First Contact

1556 (Human Time) Kilometer from Small Reach Village

Commando

Voro 'Refumai, Sangheili Swordsman and Special Operations Officer of the Covenant Special Operations Branch, felt his eyes blink several times in surprise. What he had just played witness to was truly enlightening to the soldier he was. The Sangheili had observed as his target, one of the feared Demons, brutally dealt with the last of the small band of humans he had just made contact with.

To say it was not a clean kill would be a grave lack of imagery for what the human had been put through.

Regardless of his lack of respect for the Demon's last kill Voro continued to watch. The three other dead humans had been eliminated in a most ingenious attack. To the Demon's complete lack of knowledge, it also provided Voro with a more tactical view of his quarry. The fact that it had not used the weapon it carried strapped to its leg was the most obvious. The Demon clearly had very little ammunition for that small weapon and as such avoided using it. At the moment it was searching the bodies of the latest dead for a new weapon, stopping its search as it picked up one that resembled the human military's primary assault weapon somewhat.

Curious. Where the Demon had approached the humans it had just attacked in a calm state of mind, its present movements held tell tall signs of controlled anger. A warrior rarely allowed themselves to feel such an overpowering emotion that often clouded their judgments. The few times they would often result in them making too many mistakes and soon losing both life and honor. The Demon walked with great anger clutching at its mind, yet did not fall to its temptation and fall into a mindless rage more befitting a wild beast.

The Sangheili briefly removed its gaze from the carbines scope. Voro twisted his arms to the right slightly. The Swordsman then calmly brought the carbine back to his shoulder before peering through it. His well trained eyes easily returned to the rock formation that the two other humans were pitifully hiding in.

It was blatantly obvious that the Demon was confident that they were not being pursued and thus failed to teach any form of stealth to them. A mistake no Sangheili serving in the military would dare to make when in the presence of kin or civilians. One was always needed to be on the alert at all times for any form of danger to whatever needed protection. Apparently the Demon was a skilled and intelligent soldier, aside from that one glaring mistake.

With a quick snapping of his mandibles Voro leapt from his hidden position. It was time.

B312

1557 Hours, September 3, 2552, Two Days after Wide Spread Planetary Glassing

With his photographic memory it was only several milliseconds before Leo had checked over the Insurrectionists weapon of choice, the MA3 Assault Rifle. The rifle had clearly been smuggled onto the planet Reach as it was an illegally manufactured weapon and was punishable by several thousand credits for possession. . . Not that there was anyone left to collect said fines now however.

As his eyes traced over every line, every angle, every curve, every mark of the rifle, Leo repressed snorting at how pathetic the weapon seemed to him. The MA3 Assault Rifle had become obsolete with the entrance of the MA5B Inter-Changeable-Weapons-System Assault Rifle. The 5B could simply outperform the older rifle in every way. It could be modified to better fit whatever mission it was to be involved in, and stripped down for use by Special Forces. It was also slightly less accurate despite having somewhat longer range.

Holding the MA3 in his right hand the Spartan moved his wrist in small twists to get a better feel. Surprisingly the weapon felt lighter than it should have been; which meant that the weapon was like his M6G in that they held very little ammunition. With an annoyed snort Leo moved to attach the rifle to the magnetic weapon holder on his back. Once properly secured the Spartan began picking through the bodies for ammunition.

To his mild surprise he discovered that they all carried one M6A Handgun, the civilian variation of the UNSC Defense Forces standard Side Arm. The man who had the misfortune of being first on his impromptu hit list carried the M6B instead, which was a basic M6 with a KFA scope offering an x2 magnification being the only substantial difference. The discovery was the only bright part of scavenging the dead to the Spartan. The M6 series used the same type of ammunition for the most part, and could be fitted with different types of arsenals depending on mission parameters.

Leo quickly emptied the rebels' weapons of their magazines and soon placed them with the rest of the ammo he was carrying. Once the four armor piercing rounds were used up the lieutenant would have a good supply of standard 12.7mm x 40mm rounds in reserve. The Spartan Officer soon repeated his actions with the three assault rifles being carried by the other men.

Noble Six then unsheathed his combat knife calmly. Flipping it so that the blade was pinned between his index finger and his thumb, Leo debated whether to stare at it or not. The Spartan rapidly became still for several heartbeats, for the moment unwilling to look at the reflection in the blade. Eventually Leo forced himself to see his own reflection in his knife.

What he saw was not Noble Six at all, and it certainly was not Leo himself. The black impenetrable visor which held his behind it stared ominously back at him. The light rain which had begun to pour once again, drops sliding over his helmet. The now red, cloudless, skies which in the distance revealed lighting bolts striking the planet. The signs of Reach's death were all around him, and his past was staring back at the Spartan.

As he peered at the combat knife's blade he felt a rush of memories come back to him. In the reflection of the steel was the visage of a corrupted Captains' personal Grim Reaper. Memories of when he had been used as a tool flashed before his eyes as he failed to tear his own gaze away from it. The Spartan was forced to relive the darkest days of his life when he had died inside for the first time. The time when he was a Spartan in name only, not in mind, not in his will. He merely existed to take lives from those he was ordered to eliminate.

When the lieutenant found the will to sheath the knife again he still stood unmoving as before, his mind remaining in deep thought. The memories continued to play out before his eyes forcing him to remember the moments he feared most; when he actually started to enjoy the fear he brought, the power he felt when he killed another human being. The feelings he had thought would forever remain buried in the back of his mind.

But then again, he thought to himself, you thought you wouldn't have to kill another human being again didn't you? You thought Reach was unconquerable, and yet it fell around you. You've been proven wrong about the two of them. . . Why not this to?

Eventually he felt both of his now fisted hands loosen up and brought them to his sides. The Spartan Officer wordlessly stared at the dead bodies of the Reach Insurrectionists still surrounding him. He had killed them without a second thought, and if he was honest there had been no real reason for their deaths. None at all save his own desire for their deaths.

His argument about the village carrying smuggled goods was moot at this point. Leo was one of the most silent Spartan III's to have ever been trained and sent out on missions. He could have easily slipped by the poorly trained rebels, entered the village, and stealthily hunted for any weapons he could find use for. That did not entail any deaths at all.

Protecting Sara and Rozsa was also a pointless attempt at justification. They could have quite easily slipped by the unknowing Insurrectionists. The scavengers that they were would have been far to busy inspecting the dead for any so called 'goods' to pillage from the now massacred village. And if what he had just done was ample proof, which he supposed it was, then he would have easily dispatched any and all rebels unfortunate enough to actually notice his charges.

And there it was that mental declaration that they were his. Shaking his head more vigorously than ever Leo clutched hastily removed his helmet. Taking in deep and rapid breaths of the air now filled with the scent of unchecked fire, he struggled to regain control. He fell to his knees as a vicious headache attacked him, forcing him to hold back a scream.

This should not be happening to a Spartan dammit! Why? WHY? I've done it all so many times before, why is it affecting me now?

"This is Captain Sanders to all recovery teams. Recovery teams, respond with status, copy?" a statically charged voice called out earning the Spartans momentary attention.

"This is Team 1, Copy that Captain Sanders. Stataus is good; Team 1 has obtained all requested supplies, Copy?"

"Team 2, reporting in sir. Status is equal to Team 1, Copy?"

"This is Captain Sanders, Copy that 1 and 2."

Silently the Spartan made his way towards the first Insurrectionist he had killed. With slow and steady hands Leo searched for the radio he was hearing. He found it tucked behind the mans left ear, a red light saying it was receiving but not sending out a signal. He placed the radio in the same spot on his own left ear listening in on the conversation the entire time.

"Team 4, respond." a pause that lasted for several short seconds. "I repeat, Team 4, status report." With a swift touch of his fingers Leo found the radio frequency.

"This is Team 4, status is bad sir." he said in a low voice.

"Team 4, elaborate."

"Encountered mild hostile UNSC resistance. Single soldier, killed three of my team. Copy?" he said slowly.

"Status of hostile?"

"Active Sir. Request reinforcements to deal with him."

"Your request is granted Sergeant. Teams 2 and 3 assist 4. We cannot allow the UNSC to discover the location of our ship."

For once Leo did not suppress his reaction in a Spartan's manner. The Insurrectionists. . . They had a ship, the way off or Reach Leo had been searching for. He felt the pain in his head disappear almost immediately, as a smile came over his face.

There was a way off of Reach now. There was a way to save Sara and Rozsa. Theycould survive, and all he would have to do was find out where the rebels were keeping their ship. He allowed himself a moment to be distracted with a feeling of hope he had not truly felt in some time.

A distraction that nearly cost the Spartan his life as the sound of an Energy Sword being activated reached his ears. Rolling to the right, Leo barely avoided the curve of the blade as it passed by where his left leg had been by just several small centimeters. Noble Six continued his roll until he felt his feet touch the ground again, where he then kicked off the ground. Twisting in the air slightly Leo managed to land on his knees facing his opponent, his helmet now held in his right hand while the other crushed the radio.

Standing before him, its face hidden by the mask of an Elite Ranger stood a pearl white armored alien. Its posture was ready for any counter attack the Spartan could make at the moment, an energy sword held in its left hand. The arm was bent at the elbow so that the blade was close to the Elites mask giving it another layer of protection, while its right hand was slightly curled upwards.

It held a second energy sword in the right hand as well, along with at least six plasma grenades at the waist. On its back was a Jackal carbine, placed in a position where with the aliens speed would take only a second to pull off and begin to fire. Slipping his helmet back on Leo silently cursed his luck.

The Elite before him was clearly a Commando class soldier, one of the Elites Special Forces part of the Covenant military. They were easily the best of the Elite military, and it was armed to the teeth. Unfortunately the two weapons Leo held did not carry the ammunition necessary to penetrate the Elites armor, let alone its shields.

The lieutenant cursed his momentary feeling of hope. Even with the possibility of a ship that would take him and the two girls off world, there was still the Covenant fleet in orbit. The Elite before him was an unfortunate reminder of that fact.

1607 (Human Time) Outskirts of small village

Commando

Voro 'Refumai felt his satisfaction in finally meeting the Demon face to face reach the same level as his desire to fight. Behind the mask he wore his mandibles twitched in anticipation. The first move he had made were a final test of the Demon's skill, a last show of proof of its skills. Voro was glad to say that the Demon had successfully passed his final test.

The Sangheili Swordsman then threw the spare Sword at the Demon, still inactive however. The Demon quickly grasped the hilt as it pulled out a knife as well. Voro could clearly see the confusion the Demon's movements revealed to any viewer. Perhaps it needed a visual representation of what Voro wanted from it.

Slowly the Operations Officer deactivated his own blade. Placing it back on its resting place, the warrior then began to remove the carbine from his back. Laying the weapon near one of the human bodies, the Swordsman then deactivated his shields. Once that was done he soon grasped his blade again and activated it.

"Demon today we duel as true warriors."

With that Voro launched his attack; a low slash aimed at the Demons legs. With impressive reaction time the Demon activated its own blade and blocked the strike. Detaching from the locked blades Voro began a flurry of cuts that the Demon hastily blocked in a rather poor form. It took a step back before pivoting on its left foot, the Demon swung it blade in a path towards the Sangheili's head.

Voro leapt back from the surprisingly quick counter attack. With his expert experience at swordplay Voro knew that if he had been a second slower their duel would have ended then and there. Slowly the pair of warriors began to circle one another.

With a sense of exultation Voro prepared for a glorious battle against an extremely worthy opponent.