant ships were destroyed. Scans picked up no other enemy ships save for the ones that were in Jeannette 5's orbit. After dispatching Determined Guardian, Lion's Den, Frying Pan, and Double Down to deal with them, Vivian established another FLEETCOM link with Travers.

"That was so nice flying, Captain Waters," Travers grumbled. "I have plenty of questions for you but that can wait. I've got a Covenant army down there and a ten-thousand joint Army-Marine task force surrounded on Mount Scythia. I need you to get your ground pounders down their ASAP and provide fire support from orbit while my ships dock at UNSC Medicine Man for repairs."

"Roger that, sir, we'll mobilize immediately, out," Vivian said. She looked down at the planet. The fires, she realized, were not just from battle. Forests sprawled across the mountainous planet and these were slowly but surely consumed in the blaze. Staring at those fires, she knew she'd have to send the Marines into that hell. Turning around, she walked further into the bridge, past her chair, and out the doors.

"Move it, Marines!" Frost yelled, cupping his hands around his mouth. "C'mon, we've got people dying down there! Move it, people move it!"

Turning, he followed his squad as they raced towards Pelican Yankee Triple Seven. Isha was already standing at the edge of the ramp and was assisting each squad member as they entered. Frost was halfway there when he noticed someone running beside him. It was Steele. The sniper was clad in full BDU's and was wearing olive drab mesh netting across shoulders. Sniper goggles rested on the front of his helmet.

Stopping just in front of the Pelican, Steele smiled at him.

"You're not going without me this time, bruv," he said, hefting his sniper rifle onto his back. With a loud grunt, he took Isha's hand and stepped up into the Pelican. When he turned around, he offered his hand. Frost took it but felt Steele's grip weaken.

"What is it?"

"Would you look at that," was all Steele said.

Frost turned around and his eyes widened. Walking towards him was Captain Waters, clad in BDU's, with a helmet under her left arm and an MA5B assault rifle in her right hand. Stopping just in front of him, she offered a curt smile that made her freckled cheeks glow.

"Let's get into the fight, Gunny."

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Author's Note: Yep, I'm workin' on Christmas Eve. Ain't a problem for me. I wasn't going to post anything but I figure many of us are stuck at places where we can't see our families. With that in mind, I figured I'd work on something so that if there's a few of you who didn't get to go home, you at least have something to read for the night. Or for those of you who are home, well, it's just the weekly chapter then. I shan't call it a Christmas gift, I think a Christmas gift would have to be something with Carris and Steele, which I'll just go ahead and spoil: there is something come up with them, and I think you'll like it. As for the chapter, I'm feeling a bit of repetition here so it's just in time for some of the prolonged battle sequences that I alluded to way back when. It'll gave us a break from space combat and from some of the other drama that characterizes this story.

That's about it for me. Take care folks, and happy holidays to you all! Stay safe.

Comment Responses:

TheCarlosInferno: Yes, anybody acquainted with the Halo games or its lore knows that things really take a turn for the worse in the 2540s. Vivian and her unit have had major successes but it hasn't just been pure skill. Their fortunes are dwindling to mirror that of the evolving landscape of the Halo universe at this time.

MightBeGone: Glad you liked it! And you better start liking bummers because oh booooooy.

Edgeofdoom: I'd tell you some stuff but it'd be spoilers, sorry.

Qrs-jg: I actually imagine this story, at the present chapter, to be jus getting into 2543. Looking back, I actually wished I set the story in a later year because I gave myself too much ground to cover, so time skips are going to be inevitable in later installments. That's why in the reedited chapters I've been posting on my DeviantArt account, RadiationSoap, the story actually starts at 2544 (with Vivian's traumatic event still occurring in 2537.) This allows the character to be aged up and to have some more experience under their belts to justify some of their more badass moments in the story. While I don't want to spoil too much, Vivian's forces going on the defensive is going to be an aspect of this story and the final installment, but the third installment will actually be quite detached from the Human-Covenant War. That's about all I'll say about that!