An Unexpected Alliance Adopted

by PyreElegy

Re-readopted from JTF0012. Noble Team has been tasked to defend Reach to their last breath from invading Covenant forces, an impossible mission. Can the meeting between a female Sangheili and Noble Six change the course of the battle and more importantly, the Universe? fem. Sangheili/Male Noble Six

10. Shattered Space

Chapter 10: Shattered space

Six POV

Strange local birds called out to one another in a frenzied panic as they flew in their flocks along the shoreline, fleeing the warzone that the lakeside had now become. They darted among the dark spray-slicked rocks under brilliant sunlight as foamy water rushed up the beach. The sky was tinted blue with rolling white clouds spaced out across the heavens; the scene would have been lovely if it wasn't for the attacking aliens.

Six watched as the human base on the shoreline of Farkas Lake took a beating as low flying spacecraft assaulted the unprepared base. It had been designed to hold off an attack by human insurgents, not alien invaders. Fuel rod explosions, wraith mortars, and plasma torpedoes slammed into the stronghold as the human defenders rushed to either hold off the Covenant forces or to purge the base of all "classified" material.

Six was regretting his crazy idea, but it was too late to stop. The plan was already in motion. The Sabre squadron was already assembled within the facility, and all they needed was for their fourth member to join them.

Jorge sat next to Six. As the Falcon got closer to their objective, the large Spartan leaned closer to him.

"Are you sure?" Jorge said.

Six turned to Jorge and nodded. He chose Jorge to be his co-pilot for three main reasons: one, he had the proper skills to operate a computer, something Emile had somehow bypassed during training. Two, they were going to hijack an alien vessel, so he needed someone who was good in close-quarter fighting. Three, he was reliable, not that the other members of Noble team weren't, but Six felt like Jorge was the closest thing Six had to a best friend, and he needed a bit of reassurance during this mission.

Six couldn't retain his snort, he already had a friend up in space, the question was how would the rest of the team, no, how would the rest of humanity react to her.

Before he boarded the falcon, Carter pulled Six to the side and sternly told him to not tell anyone else of Shress' existence. Until they know for sure her alliance with the UNSC is rock-solid, they decided not to inform the admirals of Earth until the operation was complete. If everything Shress said was true and she empties the ship of most combatants, then Carter will start to consider trusting her.

Six glanced upwards as if he could see the ship, The Long Night of Solace as Shress called it. She said she would be riding on the corvette they were going to siege. Holland told them they would be given a frigate to help soften the resistance. She was a Zealot, making her a big target. She might get hit in the crossfire, or worse, a boarding party member may gun her down before he could tell them to stop.

At this, he glanced at Jorge. His shoulders looked stiff as anger mixed with the fear of losing his home. Six hoped he could calm him before they came upon Shress. He had tried to convince Carter to let him tell Jorge about Shress but he refused, only if it was 'absolutely necessary' could Six tell Jorge about his otherworldly friend.

"Time to go Spartans! Go, go, go!" The pilot yelled out from the cockpit as the Falcon swept low to the ground, allowing Noble team to jump off, landing onto the sandy lakeside below. Clearly not wishing to remain in an active warzone with so many enemy aircraft in the airspace, the helicopter quickly took off again. Six, Jorge, Kat and Carter checked their sectors before falling back into formation.

Once it was deemed safe, Carter got on comms, "Jun, status."

"The airspace is too hot for any air support for this falcon boss. We will remain on station for exfil, but you are on your own right now."

As he said that, several teardrop-shaped alien aircraft screamed overhead, sending their explosive payloads into an unseen target over the ridge.

Jorge lumbered forward and nodded towards a gap in the rocks, "Bit of a walk to the launch facility."

"Any closer, and we would have been shot down. Let's move it Noble," Carter ordered, as he gestured for Jorge to take the lead. "Five, you take point."

"Aye, sir," Jorge responded confidently.

Kat moved to follow Jorge with Six close behind, but he was stopped when Carter put a hand on his shoulder, stopping his advance. Whispering as quietly as he could, given the explosions nearby, Carter made his thoughts on their situation clear.

"I hope your Informant is reliable. We're betting everything by following this plan."

Six nodded back, unashamed of his confidence. Turning his gaze toward Jorge's back, Six made a promise to himself more than Carter at that moment.

'I'll watch his back.'

Carter continued to stare at him before he asked, "And this, Shress?"

Six hesitated.

Then he spoke, "Well she trusts me, so I suppose she'll watch out for Jorge as well, but if things go as planned she should be off the ship along with most of the crew."

Carter didn't nod or shake his head, he just stepped and muttered, "I hope you're right Six."

Six sighed under his breath, before he took off after his team.

'Me too.'

They ran alongside the coastline, their armor causing them to sink into the wet sand, but for the moment, nothing else got in their way. It wasn't until they crossed a particularly large rock that they finally saw the battlefield in all its gritty glory.

Six saw after a quick scan that the defenders of the base were on the wrong side of a losing fight. Dark plumes of smoke rose to the skies. The base was already full of holes, and judging by the crisscrossing bolts of electrical energy and flashes of bullet fire that shot out of the dark holes of the base, it seems ground troops were engaging in close-quarters combat.

They were less than a hundred yards away when they heard a strange squeal fill the air. Noble Team looked up just in time to see the first pod drop. It landed directly in front of them, jarring their teeth as the pod opened and several Covenant warriors spilled out. The enemies divided and sought cover behind the many boulders that stretched across the beach before the aliens began firing.

The plasma bolts ate away at the rocks that provided the team with protection while additional pods crashed inland. An elite Ultra joined the fray, taking command of the jackals and grunts that were seemingly lost without him.

However, it was a pitiful excuse for a fight. Noble team focused their fire on the Ultra. Seeing their leader fall caused the Grunts to panic, forcing the Elites to break ranks in an attempt to restore order, but they just made themselves easier targets. Barely five minutes passed before corpses littered the lakeside. Without any more enemies in the immediate area, Noble was once more on the move to their objective.

The eastern entrance defenses were battered to a pulp. Burning Warthogs and overturned Wraiths marked the spot of a major engagement. Bodies, both human and Covenant, were cast around the area like broken toys. As the team of Spartans ran forward, Six couldn't help but notice the noise of glass fragments beneath their feet from shattered windows as they ran towards the door. Positioned in front of the entranceway were a mountain of sandbags and other wreckage hastily piled in a futile attempt to keep any outsider out. The Spartans easily jumped over the obstacle, with the exception of Jorge who had to first throw his gun over before he jumped. Carter got on comms once more, calling out to some unknown officer.

"Noble to Launch Base, we are directly outside the Eastern Entrance, open up."

It wasn't long before the doors opened to reveal two weary faced infantrymen. Their eyes were wide and staring, armor coated in gore and their limbs refused to stop shaking.

Behind the soldiers was an equally battle-endured Staff Sergeant, but her hard looks suggested she was the most level-headed of the group at the moment, as she shouted to the crewman behind her, "Spartans coming in, hold your fire!"

Gracefully, the Spartans entered and reduced their sprint to a steady jog. The hallway displayed evidence enough that the enemy was inside as well. Panels were torn open, pipes were loose and hissed out vapor as they passed by and though there were no broken forms scattered about. The walls were splattered with multiple patches of blood, ranging from dark red to lime green and bright purple. Six couldn't help but wonder how many soldiers died here.

They reached a pressure door that was supposed to lead to the command center, but when they passed through to the other side, there was nothing but wreckage. The roof was partially caved in and buried most of the room in crumpled concrete, while another gaping hole revealed the open courtyard outside that was, at the moment, full of Covenant troops and a Wraith tank. The only personnel in the room were a handful of troopers who were playing at sharpshooter through the gap in the wall. One of them, a Sergeant Major, was helping a wounded man to safety; it wasn't long until after making their observation that Carter realized he's the highest-ranking soldier present.

Carter walked over to the sergeant and asked, "Where's Commander Kelvin?"

He seemed unfazed to be speaking with a Spartan. He just gave Carter a sad glance and jerked his head at a pile of wreckage behind him.

"He's over there."

Carter didn't miss a beat.

"Where's the launch pad?"

The Sergeant jerked his head again, this time to his left. "Through those doors, we've mostly cleared the halls of Covenant… mostly."

Carter nodded to him, "Once the Sabres are clear, pull your people back and withdraw to checkpoint Gamma. Transport will be waiting for you and your men."

The Sergeant let out a heavy sigh, "Another retreat sir?"

"This will be the last one."

The Sergeant sighed again before he turned and walked away, but he called over his shoulder as he left.

"Heard that one before."

Carter didn't comment, instead he turned to his team. "Alright, let's move."

The Spartans moved down the indicated hallway, passing more and more signs of bloody warfare. On the wall Six saw a sign that indicated the launch center wasn't too far away.

Suddenly a side door opened and a human was thrown through it. His scream was cut short as he hit the opposite wall with a crunch before he fell limp to the floor. Following him was an Elite major, its red armor slightly tinted a deeper crimson with human blood.

It turned at the sound of pounding feet and let out a defiant roar. Kat was the closest to the alien, who seemed to have thought her smaller stature made her a weaker target.

Sadly for the poor alien, he couldn't have been more mistaken.

The Elite made a swipe at Kat with its oversized hand but Kat ducked under the hand and ran forward. She kicked the alien's out bent knee, causing a loud crack that made the leg twist into an unnatural position. The alien went down as it howled in pain from the crippling injury. Kat ended its suffering by pushing the muzzle of her Magnum into its mouth before she pulled the trigger. The alien was dead in less than ten seconds. Six admired her efficiency and realized once again how they could inspire such dread.

'Maybe the exaggeration that Spartans are demons isn't so farfetched.'

The Spartans, unphased by the short skirmish with the elite, ran deeper into the facility until they reached the control room. The technical marvel would have shocked just about anybody, the high tech computers, the advanced systems, and the mere futuristic appearance was breath-taking. It was, however, ruined by the bodies, white coated scientists and battle-worn soldiers were spread out on the floor, across the consoles or slumped in their chairs.

This would have driven anyone mad, but the trained Spartans marched by the carcasses as if they weren't there. Kat got on the main computer and started to type at five hundred characters per minute. The rest of Noble locked down the room, mostly checking all the shadows and locking the door. To keep himself busy, Six began to police the bodies for any critical data or, in the case of the UNSC soldiers, to take their dog tags.

He paused and guiltily took a shotgun from a deceased soldier. He was trained to use any and all available equipment to his advantage, but he felt uncomfortable taking things from the dead, even if they don't need it anymore.

His guilt was short-lived as Kat completed her work and shouted, "Got it."

The blast shields that were covering the floor to ceiling windows opened to reveal the Sabre. The Sabre was the first space plane and only one of its kind; smaller than a Longsword but more effective than a Shortsword as well. It sported three boosters, a more maneuverable body, multiple missile pods and thirty-millimeter guns. Most spacecraft are designed for air-to-ground engagements, but after the first encounter with the Covenant, ONI had begun investing and creating more effective ship-to-ship assault craft, a new era of space warfare.

It was the greatest of luck that ONI had constructed the first Sabre prototype on Onyx, the training facility of the Spartan IIIs. Lieutenant Commander Ambrose had realized that he had the opportunity of creating the ultimate lone wolf in front of him, since he had all the equipment and the advanced technology he needed to hone a soldier into a one-man army. Six remembered the excruciating training and the brutal mental mathematics he had to perform to learn how to pilot the spacecraft. Even now, years later, Six glared at the contraption, having remembered the intense work he had to put in to fly the vehicle to his instructors' satisfaction.

As Six stared daggers into what was going to be a lengthy and annoying battle filled with calculations and mathematics, Kat continued her diagnostics of the awaiting fighter.

"Checking circuitry, and done, the ship is prepped. all systems go," she said confidently

Carter acknowledged her before turning to Six and Jorge, his tone brisk and no-nonsense, "Jorge and Six, get on that Sabre and get the job done. We are all counting on you"

"What about you and Kat?" Jorge asked.

"We'll exfil on Jun and Emile's Falcon while providing support for the Army while they fall back."

Feeling a hand on his shoulder, Six looked up to see Jorge gesturing toward the Sabre.

"Come on, let's move. I don't think this base has much more left in her."

Jorge with sudden determination turned and started to jog to the door that led to the Sabre. Six quickly slung his new shotgun onto his back and followed closely behind.

The door to the launch area opened to reveal an Elite, but before either of the Spartans could fire, the large alien fell forward and landed in a crumpled heap in front of them, fresh bullet holes visibly oozing bright blood on its back. Standing proudly behind the fallen alien warrior was a trooper holding an assault rifle, clearly happy to have killed the significantly taller alien.

"You Spartans can't have all the credit, eh?" he laughed.

Just glad not to be delayed, the Spartans continued to run forward as they completely ignored the soldier. Along the railing that led to the Sabre, ragged and bloody soldiers stood at full attention, giving the Spartans a salute. Which was against protocol; never salute in combat, you're just making your commanding officer easier to locate and eliminate. Six just ignored them all, they were probably caught up in the moment. This was another war story, a valiant last stand; two heroes about to fly off on a suicide mission to save the planet. Combine this with the prospect of their world being saved. It must have been enough to get them to act as if this was a movie.

'I can only hope that this time we actually save the world. Reach is too important to lose.'

Finally, they reached the Sabre. One thing Six didn't like about the assault craft was the vertical insertion. A somewhat unique feature of the Sabre was its ability to be launched into space without the need of being cargo on a shuttle ship. This remarkable and revolutionary idea, however, didn't suit Six nor his near ton partner. Using their upper body strength, the Spartans lifted themselves into the compact cockpit. There was barely enough room for them, the ship was designed to carry average-sized pilots wearing coveralls, not six-foot Spartans in their MJOLNIR armor.

Once inside, Six placed his weapons under his seat, partially jamming them into the confined space. Jorge, however, was forced to leave his machine gun behind and he had to hope that Anchor Nine could provide him with a replacement.

Once he was buckled in, Six started to twist knobs and press buttons, feeling the instinct hammered into him during training take over. The years of repetitive practice were finally paying off. Even as he began his motions, he called back to Jorge behind him.

"Prepare to do a system check."

"Didn't Kat already do that?"

"Yeah, but I don't trust machines, it is also basic protocol to do one last manual check before taking flight in any and all aircraft. Besides, this will get you familiarized with the equipment you are going to use."

"Alright then Six, what do I do?"

"Connect the system to your HUD so it'll be easier for you to keep track of things. From there, I will need you to keep track of my engine heat and weapons systems," Six instructed.

He listened as Jorge performed the following actions and heard him mutter his vexation with the complicated systems..

"Whatever happened to the simple on-and-off switch?"

Once Six saw the console begin to glow he continued to give instructions.

"Check the manifest data and tell me what kind of firepower they gave us."

"Missile pods; full. Machine guns; full. rocket fuel. Full-on all engines, shields; fully charged, and the targeting system is fully functional as well."

Six nodded in satisfaction. "I'm going to test our engines; they won't ignite, but tell me if the images of the rockets are highlighted as I check them."

"Roger."

Taking Jorge's answer as he focused on the screen in front of him, Six pressed on the buttons and pulled on the stick in front of him, trusting in Jorge's abilities.

After a few minutes of repeating the process, Jorge confirmed the checks were successful. "All systems are good to go."

"Ok, all systems are green. I suppose we'll just have to test the weapons once we leave the atmosphere, ready?"

"Let's do it."

Six tapped in more commands into the dashboard in front of him and uploaded the controls to his HUD as he spoke into his radio.

"This is Sabre 2-4 reporting in, over."

A rushed voice responded to him, the local Hungarian accent bleeding through every syllable, "About time 2-4. All Sabres prepare to launch, in T-minus twenty."

Six started flipping switches and taking off the safeties to the booster rockets that were strapped to the side of their ship. After he flipped the last button, alarms flared and the connections that had been attached to the ship began to slowly move away. Energy levels within the Sabre's rockets begin to build as well as the countdown continued. The

Sabre leader counted down over the radio, "Five, four, three two, one, launch."

The entire world seemed to shake as the booster rockets sparked to life and began blowing out thick, white smoke. It felt like the ship was going to shake itself apart, but instead of crumbling to the ground, the ship began to ascend into the sky. Throughout the facility, three more Sabres were taking to the air as well—all billowing white smoke as they blew upwards, like a cork from a champagne bottle. The four spacecraft soon became small dots to those on the ground as they headed to the darkness of the cosmos.

Despite the dire situation, Six couldn't help but feel excited. He enjoyed launches, from the heart-stopping actions, to the changing view of bright blue sky into fading to a jewel speckled darkness. He couldn't help but challenge himself to keep his eyes open against the G forces pushing him into his seat as he absorbed all the sensations. He could hear Jorge move slightly. He was probably discomforted by the sudden and violent movement. This take-off was quite different from a regular shuttle or space elevator lift off.

The atmosphere seemingly tried its hardest to keep the Spartans on the planet as its grasping fingers were burned away from the area around the cockpit by their speed. Bright orange flames seemed to originate from the ship as they made their way to the stars like a brilliant comet. Finally, they passed the point of no return and the flames slowly died as they left the skies of Reach and entered the wider universe.

No sooner did they pass this point, then the rockets stopped blowing and the Sabre began to float, as it coasted forwards into the eerie blackness. The rockets began to break away from the Sabre, stripping the ship bare until it looked as if it had shrunk to a third of its body size.

'Such a waste,' Six thought as he watched the booster rockets drift away. He had once read somewhere that this was how the first shuttles were able to get into space. 'I wonder if that's why there's so much junk flying around Earth.'

"Activating primary thrusters now," Six reported, although it was unnecessary as the ship began to move forward. The other three attack space crafts had already lost their rockets and had formed into a formation. It'd been a while since Six had last flown a Sabre and now he struggled to remain in perfect formation. Jorge, by contrast, had seemingly settled into his role and had already scanned the surrounding area.

"Anchor Nine, dead ahead," Jorge noted.

Sure enough, a large shape appeared in the debris field, revealing itself to be a massive space station. It was nearly the size of a skyscraper, and the enormous Frigate currently docked onto it proved that fact. Anchor Nine looked just like that, an anchor; three shielded openings marked the landing strips for small crafts. Hundreds of mechanical arms protruded from its exterior as it tended to the needs of any and all ships, most of them deactivated.

The squadron leader's voice came over the radio as he conversed with the station, "Anchor Nine, this is Sabre one-four, is the package ready, over?"

"Not yet one-four, give us a few minutes and we should... Hang on Sabres, impulse drives signatures detected. We have company!"

Six prepped the ship for combat.

"It seems like now would be a good time to test the weapon systems. Up for blasting some Covenant out of the skies, Jorge?"

"It would be my genuine pleasure."

Shress POV

Shress watched as the Phantoms, Spirits, and Banshees left the ship and made their way down to the surface of the human world below. She was still surprised that she was able to get them all to leave.

At first the Shipmasters of the Ardent Prayer and The Long Night of Solace, were completely against her the moment she voiced the proposal. They wanted everything to go smoothly with the arrival of the Prophet of Regret and thought that the presence of a large crowd would please him. Though they did not voice it, Shress also knew they didn't want to be taking, or even consider listening, to the ideas of a female.

It took all of Shress's self-control not to roar in the Shipmaster's faces. Instead she patiently went through the reasons she had invented why the troops should be sent to the surface. She had questioned them. What could be more glorious in welcoming a Prophet other than an overwhelming victory against the humans? The show of their might may interest the Prophet of Regret who may bestow honor among the fleet for their accomplishment. Furthermore, there's no doubt that once the Prophet arrives he will wish to begin working on the Navigator, which Shress pointed out was still in human territory. It was for this reason that she suggested using the ground troops to take the location, rather than bombard the human position from orbit. At first both fleet leaders were planning on glassing the site clean of the human presence, until she pointed out that they may accidentally damage the Forerunner artifact and would be executed for their actions. Thankfully, the Shipmasters acknowledged her claims and ordered their soldiers from the corvette.

'At least I can keep my own troops out of this without their consent. The small perks of my new position…'

The small army followed her orders for departure despite their grumbling among themselves. They muttered about having to leave the safety of the ship to fight in a battle that could easily be won without their help.

'And to think I'm doing you a favor,' she thought as another group of Sangheili walked by, audibly cursing the human world for the rough ground they'd have to sleep on that night. They wouldn't realize how lucky they were, leaving this doomed ship before it's destroyed.

'If the humans succeed in their plan, that is.'

Shress silently pondered to herself. She had never seen a space battle where the humans were the victors, what chance could they have now?

'Well they have Michael,' She reasoned and then paused at her thought, somehow surprised by her own musings.

'What does that mean?'

Now that she wondered about it, she had been thinking about Michael a lot lately. He was the only one that comforted and bestowed confidence upon her. He was the only one that did so willingly and not just because of her rank. She wished to speak to him, to rid her mind of worries, just for a bit. To ask of the abnormality of human life and how being a demon made him different from other humans. She wanted to look at his face, an enemy that did not wish not to kill her. A strangely exotic appearance that had somehow caught her attention more effectively than that of any other human, or Sangheili for that matter.

She also wanted to feel his warm and reassuring hand touching hers and now, after getting over the initial shock, she enjoyed having him rest a hand on her shoulder. It just felt so incredibly alien. Four long-clawed fingers, that was the hand of a Sangheili, the only hand that has ever touched her skin gently. The smaller and five-digit hand of a human was quite different though, especially with the lack of distance between the two's bodies. Normally, by Sangheili standards, to touch a female would mean the male wished to court them, but the way Michael does it suggested that this was not the case with humans. Her observations of humans touching each other proved that point; she remembered watching human soldiers as they casually grabbed and slapped each other's hands, backs, or other sorts of places in some kind of strange victory celebration on the battlefield, which suggested their emotions weren't so reserved either.

'I wonder how Michael sees me,' she thought. 'Am I really as different from my brethren as he says I am? Does he see me as an alien? After all, he did admit he forgot how I am different from him, did he really mean that? I wonder if he's just interested in my figure?'

Suddenly her thinking ceased and she felt herself freeze after that last thought. Did she really just think that? Why, oh why did she think something as stupid as that?

'He's a friend,' she tried to reassure herself, barely believing her own thoughts.

'He's also a human. There's no way he could ever think of me in that way and, even if he did, it just wouldn't work out, especially now. And with all of the risks I'm taking at the moment it wouldn't be so surprising if I end up dead in the coming week.'

Her internal musing was, as always, interrupted.

"Commander."

Shress wasn't surprised when she turned from the loading docks to face a tense Dinjit. He kept his gaze down and his whole body was rigid. She mentally moaned to herself at the sight of her awkward suitor.

'How long until this fool leaves me be?'

Despite the spiny irritation clawing inside of her, she spoke in as tolerant a voice as she could manage.

"Yes, Dinjit?"

He raised his head and gave a stiff salute to her, although he refused to meet her eyes, instead he stared over her shoulder at the wall as he provided his status report in a raspy voice.

"All the warriors we arrived with are on board our craft. We are awaiting you to join us in the flight to the surface."

Shress nodded before she picked up her bag at her feet. "Very well Dinjit, let us depart before–"

"Commander."

Another voice called out, interrupting her, but when she turned to face the new speaker behind her, both she and Dinjit bowed their heads when they saw the golden armor of the Ardent Prayer's Shipmaster.

"Yes, sir?" she answered respectfully.

"The Prophet of Regret will be here soon, as such he wishes to see you," his voice rumbled like gravel as he continued. "So I suggest you put someone in command of your legion while you wait for his arrival here on the Ardent Prayer."

Shress felt the air leave her lungs as she registered exactly what the Shipmaster said.

'The Prophet of Regret wants to see me? Why? Is it true he can see into the future? Is it possible that he saw me betraying the Covenant?'

As suddenly as they came, she shook those thoughts from her mind.

'The Prophets are liars, and with them in their chairs, they haven't any power at all. If the Prophets are so powerful then why do they not heal themselves so that they may walk?'

Still, they were the strong leaders of the Covenant and her people will not hesitate to follow their orders without question or hesitation.

She took a shaky breath before she responded, "Very well. Thank you, Shipmaster. I will send my warriors away and await the Holy One's arrival."

She did not dare to slouch, for fear the shipmaster would see the raging battle of emotions within her through her eyes.

The Shipmaster only grunted before he walked away.

Shress put her bag down and turned to Dinjit. "Ranger, I want you to lead the legion while I wait for the Prophet's arrival."

She expected Dinjit to look happy at the short term promotion, instead he sneered disdainfully.

"Me? Not Kova?"

Shress turned sharply to Dinjit and let out an angry growl as bitterness coloured her thoughts. There was only one thing that he could have meant by that.

'How dare he!?'

Kova is a mated male, she would never do something as disrespectful as to try and steal him from his mate!

"Dinjit."

The Ranger took an involuntary step backwards at the deadly vicious tone that his name had been uttered in.

"I am a Zealot, a Zealot! If you accuse me or even suggest that I perform unclean acts with my own soldiers again, I will personally rip your hearts out and force you to eat them!"

She suddenly roared to get his full attention. Seeing his startled look, she calmed her voice and glared at him, fury still clear in her eyes.

"Understood?"

Dinjit's mandibles were slightly agape as he acknowledged her fury, but he eventually bowed his head in submission.

"Yes, Zealot, La'Vdamee, please forgive me, Dinjit Darbee, for my disrespectfulness."

The use of the formal apology didn't move Shress. She knew she had only shocked the Ranger, and she doubted his apology was sincere.

"Just go and keep my soldiers under control until I return."

Dinjit nodded before he walked to the Phantoms and started to bark orders at the remaining troops, many of whom were frantically at work and avoiding the closer areas to their commander.

With that matter settled, Shress sighed and silently prayed that the human attack would be successful, even if it meant her death. At the moment she would rather be anywhere else in the galaxy than to be in the presence of a prophet.

Six POV

"Come on! Hold still!" Six muttered.

His Sabre chased after a pesky Seraph fighter that kept evading his attacks. If it wasn't for its garish purple exterior and the trail of blue energy it left behind, he was sure he would have lost it by now. The Seraph flew through a debris field and cut close to Anchor Nine's hull, its teardrop body making tight turns that threatened to lose the pursuing Sabre. Once it made a sharp turn and fired its weapons, nearly hitting the Spartans ship. He heard Jorge shift uncomfortably behind him. Raw determination filled Six as he pressed down on the thrusters and closed in on his elusive target, accurately lining his sights up.

"Main cannon?" six queried his giant, armored partner.

"Spinning hot," Jorge answered gleefully.

Six pulled the trigger and watched as bright, yellow light suddenly flashed on the nose of his craft as the bullets flew at the Covenant fighter. The shields glowed a bright blue, then purple, then red. The Seraph jinked and spun, trying not to lose its protection. Finally the shields faded away, leaving the ship vulnerable.

Six had made the mistake of trying to destroy the fighter with the gun during their last encounter, not wanting to risk its escape again, he called out to Jorge.

"Missile pods?"

"Armed and ready."

"Firing."

Four red dots blasted from the openings atop the ship before the missile casing released the armed payloads within and bright yellow replaced the red dots as the ordinance flew to their target. The Seraph desperately tried to get away, but it was too late. The missiles slammed into the fighter. It flipped in circles after the first two hits before the third and fourth finally finished it off, causing the ship to disappear in a ball of flames. The bright, blue light broke the blackness of space for a bit before it faded away and the crispy remains of the alien craft floated away to join the rest of the trash floating in space.

Satisfied the threat was neutralized, Six spun the ship around and headed back to Anchor Nine, preparing for another engagement.

However, once he got there, Jorge reported, "Radar says the area is clean."

The lack of shooting and the floating, destroyed Covenant spaceships confirmed that fact. The Sabre squadron fell back into formation as they received a transmission from Anchor-Nine.

"Spartans, space is clear, you are now authorized to link with the station, over."

"About time," Six commented and directed their Sabre to head to the space station. As they approached the station, both Spartans couldn't help but marvel at the massive command center.

'It's a floating glorified garage.'

They docked outside the third entrance of the station, long metallic arms reaching out and held their craft in place. The radio crackled as Anchor-Nine's operator contacted them.

"Spartans, to your left is the Slip Space drive. We already modified it and attached a detonator to it. It is now a fully primed bomb."

Both Spartans turned to see a massive piece of machinery sticking out of the rear of a pelican. It almost looked comedic. People, technicians Six guessed, floated around the craft doing final check-ups.

Six placed his hand on the eject button, preparing to depressurize the cabin.

"You ready Jorge?"

The bomb needed an escort, and Jorge was the only one that fit the bill. Six was flying since he was the only one who knew how and Jorge would be the one to escort the bomb safely onto the corvette. Until Six could arrive and power down its defenses, they would need to split up. So if one should fall, the other would ensure the success of the mission.

Jorge signaled over their hud that he was good to go.

Six nodded, completely understanding Jorge's unspoken thoughts, and opened the hatch. Oxygen vented out of the ship, but their MJOLNIR armor kept them breathing easily.

Six watched with uncertainty as Jorge floated out of his seat, grabbed the side of the ship, and pushed himself forward, causing the Sabre to rock in its moorings. Six watched his friend fly across the blackness of space before he threw the switches again. The cockpit closed once more and the robotic limbs released their hold on the ship. He backed away before flying off a bit, keeping a careful eye on Jorge, if he missed the Pelican, then it was up to Six to fish him out of space and bring him back to try again.

Jorge was still soaring through space, causing Six to raise an eyebrow as he watched the giant fly as if he was used to it. Sudden, bright lights caught Six's attention. For a terrible moment, he thought it was another Covenant space attack. But with mounting horror, he realized the bright flashes were coming from Reach. Giant explosions were blossoming all over the surface, as fire consumed the planet, and Six felt his gut wrench, thinking of the millions of people on the ground. He quickly called the AI.

"Dot, what's happening?"

"Large scale Covenant bombardments are taking place," Dot's response was cool, no emotion in her smooth, robotic voice.

"How bad is it?" Jorge chimed in himself, concern coloring his tone.

"Billions of casualties, mostly civilians. The cities of Manassas and Quezon have been completely annihilated."

Six tried not to think badly of Dot as she told them the body count, so ordinarily as if she was telling them the weather.

"Military casualties are peaking into the thousands. I am sorry Noble Five, but Sword Base has been destroyed. The whereabouts of Doctor Halsey is unknown."

Six didn't know how to feel about that last part. He was devastated by the number of people dying, yet out of all them he was finding it hard to find pity for Halsey. That woman had been causing him grief ever since he first arrived, toying with him, disrespecting him, spying on him and trying to throw him in the brig multiple times. Hearing she could be dead didn't cause his heart to stir for the irascible doctor.

"Noble Five?"

Dot's question brought Six out of his thoughts and he quickly looked to see where Jorge was. He had safely made it to the Pelican, having grabbed onto its side to catch himself. He seemed alright, but Six thought he heard him say something.

"Goodbye ma'am."

Now Six felt sympathy. Halsey was the closest thing the Spartan II's had to a mother, and she was gone. Before he could say anything to comfort his big friend, the radio crackled to life once more.

"Noble Six are you there?"

Identifying the voice as that of colonel Holland, Six answered, "Go ahead sir."

"I'm guessing you can see our situation from way up there, the situation just became dire. I hope that idea of yours will work."

"Sir, it will," Six stated, fully willing to do whatever it takes to make that statement true.

"Understood Spartan. The Savannah is the one that donated its drive to your cause, and so it will be accompanying you to lend you all the support it can."

Six glanced at the said frigate, which was now bringing up the rear as the Sabre team led the way to face the Covenant threat. He watched as Jorge's Pelican made it on board the shuttle before he responded.

"Don't worry Colonel. We'll get it done."

Shress POV

Shress tried to not appear too anxious so she wouldn't cause undue suspicion to rise, but how could she not look nervous when the leader of the Covenant, the holy union that Shress was helping to betray, wished to see her? The fact that she was on a ship marked to be obliterated didn't calm her at all.

She tried to make herself appear as if she was sleeping on the chair she sat on, but she didn't know if her ruse was believable. All around her, the deck crew of the Ardent Prayer was going this way and that, trying to position the Corvette directly over highly populated human centers. Shress shuddered with the ship as she thought of the billions of innocent people dying at that very moment–killed by her command.

Her mind couldn't help how easy it all seemed for them, how calm they were walking around, killing, murdering, annhilating for no apparent reason.

The thought sickened Shress as she watched the crew walk to their consoles and perform their duties, a strange thing considering not too long ago she was of the same mindset. The Shipmaster meanwhile stood in the middle of the activities and watched the genocide below his feet, looking, if anything, bored.

Shress wanted nothing more than to leave the command deck, but to do so would be rude. Even if she said she was tired, that would not excuse her. The Prophet would be here soon, the humans needed to hurry up with their assault before he–

A shout from one of the Sangheili at a console interrupted her.

"Shipmaster, a human attack force is approaching!"

Shress almost let out a sigh of relief until the Sangheili spoke again.

"It's just a single ship, and it's smaller than the Ardent Prayer."

Shress could just feel her heart sink at those words.

The Shipmaster just snorted, in disgust or amusement she couldn't tell; he dismissed the report with a contemptuous flick of his wrist

"It is of no concern. The patrols can handle this ship on their own."

With that, the bridge crew returned to work, as if the arrival of the humans were nothing more than a bug crawling on their foot, one that would soon be squashed.

Shress sighed, shifting uncomfortably in her chair at the news. Closing her eyes, she tried her best to hide the pain from her fellow comrades.

'Is Michael on that ship? Is he about to be killed? Is there anything she could do to help?'

No, there wasn't, she was only trained to fight in combat, not to pilot a large spacecraft. She couldn't even activate some of the defensive weapons on this ship and use them to destroy the Covenant's own ships. Even if she did know, she would be killed on the spot for helping the enemy by the bridge crew.

For five agonizing units, Shress sat in the chair pretending to doze while her whole body tingled with worry and guilt, thinking that her friend was going to be killed by her plan for sure.

Suddenly the same crew worker shouted, "Shipmaster! The humans! They… they destroyed all the ships in the patrol!"

Every Sangheili's eyes widened at these words. Never before had they ever heard of a single human ship destroying an entire patrol of Seraph fighters. She couldn't help but wonder if the demons had something to do with it.

"All of them?" demanded the shipmaster as he gripped the rail guard around his podium. "Get the Ardent Prayer into an attack position and prepare to fire upon that ship."

"Shipmaster, small human vessels are approaching."

The shipmaster didn't even glance at the reporting engineer.

"Activate the forward defensive systems. That should destroy them."

"But, sir," the same engineer shouted again. "They have already landed on the Ardent Prayer!"

"What!" Thundered the Shipmaster as he spun around to glare at the offending engineer.

"How? The hanger doors are shielded?!"

"They are, Shipmaster, but the humans landed in a blind spot on top of the Corvette. They might already be inside the ship."

Seeing an opportunity to leave the deck, Shress rose.

"Shipmaster, permission to find the humans and eliminate them?"

The shipmaster just nodded and growled through his clenched mandibles,

"Yes, go and find the vermin and kill them! Kill them all!"

'Not likely.'

Shress left her response unsaid as she turned and strode from the deck.

Six POV

The Ranger had barely climbed onto the roof of the Corvette when Six jumped him. He wasn't well suited for EVA combat, but he was able to take the alien down nonetheless. A quick thrust with his knife caused the blade to sink within the shields and deactivate them. He then twisted and yanked it out. Six was unmoved as he watched the alien twist in circles as it slowly ran out of air. Soon, the still body began to float away, nothing more than an empty shell now–just another part of the surrounding debris.

He brought his attention back to the task at hand. The Sabre squad stood around him, all nervous. They'd been trained for aerial and ship-to-ship combat, not close-quarters fighting; for some of them, this would be their first time shooting. The black-suited pilots looked like ODSTs, but their quivering movements gave away that they knew nothing of the bravery that propelled the elite shock troopers into danger so willingly.

Six could only hope their six-man attack team wouldn't lose their heads. He had enough problems to worry about. Without having to watch them and make sure these men won't get into any trouble.

"Alright, let's move."

Command given, he descended through the large hole in the floor. The interior of the ship was strange as always. With its smooth curves and pulsing walls of energy, it almost seemed as if it were a living organism.

It wasn't long before a pilot in the front shouted, "Contact!"

The battle went smoothly; it was only a small skirmish, something the Spartan was grateful for, since they didn't have much time left . With the limp bodies of the Elites floating around in zero-g, the humans moved forward and entered a massive corridor. Once the door closed behind them, air and gravity returned.

Satisfied at the current lack of opposition, he quickly flicked his radio on again, "Captain, this is Noble Six. We are on board and are now on our way to the hangar, over."

"Good job, Noble."

Despite the praise, the captain's voice was strained and in the background. Six could hear shouts and blaring alarms.

As if knowing what he was thinking, the Captain continued to speak, "The Covenant has launched a full-scale attack on the Savannah, we are keeping her together, but we can't last much longer. I sent the bomb to your location, drop those shields and get it ready to blow. We can't last forever out here."

Despite the steadiness, there was a pleading note in the man's voice. Six could do little to reassure him, however.

"Sir, we'll get it done."

No sooner did he finish speaking, they arrived at another door and opened it. Six was relieved to find the hangar. It was thankfully vacated of any other craft, all of which must have been dispatched before the attack force arrived. There were two levels, one of which had a console and other controls on the second floor on the other side of this mechanical chasm, their primary objective.

Seeing the same thing the Spartan was gazing at, one of the flyers started to move forward.

"Wait,"

Six called, but the man kept walking, unconcerned. He only twisted his head round to look at the Spartan.

"Why? It's just right–"

Suddenly a purple spike shot out of the shadows and hit the man's helmet right in the center. The pilot didn't move, frozen, but then the crystal exploded, blowing the man's head apart.

"Ambush!" Six shouted before he jumped behind cover. The other men tried to follow his lead, but a pilot, still traumatized by his comrade's sudden death, stood still, until plasma fire hissed forward and cut him down. Six assessed the situation.

'Two pilots down in less than a minute. This isn't going well.'

Six tried to get a lock on the shooters, but the attackers were invisible.

"Stealth Elites!" Six warned the remaining improvised troops. "Watch the shadows. Keep your heads down and find cover!"

No sooner did he say that, he heard a strangled cry and turned to see what was happening. Another pilot was down, his head rolling off to the side, the silhouette of an Elite showing through the steam of his sword evaporating the blood of the poor pilot.

As one, the humans shouldered their weapons and opened fire; a barrage of assault rifles, magnums, and DMR bullets slammed into the elite. The alien's shape was outlined by an electric blue before its shields failed before finally, the masked Elite let out a gurgling scream before falling to the ground in a heap. The human pilot's corpse, somehow still standing, fell to the floor alongside his killer.

Six couldn't believe it. The pilots were dropping like flies and the remaining survivors were now shaking out of control. Their movement was twitchy and unpredictable as they wildly swung their weapons around looking for another invisible target to shoot.

'I'm not meant to be a team leader.'

"You two,"

He called out to get their attention and pointed to the pilots with assault rifles.

"Give me cover fire, and, you…"

he pointed at the last man, whose clenched hands were gripping his DMR.

"Watch the shadows and make sure we don't get flanked, understand?"

The men nodded.

"Alright, covering fire!"

He sprinted over to the controls as a hail of plasma rounds came out from three corners and began to eat away at his shields. Six leapt and rolled, avoiding some of the fire, before coming up in a kneeling position as he started to shoot at one corner. His bullets finding a cloaked target, the same process took place as before. The Elite's cloak evaporated, then the shields before Six turned away, sure that the alien was dead.

He turned to face the remaining two aliens but saw a blue grenade fly towards him. He dropped to the ground and activated his armor-lock system, but the grenade sailed over him.

Six grunted, annoyed that he reacted to a nonexistent threat. Pulling his weapon back over cover, he almost began to return fire-

Then he stopped. He was too close to the Elites. There was no possible way they could have missed him–unless he wasn't their target.

Six deactivated the lock and jumped to his feet. He turned just in time to see the grenade detonate. The pilots had seen the threat land within their area and tried to run for it. In their crazed escape, one tripped a fellow pilot and together they crashed onto the floor, still inside the kill zone when the grenade exploded. The last pilot who survived the bomb paused to take a breather, but he was right in the middle of an exposed landscape. Six shouted a warning but it was too late. Another needle was launched from the shadows and buried into the man's chest. He looked down at the shard in shock before it discharged.

Six stared at the corpses of the men he was responsible for–all dead in less than three minutes. The fire started up again, and Six turned, eager to gain some vengeance. The two Elites were spaced together, so Six hurled a grenade. The attackers got out of the way while suppressing Six. The Spartan dodged the shots before returning fire, dropping the now exposed enemy fighters.

The whole battle took only five minutes. In that time, ten beings were killed, six humans and four Elites. Unable to take any time to mourn, he turned and continued with his mission. It was all he could do at the moment: honor these men's sacrifices and save as many lives as possible. He walked up to the strange holographic controls and pressed the one with the "open" glyph; he was thankful for all the glyph studying he had been doing with Shress.

He keyed his comm once more and reported in, "Jorge, you're clear. Get in here and let's finish it."

"I hear you loud and clear, Six."

A few moments later, a Pelican flew into the hangar and landed on the main landing pad close to the center, the bomb haphazardly attached to the rear of the aircraft. The retrofit slipspace bomb was clearly not intended to be flown in on a craft this small, but it wasnt like they had a better option available to them.

Jorge clambered out of the pelican. The Spartan struggled to wriggle past the makeshift explosive device without disturbing it. Once he was out, he reached back into the vehicle and brought out a massive machine gun, similar to the one he left behind on Reach.

"Is it just you?" Six asked as he walked up to Jorge, who had turned to face him, casually hefting his gun.

"Why? You disappointed?"

"Hardly. Did you fly this on your own? I thought you didn't know how to fly."

"I know how to fly a Pelican, not a Sabre. Besides, Dot did most of the work. Give me directions and I just followed them."

Six could just hear the smile forming on his friend's face as he let out a shaky breath.

"Well, we are just about done, now we need to move the Corvette closer to the Super Carrier."

"How do we do that? Command didn't go over that part of the plan with me."

Six continued to elaborate the plan for his friend. "It's quite simple, the ship mostly pilots itself, on the deck there's a command switch that we need to get to. It'll put the ship on a course heading to the Carrier for a refuelling run, hit the button, arm the bomb, and get out before it rips up the dimensions of space. That's it."

"Somehow you make the simplest things in life sound like the hardest." Jorge commented dryly before he hefted his massive gun.

"Well let's get moving then."

Six didn't move with him as he voiced his thoughts.

"There are still enemy combatants on the ship, maybe you should hang back and protect the bomb."

"Not going to happen."

Six tried to protest but Jorge continued.

"Look, we need to get this tub moving and we're neck-deep in enemy territory, if you fail we need a backup in order to ensure the mission is a success."

Six sighed as he listened to Jorge recite protocol at him. He had no idea why, but he just didn't like the idea of working with another person on missions any more. Especially after he witnessed the bloody deaths of the pilots he had been charged with leading and keeping safe.

"Fine, you win, let's move," Six said as he abruptly spun around and led the way to a door on the left side of the Pelican.

Six began to tamper with the controls while Jorge watched the rear. It wasn't long before the big Spartan broke the silence however.

"You know where you're going?"

"Yes, the deck is located directly at the front of the ship."

"How do you know that?"

"I was briefed about it before the start of the mission."

Six stumbled over his words as he tried to pull a convincing story out of the air.

"Why are you and Carter the only ones who know about the plan and the rest of Noble don't?"

Six was starting to feel uncomfortable so he hurried in opening the door.

"Well, because Carter and I are the only ones allowed access to certain… assets."

"What assets?"

Jorge's questions suddenly sounded a lot more demanding.

Before Six could answer the doors began to open.

Jorge snorted, "Finally you got it."

Six turned to Jorge and quietly reported, "That wasn't me, someone is opening the door on the other side."

The Spartans raised their weapons and waited as the strange door unlocked itself before pulling apart to reveal the next corridor. Standing in the hallway was an Elite in red armor–an armor system that Six instantly recognized.

In that split-second he could only question, 'What is she doing here? She was supposed to have left with the rest of her troops!'

"Six, Move!"

'Shress was in danger.'

Without thinking, Six jumped in front of the Zealot before he turned to Jorge and shouted, "Wait!"

But it was too late. The bullets flew from Jorge's gun and crashed into his body.

Shress POV

Shress saw the blast roar from the dark muzzle of the giant demon's weapon and realized that she was as good as dead before Michael jumped in the way.

She watched in stunned horror as her friend was lifted off the ground by the impact and flung backwards. Before he landed in a crumpled pile right at her feet.

His shields were clearly down; his chest armor was blackened, and he wasn't moving.

Fearing the worst, Shress forgot about the giant demon and his gun and dropped onto her knees, her face inches away from Michael's helmet.

"Michael!" She called out as she gently grabbed his shoulder and shook him a bit.

He still didn't move. Shress had no idea what to do. While she was trained in some healing arts she had no idea if she could help her human friend. She didn't even know how to get his armor off to inspect his wound. She feared that his lack of response meant that he was badly injured.

'This can't be happening. I can't lose him. I can't! I don't know what I would do without him.'

"What's going on here?" Muttered the giant demon.

It was frozen in place, its massive gun trained on her head, the barrel of its weapon still aimed in her direction, waiting for a simple twitch of the finger.

Before she could think of an explanation, she heard a cough and looked down at the blue-clad demon.

He still didn't move, and for a moment she was afraid she had imagined the sound. Then Michael raised a hand and rested it on the side of his head, a groan of discomfort projected by his suit.

"Shress?"

Happiness and relief flooded Shress' body as she laid a hand on his shoulder.

"Michael, are you alright? Are you hurt?"

"Shress?" He repeated, sounding confused as he looked up at her, but all she could see was the distorted image of her own face reflected back from his blue faceplate.

"What are you doing here? You were supposed to leave with the rest of your troops!"

He tried sitting up before he groaned and clutched his stomach. Shress tried to help him up by grabbing his arms and gently lifted him off the floor and back to his feet.

He stopped halfway to his feet and looked at the large demon.

"You shot me?"

Shress desperately tried not to laugh, despite the near-death experience, Michael sounded more offended and angry than fearful and shocked.

The demon remained silent, it, or he, as the roughness of his voice suggested, just stared blankly at Michael and Shress.

Michael tried to get him to respond.

"Jorge?"

Micheal tried to step forward but found he was held back by a familiar hand on him.

"Uh, Shress, you can let go now."

Shress then realized that despite the fact Michael was back on his feet, her hands were still locked onto his shoulders. She hurriedly let go with a mumbled apology.

Michael looked up at her as if he could hear her embarrassed tone. It made her feel uncomfortably warm and she tried not to look into his faceplate.

Michael looked away from her and turned to his demon brother, "Jorge, are you alright?"

The demon, Jorge, just continued to gaze at them, switching his gaze between the two of them before he finally settled on Six.

"Spartan, what is going on here?"

'Spartan? Is that another name for Michael, or is it what the demons call themselves?'

Deciding to leave it for now, Shress made a note of it and reminded herself to ask Michael about it later.

"Right… well remember those assets I was telling you about earlier?" Michael asked as he waved his hand back at Shress.

'Did I do something wrong? What is an asset?'

Jorge continued to gaze at them.

"Explain."

Shress couldn't tell how the demon was feeling and began to wish he would put the large gun down, or at least point it away from her, until he regained control of his emotions.

"Look, I'm sorry, Jorge, but long story short: I met Shress, she knows how much trouble the Covenant are causing, and is now willingly helping us. She is our new informant, and she was the one who supplied us with the intel we are currently using for this mission."

"You're following the words of an Elite." Jorge stated as he gestured with the weapon in Shress's direction. She self-consciously stepped back and kept her hand close to her sword. Noticing her movement, Michael put himself back in between Shress and Jorge once more before he continued to talk.

"Yes, Jorge, I am, and so is Carter." Michael reasoned, "It is because of her knowledge that we've made it this far. She emptied the ship of most of the Covenant troopers, she gave us the intel on how to infiltrate the ship, and she was the one who told us how to get the corvette closer to the carrier. It is because of her that we are still alive."

Micheal finished still standing firmly in front of Shress, his own gun held loosely at his side.

Shress continued to watch Jorge, wondering what he would do next. She trusted Michael and had lost her fear of him, but she felt a small bit of that old fear return as she watched the huge demon before her, as he weighed her life in his hands.

Jorge's silence lasted for whole units. The whole time she couldn't tell if he was going to try to kill her or not. Now was the time for her to rely on Michael to advocate for her just like before.

'Though if he attacks, I -will- defend myself.''

Eventually Jorge sighed and lowered the weapon.

"Six, I expect you to tell me the whole story when we get out of here."

Shress let out a relieved sigh. 'All these near-death experiences aren't good for my health,' she thought, somehow amused. She still felt her nerves twitching from the thought of fighting yet another demon, however. Michael must have noticed there was something wrong with her and took her hand in his.

The gesture was so familiar, but now she somehow felt different when their hands touched. In her mind's eye she remembered his body lying at her feet, looking as if he had passed. Remembering that moment made her feel slightly humiliated as she recalled the words that had echoed in her head at the thought of the human dying. It wasn't until then that she realized how much he meant to her.

'Does that mean I'm actually developing feelings for him?'

Shress remembered how at first she felt disgusted by the prospect when he accidentally said something along those lines back on the mountains seemingly such a long time ago. Now she wasn't so sure of how she felt towards the human.

She looked back up and saw Jorge staring at their joined hands. Slightly embarrassed, Shress released Michael's hand and they both looked away from each other quickly.

"If you two are done, we have a job to do."

Jorge reminded them before he focused on Michael.

"Six, which way from here?"

Shress wondered who he was talking to, before she remembered when they first met, Michael had told her his name was Six.

'Why does he have a number for a name? Could it be used to represent his family name?'

Michael responded evenly to his fellow demon, as his hand gestured to her.

"Shress, can you lead the way to the deck?"

Shress wasn't so sure how to respond. She was fighting for humanity now, but she didn't know how she'd act if she was forced to fight a fellow Sangheili.

"Just show us the way, and we'll take it from there."

Shress was slightly unnerved that Michael seemed to know what she was thinking, but she nodded in confirmation.

Michael turned to Jorge.

"I'll move ahead and set the ship on the refuelling run, you can stay and prep the bomb."

Jorge looked unnerved as he glanced between Michael and Shress.

"Six, if you fail, how will I know this Zealot will complete the mission?"

Shress growled, quickly earning Jorge's attention.

"My name is Shress La'Vdamee, and I took an oath to defend the innocent and fight for the weak."

"So where were you twenty-seven years ago?"

Tilting her head, her mind immediately latches onto the singular word she didn't know.

"What's a year?"

The two stood there, one in disbelief and the other in innocent curiosity, unable to fully understand the other. Six, unwilling to let this strange stalemate continue, stepped in. Gesturing towards the passageway, he urged his warrior companion to see reason.

"That's enough, Jorge, she's on our side. We will not fail. Protect the bomb and we'll be right back. got it?"

Shress could have sworn she heard a hardening edge in Michael's voice, though she didn't know why.

Jorge stared hard at Michael before he sighed and said, "Well what are you waiting for then? You and your girlfriend better get going."

Shress cocked her head again at the next unfamiliar word.

"His what?"

Michael hurriedly grabbed her arm and pulled her away from Jorge.

"Nothing, I… I'll explain later."

His rushed response failed to satiate her curiosity, but before she could ask any more, the door behind them closed and they were alone together in the corridor.

Soon Michael released her and she walked forward leading the way. They came to the battery station, the room before the deck. Shress signed for Michael to stay back while she entered the room. Inside she saw a Sangheili engineer at one of the consoles. The Elite was busy firing salvos of plasma at the human ship, an energy barrier in front of him showed the ship that was now so badly damaged that it looked as if the entire vessel was on fire. She signaled to Michael of the danger. He nodded and silently moved forward. The room was mercifully empty of any other presence, Shress watched the deck door to ensure no one would walk in and surprise them, but she also did it so she wouldn't have to see Michael kill one of her brothers–someone who was to die just because of his belief in an already blood-soaked fictional cause. Against all her training, she closed her eyes when she heard the strangled cry before the silence returned.

She felt a hand on her shoulder and flinched badly before turning back to look at Michael, who also took a step back from her, sensing her fear. She sighed and nodded. She was alright.

There was a flash of light that lit the room from the outside, and they both turned to look for the cause. She quickly skimmed her eyes past the laid out body to the view through the window.

A new miniature sun had seemingly formed outside the window of the corvette even as the shuddering from an explosion rocked the ship. It wasn't long before the bright fire began to dim, revealing the remains of the human ship. A skeletal form of black smoldering wreckage that now floated among the stars. Shress stared at it in a new light, a ship, full of valiant defenders, all gone. All that was left of them was their charred vessel, a dark grave marker showing yet another slaughter floating the black void.

She felt a hand on her arm and turned from the view to face Michael.

"Is the command deck ahead?"

She was taken aback when she heard the coldness in his voice.

She replied with a curt nod in response before he continued calmly.

"Why don't you stay here, Shress? Make sure no one is following us."

'And ensure you won't see the carnage,' she added to herself.

She knew that was the main reason why he wanted her to stay. Regardless, she just nodded in confirmation before he walked away, not looking back as he unslung the rifle off his back.

Shress waited outside of the room. At first she heard nothing, and then she began to hear the heated whine of plasma, the blasts of a loud weapon, and the dying roars of a Sangheili. She tried her best to block out the sounds and focus on watching their flank. But she couldn't get the sound of her brethren dying out of her head.

'Am I doing the right thing? Isn't there another way to end this? I wish I had the ability to tell the people of my race that they are being used, but how? I only learned of it by befriending a demon, by breaking the law, something no other Sangheili would do, and those that do are punished.'

She sighed as these thoughts raced through her mind. She wished more than ever now that there could be some way of informing her people they were being deceived. However, she had yet to figure out a way without getting denounced as a heretic and killed.

Suddenly, she lost her footing as the ship made a sharp turn. Remembering the view from the deck and quickly estimating the heading of the ship, Shress figures Michael must have won and had sent the corvette on a course to the Long Night of Solace.

The door opened and Michael strode out. His weapons were back on his back and his rigid posture had seemingly softened,

'Has he worked off his anger through killing?'

"Sorry if you heard anything unpleasant."

Michael stopped in front of her.

She shrugged and responded to him, "Let's get back to Jorge,"

For the moment she had no idea what else to say.

The two of them began to walk back to the hangar, silent, unsure of what to talk about. Shress would have loved to talk to Michael about anything, but at the moment she was actually afraid of him. Never before had she seen him that angry and now she feared that some of it was directed at her.

"Shress, what are you going to do now?"

His sudden question caught her unawares.

"What?"

"Are you going to come back with us, or are you going to try and regroup with your soldiers?"

Shress glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, but the human kept his gaze pointed straight ahead, not even glancing at her. She sighed.

"I don't know Michael, maybe I'll go and try to find the Covenant. I'll be of better use to you as a spy rather than anything else. And well, Jorge, and no doubt others like him, looks like he's ready to kill me at the slightest provocation…"

She left the sentence hanging there, unsure how to finish.

Unexpectedly, Michael took her hand in his and squeezed.

"Shress, if you come with us, I swear, I'll do whatever I can to keep you safe."

She looked intently at him and this time he met her gaze.

"Do you truly believe you could protect me from your entire race?"

Her friend shifted on his feet, seemingly finally understanding the reason behind her apprehension.

"I won't let any harm come to you."

She knew that it was a lie, a comfortable lie both to her and himself at the thought of a future where everything would turn out okay. It was a wish more than a promise, a blind hope of something that they both knew couldn't be.

'Even if I would want nothing more…'

After a few moments, she shook her head back into reality.

'Stop that!' She berated her wandering mind, somehow having an argument with herself even in a split second.

Before she could say anything else though, they arrived back in the hangar. Jorge was pacing around the human aircraft. They walked over to him, seeing his gaze fixed on them, Michael informed him of their success.

Jorge only grunted his acknowledgement, before turning to face Shress, gun held ready, "Alright. No problems I assume?"

She growled again, disliking this new demon more and more.

"I am an honorable warrior. I keep my promises."

Jorge gave her a strange look.

"Who taught you English?"

Michael stepped up, seemingly wishing to defend her from his ally.

"I did."

The larger demon looked over to Michael, conveying every bit of a deadpan expression through his polarized helmet.

"Why did you give it a French accent?"

Michael sat there for a moment, unable to respond. Even in the middle of a ship filled with hostile warriors, her friend could only come up with a quick, "It's just an accent problem we haven't worked out yet."

"Yet?" The larger demon asked disbelievingly, but he shook his head and moved over to the bomb. "Aliens sounding like they're French, now I have seen everything."

Shress turned to Michael, giving him a quizzical look.

"What is an accent? You two seemed to have noticed, but I still don't know what that word means."

Michael looked up at her and after a moment answered.

"An accent is…" Michael paused halfway through his thought, clearly trying to collect his thoughts…

'Even if now is the worst possible time for it.'

Shaking that thought off, she listened as he continued.

"It's just a speech pattern that makes you sound a bit different from other people. It's quite common among humans, because we have several different languages and cultures. Take Jorge for example,"

He gestured his head towards his demon brother.

"Notice how his words sound different from mine?"

Shress nodded her understanding before another thought crossed her mind.

"So, how does my accent sound?"

She silently prayed that he wouldn't say it sounded anything like the other demon's. After waiting for a long moment in the silence of the passageway, Michael finally answered with a quick,

"It's… nice."

Before Shress could ask if this was how he truly felt, they both heard a bang and turned to see Jorge walk over to them.

"Well, good news and bad news. This bird took some fire and her thruster gimbal is toast. Which means the only way off this slag heap, is gravity."

With that, he pointed out into the darkness of space, causing Shress to become nervous. Michael still looked hopeful.

"And the good news?"

"That was the good news."

Jorge responded as he removed his helmet and let it drop to the floor. Shress couldn't help but stare at the human. He seemed older compared to Michael, gray hair, wrinkled skin, and, something she found quite peculiar, he had fur growing above his mouth. If it wasn't for the situation at hand, she would have found the partially furry face highly amusing.

"The bad news is, the timer's fried. Someone will have to fire it manually."

Shress had no idea what 'fried' meant, but she understood manually. Michael's suddenly stiffened body didn't soothe her growing foreboding feeling either.

"That's a one-way trip."

Shress instantly knew what Michael meant, among her kind, the road to death was seen as the final journey, one of them had to stay here to detonate the bomb.

"We all make it sooner or later."

Jorge touched his neck and yanked off a necklace–a necklace similar to Michael's.

"Listen, Reach has been good to me,"

With that he placed the necklace into Michael's hand and held on tight, before he then looked to Shress.

"And I hope what Six said about you is true."

Before she could protest, he grabbed her by the chest plate. She was surprised when he easily lifted her off her feet, along with Michael in his armor. Grunting slightly, Jorge carried them to the hanger entrance. Realizing what he was going to do, Shress made sure her shields were activated. Taking in the deepest breath she could, she closed her mouth and locked her armor.

"Tell 'em to make it count,"

And with that, he threw them out of the ship.

Uncertain whether it was her or Michael who brought them together, all Shress felt was his arms close around her though she could not return the embrace. She would have felt embarrassed, but at the moment all she was thinking about was surviving the inevitable crash.

As they fell, they watched as the Ardent Prayer inched closer and closer to the Long Night of Solace, both knew what was going to happen, but were still shocked at what they saw.

The Ardent Prayer disappeared in a sudden blinding flash as an intense force of energy escaped from it. Space suddenly began to warp around what was once the Ardent Prayer, bright blue light that soon intertwined itself with the Long Night, unfolding itself until it was the size of a small star. But, just as quickly as it formed, the blue light collapsed on itself and shrunk away into nothing, taking the midsection of the Long Night with it. The prow and the stern of the ship hung there for less than a unit. Then violent explosions of plasma encased what was left spectral blue flames.

'He really did it.'

She thought as they fell to the human world, as she thought of the giant demon in a new light. The demon that she thought was a threat, and was as cocky as Dinjit, had just sacrificed his life willingly, without even looking scared. A feat that many Sangheili warriors would have admired.

She thought she felt Michael clung onto her tighter even through her shields and she did her best to return the embrace even through her locked armor, mostly to try to comfort him as he had comforted her. Soon they began to fall into the atmosphere, the pressure building as the air thickened, colorful flames surrounded them in a beautiful yet deadly display. She could only hope Michael would survive the inevitable pull of gravity, even as the lack of air finally began to affect her.

There was another flash of light, and Shress felt her stomach drop when she heard the boom, it wasn't a weapon launching. It was worse. Together, the pair of falling warriors looked and saw above them was another Covenant ship. Soon, one by one, more and more started to appear, an entire fleet was arriving, first dozens then over a hundred ships, Shress recognized the capital ship in the middle of the flock of metal giants, the dread weighing her stomach down even as she fell.

'The Prophet of Regret had arrived. We were too late.'