Chapter CCIII: Good Deeds

August 20, 2552 (UNSC Calendar)/

New Alexandria, Viery, Reach, Epsilon Eridani System

"No good deed goes unpunished."

I failed to realize just how dark it was. It was the middle of the day, but there was just too much smoke and dust floating around. Marina flew us through the buildings, taking long detours to avoid sections of the city that were held by the Covenant or were deemed unsafe for aircraft. Most of New Alexandria was still under friendly forces, but the covvies had AA Wraiths and SAM batteries covering a large area of the city. So far their high-tech airspace denial pieces were still being effectively countered, but a few teams had been dispatched to deal with the guns themselves in case our countermeasures failed soon.

"Frank."

"Yeah, Pavs?"

"Stop tapping your foot."

I looked down at the offending appendage and stopped tapping it. It wasn't very often that I expressed excitement that openly. An outside observer would've thought I was nervous, especially if they saw the tall, white buildings around the Pelican falling apart, but we had just come from a nearly flawless operation without barely any planning and a very vague objective.

After I stopped tapping it came to mind that Pavel was a noncom and I was an officer.

"Fuck you," I said after a stupidly long pause. I tapped my feet loudly once for effect, drawing chuckles from those observing.

"Hey, Frank!" Marina called from the cockpit. "Get in here!"

I got up from my seat and walked to the cockpit, barely feeling the gentle rocking motions as the Pelican flew. Marina was calmly piloting the craft, making the ride as smooth as possible. If she was going to be told to fly slowly and only take certain routes, then she was sure as hell going to make the ride a comfortable one. She turned around to face me with that big flygirl helmet of hers. It reminded me of some type of bug, with the round shape and the big reflective visor.

"What is it?" I asked, pressing my hand against the side of the cockpit window.

"I'm picking up some chatter. There's a tank platoon in need of a particular set of tools to fix up a damaged engine and get moving."

"Do they not have the tools they need?" I asked.

"Negative," she replied. "They're requesting an assist and we're in the neighborhood. Literally."

"This area's cleared, right?"

"Yup," she replied. "Cam?"

Grass joined the conversation through the speakers. "Yeah, it was declared safe thirteen minutes ago."

"Alright," I said. "We'll lend a hand. How long should it take?"

"I'm not a tank engineer," Marina deadpanned.

"Did you know that it only takes and average of three minutes to completely refit a tank with the appropriate machinery?" Grass asked.

"No, I did not know that," I replied, using that bored and annoyed tone for the first time in a few years. It brought a smile to my face and I could almost picture Grass smiling on the other end of the line.

"Alright, I'm calling it in," Grass said. "The stop should take about ten minutes give or take. I'm no tank expert, but judging from the platoon's descriptions the balance shaft and the alignment are a little bit off. Perhaps there's some issues with the connecting rod as well. Sounds like they were rammed by a Chopper."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," I replied. "But alright. Marina, where are your tools?"

"Overhead netting," she replied. "Turning now."

"Why are we slowing down, sir?" Pitcher asked as soon as I left the cockpit.

"I felt like lending a helping hand," I replied with a small shrug, reaching for the Pelican's toolbox. I knew from experience that it contained anything from your archaic wrench to the more recent scanners and automated repair tools. It was also heavy as fuck.

"Helping hand?" Andrea asked, failing to keep the skepticism out of her voice. "That doesn't sound like you… sir."

I sighed. "There's a tank platoon that needs to make some quick repairs. I kindly volunteered to help them."

My men weren't in any shape to complain and they all knew damn well that we were only flying through cleared areas. They checked their weapons and reloaded, standing up as Marina slowly approached the tanks. I walked out right behind my men as she parked her Pelican carefully. There were three Scorpion tanks, two of them positioned in clearly defensive position. Accompanying them there was a Warthog H variant. This one had even more armor than the norm would dictate on an H-model. Hell, it even had doors with windows on it.

Three tanks, a Warthog, and six soldiers that were very obviously not tankers looked at us with a puzzled expression. The tanker in charge of the damaged Scorpion moved up to me and took the toolbox without a single word. Once the heavy box was safely in his hands he looked up at me and asked my why the hell an ODST would bother with something like this.

I laughed. "As good a question as I've heard. But I'm not technically an ODST, not anymore. Neither are my men here."

"They certainly look it," the tanker replied. "With the ODST armor and all."

"It's better than the shit you're wearing," I pointed out. "Anyways, nobody here has time to waste, so get moving."

"Yes, sir," the tanker replied, remembering what appropriate behavior was when dealing with Helljumpers.

He didn't even make five steps before his head was lopped clean of his shoulders.

Blood sprayed my visor, making me flinch.

"Wha-"

I was thrown to the ground by an explosion. My head quickly surmised that it hadn't come from behind me and hadn't been close enough to have harmed my men through concussive blast alone. I somehow managed a levelheaded approach even when I had pissed my pants a little bit. Heads don't usually fall off shoulders just like that, in fact, the neck's there to prevent freaky shit like that from happening. I hadn't seen anything that could've caused something like that to happen so abruptly, beam rifles weren't powerful enough and I would've seen it.

By the time by brain made the collection I was already up and firing at the general area above the tanker's corpse. As soon as my brain clicked with my body and I thought cloaked elite I modified my aim.

The head had been lopped from right to left, which meant that the elite had swung from that direction. The man couldn't have moved through the cloaked hingehead, so it was easy to deduce that the alien had been in front when it attacked. I sprayed to the left at chest height, hoping that one of my bullets would catch the elite.

Shields shimmered and suddenly there was a target.

Automatic fire joined by BR and the shimmer turned into a silhouette which turned into a dead elite.

"Incoming!"

Everything was happening too fast, the damaged Scorpion was immobile and completely useless, one of the other two tanks had been blown up by the first explosion. I barely made out a bright green light before it hit the ground next to the group of soldiers complementing the tank platoon. I started moving back before a second and third fuel rod blasts hit, wiping out the six men in a cloud of green. I raised my rifle to try and find something to fire at, but there wasn't anything that I could see.

The other Scorpion roared to life behind me, moving from its vulnerable position. I couldn't afford to turn and look at it, this was a highly coordinated attack and soon enough I would be targeted myself.

"Frank!"

I turned around just in time.

The silhouette was just clear enough for me to see. I managed to barely deflect the energy sword with the stock of my battle rifle. The elite's lunge went a little long, allowing me to get a follow up strike to the mouth. The hit was enough to disrupt the active camouflage. The elite didn't react to the bash, it simply twisted its wrist forty five degrees and slashed sideways. I dropped my rifle and grabbed its wrist with both hands, stopping the slash a few inches short of my ribs. This second failure made the elite growl angrily, but it didn't pause before drawing an energy dagger on its other hand and attempting to punch it into my side. I kicked up at its forearm, deflecting the punch.

I twisted myself so that I was outside its sword arm, but the elite swiped at my feet before I was done with the maneuver, almost tripping me. I let my momentum carry me down to the ground and rolled with it, reaching for the shotgun on my back as I did. I came back up facing away from the elite, but the shotgun was already in my hands. I flipped myself around and fired blindly. The buckshot hit the elite right above its knee, jerking its leg backwards. Its shields flickered and disappeared, but it moved with a purpose. I pumped and fired a second time as it raised its sword, hitting it in the other knee. This time the blast completely shattered armor and bone, bringing the elite to the ground and making it drop its sword.

The plasma blade made a hissing noise as it hit the polycrete street and the hilt clattered loudly. The elite kept swinging its' fist against me from its kneeling position; it looked me in the eye, growling. A third blast ripped half its' head off and bought me a moment's respite.

I rushed to get my rifle and began running back towards the Pelican. My men were too far away from the dropship. Pavel was laying heavy suppressing fire along with Ramirez and Dotsenko, but there wasn't anything that I could see them firing at, the elites were all camouflaged.

"Thermal, thermal!" I shouted. "Marina, hold up!"

"I can't stay here longer," she replied. "They're painting me!"

I cursed. "Shit, go!"

The Pelican shot up dangerously fast, but even then it was barely enough to avoid two small plasma torpedoes from hitting its engines. Marina barreled her craft and only just avoided a second torpedo from hitting her, but her stunt sent her Pelican smashing against a building. I held my breath, but the roll was completed and she regained control. Pieces of glass and building fell on the street.

The Scorpion fired at some unseen target. Whatever it had been aiming at was very thoroughly killed, but an elite jumped up onto the tank from a second story window. It tried ripping the hatch off, but instead decided to sink its energy sword a couple of times. The Scorpion lurched forward and crashed into the other damaged tank, where they were both destroyed after the elite jumped out.

"Into the buildings!" I shouted. "Move!"

The Pelican was only thirty or so meters above us, but fuel rods and plasma fire were going at it. Marina was the best pilot I knew, but there was just too much for her Pelican to handle. She succeeded in dodging most of the dangerous fire, but her craft shook violently when a fuel rod detonated against the right wing engine. Smoke and fire billowed out and her Pelican once against slammed against a building, but not as hard as I had feared.

"Frank…" she began.

"Go!" I shouted. "We'll be fine!"

Marv and Andrea were slowly walking towards a building, firing short bursts as they moved backwards. I didn't see them hitting anything, but then again, they probably were using their VISRs or thermal scopes. I cursed myself for not following my own advice and switched to thermal on my visor. The smoking Scorpions lit up my display, but there were enough little red dots for me to make out targets.

"Clear!" Caboose shouted from inside the building. "Move in, move in!"

Miri and Pitcher went in first with Mata right on their heels. I waved at Marv and Andrea to move to cover when a needle punched completely through my left hand.

"Ah," I said, my stomach clenching.

"Lieutenant!"

"Move!" I roared. "Pavel, move your ass!"

The three gunners doubled their speed, keeping their fields of fire going. I looked at the source of the needle and saw a thermal signature coming from a window. I jumped sideways before I fired three bursts, shattering the window and making the elite fall backwards and out of sight. I could feel the blood trickling through my hand and down to the ground, but the pain wasn't there yet. I cursed when three heat signatures rushed through cover, moving faster than I would've thought possible. Pavel and Ramirez were almost inside, almost a few meters away from me. Ramirez turned and rushed inside as Pavel sprayed two of the elites, sending them rushing for cover. Dotsenko hit the other one several times, but his SAW clicked empty at the most unfortunate time. I brought my rifle up, but the sharpshooter fired at me again, forcing me into cover.

"Fuck," Dotsenko cursed.

I looked up just in time to see his SAW clatter to the ground and the elite swing at his unprotected head. Dotsenko brought his right arm up and clenched his fist. The energy sword stopped, stuck in the Asimov artificial arm. The military-grade metal was enough to stop a full on swing from an energy sword, a fact that didn't go unnoticed by the elite. The alien seemed surprised even through its failing camouflage. The pause was enough for Dotsenko to draw his pistol and blow the elite's brains out the back of its head.

"Get in!" Ramirez shouted. "Move!"

He and Pavel began firing again, discouraging the rest of the spec ops elites from rushing us.

"Move back, move back," I ordered. "Hurry!"

"Caboose, Mata, take point," Pavel said.

"Marina, you copy?"

"Frank, I'm good," she replied. "I can't turn back… sorry."

"It's fine," I said. It wasn't. We needed her. "We're good. We'll see you in Olympic."

"I'll hold you to that," Marina said firmly.

"Roger that, over and out."

For those about to rock, we salute you!

"Bee, turn that shit off," I said.

The music stopped and I no longer felt like I was in a badly scripted movie.

"God fucking dammit!" Pavel cursed, kicking a chair.

"Where are we?" Andy asked.

"Bank of Eposz," Miri replied. "I used to come to this branch."

I looked around, we had moved deep into the building and into the office space. Some of these offices were pretty damn large for ground floor offices. Everybody was moving at a brisk pace deeper inside the building, trusting Caboose and Serge's intuition to lead us to safety. One of them had to have the blueprints downloaded. We followed their lead as they climbed down a set of stairs and into the underground levels of the building.

"Anybody wounded?" I asked.

"Just you," Andy said, pointing at my hand.

I looked at the wound. I could see through my hand. "Sasha, you alright?"

"My arm's not moving too good," Dotsenko said. "The sword damaged it."

"You know, that was pretty badass, what you did there," Ramirez told me. "Kudos, bro."

"Thanks," Dotsenko replied with a chuckle.

"James' has a point," Bee chimed in. "Was your helmet camera on?"

"Yeah," Dotsenko said with a small nod. "I want that on a big screen soon."

We talked and walked, with Andrea pulling a bunch of bandages from her pouch. She poured a small amount of biofoam on the wound to close it and then wrapped bandages around me, placing some folded gauze on either side of my hand. I could not move my hand much, but it would be enough to hold my rifle up.

"Dotsenko, you ne– ah fuck! Shit Andrea!"

"Sorry, sir," she apologized, but I wasn't really feeling it. "I need you to hold still."

I sighed and tried to keep from wincing as she tightened the bandage around my hand.

"Caboose, where we going?" Pavel asked.

"There's a basement," he replied. "Vaults for storing material goods."

"Banks still have vaults?" Pitcher asked. "Wow?"

"Yeah, some people want to store stuff like gold or cars or stupid shit like that," Pavel said. "Why they do it? Beats me."

"Is there a way out?"

"Executive elevator shaft," Caboose said. "It's in sublevel six."

"Fancy, fancy," Pitcher said. "I gotta get me one of those vaults. Hey sir, what about we blow open one of the doors?"

"Tempted," I admitted. "But we're not common criminals."

"There wouldn't be anything common about a job like this," Pitcher said. "We can blow open a door and be on our merry way within a few minutes."

"So you're telling me that you want to stop doing our job while this city burns for the sake of a few extra creds?"

"Uh…"

"Don't let me hear any of that fucking bullshit ever again, you hear me?" I snapped.

"Yes, sir. Sorry, sir."

Miranda moved to the back of the group and made sure to close the doors we went through every time. If there were any available objects she'd press them against the doors, otherwise she settled for the override code that locked them all. The rest of us were moving fast.

"Frank," Pavel said, motioning for me to be quiet. "What's with the elites?"

"I don't know," I said. "Maybe the worm necks decided that the brutes weren't enough, sent the Sangheili in to get the job done?"

My friend sighed. "We were barely holding up against the brutes Frank. If they send in the elites…"

"I know," I replied. "Let's just hope they're the only hingehead unit around."

"Let's hope they didn't send a lot of them here. They were a whole lot better than standard."

I nodded. "Probably a SpecOps team sent in to do some scouting."

"Damn good team if they managed to sneak all the way past our patrols into cleared land. They did a pretty good job in the ambush too."

"Why'd they botch it?"

"They probably planned it just for the tank platoon," I said. "We showed up and they adapted poorly. They didn't expect us to fight back so quickly."

"We were lucky," he said. "You were lucky."

"Agreed," I said. "But I'm starting to like this shotgun deal. I don't know why you would give yours up."

Pavel groaned. "You're never gonna give that up, are you? I only carried a shotgun because back then it was only you and me."

"Well, I bought you that shotgun for your birthday."

"And I still have it."

"You never use it!"

"I left it at home," he said with a small shrug.

"Did Amber take it?"

He shook his head. "She barely knows her way around a pistol Frank, let alone a fully automatic combat shotgun."

I shrugged, accepting his point.

"How many did we get?" he asked.

"I got one, Dotsenko got another one."

"I didn't hit anything," he said. "At least not enough times to kill. Neither did anybody else. I'm pretty sure that the tank got at least three elites."

"That makes five to six, seven, eight… five kills to nine. Not a good ratio."

"We were ambushed," Pavel said. "It's not our fault."

"That doesn't make me feel any better."

"It's not supposed to," he said. "Anyways, this business with the elites… it's worrisome."

"I don't want to face another well-trained fleet. They only send in the veterans when they're talking business."

That's why the second half of the Siege of Paris IV had been so bad. The elites they sent in were all veteran fighters, well trained and disciplined. The brutes were more savage, but they were a lot more skilled than usual. This time we were getting skilled brutes to begin with and now it seemed like we were about to have to fight the elites that finally beat us in Paris IV.

"Not good," Schitzo said.

Sublevel Six was big. It was a lot bigger than any of the other sublevels. The hallway separating the vaults was large enough that you could fit two Scorpions side to side. The vaults themselves seemed to have doors large enough for said Scorpions to drive through. I could only imagine what kind of people had access to these. Probably trillionaires who owned their own specially designed space stations and had a small fleet of slipspace-capable yachts. I was tempted to open the vaults to see what was going in there, but nothing short of C-12 would open those, and my own personal stash was going to something that would take out a few dozen covvies.

"There's the elevator," Bee announced loudly.

"Hit it," I said.

"Once we're up, then what?" Pavel asked.

"I'm working on it," I growled. "Grass, Grass, do you copy?"

"Frank, I copy. How's it going?"

"Well, not too good."

"Frank, what the hell are you doing on the basement of B of E? Shit. Marina's Pelican is still flying, what the hell happened?"

"We were ambushed, there's a group of SpecOps elites in the area."

"How'd they make it through?"

"I don't know, Cam. They ambushed us, took out the Scorpions and the soldiers in maybe ten seconds. I was hit in the hand and Dotsenko's arm is experiencing some trouble."

"His good arm?"

"The robot one," I said. "Looks like he can only move… two fingers?"

"Two," he confirmed. "I've got full range of motion with my shoulder and very limited motion with my elbow."

"You catch that, Grass?"

"Yeah," she said. "Alright, I'm putting out a warning for cloaked infiltrators. I'm gonna see if I can get Command to send up a few specialized birds to try and find them."

"That's a good start. What about us?"

"You're making your way up?"

"Affirmative."

"Alright, I'll send a–"

Whatever she said next was blocked by an incredibly loud noise. For a brief instant I thought it was an explosion, but after the smoke cleared out I realized that it was coming from the elevator shaft. I looked there as Grass frantically asked what was going on. The doors were open, but I could see the top of the elevator and into the shaft.

"Looks like someone cut the cables," Marv said, clearing the dust and looking inside. "Suffice to say, we're not gonna go up using this one."

"Did you know that all elevators have a backup engine at the top of the shaft?" Grass said after a short moment of silence.

I walked towards the busted elevator doors and looked through the small gap in between the frame and the elevator itself. A quick look up showed that the top of the shaft was not precisely close to the basement. I sighed and moved back out.

"Grass, you know if there's an engine halfway up or something like that?"

"Nope," she said. "Just the one on top. Bad news, the cables are designed locked."

"Can you access them?"

"Not from here," she replied. "It's at times like these when I miss Angel."

I grunted. "That fucker would've accessed the stupid engine from Tribute."

"Yeah. Frank, these cable engines are pretty antiquated, they're there because putting them on is cheaper than amending the law that requires them to be there."

"How do you even know that, Cam?" I asked. "That's pretty fucking obscure."

"I read about it somewhere," she said dismissively. "Anyways. There should be some way up, elevator shafts usually have ladders on the edge."

I peeked back inside the shaft. "Yeah, looks like it."

"Well, all you have to do is climb up to the top of the shaft and get the engine started. The cable should be wrapped around there," Grass said.

"Alright then," I said. "Thanks for the info, Grass. I'll let you know."

"Frank, you need to make it quick, ok? I can't guarantee you a dropship."

"What about Marina?"

Grass snickered. "You do remember her bird was hit."

"Ah, of course. Alright then, over and out."

My men were assembled in a half circle behind me, waiting for me to tell them what had happened.

"What's the word, El-tee?" Andy asked.

"Well, we're stuck here," I said. "But we have a way out."

"Do tell," Pavel said, shifting his weight from one foot to another.

I carefully explained everything that Grass had told me and then finished by saying that one of the guys would have to climb up the sixty story elevator shaft and activate the engine. Various of the younger guys shuffled their feet uncomfortably and did their best to avoid looking at me. Normally they wouldn't have behaved like that, but we had a pretty solid wall in between us. Several solid walls, as a matter of fact. If those elites were coming after us they would need some heavy-duty gear to get to this room.

Essentially, they knew we were safe and didn't want to do a relatively dangerous climb up a ladder in a dark shaft.

"Shotty not," Pitcher said hesitantly.

They all looked at me, wondering whether I would make him do the climb because he had been the first one to avoid it. After a few seconds they all started jumping over one another in order to avoid being the last one to say that. Out of all of them only Pavel and Caboose remained silent. They knew damn well that they were exempt from this kind of stuff. Serge, suffice to say, was quiet too.

Only Andy and Serge stayed quiet. I looked at the two of them and back to Pitcher, considering who would have to do the climb. It didn't really matter, they could all make it equally fast, but it was just a matter of amusement for me. Serge wouldn't become uncomfortable, Andy and Pitcher, on the other hand, would begin sweating if I kept them on the dark too long.

"Andy," I said. "Make the climb and make it quick."

She sighed. "Yes, sir."

Andy removed her torso armor and helmet while some of the guys jeered and chided her. She ignored them completely and jumped up the gap and into the elevator shaft.

"Earpiece good?" I asked her.

"Yeah," she replied. "Anything happens and I'll let you know."

As soon as she began climbing Serge moved towards the entrance and stood guard, everybody else spread out and sat down, backs against the walls but weapons close at hand. I walked from one end of the massive hallway to the other, counting the vaults. There were precisely eighty-one vaults. Eighty of them were all identical to one another, massive metallic doors with state-of-the-art electronic lock systems that were about eight meters wide and half again as tall. The last one was twice as big and didn't seem to have any visible locks or keypads. I examined it from a distance and then stepped closer, curiosity drawing me to it. A quick examination revealed that the vault itself was made out of Titanium-A, but as soon as I touched it a pair of blue scanning lights appeared from the wall and scanned me up and down before blinking red twice and disappearing.

"Whoa," I muttered.

"Whoever owns this must've had a helluva lot of creds to his name, eh?" Pavel asked from next to me.

"Yeah," I agreed, stepping backwards slowly. "How's it going, old friend?"

"Don't call me old," he said snappishly. "I'm thirty-six."

"And I'm thirty-seven," I replied, suddenly feeling all those years of combat weighing on me. "Damn… I've been fighting almost for as long as I haven't…"

"I'm old," Pavel said grumpily, leaning back next to the massive vault door.

I looked at him. He didn't look old. At least not for his age. In fact, he probably looked a little bit younger than most thirty-six years old, the long amount of time that he had spent in slipspace and cryo had shaved at least a year from his total age, the lifestyle of constant exercise and healthy UNSC food also had him looking good and sexy, as his wife would put it. There was only one place where you could clearly tell his mind was old and tired. His eyes showed that haunted look that most veterans came to display on occasion, but most of the times you could just look at them and see a certain fire that could only be fueled by years of constant hatred. His eyes were hot with hatred, distant with pain and loss, and cold with reluctance and acceptance.

His eyes were scary.

"Imagine how yours must look, Francisco," Schitzo said with a small shake of his head.

"At least we look good, eh?" Pavel asked, not having noticed my introspection. "Especially when you look at the actors in Bee's movies. I couldn't believe it when he told me that that guy was in his early fifties."

"Which guy?" I asked, curious.

"The one in the space movie."

"Ah," I said. "Yeah, he looked at least mid-sixties to me. Still pretty damn handsome though."

Pavel smiled and nodded in agreement. "What was the name of the movie again?"

"Gravity," I said. "Can you believe space suits were so freaking bulky back then?"

"Can you believe that their space stations were so frail?" he shot back. "Life in the past must've sucked."

"Agreed." I sat down next to him, unclipping my rucksack and setting it next to me.

"How's the hand?"

"Burns," I admitted. "And I can't make a fist. The leg?"

"I told you, it was just a graze, nothing big."

"Good."

Pavel rolled his head, cracking his neck loudly and sighing with relief. "Ah…"

"You know, Andy is probably gonna take some time to get up top," I told him. "You could get a quick call to Amber, see how she's doing."

Pavel immediately perked up. I don't know if he had been thinking about it before, but me bringing it up certainly wiped that look of boredom from his face. He looked at me as if expecting me to reveal that I was just being an even bigger ass than usual and joking with him. When I gestured for him to go ahead he reached into his own rucksack and retrieved one of the two radios that Grass and Captain Flatt had let us keep. He started dialing.

I smiled at him and got up, grabbing the other radio from my rucksack. I walked towards the rest of the team and stopped in front of Miri. I tossed the phone and raised an eyebrow when she over reacted and flailed her arms before catching the radio.

"Three minutes each," I said, looking at the watch on my wrist tacpad. "Go."

Miri looked down at the radio and back to me before she quickly dialed a number and waited for the answer. She got a reply only a couple of seconds after she pressed the radio after her ear.

"Adri? Is that you?" she asked tentatively. "Thank God! Aceasta este Miranda."

She started speaking her native language too fast for me to make sense of anything she said. I wasn't particularly good with Hungarian despite living in Reach, but I could catch a few words here and there. My Rumanian was a bit rusty too, but she seemed to be speaking a mix of both. She had Eastern European ancestry, and the language in question seemed to be some variation of Bahar. I wondered why I had never asked her exactly where she came from.

I didn't quite catch the meaning of the conversation, but the spirit of it became clear from the tone of it. Miranda's face sunk into a frown of worry before she relaxed it just a little bit. She kept talking for the entirety of her allotted time, finally speeding up and saying her goodbyes as I gave her a silent countdown. She hung up and made a quick dial. She then looked at the phone and sighed before handing it to me.

I tossed the phone to Ramirez.

"Miri, you ok?" I asked her quietly.

She sighed, looking a bit flustered. "Yes. They just haven't been able to contact one of my friends. He's from Manassas."

My face matched her frown. "I'm sure it's just traffic overflow," I lied. "He should be fine."

"Yeah," Miranda said. She knew just as well as I did that the high-tech radios that Grass had provided us with were pretty close to infallible. In fact, Grass had guaranteed that they would get through no matter what. Miri's friend might've been sleeping or maybe he just didn't answer the phone, but in this situation I doubt anybody would turn down a call from loved ones.

Last I heard Manassas was about to fall under attack.

Ramirez was making his own call. He didn't actually talk to anybody, instead he appeared to be contacting a slipspace buoy that would send out a message that he was now recording. He spoke in English, throwing in a few Spanish words here and there. He was letting his family know that he loved them despite everything that had happened. Ramirez took a few seconds to say a few words to each family member and then added a general message to the rest of his family as well as some of his friends.

"…I hope to see you pronto, ok?" he finished. "Well, maybe not so soon, depende on how it all turns out. Los quiero, bye."

Ramirez looked at the radio for a second and then tossed it to me. I looked at him and then moved onto the next person in line. Dotsenko extended his left arm towards me and I passed him the phone. I took a couple of steps back, enough to make it seem like I wasn't snooping on his conversation but close enough that he would keep it brief. My presence also had a secondary objective, worried men had a tendency to reveal information, or maybe it was worried women who had the ability to extract it. It was a long shot, but even if there was a one in a billion chance I didn't want to risk it.

Dotsenko frowned after twenty seconds of no words. He looked down at the radio and dialed again, pressing the phone against his ear a lot harder than the first time. He repeated the process four times before I asked for the radio back.

"Sasha…"

"They're not answering," he said. "Sir, they're not answering."

"Maybe they're sleeping," I suggested. "Or have their phones off."

"Sir, they answered when it was the middle of the night back in Olympic. They said that they were fine."

"Sasha," Ramirez said. "I'm sure that's still the case."

"The call rang," he told him, "they just didn't answer."

Dotsenko began shaking just a tiny little bit. His eyes started getting red and he stopped talking. Instead of showing his distress he opted to look down at the ground and say nothing, handing me the radio instead.

I looked at him and said nothing, instead making a small motion with my head to Ramirez, who nodded back to me and leaned towards his friend.

"I'm sure they're fine Sasha," he began. "There's a million reasons why…"

His voice trailed off as I moved up towards Serge. He looked at me with unreadable eyes. Out of all the men and women that I had served with Serge was probably the one with the most mental strength. His silence itself wasn't what convinced me of that, but his reactions to anything that happened. When we came across a mutilated body he'd give it a quick look and move on, when we came across a murdered family of five he would give them a quick look and move on. I had never seen him panic during battle or even become the tiniest bit unnerved. Serge was obviously a quiet guy, he wouldn't talk unless he absolutely needed to, but when he did his voice was perfectly calm and steady, even if his French accent was a bit heavy for my taste.

Not even Caboose managed to keep that calm all the time. It unnerved me.

Serge held my gaze for five seconds and then extended his hand, grabbing the radio. I hadn't seen him make the call in Olympic and I had certainly never heard anything about his personal life, so I was slightly surprised that he took the phone. He dialed quickly and waited. As soon as he got a connection he began speaking in rapid-fire French. I knew that he was originally from the France. The one on Earth. I assumed he was leaving a message to someone back home.

I was curious, I admit it. I tried spying on his call, but not a lot of people spoke French outside of France. I knew back in the day France had been one of the main countries to launch colony ships. The majority of French speakers lived on Earth, Mars, Titan, and some of the closest Inner Colonies. The point is, not a lot of people spoke French, so it wasn't a big language to learn. I knew even less than you would've expected a first year student of the language to know.

Je m'appelle, je suis, tu est, and all that bullshit.

Serge went on for longer than I would've expected him to be physically able to talk, but he still stopped short of the two minute mark. He handed me the radio and gave me a nod of thanks.

Pitcher's call went smoothly, primarily because he was also leaving a message to the few friends that he had. The station he had been born in wasn't listed because it was too far and too small. He spoke in a combination of languages that stemmed from his background. Mining stations often had immigrants from all over UEG space, so it wasn't uncommon to have four people with five different backgrounds each. I caught bits of Spanish, bits of Russian, bits of Swahili and more languages that I couldn't even begin to understand.

"You good?" I asked after the call.

"Yeah," he said with a smile. "Thanks, sir."

Marv went next, making two short calls. One was to his parents and another one was to his older sister. He asked them if they were fine and then asked about his niece. He smiled a bit when the reply came, but his face hardened as he began reminding them what to do if anything went wrong. They were still in the evacuation bases and were technically guaranteed a shuttle out of the system, but they still weren't allowing civilian vessels to evacuate the planet.

"Thanks, EL-tee," Marv said, offering me the phone.

"Bee, you want to take this?" I asked him.

"Nah," he said. "I already left a lengthy message to my mum and dad. They're sure to know I'm alright. Sending another one without need… it's just not Scottish, sir."

I chuckled. "Your call," I said, giving the phone to Caboose.

Caboose looked down at the phone before sighing and handing it back to me with a small shake of his head. He almost looked sad, but his expression went back to that mask that he always wore, making me question whether his face had actually changed or I had just imagined it. Caboose didn't have friends, he had colleagues and he had Miri. The exact workings of his relationship were beyond my understanding, but I knew that he cared for her and she felt the same way. Sometimes I wondered why they weren't screwing like rabbits half the time. They had certainly had some sort of physical relationship in the past, but they seemed to have settled for whatever they had now.

I looked at the phone and wondered whether I should call Katie.

I almost slapped myself in the forehead for even wandering about it. The phone beeped as it got a line and then I waited. She answered before the first ring.

"Frank!"

"'Ello darlin'" I said in a fake accent.

"I've been trying to call you since Amber answered her cell, but the calls don't get through!" she complained.

"I'm afraid that this is a one way deal," I told her. "We've got some very fancy radios here, Katie. Not a lot of people can communicate with anybody else."

She sighed. "Yeah, yeah, it's just hard. I'm getting cabin fever. Liz is starting to get a bit nervous."

"How is she?" I asked. "Your cousin is a strong girl, but…"

"She's just afraid that it's going to be Paris IV all over again. Back then she was my rock, always upbeat, but I don't think she has it in her to go through it a second time. I don't have it in me."

"You're stronger than you think, Katie," I assured her. "And Reach isn't Paris IV. We've got every single Navy ship up there fighting or headed there to join the fight. It might take a while, but we'll kick their asses out of here and they're gonna wish they never even found us."
Katie laughed a bit, but it was a sad laugh. "Are you ok? Well, are you–"

"Yeah," I assured her, smiling earnestly. "Came across a little hurdle, but nothing we can't deal with. The boys are resting right now. They deserve it."

"We're resting here too," she said. "But I'm sick of that. We are stuck in this tiny space and they keep telling us that they're gonna move us into the transports any time now."

"Don't get angry at them, Katie," I said. "They're just doing their job and are probably every bit as scared as you are."

Katie sighed. "I know, but we can't see the covvies and people want to blame somebody. Some idiot already got his eyebrow busted for trying to get past the soldiers."

"Stay away from conflict," I said immediately, "don't interrupt a fight, don't mediate, don't do anything."

"But Frank-"

"No," I cut her off. "Katie, this is an invasion, you should know pretty well how people behave when this happens."

"Yeah…"

"Listen," I said, calming down. "I'm sorry, I want this to be over just as much as you do."

"Probably more," she said without much humor. "I just want to know if you're ok."

"I'm ok," I said.

"But no promises."

"I promise you I will see you again," I said. "Before all this is over."

"You promise?" she asked.

"I swear," I confirmed. "No matter what."

"Ok. I believe you…"

"Katie, I love you, but I have to go."

"Love you too. I'll see you…"

"Soon," I said. "I'll see you soon. Goodbye."

I hung up and looked at the radio, ignoring the calls coming from the elevator shaft. I shook my head and put the radio back inside my rucksack before answering.

"What is it?" I asked loudly. Annoyed.

"I've got the cable," Andy said. "Am I supposed to know how this works?"

"Link it up somewhere," I replied. "There should be a loop on top, maybe it has a small terminal somewhere around it."

"I see it," Andy said. "Done."

"Ok everybody!" I shouted. "Rest time is over! Pile in on the elevator and let's get this moving!"

"Yes, sir!"

"Grass, you copy?"

"Loud and clear, Frank."

"We've got the elevator working, can you send a Pelican for us?"

"I'm doing it right now," she said. "Be on the rooftop in five."

"Wilco," I said. "Thanks."

"Anytime. Over and out."

Everybody piled into the elevator, but Dotsenko's nervousness was clearly palpable. He kept his eyes glued to the ground and didn't say anything. Even Bee and Pavel failed to mention the cliché elevator scene that usually came up in these kind of situations. Ramirez was standing close to his friend, a worried frown on his face that was only hidden after he polarized his helmet. Andrea looked confused, but she refrained from asking any questions in this enclosed space.

"This is our stop," I said. "Two floors up and we're on the roof. We're in a low building and the safety of this area is no longer guaranteed. We wait inside and wait for the Pelican."

"Yes, sir."

The Pelican arrived as promised. We entered in an orderly fashion, with Caboose and Marv covering our asses while we moved in. I walked straight at the cockpit and waited for my men to sit down before giving the word to go.

"You guys kept me from my break," the pilot noted drily.

"Mine too," his co-pilot added.

"Tough shit," I replied, drawing snorts. "Any news?"

"We were mobilizing large numbers of men and materiel just a few hours ago, looks like the counter-offensive worked," the co-pilot replied.

"Good," I said. "Good."

"Do you mind if I ask what you were doing in the bank, sir?"

"I do," I replied.

"Of course," the pilot said. "Anyways, please move back to your seat. We heard this area is no longer secure, we might be facing enemy fire."

I moved back and sat near the edge, looking down at the streets. The trip was a lot longer than I would've liked, but the pilots kept being ordered to take different turns. Flying above the buildings would've exposed us, and flying in certain areas would do the same. From what I gathered the counter-attack was working, but there would be pockets of enemy resistance left for at least a few more weeks, and those would do anything from ambushes, to sniping, to bringing down Pelicans. They were doing it now already, with a large percentage of our casualties coming from strikes from our rear or flanks.

"We're doing a u-turn," the pilot announced. "Area up ahead was declared–"

The Pelican was thrown violently to the side and we slammed into a building. Glass shards landed inside the blood tray, making everybody throw their hands up in an instinctive reaction. I held on to the edge of my seat, literally.

"We've run into a bit of trouble," the copilot said. "Prepare for a hard lan–"

A secondary impact hit the Pelican, cutting him short. This time the Pelican spun twice before crashing into another building on the opposite side of the street. The engines were still working, but we couldn't just come down, slamming side to side.

"Out, out!" I shouted. "Everybody out!"

"Frank, what the hell–"

The Pelican spun away from the building, cracking rock and snapping metal. I stood up, precariously maintaining my balance. The buildings on the other side of the street were closing in on us, but so was the ground. I refused to think my action through and jumped when we were fifteen meters from the target. Jump is probably a poor choice of words, dive is perhaps more accurate.

I made my hands fists before pressing my knees against my chest and covering my head. I looked down at the street only to see ceiling and buildings. My body spun in what seemed to be slow motion and I turned down again, the Pelican blocked my view, but I could see my men had jumped too, perhaps six meters or so below me and slightly closer to the building. I saw what looked like Marv and Serge crash against a window before I felt my own shoulder hitting a window.

Something cracked, but it wasn't just the glass.

I tried to swear, but the wind was driven out of me. The glass wasn't your standard cheap glass apparently, but it gave. I slammed into the ground on the same shoulder that had rammed into the window and cried out in pain. I rolled and writhed in something close to agony before the pain receded a little bit. I got up and looked around.

"Did everybody make it?!" I yelled into the radio.

"I think so!" Andrea coughed. It sounded like she spat out blood.

"I'm good," Bee said in between hyperventilating breaths. "I'm good."

The Pelican exploded as it hit the street.

"Ramirez, Dotsenko!"

"A-ok!" Ramirez replied. "Well, maybe just ok."

"Pavs?"

"Good," he said. "Miri knocked herself out."

"I'm alive… surprising as it is," Pitcher said.

"Same here," Caboose grunted. "Marv and Serge are with me."

"I'm alive," Mata grunted. "Shit."

"Meet up on my position," I ordered through clenched teeth. "Double time!"

I looked back at the window and realized that it hadn't actually broken. There was a large crack where I had hit it, but the glass itself hadn't broken. A simple look told me that the window had come off completely.

"Really?" Schitzo asked, groaning in shared pain. "Really?"

I wasn't sure, so I tested his hypothesis. I drew my sidearm and fired once at the adjoining window.

The high-caliber explosive bullet hit the window and left nothing but a white round mark about two inches in diameter.

"Bulletproof glass…" I muttered. "Fucking hell."

I dragged myself to my feet and looked around. The office was about twice as big as our room in the apartment I shared with Katie. My room wasn't exactly large, but this was still big for an office. Expensive furniture, expensive electronic equipment, holographic projectors, the works. I don't know what building this was, but the asshole that had owned this office had just broken my collarbone. If I ever found the Mr. Harvey Specter whose New Alexandria University diploma was in the wall, I would kick his ass three blocks down.

Pavel was the first one through. He looked at me with a worried expression look in his face and then looked at the piece of bulletproof glass on the floor. He looked back at me and snorted.

"You have the worst luck in the world, you know that?"

"Fuck off," I said angrily. "Where's Andrea?"

"Magnet, you're needed," Bee said, coming in right behind my friend.

"I'm with Miri," she said. "Give me a moment."

I groaned and leaned back on Mr. Specter's genuine leather chair. It was immensely comfortable, even with my armor on. The holos of his wife also showed an insanely sexy woman, it would be a shame that I'd have to embarrass him in front of her when I saw him.

"Bulletproof, shit, sir. I'm surprised you aren't smeared on the windows right now," Bee said. "You're lucky the frame gave."

"Don't tell me I'm lucky," I said. "You are the fucking shit that's lucky, coming in through soft glass."

"Yes, sir. Sorry, sir."

Pavel chuckled and picked up the pane of glass with some effort, he leaned it against the other window, covering us from any fire from the outside. He breathed deeply from the effort and slapped his hands clean.

"Damn, that shit's heavy."

"Probably some composite plastic," I said. "It fucking hurts too."

"Looks like it," Pavel said.

If it was as heavy as Pavel had made it out to be then I had no doubt that any normal human would've turned into paste. Once again I had my enhancements to thank for saving my life. All my men had made it without the need of those, but I had only survived because of them. It was what you would call a humbling experience. I hated it. I hated it like nothing else.

"What is it?" Andrea asked as she walked in. "Ah shit… Wait, is that–"

"Yes," I interrupted. "Now give me a hand, will you?"

"Ummm, hold on a sec." She pulled out the medical scanner and aimed it at my wounded shoulder. "Well, it seems like you managed to dislocate your shoulder and get a hairline fracture in your collarbone."

"Two for the price of one, eh?" Pavel asked. "Why doesn't that surprise me."

"Shut up," I ordered sternly. "Andy, pop it back."

"It's gonna hurt, sir. Especially with that fracture there."

"Just do it," I ordered.

It hurt like a bitch. And I do mean like a bitch. I would've preferred to have another needle go through my hand.

"Ah fuck," I said without any emotion.

"You ok, sir?" Andy asked, looking worried.

"Just fucking dandy," I replied. "What the hell happened?"

"I didn't see anything," Pavel told me. "But we can't stay here. They had to see our little stunt."

"How come nobody broke anything?" Bee asked.

I glared at him.

"I mean, anybody that could've slowed us down," he quickly amended.

"Nice save," Pavel said, elbowing him in the ribs. "Frank, we might want to ask Grass for advice here."

I rolled my eyes at his tone but contacted Grass nevertheless.

"What is it?" she asked calmly. "Ah, shit. Again?"

"Yes," I confirmed. "We need a way out."

"Well, there's no way in hell they're going to authorize another Pelican. I'm getting aerial imagery… shit."

"What is it?" I asked.

"Somebody screwed up. Big. Frank, you want to get out of there ASAP. Linking you to the drones."

I got a small screen displaying the area I was in. My position was highlighted in a bright red dot. The screen automatically tagged enemy units and revealed that there was heavy enemy presence for at least five blocks to any side. The way to FLEETCOM and Olympic was thankfully the one with the least amount of enemies, but the bulk of the Covenant forces seemed to be moving in that direction.

"Let's get moving," I ordered, my tone immediately switching from annoyed to dead-serious.

"Miranda's still unconscious," Andy complained. "And your–"

"Carry her," I said. "We need to get out of here. Covvies found a way to deploy troops without us seeing. We're surrounded."

"Shit," Pitcher muttered.

"Let's get moving!" Pavel shouted. "Aren't you listening? Move your asses!"

Sometimes it was his booming voice that made everyone snap back to reality. He had that talent. When I yelled I sounded like an asshole, when he yelled he sounded like a drill sergeant, exactly what his role was supposed to be in this platoon. Sometimes it seemed ironic that everybody thought me an asshole and Pavel the gentler of the pair when the role was supposed to be the exact opposite. I'm not saying there wasn't a good reason for that, but it never failed to annoy me that no matter how hard we tried we wouldn't be able to switch roles. Pavel was just too friendly and there was something off about me that even my charisma couldn't help with.

I pondered on that while we moved down on the elevator.

"There's a medical station in the lobby," Andrea said before the doors opened. "There should be stims and painkillers in there as well as a stretcher."

"Did we burn through our supply already?" I asked.

The silence from my men was all I needed to know. We all still had enough stimulants to last us a lifetime, but more than half of our painkillers had been used. A person doesn't usually make a hard landing through a window after jumping out of a falling Pelican without a few bumps and scratches. I was willing to bet that after we stopped fighting we would all need a couple of weeks to let our bodies recover. I was fighting with wounds inflicted in our first landing still partially healed, not to mention rebar through my leg and a needle through my hand. Let's not forget the recent acquisition of a broken collarbone.

"Bee and Pavel," I said, gesturing to the stretcher that Andy carried from the medical station. "We'll switch until she wakes up. Andy, can we give her stims?"

"I already gave her a dose, she still hasn't woken up."

"Why do I feel like we're constantly practicing medicine wrong?" Pitcher asked.

Mata snorted. "That's because we do, kid. I'm sure Magnet could do a fine job of patching you up if need be, but El-tee here doesn't need us patched up, he needs us ready to fight."

"Listen to him," I said. "You might learn something."

"Still a little unnerving," Ramirez said with a small smile.

I expected Dotsenko to chime in, but he remained silent. It was troublesome.

"Frank, there's an enemy armored unit moving in right next to you. They look like they're going to search the Pelican," Grass said.

"Are you going to be the voice in my ear?" I asked her.

"You need me to, Frank, there's at least three hundred covvies between you and me right now."

"You know we can take them," I said.

"Not in your current situation."

I nodded in acquiescence. "Ok then Grass, you've got our backs. Everybody else, if you've got silencers, use 'em. We're going silent this time."

"Silent?" Pitcher asked. "Sir, we're geared up for anything but that. We just came from a loud as fuck mission."

"You've got a silencer?" I asked.

"Yeah…"

"Then fucking use it!"

"Yes, sir!"

"Caboose, no shotguns. Serge, I want yours on backup, last resort. Andy and Marv, you two have silencers?"

"Yeah," Marv replied. "We're good."

"No silencers for us," Ramirez said.

"Then let's hope you're not spotted then, shall we?" I suggested. "Grass?"

"They're examining the Pelican, looks like three elites, eight grunts, and two jackals."

"Tell us when."

We slowly moved into position right next to the exit. I could see one of the jackals standing on top of the tail section of the Pelican with a carbine held loosely across its chest. The rest of the enemy squad was out of sight. I waited for the jackal to turn and Grass gave us the word to move across the street.

It must've looked funny, twelve guys moving as fast as they could at a crouch, two of them carrying an unconscious one in a stretcher. The enemy squad was just a few meters from us, yet the elites were searching for victims inside the cargo bay and the grunts were just awkwardly standing guard, but facing the wrong side.

"Shit, hide!"

Everybody dove for cover. Pavel and Bee had foreseen something like this happened and were lucky enough to both be behind a car with Miri and her stretcher. Everybody else was close enough to the other side that they made it, but Ramirez had to dive behind an uncomfortably short pile of debris from the building. He stayed there and didn't move a muscle.

I couldn't see what was happening. I didn't know whether it was the jackal with the carbine, the elites that had come out of the Pelican, or the grunts had finally spread out. All I had was Grass.

"Wait for it… Go!"

Pavel and Bee were on the move before Ramirez could get to his feet, but the four of them crossed the street without more noise. We stuck close to the wall, with Marv keeping his rifle trained on the jackal. He moved slowly, lagging a bit behind us.

"There's a small parking space right to your left," Grass said. "Turn."

I rolled my eyes slightly at her instructions, but did what she said. The parking space in question was more like a wide alley with enough space for two cars to move side by side. A few cars had parked against the right side, but there was not much else in this alley that could hide us if someone looked.

"There's a side door thirty meters to your right," Grass said. "Open it quietly."

"Marv, with me," I said, jogging to the door. "Quiet."

He twisted the handle and shook his head slightly before moving to the control pad.

"Smashed," he said.

"Frank, there's a group of covvies coming up in front. Hurry!"

"Dammit Grass," I muttered, drawing a knife from the small of my back.

I pressed it against the crack of the door where the bolt would be and motioned for Marvin to kick it. He did a powerful side kick, hitting the hilt with his heel. The knife was sharpened to near-molecular level and was good enough to take out shields if need be. The bolt was cleanly cut through with a clank that was a lot louder than I would've liked.

"In, in, in!"

"Frank!" Grass was shouting into my ear.

"Go!"

I saw the lead elite out the other end of the parking alley just as Bee and Pavel dashed through the door. I moved inside, hoping that we hadn't been spotted.

"Grass?"

"Looks like you're clear," she said, sounding like she had been holding her breath. "Damn Frank, I've got you on four monitors here. You have no idea how suspenseful that was."

"Keep moving," I told my team. "Four monitors? Why do you need so many?"

"We've got grunts," Marv said. "Four."

"Take them out," I ordered. "Pitcher, help out."

"Yes, sir."

"I've got one monitor for the drone," Grass said, "one for street cameras, one for your own helmet camera and I'm using the other one to switch between Pavel and Grigori."

"Why don't you play some music while you're at it?" I asked her. "I know you have some of Bee's stuff there somewhere."

"I did in my old computer," she admitted. "But not here. And I need to listen to everything that's going on."

I heard four silenced shots ring through the hallways and got the all-clear signal from Pitcher.

"Move to the southeast corner," Grass said. "There's a broken window."

"Marv?" I asked.

"Yeah, it's here."

"You doubt me?" Grass asked.

"We're just making sure your four monitors don't have any chinks on them," Bee said with fake contempt.

"Don't antagonize her, Bee," Pavel told him. "Did you know that our lives are under her care right now?"

Us three laughed and Caboose snorted, but nobody else got the joke. Nobody else understood why Pavel was making a girly voice.

To be fair, Grass laughed with us. "Alright, this is an intersection," she said. "There are two destroyed Wraiths that should conceal you, but there's seven jackals milling about."

"Patrolling?"

"Negative," she said after a brief pause. "Looks like they're waiting, must be milling around for some reason, but they don't seem to be actively searching for anything."

"Too confident," Pitcher said.

"I have to agree with the kid on this one," Mata rumbled.

"They're in three groups of two," Grass went on. "One of them's on top of a Wraith."

"Marv and Caboose, you move first," I gave the word, "try and avoid them."

"Yes, sir."

"Grass will paint the real life positions for them, I'll cover you."

"You'd better step it up, too," Grass added. "That group that almost caught you in the parking space is moving up. Forty seconds."

"Move," Caboose told Marv.

They started moving and stopped just shy of one Wraith, pressing their bodies against the tank to avoid the prying eyes of the jackal on top of it. I kept my rifle trained on it in case it looked down. Unfortunately enough, the jackal didn't look at my men, it looked at me.

The bird raised its rifle, but Caboose took a step forward, twisted around and put two bullets in the jackal's chest. The bird gurgled and collapsed forward, where Marv caught it.

My heart was beating a thousand miles an hour.

"Shit," Marv muttered.

"Under the Wraith, the wing on the side," Caboose said.

Marv didn't skip a beat. He shoved the dead jackal underneath the small space and the two of them moved back and around the other side as one of the pairs moved around. The two jackals didn't appear to notice that their comrade was missing and kept moving. The jackals appeared on the left side of the tank and my men disappeared on the right.

"There's six of them," Pavel said. "We can take them out and hide them before the big group moves up. We're short on time."

"It's viable," Grass said.

I looked to Pitcher, who was to my left, and gave him a nod.

We both fired at the two visible jackals, hitting them in the back of the head with a single silenced shot. The two bodies crumpled to the ground. Marv and Caboose had heard our conversation and knew that they could take out the jackals instead of just avoiding them. Bee and Pavel started moving Miri forward as Ramirez and Dotsenko rushed towards the two dead jackals. They slung them over their shoulders, picking up their weapons as well. Caboose and Marv shot two others and Andy handled the last two as they turned around the left of the second Wraith.

I moved towards the last two jackals with Andrea moving behind me. Everybody was busy picking up a body except for Mata and Serge, those two were aiming down the street where the group of Covenant troops would show up. I picked up the jackal, wondering why every single time I was surprised at how large and how heavy those birds could be. It still wasn't particularly heavy, and I had made it halfway across to the other side by the time Andy managed to get the jackal over her shoulders.

Grass was chuckling by the time everybody was safely inside the other building. We dropped the jackals behind the reception desk and moved a sofa to cover them. It would've been somewhat conspicuous to any human, but I doubt that any covvies had enough sense to recognize traditional furniture patterns in big company buildings.

"Ok, this building has a rail station on floor sixty-three," Grass said. "Elevators should be in working order and the Covenant doesn't have air superiority yet."

"Do we have a brain train?" I asked.

"A what?"

"Sorry, I was thinking about something else," I said, shaking my head. "Trains on the rails? Working trains?"

"Yeah," she said. "No, just kidding. You're gonna have to haul ass."

"I'm very confused, Grass. You're not supposed to inflect sarcasm on both parts of the sentence."

"Don't use big words, Frank. It isn't your style."

"Ha. Ha," I said. "Onomatopoeia. Bitch."

Pavel laughed and the rest of the squad snorted in disbelief.

"Dick," Grass replied, but I could tell she was holding back laughter.

"You know, you seem to be a lot braver when you're speaking to me."

"I wonder if it has anything to do with the fact that she's sitting on a comfy chair behind a desk right now," Bee teased.

"For your information, jackass, I'm sitting in an incredibly uncomfortable chair right now and my screens are on a wall, not a desk."

"That must suck," Pavel said.

The elevator dinged and Miranda groaned.

"Look who's up," Ramirez said. "Sleep well princess?"

"What?" she mumbled.

"Don't try to move," Andrea told her. "We're good, we're good."

Miri didn't say anything, but her eyes were wide open. Frankly, she looked like she had just had a bad encounter with some kind of acid. It was probably the stims rushing through her body. No wonder doctors advised against taking stimulants the moment you woke up, your body was tired, but your brain was not. It amounted to something like playing the big game without a warm-up, but this time she hadn't been sleeping, she had been knocked out. Oh, and the game wasn't a game, it was a war.

"Frank, your metaphors leave much to be desired," Schitzo groaned.

"Train terminal right up there," I said. "Jump down and move your asses, we need to get to FLEETCOM before they attack."

The skyrail was an incredibly unnecessary thing in most cities. New Alexandria was so dense that a single subway system wasn't enough to deal with the amount of people moving at all times. The solution? Another subway, but in the sky. The genius that had thought of that one had probably believed himself original and avant garde or some such shit. I have to admit, it did give this city something of a twenty-fourth century style, but in my opinion it was just an eyesore.

And I was starting to sound like my uncle.

"How many stops?"

"Two," Grass said. "Then it's just three blocks."

"What?" I asked. "Why aren't we hopping off in Olympic?"

"Brass blew up that section, didn't want any covvies pulling off surprise attacks."

"Makes sense," I admitted. "You know what would've made even more sense?"

"If they blew it up just as enemy soldiers were crossing?"

"It's almost like you were reading my mind," I told her. "I hate walking. I hate it."

"Yet here we are," Grass said. "Frank, we're sending tanks out."

"Ah shit," I grunted.

"How is that a bad thing?" Pitcher asked.

"The tanks draw attention," Mata told him. "They might kill fifty aliens in ten seconds, but within two minutes there's gonna be a bunch of Wraiths and Daemons looking to take them out."

"So we'd better hurry then?" Ramirez asked. "So that we can time it and move during the lull."

"Wow," I muttered. "Impressive tactical thinking. Or is that strategic?"

"It can be both," Pavel said, "I think. I never really was very clear on the difference."

"Tactical is the physical stuff, like winning firefights. Strategy is the long-run kind of deal, like losing a battle but costing the enemy precious time and resources. Thermopylae was a tactical defeat but a strategic victory," Pitcher said.

"You're stealing my thunder, kid," Grass said.

I laughed. "Ramirez, set the pace."

We started sprinting.

"The walls are just a bit farther!" I shouted. "Miranda, move your ass!"

The tanks were gone, the Wraiths were charging and the elites had drawn their swords.

"Where the hell's that sniper support?!" I asked.

"They're pinned down by mortar fire!" Grass replied.

"Frank, take cover!"

Pavel, Ramirez, and Dotsenko opened fire just as Miranda and I dropped to the ground. They set up a wall of ammunition to stop the covvies closest to us. I crawled faster. I just had to move past one flaming Scorpion and I'd be on the barricades. Just a little bit more. It never ceased to amuse me how fast things could go to shit.

"Frank, move!" Pavel shouted.

I got up, but my left hand still had a pretty big hole in it. The pain overwhelmed my senses and I fell face-first into the curb. Miranda sprinted past me, plasma chasing her. Something exploded right above the barricade, spraying my men with debris and sending them to the ground. I felt the ground shake behind me and turned around.

"Die!"

My rifle wasn't within reach, my left hand was useless, and my right hand was above my head. I could draw my sidearm from that position or roll away, but the elite wasn't preparing to swing or stab, the sword was already moving towards my head. I wouldn't stop this one.

There was some laughter. It was the good kind of laughter. It was too early to dare to hope, but things were looking to Colonel-Commissar2468 and General TheDyingTitan for proofreading this chapter.

It has been some time since we ended things with a cliffhanger, hasn't it? Well, to be honest, I felt like the chapter was stretching out and since I was getting angry because I couldn't find a way to close it off without being abrupt I decided to be an asshole and give you this little gem. Fuck yeah.

Well, reviews for the last couple of chapters have been overwhelmingly positive, something for which I am very glad. Last chapter got 17 reviews, not a bad number at all, but The traffic numbers indicate that I'm getting a lot more than 17 viewers per chapter. I'm not telling you this just because I want a higher review count (which we've established already) but also because the more readers I cater to the more likes and dislikes there are. I want to appeal to the highest number of readers possible with this fic. You traveled through the muddy swamps that are the first chapters and made it to the lovely meadows that everything post Chapter 150 is. I want to give back.

Anyhow, mushy stuff aside, we've got a pretty decent chapter. When was the last time you saw Frank be genuinely nice to a stranger? No wonder he isn't a nicer person if shit like this happens every time. Karma is a bitch, but not because it works properly, it's precisely the other way around, at least for the members of AAG-7. Also, remember that the rest of the team is convalescent in the Esztergom area, resting in plushy hospital beds with bitches and hoes to attend their every need. Except not. We'll see them soon enough, perhaps two chapters from now. New Alexandria is closing to an end... we all know how it goes.

Now, questions, comments, and concerns. Everybody's favorite part.

Heart0fSt33l: Yes, this story keeps with canon and doesn't go against anything that has been established by the Halo lore. Sorry.

Electric2097: Check out my favorites for what I consider to be the cream of the crop. I also recommend When There Was a Tomorrow and Guilty Sparks, both by General Rage.

The Awes0me One: It's been a while man, missed your feedback. And yeah, they are pretty similar, Pavel became nicer as the story progressed, but I would argue that Jorge is still nicer than Pavs.

To everyone else, thanks for reviewing.

Epic songs of the day: Arise by E.S. Posthumus, Apollo's Triumph by Audiomachine, Protectors of the Earth by Two Steps From Hell. Enjoy your epic lives.

Personal part of the after chapter note. Basketball season is starting. Man am I pumped, football was fun, but I barely knew how to play. Basketball is something that I'm actually pretty decent at. Let's do this!

*Clears throat awkwardly while looking around tugging at collar* Sorry.

Stay strong.

-casqui