Chapter LXXXVII: Blackmail is Such an Ugly Word…

March 3, 2543 (UNSC Calendar)/

UNSC Disproportionate Retribution, in orbit above New Moskva, Ursa Tertio System

"Inter-service rivalry doesn't quite compare to some friendly competition in between Helljumpers." - anonymous ODST.

"He'll live," an exhausted surgeon said while eyeing the Spartans nervously.

I stopped pacing and nodded. "How long till he's stable?"

"He already is," the doctor said, wiping swear from her brow.

I glared at the doctor. "You know what I mean."

"He shouldn't be moved for a few days. Sergeant Klaus was unconscious and now he's in a medically induced coma to prevent pain."

"His spine?" I asked.

"The bones seemed to be slightly scorched by the amount of heat, but everything else looks intact enough. Prosthetics will allow him to walk and run normally."

"Stomach, liver, intestines?"

"We had to cut off some of his intestines, and your friend has a long month ahead of him. We've already started growing some of the needed organs and the existing ones are going to be transported to this ship as soon as possible."

"Why can't he be transferred to the Inconvenience?" Grass asked from behind me.

The doctor sighed in annoyance and shook his head. "That would me most counter-productive, your friend is alive, but we're keeping him that way, using a pelican ship to transport him would most certainly kill him if we give it a shot right now. Soonest I can let him go is day after tomorrow."

"The way things are shaing up doc, we might not have that long," Konstantinov said.

The doctor just looked at us with a "not my problem" look before returning to the cruiser's hospital bay. The doors closed after him and let all nine of us present looking at the dull gray metal with nothing to say. The two Spartans had been kind enough to remain with us while we got the veredict on Pavel, but the other two were getting some zees or simply didn't want to be here. I didn't really blame them.

"Staff," Carlos said. It took a moment to realize that he was talking to me, most people just called me Sarge or Frank. "All your friends are fine."

"I know that," I said. Sherlock.

"You should probably report back to the bridge," Carlos said.

"I have no reason to," I replied.

"Sarge, it's the polite thing to do," Agnarsson said. His tone all but screamed that it was sarcasm.

"Exactly," the other Spartan, Catherine, said.

"That was sarcasm smartypants," Lamberti quipped. "It's not that complicated."

"Listen you little punk-"

"I'd harly call myself little," Lamberti interrupted. "Least of all a punk. I think of myself as a well-dressed man."

"I do not care what you think," Catherine resumed halfway through Lamberti's second sentence. "I just know that if you keep-"

"What? You'll kill me?" the Italian taunted.

I don't know if he meant to bring it to that, but the Spartan-III was evidently shocked by the question. It was obvious that she had heard about that incident with another Spartan and those ODSTs. Catherine obviously saw herself as the hero in the story, not to mention that she was arguing with a man in his mid-twenties, who had done a stint in prison and had spent the years after that in convict units before becoming an ODST. No matter how talented this girl was at killing, she had no chance at beating the quick-tongued Italian in a battle of words.

"Enough Catherine," Carlos interrupted. He was by far the most professional Spartan-III that I had ever had the pleasure of being in contact with. Even more so than Carter.

"Why don't you add B320 to that?" Catherine snapped before turning around and leaving.

I shrugged at the Spartan leader showing that I regretted the situation and that it couldn't be helped. The kid didn't look nearly as composed as he had been a moment ago, but his professionalism somehow managed to beat his teenage mentality of "I am always right" and he didn't snap at us, instead taking a deep breath and fiddling with his helmet. I avoided shaking my head and turne around to face my team.

"All right people, Pavel's in good care and Marina and Sheppard are both ready to go back to the Inconvenience as soon as we do."

"Sarge?" Scarecrow asked. "Shouldn't we stay-"

"Before you say that let me remind you that this is the military, we don't stay with our loved ones when they're in the hospital, we just go back to kicking ass and hope to stay alive long enough for them to be reinstated into the unit."

"Sarge," Konstantinov said. "We might just get some rest here, Eliza knows we're alive and our situation, things down there aren't going as well as they should."
"That's exactly why we have to go back down!" Agnarsson exclaimed. "We have to kick some arse! Avenge our mate!"

Snark nodded. "The brute's got it right," he said.

"Brute?" Agnarsson spat.

"Brute?" Snark mimicked the Scottish accent and tone.

"Stop it," I said lazily before this got derailed.

"Rest, dying," Konstantinov said, using his hands as if they were a scale. "It looks like rest wins Sarge."

That did it. "We'll rest when we die, I'm going to the bridge."

I reached for my inexistent helmet and my now-loaded BR55. I slung the latter over my head and started moving. My tired squad got up from the bench they were sitting in and grabbed their own spare equiment before attaching it to their armor. The Spartan looked doubtful but eventually followed us a few steps behind the last of us. I traveled to the bridge through unusually wide corridors and had to follow the directions instead of simply walking the route by memory. The Marathon-class cruiser was a few times bigger than the frigate, and we were a long way from the command room. By the time we had crossed half the ship my team was starting to degenerate into a childlike argument.

"How can you possibly believe that Episode I is the best?" Agnarsson exclaimed in exesperation and anger. "How?"

"It has that race scene," Snark said.

"And the double laser sword," Lamberti added.

"And that hot chick," Grass finally said.

There was a moment of silence.

"My respect for you just went up ten levels Camilla," Scarecrow laughed.

The woman smiled and shook her hair. Had I not been fucking pissed and angry and more than a little bit depressed I would've taken in the moment and made a point not to forget the beautiful blonde's satisfied expression. The circumstances however, didn't really allow me to worry about such trivial matters.

The bridge doors finally appeared in front of me, my entire ODST squad and the lagging Spartan-III must've made for a very curious spectacle. The door opened but before I could go through I was stopped by a marine, a Helljumper in fatigues actually. I took three steps and went through the door anyways before the man planted his feet in front of me.

"Staff, Ima need ya' t'stop righ 'ere."

Talk clearly.

"An' Ima need ya' ta get t'fuck outta ma way," I said, trying to go around the man.

The Helljumper was obviously not impressed by my disrespectful reply. Especially when the man was a rank higher than I was. "I'd like ta see ye try," he taunted.

I was that close to knocking the man out cold, but I simply placed my hand on the but of my pistol and leaned slightly sideways so that Mr. Drawl here could see the party that I had backing me up.

The Helljumper sighed and banged on the wall, four other ODSTs and half a dozen marines appeared from around a corner, these ones were also sporting assault rifles, even if they didn't have their armors on either. They formed a semi-circle, putting Mr. Drawl in the center. The guy couldn't have looked any smugger even if he tried.

"Listen," I said, "I don't have time for this, so how about you just move aside and avoid getting you ass kicked."

The Helljumpers opposing us laughed as if it was the funniest thing that they had heard in their entire lives, the marines simply looked uncomfortable and kept their fingers hovering above the triggers of their rifles menacingly. I glanced to my right and to my left. I could see two of my squad mates with their hands hovering above their sidearms out of the corner of my eye. I decided that if worst came to worst they would kick these assholes' asses.

"Move," I said one last time. I didn't wait for a reply, instead simply shoving the Helljumper with the speech impediment out of my way rather roughly and turning the corner to the bridge itself. I went three steps before I heard the sound that I was hoping I couldn't here. A dozen weapons were cocked loudly and I felt the muzzle of a rifle in the back of my neck. This guy was in for it.

Look, I was pissed, my best friend had just been on the edge of death for eighteen hours and I'd spent the days before that fighting in an unforgiving urban combat environment. So forgive me if I want a little to far with my reprisal.

I turned around faster than anyone without augmentations could've, while I did that I raised my left arm to push the rifle's aim off and used my right to grab the MA5 by the middle and pulling it off from the man's grip. I used my other hand to grab the weapon and brought it back down with little less than full force right into the Helljumper that first stopped us. The butt of the rifle collided with the man's nose with a lot of strength. The Helljumper reared backwards from the impact, blood spurting from his obviously broken nose and fell to the floor. The thump that he made as he went down was what broke the spell, or perhaps it only seemed like that because I moved so fast.

Nine unfriendly guns went up and were instantly aimed at all of the members of Reaper Squad, I being the most aggressive one so far received the courtesy of two rifles aimed right at my face. By the time those rifles had steadied my right hand had reached for my M6 pistol and the left one had the assault rifle aimed at one of the marines that had his gun trained on me. I don't really think that I need to explain where I was aiming my pistol at. The rest of my squad was remarkably quick to react, all of them having drawn their sidearms or main weapons at the same time as the bridge security team had.

My eyes met those of Carlos, the Spartan seemed shocked when I held his gaze. He wasn't shocked because I held his gaze, and something told me that the sixteen man Mexican standoff in front of him wasn't what had him gaping at me either. The teenaged soldier had put on his helmet before leaving the hospital's waiting room, but he'd had it depolarized all the way through the trip. The kid finally reacted and polarized his helmet just as he drew his rifle to train it on me. Scarecrow immediately pivoted and aimed the gun at the supersoldier, ignoring the man that was aiming at him completely. I'd have to give that guy a bottle of whisky for that.

"You broke my nose!" the wounded ODST complained. For once, he seemed to be able to talk straight.

"Well no shit," I muttered. "Now how about you kids all put your guns down before someone else gets hurt."

The marines looked uncomfortable with the situation and looked at one another, but the three Helljumpers still on their feet didn't budge, at least I'll give them that credit.

"Everyone!" an authoritative voice boomed. "Calm the fuck down."

I resisted the urge to turn around.

"Put your guns down!"

The marines did as they were ordered after a brief second of going over the order. As soon as the six men had their guns aiming at the floor the six guys in my squad switched their targets to the Helljumpers that still ahd their guns trained on some of Reaper and me. I think that they only put their guns down because they were now outgunned and not because they were ordered to. After they finally lowered their guns I was able to turn around, letting go of the MA5, but not of my sidearm.

"Vice Admiral?" I asked, knowing full well that the man was in fact Vice Admiral Harper.

"That is correct Staff Sergeant. If you'll kindly out your gun away."

I slung my pistol after uncocking the hammer and waved at my team for them to do the same. The tension in the room eased up, but just a little bit.

"Now, what can I help you with?" Harper asked, leaning back on a large holotable that dislplayed New Moskva and the locations of the few remaining ships that the UNSC had orbiting the planet.

"You're Harper?" I asked again. "I expected someone…"

"Taller?" the vice admiral suggested.

Older, I thought.

"With more facial hair," Snark said.

I had to tighten my fists and dig my nails into my palms to avoid laughing out loud and having Harper order his men to off us.

"Is that so?" Harper asked irritably. He gave a slight nod to one of his ODSTs and the man slammed the butt of his MA5 into Snark's ribs. The little man bent over while holding his side. I smiled at hearing him laughing. My team was about to raise their guns again but I discouraged them with a small wave of my hand. I felt incredibly badass while I did it.

"I am sorry for the…" I started. "Circumstances of our meeting."

Harper smiled, obviously amused at the situation. He was young enough that he understood that stupid things like this happened, even if they didn't usually happen in the bridge of a Vice Admiral's ship. He nodded at me and then dismissed his men. The ODSTs looked like they were ready to kill someone, but the Marines just seemed to be thankful that this uncomfortable situation was over for them. As soon as they all left the main part of the bridge I turned to my team.

"Fantastic job," I smiled at them. "Now, if you'll give us a second. Scarecrow, keep 'em in check."

"Aye, Sarge," the big man smiled as he slung his assault rifle over his back.

As soon as they left the bridge I turned back to Harper. "Again, I am sorry Admiral, my team is a little bit on the edge, myself included."

"I can see," he acknowledged. "You splattered blood all over my floor," he gestured at a place in the floor where some blood had fallen from the ODST I had punched. "My Helljumpers are also on edge," Harper explained. "Half their team was killed yesterday."

I've never felt more like an asshole in my entire life, not because of what I had done, but because I simply did not care.

"I'm sorry," I lied, my eyes following the Spartan Carlos as he positioned himself behind and to the right of Vice Admiral Harper. "I see no point in beating around the bush, so I'll get right to the point. There's some things I want to know. I want to know how exactly the Inconvenience is doing and if the battle is faring well." Some members of the bridge crews turned around and eyed me nervously. That told me all I needed to know about the second question.

"If my ship is intact I would also like to be transported there as soon as possible, along with my squad and the two wounded pilots."

"Your ship?" Harper asked almost incredousy.

I didn't bother answering, instead staring into the Admiral's eyes with all the "are you fucking kidding me?" that I could muster. It was three seconds before the admiral finally laughed out loud and answered.

"The battle is going as well as you'd expect, we are down to three ships now, and one of them is badly damaged, the Covenant have nine ships left, five of them cruisers."

"We're going to have to leave," I stated.

"Yeah, soon enough," Harper replied sadly.

"Evacuation?"

"We're working on it, but we estimate that only some fifty thousand will be able to leave at the rate this is going."

"And who will be leaving?" Schitzo asked. "I assume that the ones with the best connections."

Shut up, that's the way it works.

"All right," I said resignedly. "About our ship?"

"I've already arranged something with Captain Brooks," Harper said. "Your two pilots are already on a shuttle to the Inconvenience, lovely name for a ship by the way, your team will be there soon afterwards."

"After taking a connection flight…" I said dreadfully.

"You're a smart man Staff," Harper said with a smile on his face. "Strongbox."

An AI's avatar popped up from the holotable, pushing aside the battlefield holograms. The AI was only the second one that I has actually seen, its avatar was unusualt, to say the least. I was seeing a holographic skull with a nice top hat on top. The top hat had a red ribbon tied to its bottom. I smiled at the sight of it.

"Afternoon, Staff Sergeant," the construct said in greeting.

"I thought it was morning…"

"Obviously not," the AI replied seriously. "The hour in Highbay is-"

"I get your point," I said.

The skull looked taken aback, it was obviously not used to getting interrupted in the middle of a sentence. Being almost literally a god in anything that related to intelligence it was probably very offended that a puny human with barely-genius IQ (that's right, I have genius-level IQ. Bitch) interrupted him with no regards for what it was going to say.

"Very well," Strongbox said. "Your connection flight, as you call it, involves a simple retrieval mission."

I nodded while crossing my arms over my chest.

"Your team will be dropping here," as the AI said that its avatar disappeared and a holographic map of a mountain popped up. "This place is designated Bear Bunker, an ONI base."

"And," Harper said, "since your team already has ONI clearance, Commander Albaf was nice enough to lend us Reaper Squad briefly."

I nodded once again. "If that is all I will be preparing my team for the mission."

"Wait," Harper said. I turned around and the Vice Admiral nodded at no one in particular, signaling the AI to resume talking.

"Reaper Squad will be providing cover while Zulu Team retrieves the package," he said while nodding at the Spartan behind him. "The only member of your team going inside Bear Bunker will be Lance Corporal Arcangelo Lamberti."

"I see," I murmured. So they locked down the base and forgot something. That's our upmost intelligence service for you. I uncrossed my arms and clasped my hands behind my back while straightening my spine. "When do we go?"

"Your team has been through some tough couple of days, have some rest. Four hours will do?"

"That's more than enough," I said, nodding. "We'll be ready."

"Good," Vice Admiral Harper said. "Dismissed."

For some reason I actually managed to avoid rolling my eyes and snap a quick and efficient salute. I held the sign of respect for a few seconds before turning one-eighty degrees and walking outside of the bridge. I passed by the ODSTs, the one that I had punched was still trying to stop the bleesing, I tipped an imaginary hat to him as I walked past the small group and smiled as the Helljumpers stood up in anger but just kept walking. My team was right around the corner, half of them leaning against the wall and the other half were standing right in front.

"Sarge," Lamberti called out, "when we leaving this place?"

"Four hours," I said.

"Man, I'm just loving the idea of getting back home," Konstantinov said.

"Not going home," I explained. "Back to that rock. I'll explain everything right before we drop, we have exactly three and a half hours worth of rest, we don't often have that luxury so make it count."

My team looked dismayed at the news, but none of them complained at them. In fact, I believe that most of them were actually expecting it. I kept on walking, wondering where I could find a nice place to crash for a few hours. It was between the drop bay and the hospital beds.

"Third option," Schitzo suggested playfully.

"Right," I said under my breath while a smile formed on my lips.

"Wake up," someone said angrily while shaking my shoulder.

"I'm awake," I said threateningly. "There'd better have a good reason for that."

"Oh, but there is."

I finally opened my eyes to see an oldish man wearing a marine uniform. He was in his late forties by the look of it, which probably meant he was around sixty if you accounted for time spent in cryo and slipspace travel. The rank insignia on his chest and shoulders marked him as a major. The look on his face marked him as a badass.

"This is the officer's club," he said angrily.

"You don't say," I replied while sitting down on the couch that I had been using for a bed. The leather was quite comfortable.

"Don't get wise with me Helljumper," he threatened. For some reason, whenever you call someone a Helljumper it always feels like a compliment, no matter how you meant to use the word.

Instead of bothering with a response I glanced at my tacpad. I still had fifteen more minutes of sleep before the three and a half hours ended, but I would barely fall asleep in that time, especially with grandpa here pestering me about protocol and whatnot. The man looked ready to burst in anger, so I decided to stand up and brush myself off. The major was half a head shorter than me and a lot less intimidating. Hey, I'm not saying it because it's me we're talking about, I'm being an objective and impartial observer.

Yeah right.

"Nice club," I said. "The one in my ship is ten times smaller and our whiskey menu isn't half as good."

The major was about to say something but then I abruptly turned around, picking up my rifle on the way.

"I was just about to leave anyways, I could've used five more minutes of sleep, but that's fine. Thanks for waking me up." Having said that I walked through the doors and left a fuming marine officer staring at my back. My mood had just improved considerably.

I was about to tell Strongbox to show me where the drop bay was so that I could take the short way, but then I remembered that not all AIs are like Eliza, instead being arrogant bastards that berely even bother talking back to you unless you have something that they want. Well, at least that's what I had heard, because Eliza was the only AI that I had ever known and she was quite awesome. You know, for a robot.

"To the right," Schitzo warned like my life was in mortal danger.

"I know, smartass," I replied.

"What do you know?" Grass asked, she was leaning against the wall right behind the corner.

"Nothing, talking to myself," I said quickly. "Didn't know you smoked," I quickly changed topics.

"Yeah," she said, blushing for no apparent reason. "Not too often really, I've been trying to leave it. Really."

"Grass, I don't care."

"Care about what?"

"Care if you smoke, as long as you do your job I'm fine with you doing whatever you want in your free time."

"Oh, all right." For some reason she sounded surprised.

"Let's go," I ordered. "Spartan-IIIs are probably already there, don't want to look like slackers, don't we?" I said it with a tone that indicated how little it bothered me that the IIIs thought that I was a slacker.

"Sure Sarge," the young woman said with a smile. She put out her cigarette and tossed it into a trashcan before synching in step with me. We walked together to the drop bay while she told me the story of how she got into smoking. She seemed to think it was amusing, although I thought that every single story was the same when it came to that thing in particular. Trying to fit in or look cool, apparently it has been that way since the modern age started.

Zulu Team was effectively inside the drop bay once Grass and I walked in. Their armors were strapped with bandoliers and ammunition pouches. They were going surprisingly light on the ammo compared to the Spartan-IIs that had crash landed right next to us back in Marcia. The IIs could've kicked the IIIs asses all the way to Earth and back, even I knew that, but the IIIs were a lot more human, making it easier for me to swallow my pride and work with them.

Yes, that's the sound of me admitting that I can be wrong, don't get used to it.

"Morning," I said.

"It's late afternoon," Catherine said, pulling back the slide of her pistol and checking the mechanism for any faults.

"Wow, you talk a lot," I said with a big smile.

"Sarge…" Grass urged behind my back.

She shouldn't have been worried, because the Spartan simply turned around and walked towards her pod, where she started doing a pre-drop check rather quickly. I felt slightly sorry for her, she was only thirteen years old and had the training and skills that took most marines half a lifetime to achieve. The implications that that realization brought with it weren't pleasant at all. Luckily for ONI, my opinion of them couldn't have been any lower.

"Carlos," I said to the team leader, "I need to talk to you."

Spartan-B283 shot his friends a glance and they turned around before chuckling quietly to themselves. It was as if I was the annoying guy in school that no one wanted to hang out with. It was easy to forget that this killing machines were nothing more than teenagers with guns and fancy armor.

"Yes Staff?" he asked me with what he probably thought was politeness.

"I want to know why you need my computer and explosives expert down there with you," I told the kid. "I want to know that he'll be safe."

"We'll take care of him," Carlos-B283 replied carefully.

"You don't have a hacker in your team?" I asked. "It is my understanding that Spartans are jacks of all trades."

The boy actually looked ashamed for a second. He glanced towards Catherine and leaned in closely as if he wanted to tell me a secret. "Well, Staff, you see, Catherine," he glanced over his shoulder and went even more quiet, forcing me to lean closer. "Catherine is the only one with that kind of training, although her talent is… debatable."

I stared dumbly at the guy for a moment before letting out a laugh with I quickly stifled. I took a breath before managing to regain composure. The other four people in the room where all looking at Carlos and me with a little bit of suspicion in their faces. Grass shot me a questioning look that I dismissed with a shake of my head and then shrugged to herself before turning around.

"And here I thought Spartans were supposed to be good at everything that they did," I said. "Very well, take care of Lamberti."

"We will, Staff."

"Good."

I turned around and headed back towards Grass's direction. There were two long tables in the room in addition to the large holotable in the center of the drop bay. The Spartan-IIIs were occupying one all to themselves, disassembling their weapons and oiling every component with almost as much efficiency as Grass. And that was something. The other table only had the beautiful Finnish blonde and myself on it. I still had mixed feelings about Camilla Seppa being so goddamned attractive, but as long as she was my squad mate I could keep those in check.

The long table was built into the wall, the wall it was built into had several shelves within arm's reach that housed absolutely everything you could need for your weapon that wasn't more expensive than an underbarrel attachment. The Inconvenience didn't have nearly as much toys for us, and that was the Inconvenience we were talking about. In addition to all the additional gear there were some SMGs and MA5Bs in a weapon's locker on the wall. Being in a cruiser certainly seemed to have their perks for a Helljumper, I wouldn't really mind having to work on one if all this came with the package.

"So, Sarge, what's the mission about?"

"Extracting a package," I explained, "the Spartans are going inside an ONI complex while we hold of wave after wave of attackers."

"Just like a videogame," Grass said. "Let's hope the freaks hurry it up."

"You into videogames?" I asked, ignoring the second part of her comment.

"A little," she admitted after blushing for a second time. "My siblings really liked their guns."

"You seem to like them too," I pointed out. She had been assembling her MA5B while looking at me and hadn't even glanced down.

"Yes, practice makes perfect," she shot back with a smile. "At least that's what my father says."

I confirmed that I was carrying the maximum amount of magazines that my bandoliers and ammunition pouches could sport before heading towards a medical cabinet. From there I picked up four cans of biofoam that I promptly shoved into my thigh-pouch. If we ran into trouble those would come in handy. I looked over all the shelves to see if I was missing something. More ammunition, sights, laser pointers, ammunition, grenades… of course, grenades. I grabbed four fragmentation grenades and strapped them to my ribs. The little metal balls of death were quite heavy for their small size, but they sure packed a punch.

"Anything else?" I asked myself quietly.

"A helmet. Idiot."

Thanks, Schitzo, I thought irritably.

I looked around for any place where I could find a helmet to spot none. I was about to ask the Spartans where I could find one when the rest of my team barged inside the room loudly.

"Oi Sarge!" Agnarsson said with no smile in his face. He was still pissed at me. The rocketeer threw a shiny black helmet right towards my face. I snapped my hands up and caught it an inch from my nose. I nodded in mocking thanks to the man and put on the helmet.

A HUD interface instantly popped up, it outlined my weapons and the boxes of ammunition in blue immediately. The VISR instantly detected the six members of Reaper Squad and the four IIIs. I looked around for the motion tracker and then realized that my previous helmet had been yet another prototype that I had picked up in my first days on the Inconvenience. I was really going to miss that feature. I kept on going and barked orders at the helmet's computer, personalizing it and adjusting it to what I was used to. Finally satisfied with the helmet I took it off and placed it on the table. I glanced at my tacpad's watch right before the holotable lit up with Strongbox's avatar.

"Zulu, Reaper," it greeted.

"Our squad's name is way cooler than theirs," Angel whispered to Agnarsson behind me.

"ONI facility Bear Bunker is located ten-point-two kilometers outside of Highbay, the facility wasn't as well concealed as ONI thought it was and has been spotted by the Covenant ground forces, who have been trying to break inside since yesterday. Their recent counter-offensive has forced several of the troops that were previously quartered there to leave, but there is still a company-sized force guarding the place."
Sounds easy enough…

"The only problem is…"

And there's the catch.

"…that there is a sizeable Covenant force within two minutes by dropship. The estimated travel time to the package is three and a half minutes, and that's not accounting for a regular human," Strongbox told us. "Reaper will need to hold the entrance for as long as needed. As soon as Zulu Team exits missile bombardment and Pelican dropships will evacuate you."

"Plan B?" I asked even as the Spartans nodded in agreement to the plan.

"If worst comes to worst an AGM will be used to wipe out the Covenant infantry before an evacuation is attempted."

"Will the facility hold?" Sutton asked.

"We don't know," Strongbox admitted. "Simulations have proved inconclusive."

"Very well," Konstantinov said cheerily. "Let's get going then!"

The Spartan-IIIs of Zulu team headed towards their designaed HEVs while my team looked at me. Don't worry, I hadn't forgotten.

"Reaper, we're having company for this op, I assume you're ok with that, but I don't care, because you have to be. Also, remember that we're one men down, we're going to have to account for that since we're now missing our two gunners." I explained. "Now, how do we go?" I asked them.

"We go feet first Staff Sergeant!" they replied.

"The only way it should be," Schitzo said, this time he manifested himself wearing a knock-off ODST body armor and cheesy face paint. I ignored the hallucination all the way until my HEV and then cracked my knuckles as the pod's door closed in front of me. This wasn't a comander's HEV, so I didn't have as many hardware as I was used to, instead being reduced to two screens.

I glanced up to the countdown and failed to suppress a wince just as the light turned green. The drop was fast and efficient. I only had to steer slightly to the side to avoid crashing into the mountain directly. Instead, all eleven of us landed in the slopes of the mountain where Bear Bunker had been built on. The pod stopped as violently as it should've.

"Without a hitch," I smiled.

Come on guys, you didn't really think that I'd have Pavel killed off (or at least making it look like that), did you? Well, if you did I have posted this new chapter at the same time to cheer you up. Or sink you deeper into depression, depends on how talented you consider my writing.

What is it now? Frank is going to be working with SPARTANs once again? No way, who saw that coming? Well, it was bound to happen eventually, as you know, I intend to take this story all the way to 2552, or the Battle of Earth, also known as Halo 3. Now, now, I hope you enjoyed this chapter, in particular that Mexican Standoff scene, I had a hard time writing it, but I think it came out at least halfway decent. Let me know what you think.

As always, thanks to Sniper Fodder for proof-reading this chapter.

-casquis