Chapter Four

Estimated 0755 hours, November 4, 2552 (Military Calendar) \
Forerunner ship, in Slipspace, location unknown

Master Chief awoke with a start in the same dark room he had inhabited for the better part of the last two days. John barely slept, and his nerves paid the price. "Sleep when you're dead," his training officer, CPO Mendez, always used to tell him. He could not afford to be caught napping.

He had a few stim packs and half of one meal bar left. His stomach growled, but he was holding out until he absolutely needed that bar. He had no way of knowing how long Truth would keep the ship in slipspace.

As if his thoughts were being read, John felt his stomach lift and settle. They had exited slipspace. He wondered where they were exactly, until he heard the radio chatter – UNSC military E-band to be specific. They were near Earth.

Suddenly he felt his ears burning. "It isn't one of ours, take it out!"

Lord Hood had spotted his location. "This is Spartan 117, can anyone hear me?"

John waited several seconds as more chatter was fed through his communications link.

"Isolate that signal. Master Chief, you mind telling me what you're doing on that ship?"

"Sir, finishing this fight!"

John felt the ship lurch back into slipspace as he popped a stim pack.

"Where the hell are we going?" he wondered.

It must have been the quickest slipspace jump in history. In just two seconds they had reappeared in real space. John looked out his small windows. They were somewhere near the Moon.

"Time to go to work."

Griffith's new uniform was drenched in sweat. He had spent the better part of the last hour manning what were supposed to be auto-cannons, managing internal security, and putting out fires. He had been given several top ensigns to assist him, but he was too quick for them. He was on his own.

Harrison marveled at his lieutenant. For all intents and purposes, the Bombay should have been captured or destroyed by now without a station-board AI. Griffith proved his mettle and mind. He had single-handedly kept the station in one piece. But it was time to go.

"Griffith, get your ass in gear. Live to fight another day, son!"

"Just a few more seconds, sir! Can't leave our Marines hangin'," Griffith quickly responded.

"Keepin' the engine warm, sir!" yelled Ensign Remy.

There was an escape pod just off the command deck reserved for officers. Ensign Remy had the pod ready for launch. Griffith knew there was not much time – there were some nasty-looking Brutes heading toward the command deck, and he had to set the self-destruct sequence before they left.

Just as Griffith was about to jump from his chair, a strange ship appeared on the view screen.

"What the hell is that?" Harrison exclaimed.

"I don't know, but it's going down."

Luckily, the MAC cannon's magnetic coils held their charge throughout the assault. Griffith tracked the new contact and prepared to fire.

"All units, do not–," blared over the radio.

Static filled the line.

Whatever the command was, it was too late. The cannon fired, and a plasma-imbued round silently streaked through vacuum.

"Move!" hollered Harrison.

Griffith leaped and sprinted from his position. He turned to the view screen just before entering the pod, just in time to see the round detonate on the ship's shields. Its shields flickered and went out, and the plasma explosion rocked its port side.

"Score!" yelled Griffith as he jumped into the escape pod. Brutes blew their way onto the command deck just in time to watch the last humans rocketing away in their pod. They searched the deck until they came to Griffith's chair.

The main deck's doors were blown in. Soldiers flooded the room, only to find it empty. There were odd symbols on the main screen. They were rapidly changing, until one by one they uniformly became a curious ellipse. The Jiralhanae did not have time to wonder what this meant.

Harrison watched from the pod's viewport as the synchronized timer counted down on the LED screen. A mini-nova appeared when the counter displayed zeros, and the station he had lived on for the better part of the last two years flashed out of existence.

Meanwhile, Griffith kept his eye on the strange ship on which he had scored a direct hit. The ship was still intact, but listed toward its port side and headed straight toward earth.

Harrison barked, "Remy, get us away from that thing,"

The truly alien ship was closer than Harrison thought, and he did not want to get caught up in a crash explosion. He also did not want to deal with survivors.

Unfortunately for Harrison, the escape pod was caught in the Earth's gravitational well. Remy was going to have a heck of a time just landing that thing, let alone get it somewhere he actually wanted to land.

The ensign angled their descent and deployed landing flaps. They were coming in for a hard landing, and he was fighting the boat with every ounce of strength in his body. He finally got it to slow down enough to land. They coasted down. Fortunately, there was sprawling desert below.

"Hell, we might as well be landing on pillows. This is too easy," laughed Griffith.

"Shutup, shirtless," Remy shot back.

"Yeah…nice one," retorted Griffith.

The pod settled down next to some sand dunes, and the officers piled out just in time to watch the strange ship roar overhead. Remy marveled at the pilot's skill, as he took what looked to be a surefire crash and managed to right the ship and set it down gently.

"Damn. They're bound to have units comb the area. They're too close; let's get moving," said Harrison.

They packed food and water, grabbed what weapons they could, and started towards the nearest known base. They all prayed it was still there.

The Master Chief had barely abandoned his temporary abode when he felt a rumble. The ship lurched, causing him to crash into what looked like the bulkhead. His shields flared and forehead stung as he whipped his head into the inside of his helmet.

"What the hell are they doing?" he angrily groused. "I can't do much if this ship blows up. Then again, maybe it would be better if they took Truth out with me."

He knew the ship had been hit. He returned to his hiding location just in time; several Brutes ran by his previous location just seconds after he closed the door. He looked out his windows again. All he saw was Earth, and they were headed straight toward what looked like Africa.

John winced. He remembered his previous encounter with the Covenant in New Mombasa. He also remembered his abrupt exit and what that meant for the city. He had learned enough quantum physics to know what would happen to a city if a slipspace rupture was opened inside the city. He felt sorry for how many people died because he failed to get to Regret in time. The irony did not escape him.

It did not matter now. He had to stop Truth before he destroyed humanity, or even the universe.

He noticed Africa quickly getting bigger in his window. He wondered if the ship would make it. He attempted to brace himself for a crash landing as the Forerunner ship rapidly descended towards Earth. He had his share of crash landings, and he did not care to go through another one. Luckily, the ship had a good pilot. Just as it looked like they would be vaporized on the African desert, the ship sharply turned and decelerated. They hit the ground "gently", which meant the MC was barely to maintain consciousness as he was briefly thrashed around the room.

"Great," he muttered, "Guess I still have to wait to sleep."