The Cost

Sparta Academy of Military Studies

Sparta

Shepard wiped the blood off her tactical goggles before pressing down on the trigger of her submachine gun twice… only to receive two empty clicks in return.

Fuck.

Shepard grimaced; she had not realized how quickly she had expended all her ammo. Switching for her dad's M6H pistol, the young pony-tailed girl clicked off the safety and began firing off rounds into every alien that she could see. This was not hard considering there were no friendlies down the hall.

Half of her squad and friends were already gone, both ceiling turrets were disabled, and Darius had long since died. The hallway had long since been overrun with hostile aliens both living and dead.

When the aliens first attacked Onyx Squad, Shepard was both frightened and surprised to see so many different aliens fight together… and without weapons. They simply ran towards Onyx in a horde, perhaps they thought they could overtake them with numbers. It was easy picking at first, a couple of well-aimed bursts and they all came crashing down. The large wall of bodies that provided a buffer zone in the hallway supported that.

However, that was fifteen minutes ago. Shortly after the horde was shot down, the real invasion force arrived: four-eyed aliens in combat armor and with advanced kinetic weaponry. Before she knew it, she was down five friends…

"No. Team members" she chided herself. That way of thinking lessened the pain, made the realization that there were five friends, dead or missing all the more easier to handle. Only minutes ago, Shepard saw two of the four-eyed aliens, this time equipped with heavy armor, jump over one of the floor barriers, shocking two of her friends with strange orange-gauntlets before snatching them away. It hurt Shepard to know that she was helpless to stop them, her bullets had reflected off some kind of energy shield and in the end, her helmet was shredded by their weapons... But as soon as she got out of here, she would do whatever she could to get them back.

Until then, she along with the remaining two members of her team, Kaiden included, were stuck in the very room they were tasked with defending.

Taking pot shots from the edge of the door, Shepard turned back just in time for the alien's kinetic rounds to come crashing through the doorway. Releasing the empty mag in her pistol, Shepard yelled for her remaining teammates's status.

"Sound off!"

"Last mag."

" Shep...I'm hit."

The last voice caught her attention. Looking behind her, Shepard froze… Oh no. Her face was that of shock, for one of her friend's BDU was completely red, his entire upper leg barely hanging on to the rest of his body by a bare strand of teared tissue and muscle. One of the kinetic rounds the aliens were using must have hit between the unarmored section of the hip and leg. At least he managed to drag himself out of the line of fire.

She pressed down on the trigger twice more, the recoil kicking hard against her shoulder but in exchange two 12.7mm satisfyingly crashed into the heads of two cocky four-eyes who were attempting to run into the room. The results were instanteous, their heads exploded, showering the floor with specks of bone and grey matter.

With the fire dying down, Shepard made her move; racing to the other side of the room, she dropped down to her teammate's level, inspecting what remained of his leg. On appearance alone Shepard began to cringe, the wound was too big for her to effectively do anything to help and by the amount of blood that was spurting unto the floor, and she correctly guessed he was already dead man. So Shepard did the only thing she could do, she grasped his hand, squeezing it tightly and began to comfort him.

"You'll be okay Alex it's just a flesh wound".

Alex only nodded his head before closing his eyes. Shepard could only watch in despair as his grip became weak, before dropping unto the crimson-covered floor.

Shepard held back the tears forming in her eyes and ripped out the dogtag from his neck. The voices around her slowly faded out as she stared into the cold, dead eyes of Alex's face, it was just like the others. Even as Kaiden muffled voice yelled at her to get up, even when the four-eyed aliens jumped into the room and violently grabbed them both, Shepard could not move.

Everyone in Onyx Squad was gone, and in a few moments, they would be too.

It felt like a dying dream.

It all ended though when she looked into the hallway, a bright spot cutting through the crowd of hostile aliens. A blue light awash in a sea of red. The aliens turned around to meet the new threat, only to drop dead to its ever-hateful fury. It was a merciless monster calling for the blood of its foes, for none could live in its presence. Heads exploded, arms were ripped off, and slavers were sent flying into their comrades as the demon tore through their ranks. There was no stopping it, even the aliens holding Shepard shook in fear as they shakily grabbed their weapons, and prepared to fight off the unstoppable force, the real demon in this hell.

However, the fight would never come. For as soon as the demon entered the room, it made the slightest of twitches and the alien's heads exploded like watermelons. Shepard dropped to the ground at the same time her hostage-taker did. She looked up stunned, at the tall figure, sparks from behind illuminating her large profile. It reminded Shepard of the statue in the middle of the campus, symbolic and godlike. Unlike the statue however, this one was very much alive. The SPARTAN simply glanced around, putting the pieces together, before she extended her cold ice-blue arm to Shepard, providing some much-needed comfort.

"You green Cadet?" asked the SPARTAN. Internally, Shepard felt like she could not do it anymore. She just wanted to go to sleep and never wake up.

Yet, the blue-colored giant refused to let her do so, her voice louder this time as she repeated her question "Cadet? Are. You. Okay?" This time Shepard nodded her head at the giant, and finally taking the hand she rose up.

The SPARTAN nodded her head to Shepard before turning her head to Kaiden, "That's a lot of bodies out there. Where's your squad?"

Kaiden could only point down the hall, "They- They're gone. The aliens killed 'em."

The question echoed in Shepard's mind. Where's your Squad? Shepard remembered the four-eyes taking two of her friends away for god-knows what reason. Maybe they were still alive.

She blinked twice, the anger glowing in her eyes. "Ma'am, the aliens took two members of my squad alive. We need to get them back."

The Spartan simply acknowledged her statement with a nod, before calling out "Leonidas. Where are all the missing cadets?"

For the longest minute, it seemed like the reply would never come. But to the relief of those in the room, the shimmering hologram of an ancient Spartan appeared in front of the modern Spartan, spear to rifle. Man to demon.

"They bring our men to their skyship, for what purpose I remain unaware. But worry not dear Spartans, reinforcements have arrived-

The SPARTAN rose her hand to silence the ghostly warrior. "I gotcha Leonidas. Cadets, we've got ODSTs dropping in, they'll likely find your friends. Every position in the campus is being overrun, I need you two to stay put here."

Shepard began to argue "But ma'am our defenses are down, we have nearly no cover. If anyone comes here, we're screwed. "

The SPARTAN remained silent, listening carefully to the nervous cadet as she attempted to convince her to come with them. Would these two kids really be safe here? It was a hell of a risk. Or would they be better off tagging along with her? Did it really matter? They survived this long without any outside help.

Raising her hand to silence them once more, SPARTAN Palmer asked "How much ammo do you two have?"

Both cadets looked at each other before shrugging. "None ma'am."

The answer to the issue was obvious, SPARTAN Palmer searched through the corpses of the four-eyed aliens until she picked up what looked like two blocky-looking assault rifles. After a moment of hesitation, her advanced Heads Up Display was linked to the weapon, catching her off guard. Instead of showing an ammo counter as she expected, her HUD displayed a heat counter. That explains the lack of buttons, there's not really a clip to be inserted in… but then how does it fire…?

She pressed on the trigger of both weapons, watching as the two-heat counters rose the slightest. The weapons had surprisingly little recoil for its configuration and size, and compared to the damage it did to the wall on the other side of the hall, she had expected some kind of trade-off with accuracy. Yet she was wrong once again, as the three-round burst from the weapon found its mark on a spot on a wall one hundred feet down range. Guess it could be said that it was cleared from her suspicions.

While it was definitely superior to the common MA5D, the weapon, to which SPARTAN Laura Palmer took to calling a "Vindicator", had nothing on her personal choice of armament: two SPARTAN Armory M-series pistols. The Materials Group hadn't found an official name for it, but all she had to know was that it fired hella big rounds.

Two weapons in hand she turned to ask the cadets a question "You two know how to fire a rifle?"

Both cadets nodded as an alien weapon was thrown into their hands.

"These weapons have heat counters, so make sure to fire in short bursts. Cadet, pick a helmet from one of your comrades, they won't need it."

Rearmed and ready for combat, the two kids quickly regained their composure as their doubt faded away with the realization that they had a Spartan backing them. In less than a minute, they were all running out the building and into the battlefield outside.

CSV Elasa's Song

Orbiting Sparta

Tela Vasir watched from a vidscreen as the slaver's cruiser lay siege to the human's militarized complex. She was honestly expecting to see a little more from the humans, where were the ships? Tela was still trying to her head around that, there was an orbital elevator right above the planet... yet no ships? In Citadel Space an orbital elevator could be affordable by only the wealthiest of colonies, and they were almost always surrounded by trading and cargo ships.

Tela frowned when the vidscreen's view to that of the slaver cruiser. The slaver's were using the short range pulse-defense system, usually reserved for anti-fighter combat, as some sort of artillery weapon, destroying heavily fortified positions around the campus with intense bursts of infrared energy. On the ground though, the action was much more intense, shuttles swarmed out of the sides of the slaver cruiser like angry bees out of a hive.

She knew it was not her place to support either side, but secretly Tela wanted the humans to destroy the slavers. They were a shit stain on galactic society, a parasite to everything they touched. Honestly, had this planet not had people and were this not a reconnaissance mission Tela would have no problem with ordering the turians to obliterate the ship off the face of the galaxy. Better yet, she would happily torture them and the pyjak who sold out this mission. Her thoughts were interrupted though as the bridge's sensor operator cried for her attention.

"Ma'am! We have a proximity alert, contacts right above the planet. There are two… no three warships. Two cruiser analogues of which are on approach vector." Like the human freighters Tela always saw near the planet, these ships too came out of nowhere in strange white portals, "slipspace" as the human captive called it. How it worked was beyond her, but he did say something about punching holes through space.

Captain Alik thoughts however were on a different matter. She stared at the sensors operative with suspicion "With who?"

His hands danced around the orange keyboards as he began to form a conclusion. "Our ship."

Captain Alik Latex, while not one to argue with professionals at their own job, was hesitant to believe that the aliens knew about their ship's location. They had spent six months here with no discernible change in the human's activities, now suddenly the humans found the location of this ship? That was preposterous.

"Officer, is our stealth systems not engaged?" asked Alik angrily. There was no way that the military ships had known of their existence, yet the turian never took his eyes off the radar in front of him. There was no doubt about it; they were 2000kms away and nearing.

"Captain I recommend we leave before they intercept us."

Spectre Vasir stood behind the incompetent Captain, weighing down the possibilities. If the ships were on an intercept course as the officer suggested they were, then they would no doubt shoot at the frigate and pick out the technology and navigation databases from the wreckage. At least that is what Tela would do if she were a human captain… unfortunately, she was on the receiving end and at the rate Captain Alik was arguing, they would no doubt never be able to make a decision.

Once again deciding to use her Spectre Authority, Tela ordered Captain Alik to relay to all Council Vessels in space a General Retreat order. As if on cue, the turian operating the sensors cried out to Alik's surprise.

"Mass Accelerator fire from Alpha-1! Impact o-one minute." The turian hesitantly stated.

"Mass accelerator fire from Alpha-2. Inbound... one minute?" The turian's well-disciplined behavior was the only thing preventing him from turning around to look at the Spectre in confusion.

One minute? But we're only… maybe their mass accelerator technology isn't as advanced as we thought. "Guess we over stayed our welcome boys. Drop our stealth systems and focus all power to getting us to the system's relay. Tell the other Phoros' frigates to do the same, I want everyone coming out of this in one piece.-"

Captain Alik meanwhile stood with silent rage, tired of the bloody Spectre ordering her crew. "Listen this is my-"

The Spectre simply tilted her head, not even bothering to face the female captain directly, a gesture of disrespect in turian culture. "You sure you wanna go down the authority route Captain?"

The Captain stuttered, her mandibles wide open in disbelief. "I… I-"

Tela Vasir turned to reface the display showing the two warships route of interception. Her face made the faintest of smiles. "Bridge I wanted us out of here last cycle" she said while crossing her arms. Each crewmember worked quickly in their workstations, orange holograms flickering on and off as everyone coordinate the ship's exit strategy.

The Elasa's Song lurched forward, its thrusters reorienting the ships as to face the direction of the nearby system's Mass Relay and its nearby compliment of turian warships. Slowly the Phoro-Class frigates stealth systems were disengaged, compromising their existence to the rest of the galaxy. Blue exhaust flew out of over sixteen thrusters, launching four stealth frigates at insane speeds past stellar debris.

And thus the hunt began.

The two human warships that had fired on the Elasa's Song, were now giving chase to the small group of nimble stealth vessels. Opting to close the distance and cripple the vessels with a handful of missiles, the two Strident-Class Heavy frigates let loose their Deuterium fusion engines. While the Phoro-class vessel was nowhere near as armored or armed as the human warships, the Citadel vessel did have one advantage that its predators did not, speed. Elasa's Song, like other ships of its class were designed around the concept of covertly spying over an enemy for long periods of time and leaving as quickly and quietly as possible. This was why Council Scientists had worked so hard to provide an effective way of providing the stealth frigates with the ability to make quick FTL jumps at the cost of distance per jump.

But it didn't really matter when the Relay system they had to jump to was in a near-by system, only two light years away.

Disappearing in a flash of blue, the Elasa's Song along with the other three vessels of its class would exit near the long-elongated tuning fork shape of the Mass Relay. To most, the system seemed empty save for two Gas Giants and a few stray asteroids. On closer inspection of the asteroids however, one would see three fusion torches hammered on to them and in fourteen-turian warships that hid in the orbit of the nearest gas giant.

Unfortunately, for their pursuers, by the time the two Strident-class frigates had discovered the location of the mass relay, the Council Expeditionary Force would have already been long since gone. The only clue to their existence being the device they left behind: a giant, mysterious tuning fork shaped device that would soon mark the coming of a new age... and the awakening of evils long since dormant.

UNSC Say my name

Above orbit of Sparta

"Hell's Waiting Room." That is what everyone knew it by.

Yet no one really understood what that really meant. That was until you were dropping from above the atmosphere of a war-torn planet in what amounted to a 1,100kg metal coffin; with nothing but a couple of inches of ceramic plating and a coat of stealth paint between you and a fiery death by entering the atmosphere at speeds past terminal velocity. That was of course, without including the possibility of being shot down by anti-aircraft weaponry, life-support issues, or a mechanical failure that led to your likely painful and terrible death.

But for the brave men and women who sat, waiting in the Single Occupant Exoatmospheric Insertion Vehicles, death was simply another location they would be dropping in feet first into hell. And with each "transorbital support interdiction", their life expectancy dropped but so was the consequence of being a Helljumper.

For the Orbital Drop Shock Trooper in Entry Vehicle 90A12-57H-012 however, death was the least of his concerns. As the bay doors of Hell's Waiting room slid away, the man in the pod took out a tiny picture of his life's remaining love. Unfortunately, he would miss the view of the exposed surface of the planet underneath. Black clouds drifted ever so slowly over the bare green mass, the occasional yellow spot of lightning marking one of the many storms that covered the disturbed surface.

Yet under all of that, would they find the school fighting back against the alien ship? Or would the aliens already be packing, leaving with whatever they had came for?

He would find out soon enough as his thoughts were punctuated by a voiced countdown. He took in a deep breath, preparing himself mentally for the combat he would likely be facing underneath the clouds. A quick glance of the person in his picture reminded him of the reason he was here, why he was fighting.

"Five."

"Troopers! Intel down below is reporting that the X-rays down below own the ground. Half of them are amassing beneath their ship, apparently they've been taking every kid they could find and stuffing them into shuttles."

"Four."

That meant their timetable was accelerated, the man checked the plan again.

"Three."

There were about ten teams of six ODSTs each, five of them would be crashing into the ship from above as to work their way down and neutralize the enemy's command. To ensure a quick and easy entry, the UNSC Say my name would fire a couple of well-timed M42 archer missiles that would weaken the hull of the ship. This of course would allow for teams to infiltrate the most likely areas of the bridge's location.

"Two."

Two teams were tasked with securing a landing zone for the Say my name, and finally, like his team, the remaining three would be inserted around key locations around the base to sweep for any pockets of resistance.

"One."

The countdown ended and the man's pod was released. He grabbed tightly to his crash seat, as the pod's rocket thrusters activated. Barely audible thuds could be heard as the pods around him repeated similar motions. He felt like his stomach was churning and moving throughout his entire body as his drop pod accelerated down to the mess below. Peeking through the pod's windows, he watched as dozens of black pods like his swarmed around him. The cloud layer zipped closer and closer.

After ten seconds, he watched thirty of the drop pods activated their side thrusters and adjusted their trajectory to that of the alien ship.

The ODST could only watch in horror as one by one, communication with the drop pods were cut off. Other ODSTs began yelling in distress, something about the ship firing off lasers at the pods. It would end though when a handful of M42 Archer Missiles impacted with the ship, cracking the hull like a tin can. Despite the fact it destroyed the ships defenses, it do little to reverse the damage already done.

Only forty-four ODSTs would be landing alive.

Yet it was nothing compared to the mess down below, for the Sparta Academy of Military Science lay in shambles. Multiple buildings suffered catastrophic damage from the alien frigate's pulse lasers, some of the walls still red and hot from the intense-energy burst.

The orbital elevator had also taken a hit from the alien frigate, its support anchors barely distributing the weight equally; it was a large-scale environmental disaster waiting to happen.

And that was just scratching the surface.

Bodies littered the Academy's grounds, where students and teachers alike fought valiant, last stands against an outnumbering force. Blue and yellow tracers flashed back and forth between buildings, the occasional smoke contrail identifying the use of a rocket launcher on a soft target's position. What was meant to be used for tanks, was instead now used on the most heavily armored slavers of the Verush's last [bitch], and the results were never disappointing. Body parts flew across the ground, rolling and only coming to a stop from forty feet away. Yet these small victories would come at a cost as other slavers realized the threat posed by its firer, and subsequently obliterated that portion of cover with hundreds of mass accelerator rounds.

Before they could continue firing on the building though, loud booms sounded off from high up the sky, distracting them long enough for the remaining cadets to garrison fire.

One by one, the familiar booms and flashing lights could be heard and seen throughout the campus, providing a brief moment of relief to those who recognized the sound; and confusion to those who did not. Cascading lights of red and yellow created a chaotic show of color in the dark, rainy sky, and before anyone knew it the lightning hit.

With a large whirring sound, each drop pod fired its under-thrusters, slowing the descent to manageably tolerable levels of safety. Retrieving their respective weapons, each ODST prepared themselves for the inevitable, the familiar sound of pressure release as the pod's gas-bolted doors exploded open. Across the campus, batarians and other aliens alike were caught off guard at the sudden arrival of the black devices.

Twelve batarians would be simultaneously killed by exploding pod doors.

Out of the abyss-colored pods, forty-four mean, pissed off ODSTs would jump out, weapons at the ready. ODST doctrine stated within that whatever a unit accomplished during its "golden hour" on the ground would have a disproportionate effect on the outcome of the mission, however, what very few seemed to realize was that was the "long-term" plan. For in the very first three seconds of landing, the actions an ODST choose would determine whether they would become another number on a casualty report or the worst nightmare of the enemy for the short remainder of their lives.

In the case of the ODST in drop pod 90A12-57H-012, the latter would be the outcome.

Following the mysterious introduction, three batarians circled around the strange black-colored device that had crashed on the grass. With a loud hiss, the drop pod's door exploded outward, killing a batarian slaver who was a little too curious. The two surprised batarians nearby never stood a chance as they were set ablaze by "Dragon's Breath". Two incendiary rounds quickly burned through their ablative plates, paving the way for the 3000 'F shards to cook the people underneath.

Blocking out the stench of seared flesh, the ODST scanned the open area for any more hostiles. Finally noticing the strangely humanoid figure that the aliens he just killed had. Had they wore full-enclosing helmets; the ODST would have likely hesitated and fired too lately. Besides the mutated looking faces of the aliens, he was virtually looking at what could have passed for some kind of sub-human; a group of humans who may have been exposed to too much radiation or strange environmental factors and subsequently underwent a weird growth and change in body physiologically.

Too bad.

His attention back to the mission he continued scanning the surrounding area. Fortunately, (or unfortunately depending on whose point of view one was looking at) the surrounding area was empty, save for the sole statue in the middle of the courtyard. The ODST looked up, recognizing the figure's iconic appearance to be that of "The Spartan", except that the statue featured damage in the form of bullet holes across its chest, a crack through the entirety of its visor.

The ODST shook his head, slinging his HK47 "Storm" Tactical Shotgun on his shoulder. The aliens most have been trying to degrade the statue noticing its symbolic importance he realized. Yet like any other statue of The Spartan it stood proud, triumphant despite the fact it was surrounded by a group of murderous, disrespectful aliens.

He clicked on his VISR mode before his helmet alerted him to his mission's objectives. With a quick motion of his eyes, the helmet detected the gesture and responded by opening up the mission content folder.

Mission perimeters updated-

-SPARTAN Callsign: Autumn Actual, has taken operational command of Fireteam Maverick.

-Maverick has been ordered to head towards this location immediately.

The ODST blinked hard at that, a SPARTAN? Here?

Clicking off the mission content folder, the ODST began sprinting to towards a new marker displayed on his Organic Light Emitting Diode (OLED) coated screen. Shotgun in hand, the ODST entered the surrounding structure and passed through the empty, militarized halls, the sounds of nearby firefights echoing everywhere he went, yet he couldn't see anyone. As he closed in the distance to the marker, the ODST heard the recurring roar of MA5Es through the desolate corridor. He could also see five friendly tags and the objective marker on the motion sensor.

Turning the corridor, he found himself facing down the barrel of a MA5E, a small, teenage girl shakily holding it. From behind, three kids in body armor fired at the end of the corridor at downed X-rays, and another cadet sat back against the wall… missing his right arm. Turning around to see why his friend stopped firing, one of the cadets stumbled back, surprised at the sight of the ODST. He quickly regained his senses and rested his hand on the scared cadet's shoulder. Calmed by the act of comfort, she hesitantly lowered her weapon.

"Guys look, ODSTs."

The ODST simply looked at displayed identities of the team:

NA/Cadet Kaiden Alenko

NA/Cadet Kika Thornton

NA/Cadet Winston Grueth

NA/Cadet Namarie Theron

NA/Cadet Alex Mckeown

He scanned the crowd of tired, grim faces before stopping at the last one. He recognized that face anywhere, but just to make sure he looked at the name and then the face of the young red-headed girl. Her bright blue eyes looked just like her mothers.

Oh thank god, he sighed out of relief.

As much as he would like to take off his helmet and give his little girl a hug, but the ODST knew that would be the stupidest mistake one could make in an active combat zone. So instead, he opted to remain as an anonymous ODST, and lead to the kids to a safer area.

"How much ammo do you all have?" he suddenly asked, his voice coming out synthesized. His daughter looked at the kid, Kaiden Alenko before looking at the ODST.

"We're good… sir. SPARTAN Palmer said one of you guys will help us?"

The ODST simply nodded to his oblivious daughter, noticing the blood that covered her black uniform. "Pack your shit. I'm bringing you kids to a evac zone we should be done setting up. Did the SPARTAN give you any other instructions?"

"No sir! She told us to stay put, that back up would be arriving for pick up."

The ODST immediately opened his Squad comms, telling his fellow badass brethren to meet up along the way.

With a gesture of his hands, the kids began to move through the hallway. Despite the fact that the five of them were made up of three different Squads, they worked together as if they had been doing so for years. All the training was coming into to play as hall by hall, five cadets under the age of eighteen and a veteran ODST cleared room by room, only pausing when the ODST ordered them to.

Changing into the VISR's mission content folder, the ODST once again viewed his updated objectives.

Mission Parameters updated-

-ODSTs have secured the command bridge of the enemy ship

-Remaining enemy forces are now in disarray, Do Not terminate remaining enemy personal, bring alive for interrogation. Failure to follow this order will result in immediate questioning.

-Marines will secure the following facilities

-Recover any pieces of xeno-technology for study. Failure to follow this order will result in immediate questioning.

-Cadets will escort themselves to the proper evacuation zones

The ODST stopped to reread the entire update: it did not make any damn sense. The original objective was to ensure the safety of the cadets and to ensure that the aliens did not retrieve anything else of importance. Now they entire mission changed to a bloody capture-recover mission.

This is BS.

He thought back on the leadership, he personally knew the Company Commander, and there was no way in hell he would change the mission. The ship's Captain didn't have Operational Command so that left…

The ONI Lieutenant who they picked up at Carraway Station. He slammed the wall near him with rage, catching the attention of the whole group.

There is no way he would be leaving his daughter alone, not while there were still a large number of hostiles around the campus. He opened a comline straight to the Company leader, Commander Jon Grissom, who was supposed to be on the other side of the campus.

"Maverick Actual to Overlord Actual, requesting permission to continue with student evacuation efforts."

"Denied Maverick. Proceed with current objective."

The ODST rose his left hand to where his ear was under his helmet, "Sir this a bullshit call. I have five campus personal with me, they won't last out there if there are any hostiles remaining."

"*pause* Proceed with current objectives Maverick actual. How you get to your objective is left to you, if it happens to be on the same route as the campus personal with you… I trust you'll make the right decision. Overlord out."

And with that, the Company Commander cut the line. The ODST nodded his head, opening the SquadCOM and ordering his entire team to meet up on his position. In less than a minute, four blue spots blinked on motion sensor and with it, came four ODSTs clad in their black ODST/Nightfall-series armor. With a mechanical whir from their armors servo-motors they came to stop, surrounding the cadets in a protective escort. Each was armed with the latest in weapons technology, M739 SAWs.

No one would be getting past the escorts anytime soon.

With a wave of the hand, the entire group exited the building from the door pointed towards the evacuation zone. Unfortunately there was a problem.

Two hundred meters past the building's exit was the evacuation area: a small, two-story building with three landing pads and a single team of ODSTs who were coordinating the evacuation effort. Between that? Nothing but two hundred meters of open terrain, with two long buildings on either side providing a superior sniping position.

The perfect set up for an ambush.

The Mavericks noticed that too, so with the assistance of the cadets they came up with a simple plan. Two ODSTs would sprint to the other building, acting as rabbits in the event there were any X-rays on either side of the building. Cadets would identify and fire on any aliens, and then they would run while the ODSTs on the other side provided cover. Then two more ODSTs would sprint to the evacuation as rabbits and vice versa. This would go on till there was only Maverick Actual and his daughter were left.

Everything was quiet until it was their turn, then by just some chance of bad luck, the X-rays opened fire. Had the ODST been wearing the standard Mk117 body armor and gear, the kinetic rounds would have likely killed the man underneath from blunt force trauma alone. Luckily, the Nightfall armor was designed around ensuring the wearer's survivor, it was meant to protect the user from not only high-caliber impacts but also a non-direct strike from a covenant energy weapon. Unfortunately, the same could not be said of the young girl next to him, who had warned the team that most direct hits from the X-ray weaponry would shred conventional body armor if not kill the soldier underneath, explaining how one of the cadets had lost his arm.

With speed only an ODST (or SPARTAN) could achieve, he grabbed his daughter and put the full size of his body around her, trying to shield her from the hypervelocity ammunition of the X-ray's infantry weapons. With each impact, he could feel the location of where a bruise would be forming soon. Two kinetic rounds impacted right above his calf, penetrating through the undersuit underneath and turning the back of his leg into hamburger meat. The ODST fought against his instinct to reach for his wounded area, instead focusing on trying to cover the red-headed girl to the best of his ability.

Despite all four ODSTs letting loose their Squad Automatic Weapons, Maverick Actual continued to feel impact after impact crash against his armor, desperately trying to seek purchase within. He could not move, and if he let his daughter move, she would surely be torn apart by the wave of kinetic rounds.

For the longest time, the ex-marine turned ODST thought he was going to die. Right there, right now. The situation was hopeless. It was also ironic; the door was less than twenty meters away.

An ear-shattering roar would cut through his thoughts, turning to find its origin; he would relief in the form of a giant blue blur thirty meters away.

His eyes had trouble figuring out its shape as it cut the distance between itself and him in under a second. He felt the wave of bullets stop as the four-eyed aliens desperately fired on the newcomer. It seemingly weaved through the fire, none of the bullets ever hitting the ghostly figure. In turn though, the entire upper bodies of the aliens disappeared in a gory explosion from .50 caliber HEAP rounds. Even those with kinetic barriers were not impervious to the highly volatile rounds as their shields and bodies were subsequently destroyed by ammo used against vehicles.

A dozen roars sounded off right above his head and before he knew it, the firing stopped. As soon as it ended, he tried to move but find that he could not. Maverick Actual tried to talk but found himself wheezing, soon he was coughing up blood, spraying his transparent visor with a tint of red. Feeling his daughter underneath him slide his body off, he tried to yell but with each effort his breathing became harder. A glance to the right of his visor showed an icon of his body, his torso and upper right leg highlighted in red.

His lungs were punctured.

His right leg was nothing but a large mess of torn muscle and bone.

Maverick Actual felt someone pick him up, hands underneath his back and legs as they lift him up as if it was nothing. The only person who could casually lift a person in his semi powered exoskeleton like that was a SPARTAN. With all his effort, the ODST looked up and found himself face-to-face (or more accurately, helmet-to-helmet) with a SPARTAN in a ice-blue Defender-Variant armor; her face hidden behind a non-reflective, frosty, silver visor.

He blinked once and suddenly found himself looking not at the SPARTAN anymore but a field medic. Time was moving forward with or without him. He could see her typing something into a wrist-mounted TACPAD, before his helmet depressurized. He struggled to breathe as the helmet was taken off his head with a gentleness he had not expected.

Time felt like it was getting slower.

The moment the helmet was off, the medic looked down at him with sad, brown eyes.

That seemingly meaningless gesture was all he needed to understand what was happening.

He was not going to be making it out of here alive.

Despite the fatally large amount of blood in his lungs and massive blood loss, he turned his head with a final renowned effort, seeking for a single person in the crowd of people. Blurred figures walked back and forth, doing things he could not really see or hear. They were on some kind of makeshift landing pad where multiple medics were providing as much support as they could. A lot of kids lied in their own pools of blood, faces blank. There were voices coming from everywhere. The scene was unclear until he found the sole person he had been searching for: a young girl, no older then seventeen. She was talking with someone from the other side of the landing pad. It took a moment before she noticed someone was looking at her and turned to look at him. Her bright blue eyes looked just like her mothers.

He tried to tell his daughter that he loved her, that he was sorry for all of this, him leaving now, that he couldn't save her mom all those years back. But lips could barely form an inaudible "Jane".

He could feel the tears running through his eyes. No child should live in this universe without parents, without someone who would love them. She'd be all alone once he left and that hurt more then anything else he ever experienced in his life.

Gunnery Sergeant David Shepard would never get the chance to apologize, his last, sad breath spent looking at the beautiful face of his daughter, Jane Shepard.

What he last saw was perfection.

What she saw were the same dead eyes as the others.

Codex/Technology/Ships/Phoro-Class_Stealth_Frigate

Following the deaths of nearly two hundred-thousand citizens during the Theseus Incursion and the subsequent removal of the Batarian's Embassy, the military leaders of the Citadel Council themselves had come to realize the dire need for a deep scout craft capable of investigating unstable regions and returning to Council Space quickly enough to provide a warning of whatever hostilities may reside in a certain area of space.

Optimized for covert, reconnaissance missions, the Phoro-class features state-of-the-art stealth technology in the form of an advanced IES (Internal Emission Sink) system. For centuries, it was assumed that starship stealth was impossible. The heat generated by routine shipboard operations is easily detectable against the near absolute zero background temperature of space. The Phoro-class stealth frigate, however, is able to temporarily "store" this heat in diamond-lithium heat sinks deep within the hull, allowing it to avoid detection.

There are limitations to the stealth system of course, any visual scan will reveal the ship. However, this is rare since most ships rely on scanners rather than visual contact and of course, considering the large berth of space, searching for a hundred and twenty meter ship is just obviously difficult. A Phoro-class stealth frigate is capable of becoming 'as cold as interstellar space' for around 2-3 days, or drift passively through a system for weeks before having to vent and give away her position.

All of this of course, is impossible without the "oversized" Tantalus Drive Core. The Tantalus drive generates mass concentrations allowing a Phoro-class to move without the use of heat-emitting thrusters. This allows a Phoro-class to not only move quietly in interstellar space, but means that it can run at FTL speeds for much longer and if necessary make multiple FTL jumps in a short period of time without the possibility of frying the electronics (or people) onboard.

Like all frigates, a Phoro-class vessel is equipped with GARDIAN point defense lasers, kinetic barriers, and a spinal mass accelerator cannon.

ONI_External_Access_Network/Organization/Material_Group/Special_Projects/Spartan_Armory

In response to the development of the MJOLNIR GEN2 Project, the Office of Naval Intelligence's Materials Group division has been working tirelessly on a weapons program that would allow for the introduction of new and advanced Spartan-orientated weaponry. Due to physiological difference between a Spartan supersoldier and a barely augmented, much less normal human being, the Materials Group has been made aware of the advantages posed by Spartans, who are capable of carrying heavier and deadlier weapons then the average soldier.

In an effort to exploit that advantage, the Watershed Division has created a new series of experimental weapons, designed with "making the elimination of equal target profiles" more easier than the standard small arms used by marines. Examples of course include, hypervelocity small arms, chemical-railguns, electro thermal projectors, "smartguns", and more powerful explosives; weapons that would leave most men with shattered arms or accidentally dead.

As of current UNSC standard, the Spartan Armory remains to be one of the most costly SPARTAN-related endeavors funded by ONI.

Re: Reviews

Outcast Redeemer: I really liked your suggestion and I must thank you for helping me realize that little plot hole. Hopefully it has now been taken care of, :) . Now on to the main subject: The timetable was left out for some rather simple reasons. At the very beginning of this story, I had no clue as to what exact time this story would take place. But that was before, now though... As for Planetary Defense, see Corbulo Academy of Military Science. And as for the increase of capitol ships, I would also suggest reading "Hunters in the Dark" to see what happened to the UNSC's Home Fleet. Yes ships will be produced, but to think that they'll be popping out Capitol ships like its no one's business? Thats a nono, especially when you consider the fact that a majority (not all) of the industrial infrastructure was likely destroyed during the Human-Covenant War. If you have any other info that you would care to share, Id be more then happy to update my story accordingly.

Haywire Eagle: After rereading the 2nd chapter I've taken into account of the lack of military jargon. I will attempt to involve more in the near future. As for the problem with "not being seen... having thumbs up their butts", I will ask you to please take out a telescope and to look into the sky and find me as any communications satellites as you possible. Kinda hard right? How about you see if you can find the International Space Station, it has large solar panels running across the sides making it easier to find. If you can find it, cool. Then I suggest imagining trying to find an object just barely bigger and with less of a reflective surface area.

Randomreader: Thanks for the review, following all the reviews I thought for a moment that I failed to explain my story in a readable manner.

Commissar Critical: I hope you continue to enjoy it later on too. :)

Fer82: You are right about the heat discharge, and if you read my codex you'll notice that its two-three days worth of stealth time. That in itself is not a lot, hence the reason there are four of them, while one or two may be discharging heat in a nearby system, the others continue their spying and then switch.Why would you have anti-stealth countermeasures when you're unaware of being tagged? They had no reason to believe a group of stealth frigates were observing until one week ago. Nevertheless, I feel your reviews tend to be a good summary of what others are thinking. So I ask that you continue to review and that if you notice any errors, please do say so.

Coffee Muncher: I hope the codex satisfies your query. It can be pretty much shortened to, an "overcharged-normandy class ship with a larger focus on speed and with the graceful aesthetic style the asari ships use. So imagine a much more fluid, curved design to everything. A battlegroup around a Military Academy near the other colonies? Ummm... Suggest looking at Corbulo Academy of Military Science. As for ship numbers (and I have discussed this with Halo fans who know more then this about me) and they all agree the UNSCs ships numbered at around 2000 pre-war. Post-war I believe there are like two battlegroups, Dakota and some other one I forgot. But do remember that the group sent to destroy Truth's keyship in halo 3 consisted of a mere three frigates. And that the covenant were pretty much everywhere on Earth before then including "Antarctica, Cuba, Africa and Australia"

freeleadforall: If you expect to see some kind of Alternate Past Uncertain Future II UNSC supa-blitzkreig of an introduction then you've chosen the wrong story. :P

I apologize if I didn't explain it well enough, but the former Sparta Academy of Military Studies is in no way related to the SPARTAN-Program, kids are no longer used in the program. The reason it was called Sparta was in honor of the SPARTANS.

Comments? Criticisms? Flames?