Chapter CCXXIII: Kushan

November 9, 2552 (UNSC Calendar)/

Kushan Pass, Afghanistan, Earth, Sol System

"Sometimes you want to make a show, some other times you just want to go home. Thing is, this was home."

It wasn't particularly bad. It was just going to be hotly contested. It had been hotly contested for the last few days and it wasn't going to get any better. For us or for the Covenant.

"So we have what, two Rhinos?" I asked.

"Correct."

"And ten Scorpions," I added. "A few Mongooses for errands, and those IFVs that the Afghan Army brought with them. How many of those, again?"

"The Mk. 87s? Four," Tarkov replied. "It's nothing to scoff at, but the Covenant have three or four time as much. Not to mention the fact that they have reinforcements more readily available than us."

"Irony at its finest," I said. "But we have two mountains to protect our flanks and the whole Hindu Kush to use to our advantage. How many men?"

"At last count I had a hundred and four men at my disposal," Lieutenant Tarkov said. "Probably down to the low nineties after that last attack. There's twenty-two ODSTs, the rest are Afghan Army."

"How are they?" I asked.

"Very well trained, skilled, disciplined. I've hardly seen soldiers as disciplined as them."

"But?" I asked.

"But they aren't really tested. A few of them have seen some low-intensity combat against the occasional terrorist and separatist. Afghanistan still had some problems with the mountain tribes, apparently."

"Isn't this the twenty-sixth century?" I asked.

"Yeah," Tarkov agreed, "and the Turks are still bitching about Kurdistan."

I chuckled. Earth politics were a completely different animal. Colonies were usually sparsely populated in comparison to Earth and ever since the beginning they were united communities. Sure, there were feuds here and there and angry nations that occasionally made war with each other, but Earth had ten thousand and more years of history to learn how to hate each other. Hell, even my birthplace of URNA had some strong divisions after 400 years of being a nation. In Earth it always seemed like the past was doing something wrong.

"We had some towers around the wall, but they were the first thing the covvies targeted. They still haven't managed to hit the pillboxes in the slopes."

"You've kept the bottoms of the towers hidden by the snow, right?"

"Correct," he said. "We keep our troops outside of them so that the Covenant don't know we still have the protection. The walls are fine, a couple of holes, but we got those patched up pretty quick."

"When are the tanks moving up here?" I asked.

"By the end of the day."

I looked down at the maps and frowned slightly. "We're digging them in, right?"

"Yes, there are trenches on the slopes already."

"They've got good firing angles?"

"As good as can be from this position," Tarkov told me. "We're putting four and four on each side and keeping two in reserve over here. I was working on getting snipers to the pillboxes, but our sharpshooters were all KIA early in the battle."

"How often are the covvies attacking?" I asked Tarkov.

"Small firefights two or three times a day. We can expect a large one every other day."

"And what was this one?" I asked.

"One of the smaller ones," Tarkov admitted. "I dislike the scale of this conflict."

"Tell me about it," I said with a sigh, sitting down. "Tarkov. Camp Mars IX, 2533?"

"Yeah," he said. "At first."

"I remember you," I told him. "You've changed. You didn't have those scars for one."

"First deployment," he said. "New Algiers. Almost died that one time."

I chuckled humorlessly. It was the only chuckling I could do nowadays. "You have any word on Mars?"

"There was a big fight at Mare Erythraeum, Army boys bought us a lot of time over there. Some Colonel Ackerson was leading them."

I raised an eyebrow. "I think I've met the man. Maybe. There should be dozens of Colonel Ackersons in the UNSC."

Tarkov shrugged lightly, pacing around the command tent. We could hear voices outside, not alarmed, just men talking to each other as they worked. I took a moment to examine the topographical maps of the surrounding area. It was nearly impossible for anything without a pair of wings to traverse the Hindu Kush, let alone a whole Army. There were several SAM emplacements hidden around this area. And I do mean several. Plenty were a century old or more, relics from a time long past where the Afghans had had to defend themselves against incursions from the defunct Timurid Republic. They worked just fine against Phantoms and Spirits.

I also examined the information about our available support. In addition to the Scorpions and Rhinos we had a small battery of mortars that we had already used once, the Afghan Air Force had been completely destroyed in the Battle for Iran, inflicting heavy casualties on the enemy at the cost of their own effectiveness as a fighting force. The Pakistanis had committed their whole standing army to the UNSC and the troops were now fighting in merged battalions. The Pakistani Air Force had joined the UNSCAF, but they were too busy running sorties to Mumbai to provide much support for us over here.

"No plans to take back Kabul?" I asked.

"No," Tarkov said. "That place is nothing but a pile of smoldering rocks now. I lost some good men there."

I nodded quietly. "Sorry to hear that. From the look of it we're just here for a delaying action."

"Correct. It's more likely that we'll manage to yank Mumbai from their grip than Kabul. That with Diego Garcia and Socotra and all those bases. Mumbai might not be much by the time we're done with it, but it'll be ours."

"What about the Chinese? I take it the UNSC is diverting a lot of resources for them?"

"Correct," Tarkov confirmed. "As are the Covenant for that matter. The Russians have it hard. It's a rough autumn up there I hear."

"Well, give it some time and the covvies will start drowning in the mud. It happens all the time," I said. "How is it that the only person who invaded Russia in the summer got his ass kicked so hard?"

"Don't mess with the Russians," Tarkov said. "It should've been made clear by now."

I laughed, this time with a bit more real humor in my voice. "Anything on Mexico? I'm from there, you know."

"URNA? Well, covvies landed in Cleveland, haven't glassed it for some reason. There's been minor landings in British Columbia and Florida, Yucatán Peninsula's got it the worst. Heavy concentration of Covenant troops there."

"And Mexico City?" I asked.

"It's not intact," Tarkov began, "there's been several landings in the city, they're trying to stop the reinforcements from Segundo Terra, but apparently things are very contained."

"Good," I said with a nod of relief. I don't even know why I was relieved. There was absolutely nothing back there that I had any ties to. "And you? Hungary? Reach?"

"Reach," Tarkov said after a short pause. "Were you there?"

I nodded.

"I was in Tribute for the duration. Could not get out, will you believe it? They moved this whole battalion of Army ground pounders to Reach but they didn't have enough time to get us Helljumpers there. Most of my unit originates from Reach, you know? It would've been good to step on home for one last time."

"And watch it burn?"

"Watch it burn up close, watch it burn in the distance, what's the difference? At the very least I could've made sure my family wasn't dead."

"Are they?"

"I'm not sure, am I?" Tarkov told me. "Weighs on my conscience."

"I know what you feel," I said.

"You've got family?"

"Not anymore," I muttered, shaking my head.

"Wife?"

"Girl."

Tarkov shrugged. "Well, I hope she's alright, if that means anything."

"Thanks. I hope so too."

The two of us stood there for a few seconds, making a show of examining the maps. Tarkov reached into one of his pouches and pulled out a battered pack of cigarettes. "Shaan, they ship them over from India. You want some?"

I shook my head. "Never did acquire the taste."

"Nor did I. I hate them, but they do relax me."

I watched as he held the cigarette in between his lips, his scars contorting slightly as he lit the cigarette with an old-fashioned zippo lighter. I smiled absent-mindedly. Those things were as obsolete as they came, but there was just something about them that made people keep buying them. They looked cool, I guess. Tarkov pocketed the lighter as he exhaled the smoke, sighing slightly more than was required as he did so.

"Camp Mars IX, huh?" I asked, just to make some conversation.

"Indeed," he replied. "What was that fucker's name?"

"Gabuka."

He smiled and nodded. "Well, I guess we've got him to thank for our survival."

"Or curse," I replied. "I take it the whole gang is dead? Him, Skinny, Bulldog?"

"I'd be betting on it. Drill sergeants don't retire until… what? Sixty or seventy?"

"It varies," I shrugged. "But it's close."

"No way any of them backed out when the Covenant came knocking. I hope they gave them half as much hell as they gave us."

I nodded. "I would've enjoyed seeing them. Strange as it may sound, I would've liked them to be a bit proud. As I kicked the shit out of them."

"Helljumpers, right?"

"Helljumpers," I replied.

Tarkov faced away from me and placed both of his hands on a cabinet before cracking his neck loudly. He then turned around and looked at me carefully, as if appraisingly. For a moment there I wondered how hard it would be to take the man. He looked dangerous, more dangerous than many Helljumpers I had seen, but he didn't have the air of power that Johnson or Marv had around them. Still, I wouldn't go looking for a fight with him.

"I'm thinking you should have command of the right flank. We'll use tanks and artillery in coordination. I'll maintain command of our left flank and we'll have to share the center."

I nodded. "How many of your men are you delegating to me?"

"What do you need?"

"I need heavy weapons specialists and a couple of machine gunners at least. You said you're out of sharpshooters?"

"Correct."

"We'll handle that," I told him. "A few squads should do the job."

"I'll give you twenty five of my own Helljumpers, bolster them up with the Afghan soldiers and your own men."

"Want to round it up to thirty?" I asked. "You'll still have around two-thirds of your Shock Troopers."

Tarkov seemed to consider it. "Fine."

"I'll need the codes for artillery and air strikes. I also need to talk to the Rhino commanders and get the channels for the Scorpion tankers. Where do we fall back to?"

"Small temporary base right outside of range, around eight clicks to our rear. From there we move to Salang. The tunnel there is defensible, but we'll just collapse it on top of them. Shame. Old structure."

"And after that?"

"I don't know," he admitted. "We might run straight to Pakistan or down to Sector Six. We'll see."

I shrugged. It didn't hurt to know how to proceed if the worst happened, but it appeared that we only had the next step in the process. I started getting up, grabbing my helmet and reaching for my battle rifle and the sniper.

"Lieutenant, one question," Tarkov asked.

"Yes, Lieutenant?" I said, slinging the sniper rifle over my shoulder.

"Ever since you left Mars, how's the life been?" He seemed genuinely curious.

I smiled and looked back at him. To my surprise Tarkov's scars were being distorted in a similar smile to mine. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"Hello boys," I greeted my men. They were seating around my trunk. To my pleasure they all stood up when I walked up to them. Pavel was the last, groaning as he came to his feet.

"Good?" he asked.

I shrugged. "We've seen worse."

"Haven't we always?" Grass said.

"Esztergom was bad," Miri noted. "So was Paris IV."

"I wasn't there for that," Grass admitted.

"We were using spears at some point."

"We still won," Pavel told them both. "Remember that."

"Just the battle," I reminded him. "Now, we've got tanks and Rhinos and some fancy shit. Lieutenant Tarkov put me in charge of the right flank of this pass. He's got control of the left and we'll defend the center in tandem. Pavel and Grass, you two are going to be my voice here."

"Sniping?" Pavel asked me.

"Correct," I nodded. "Up in one of those pillboxes. I'm going to be bunking down there."

Miri began shuffling away.

"Why don't you put my trunk up there, Miranda?" I ordered. "Let me know when you're done."

She sighed and hefted the trunk up with a grunt. It was heavy, but any trooper could manage it no problem. The climb was kind of rough too, it got steep at the end.

"Miri?"

"Yes?"

"There are some half-track Mongooses over there," I pointed. "Knock yourself out."

She sighed with relief and I could tell that there was a smile behind her visor. I looked back at the rest of my men. The only survivors of the original Reaper Squad. Hell, maybe Angel was somewhere up in there, holed up with a bunch of supercomputers slowly redirecting money to his accounts and masturbating furiously. He was certainly the type to do that.

Well, I had three men here. My best friend, the next best thing with an even greater ass, and then there was Caboose, as fine a soldier as they came. If this was a fantasy novel, he'd have been that grizzled sergeant that got the newcomer through his first battle. What a jackass. The three of them were now the closest thing I had to family. Maybe Katie still qualified, but for now she was in a limbo, neither alive nor dead. The three of them were dear to me. I don't think I could survive much longer if any of them died. Even Caboose. Even Grigori Konstantinov, whom I had never liked at all. To think that I could tell the exact moment that I was about to break down.

"You'll be fine," Schitzo told me. "You have to. For both our sakes."

I almost laughed out loud. Me talking to me about me. Hysterical.

"Pavel and Grass, you're going to be my voice down here. Caboose, you'll need to lead by example. I don't intend on moving out of the walls, but if the moment comes, I want men to follow you."

He nodded.

"They're going to throw all they've got at us within a couple of days. In all likelihood they'll overwhelm us, but we'll make them pay in blood. Standard protocol."

"Oorah," Pavel said half-heartedly.

"Don't let it be our blood," I said. "I don't want anyone else to die."

"Will do, Frank," Pavel said.

"I mean it, Pavs. I'm on the edge here."

There was a silence.

"We all are, sir," Caboose said earnestly.

Pavel and Grass nodded.

"It'll take some time for Miranda to get here," Grass said. "But I can see it in her eyes."

"Well, let's not make it worse than it already is," I said. "I'm tired enough of this shit as it is. I've been in this game almost twenty years. I'm too old and I'm not even forty years old."

"Tell me about it," Pavel said, slapping my shoulder. "Hey, we'll lean on each other, right?"

"Right," I agreed. "But I don't expect you to fall back from this wall."

"Back to the matter at hand, I see. Well, if there's any reason I'm friends with you is because you are a pillar made of stone."

Which might mean I'll break into a million pieces sooner rather than later.

"I think a more apt metaphor would be erosion," Schitzo said. "But I get the meaning."

"I'll tell Tarkov's men to report to you. I'd like you to establish a rapport with them, be cooperative, be friendly, act like cops are supposed to act most of the time. I don't want a dick-measuring contest. This is Earth. This is our home planet. This is it, alright? We might not win here," I stomped the snow-covered ground for effect, "but we'll kick their sorry asses out of this planet and then some. Coming here was a mistake that they'll pay for."

They nodded.

"I'm off to the pillbox," I said. "Send up an M247 and a pair of binoculars when you can. And a box of sniper ammunition."

"You'll be overwatch, eh?" Pavel asked. "It's been a while… Remember when we did solo missions?"

I covered my eyes. "Please, stop. We were a duo of jackasses."

"Still are," he reminded me with a huge smile behind his visor that I regretted not being able to see.

November 10, 2552 (UNSC Calendar)/

Kushan Pass, Afghanistan, Earth, Sol System

The pillbox was an ugly structure. Round, dug deep into the ground and with a small slit that covered the entirety of the pass. The slit was a bit wider than usual since we had to get a decent angle downwards if you wanted to hit anything walking down. Thing is, it also meant we could fire at low-flying aircraft approaching on bombing vectors. Interesting location for a pillbox, but I didn't really look forward to making myself a target in this big, ugly structure. I hadn't dealt with bunkers like this one in ages. The good thing is that this one had been put in as a permanent structure. It was practically indestructible. Built to take artillery calibers of anything up to 200mm. This thing was a fucking monster. Sure, maybe the plasma would end up melting through the metal composites, but it would take a long enough time that my odds of baking myself in here would be higher than actually getting hit. Long story short, I could afford to make myself a target. At least until the Covenant decided to dedicate Daemons to my position.

Tarkov had another man on the opposite side of the pass. Not a sharpshooter, but an ODST nonetheless.

There was one black scorch on the inside. On the ceiling of this pillbox. Right where that jackal had almost managed to drill a hole clean through my head. A good sniper, that one, it took me almost ten minutes to find it. It got a bit too bloodthirsty, and some of the troops down on the wall took it out at my behest. The effectiveness of coordination and combined arms.

I sighed. The last skirmish had been tiring and I needed some sleep.

At least I had taken a shit before that battle, otherwise I'd have to do that in the cold night air and I wasn't looking forward to it. I thanked silently for that small gift and leaned back against the wall of the pillbox, closing my eyes and taking a couple of deep breaths.

"Pavel, let me hear it."

"Three wounded. One of them out for the count," he said almost immediately. "Minor injuries, scratches and burns, nothing that really counts."

"Our boys? And girls."

"We're all fine," Pavel said. "Thankfully. The wall took some hits from those Daemons, center left is not doing too well. Tarkov's men took heavier punishment."

"What's their status?"

"Two KIA. One out for the count, wounded. Double amputee."

"Legs?"

"Arms."

I cringed.

"Well, Pavs, I'm taking an hour long nap, alright? Have someone watch my sector. Someone that's well-rested, hopefully."

"I can find someone," Pavel said. "Half the men are pulling back for some nap time, the rest are standing guard."

"Good, two hour shifts?"

"That was the plan."

"You'd make one hell of a company sergeant, Pavel."

"Thanks," he replied. He was being sarcastic even if I wasn't. He was almost old enough to be the stereotypical sarge, too. Or gunny, in his case. "Wake me up for the second shift, alright?"

"Will do, I'll stay up for the first one."

"Stay safe."

"Will do," he said again.

I opened my eyes, cracked my neck, closed my eyes, and fell asleep.

"Frank."

I looked at my clock. It said one hour and fifty-seven minutes.

"What's wrong?"

"We're seeing movement all along the bottom of the pass," Pavel said. "Looks like the big one."

"Everyone up?" I asked, reaching for the sniper rifle. "Rhinos need to warm up."

"I think Tarkov is taking care of that. Mortar battery is already prepared."

I smiled. "You let me sleep a little bit extra."

"Damn right, I'm a good friend. Good as fuck."

"Thanks."

"Anytime."

"Get your sergeant voice ready," I told him. "You're going to be relaying my orders. I'm scouting."

"Let me know."

I propped the SRS on the slit, looking through the Oracle scope. It wasn't a very recent model, but that didn't mean I couldn't spot a fly bothering a grunt at a distance of seven miles. The Oracles were the best out there; it was precisely why the UNSC used them for their sniper rifles. Their night vision might've been a little bit worse than you'd like, but it did the job just fine. I watched through the greyscale, trying to identify any significant movement. It wasn't very hard. I could see some of the Wraiths passing through the rocks. Their turrets, more like. I counted at least five before they stopped moving through. I didn't know if the Daemons had already hovered by.

"Shadows," I muttered. "Tarkov? You see these?"

"Give me a screen."

I complied and aimed at the slow-moving Shadow transports. They carried a lot of infantry inside them and had the ability to make our day very, very hard. They were ugly as fuck, too. I counted at least a dozen and their numbers were growing by the minute. They weren't moving at their full speed, instead spreading out in a line. Yeah, this was definitely it. I tagged them for the rest of the defenders to see them and then began scouting for more.

"Wait, go back to the Shadows," Tarkov said. "They've got to know we see them."

"They're not trying to hide," I agreed. "Even if it's the middle of the night."

"Sun's about to come up, in another couple of hours."

"It's going to hit them right in the eyes," I noted. "Not terribly smart."

"Maybe they want to have this place before sunrise," Tarkov replied. "Not terribly smart either."

We both seemed to consider what was going on.

"All right," I said. "Start pounding at them. We've got the ammunition to spare."

"Agreed," Tarkov replied. "Fire at will."

I nodded grimly and opened up a line to the Rhino gunner that was assigned to me. He was a little bit sleepy, probably because he had been napping like the rest of us. The man even yawned once before making a raspberry noise and shaking himself awake.

"Mark the spot, sir."

"I'm tagging Shadows for you. I'm thinking cluster bombs?"

"Yeah, agreed. Lieutenant, you might want to check this shit out. We got new projectiles. They're a beauty to look at."

"Don't keep me waiting."

The rounds were fast, but it still took a few seconds for them to land. The Shadows weren't moving fast at all, so the gunner barely had to make any calculations, leaving most of the work to his targeting computer. I watched the round streak past me insanely fast before curving down, seemingly against the laws of physics. I was awaiting the multiple explosions, but all I got was one incredibly large fireball. By the time it all cleared out I could see two Shadows, completely flattened.

"You see, Lieutenant, the shell releases three smaller shells which in turn put out this highly flammable and explosive compound, the main section of the shell acts as a fuse and ignites the compound while at the same time slamming against the target to ensure maximum damage. The rapidly expanding fireball compresses anything under it while also causing debilitating damage all around."

"Did you read that off somewhere?" I asked.

"Yeah, it's in the pamphlet."

"Keep using them," I said. "I like them."

"It's better than napalm, sir!"

Over the course of the next few minutes I saw just how true that statement was. It didn't burn as long as napalm did nor did it stick as much, but its raw destructive power more than made up for those deficiencies. The Shadows began moving forward faster, breaking the relatively ordered line in order to get away from the killing field. My gunner kept asking for new coordinates and I gave them to him, watching the massacre through my scope.

"Rhinos watch out," I said. "Plasma bombardment headed your way."

I watched the blue streaks cross the sky at prodigious speeds, leaving behind a trail of ionized air that made tracking the source all the simpler. They were out of sight, but we could get the general location out with some satellite imagery. I promptly contacted our liaison to see if he could work on it and made sure to keep the Rhinos updated whenever the Covenant bombarded in their direction.

"Castillo, you've got the imagery?" Tarkov asked.

"Just received it," I replied. "I see the artillery, it's blurry, no grid lines."

"Work it out quick, the covvies are zeroing in on our Rhinos."

"I'm working on it," I said.

I pulled out older satellite imagery and compared it with the recent image. It was harder, since none of the photos were on the same scale. I found a landmark that I could move from and estimated the distance from there to the Covenant artillery pieces. It was a rough guesstimate, but it would be good enough to get a shell to flyby with cameras and sensors. I gave the location to the Rhino gunners and a minute later they were pounding away at the Covenant artillery, destroying the threat for good. The distraction bought time for the Shadows and Prowlers to move forward, dropping brutes and grunts at eight hundred meters. I could catch glimpses of jackal energy gauntlets even without my scope.

"They've got boots on the ground," I said. "Eight hundred meters and closing. Their vehicles are moving up."

"Roger that," Pavel said. "Men are at the ready."

I contacted the mortar battery. They already had the perfect killing field set up. They'd fire as soon as I gave the order. I wanted the field to fill up with enemies before I gave them any holes to take cover in.

"Uh-oh," I noted.

Those Wraiths I had spotted began pulling their weight, moving up the road in single file, plenty of space in between them. There was no way they could be taken out more than one at a time. The gunners began firing at our fortifications, the plasma flying awful close to their infantry soldiers.

"They're slowing down a little bit," I informed Pavel. "Shit, they're digging in."

"Move the mortars up a hundred meters," he said. "Shit. I thought they'd try swarming."

"They're being smart about it," I told him. "Tarkov?"

"I see it. Do as your man says, talk to the artillery, I'm going to coordinate our Scorpions."

"Understood," I replied.

The commander of the battery didn't seem too fazed by the change of plans and immediately began ordering her men to change the angles. As soon as that was done I gave the word to fire at random intervals, full capacity. I could see the explosions downhill, watch the dirt and snow fly to the sides and up. Sometimes, I could almost see the blood, but I knew that was my imagination.

The Wraiths began landing some hits behind our wall, nothing serious, but worrisome. I was trying to keep track of everything, relaying new information to my men and giving orders so that they could adapt to the changes. For a few minutes we managed to keep the Covenant from getting their positions set up, but after a constant barrage of mortar fire we ended up helping them out. It wasn't unexpected, in the end I just hoped that we gained more than they did from the constant firing.

It took around an hour, the sky began lighting up a little bit more, and I had to take a more direct approach to participating. I was their eyes up here, but I also had a high-powered rifle which was technically anti-materiel.

"Hunters first," I whispered to myself.

It was still dark enough that I needed to use the night vision, but I could see the shadows becoming more distinct with every passing moment. I scanned the battlefield, watching the spots that more tracers hit and looking at the craters that the Scorpions made. It was a simple matter of seeing what drew more attention and then locating the more valuable target. I was tempted to start hammering away at the poor grunts and jackals in the frontline, but those wouldn't be nearly as harmful in the long run as the brute captains and chieftains. Hunters were a priority, they always were.

I located a pair near the front of the Covenant advance. They seemed to be moving slowly, finding something to shoot at as they walked, hunkered down. I targeted the lead hunter and zoomed in. There was little to no wind and the distance was pretty much minuscule when it came to the SRS. I accounted for the drop, zoomed in heavily, and let the Oracle scope do the rest of the calculations. A squeeze of the trigger and a few seconds later I saw half the hunter's head fly off. I aimed and fired a second shot, hitting the hole that I had just opened and punching out the back. The hunter struggled for a next step before falling down belly first. Its companion failed to realize immediately, but a couple of seconds later it roared, raising its arms in anger and defiance.

The defenders down in the wall had seen the first one go down and knew what was going to happen. The moment the second hunter left itself unprotected several turret emplacements switched their fields of fire to target the hunter, tearing it apart and slowing down the advance in that sector. I smiled with a certain degree of self-satisfaction and then started looking for something else to shoot, aware that there would be jackal sharpshooters looking for me now.

Brute chieftains were not making the appearances I expected them to, but the enemy advance was progressing rather quickly. They now had their lines around fifty meters from our wall. It was sprinting distance, even for grunts. I prepared my battle rifle in case I needed to target unarmored covvies, but kept the sniper rifle propped up and aiming downwards. The range was about a hundred and fifty meters for me, extreme close range for the rifle.

"I'm not seeing any chieftains," I told Pavel. "How's it going down there?"

I knew it was about to explode in a bad way, the volume of plasma flying was intensifying by the second, and that's not counting the spikes and grenades that I couldn't see flying around.

"Start shooting," Pavel replied.

"Yessir," I acknowledged.

First to go down was a brute major. Easy target, bloodthirsty and eager to get within close combat range to tear shit up. The grunts behind it ducked and cowered, but I was already looking for the minor to step up and try and lead the platoon. It was something that wasn't always evident at first, but it became more obvious as you became used to it. I took aim and fired another shot, hitting the brute in the upper chest, right above its power armor. That sent the platoon into disarray as the others tried to get themselves in a position of leadership. That would buy some time for the wall.

"Pavel, patch the squad leaders up to me," I ordered. "If they need anything."

"Will do."

The requests came slowly at first. A plasma turret here, a grunt with a fuel rod there, but soon enough more and more Covenant troops began arriving and they came close to overwhelming us. The two Rhinos had burned through half of their ammunition reserves in order to take out the Shadows and the Wraiths. They were now playing at finding the Daemons that were harassing our Scorpion tanks. I would've liked a couple of Hornets to make sorties, but you couldn't have everything.

I took out a brute captain with a fuel rod cannon and moved on to the next target. I was beginning to run low and had to ask Pavel to send a runner on the Mongoose with more ammunition for the sniper rifle. I had gone through sixty rounds already and it didn't even feel like I was halfway done. The M247H that they had brought up here was already attached to the tubular rail on the pillbox and ready for use, but I didn't want to light up the night sky with my position.

"You can hardly call this a night sky," Schitzo noted. "Dawn is coming."

"Indeed," I replied. "Jackass."

I aimed down the sights and recoiled as a beam burned through my shoulder armor, tearing it from the rest of the suit. I ducked back down and examined my shoulder. The undersuit was slightly singed, but it didn't seem like I had been hurt. I cursed and examined the smoldering remains of my shoulder piece. That one had been with me since the days of the Inconvenience.

"Sniper," I said. "Near that Wraith with no left wing. I need someone to saturate the area with gunfire."

"Will do, sir," an Afghan sergeant replied almost eagerly.

I waited for his signal and popped out again, aiming for the area where I had been shot at. There was no jackal in immediate sight, but I remained there. After the squad stopped firing I kept my scope zeroed in on the most likely sniper spots and waited for some movement. It took three minutes to draw the animal out, but I took out the threat, hitting a large jackal right between the shoulder plates. After that I shot a grunt just to take out some frustration and then moved on.

"Pavel, where's that ammunition I asked for?"

"You haven't gotten it? I sent a runner up like ten minutes ago."

I looked left to the slope, trying to see if the Mongoose had been hit on its way up, but I couldn't find anything.

"He's not here."

"The Mongoose is right behind the pillbox, Frank. I can see it from here."

"What?"

I turned back, but the column in the middle of the pillbox kept me from seeing the exit. I sighed and looked back down my scope, hitting the brute major that had been manning a plasma cannon. I still had two magazines left; I'd check when I was done with them. The poor man was probably bleeding to death out in the cold, but my work was keeping other men from suffering that same fate.

I killed a grunt with a fuel rod and paused.

If he had made it he would've cried for help already. He could've died as soon as he stopped, but that seemed unlikely.

I turned back around and this time I saw something. I let go of my sniper rifle and managed to grab onto the twin bayonets of a spiker before they impaled me. I squeezed tightly, ignoring the sharp edges as they began slicing through my gloves and into my skin. The brute stalker behind the bayonet growled and pushed me against the wall, but I managed to get my neck in between the two blades. Right in front of the barrel.

The brute realized this, but it was a fraction of a second slower than me. I used a burst of strength to push the spiker away and slightly to the side. The spike flew right next to my ear, grazing my helmet. I let go of one of the two blades and jumped up, doing a backwards spin-kick that I had seen in a movie once. It was not supposed to hurt, but it got me some time and a better position. I drew my pistol and fired half the magazine before another brute tackled me into the ground.

"Fucking hell," I cursed, hitting the brute's head as hard as my augmented muscles could manage. It obviously hurt enough, because it let go of my arm and I managed to put six bullets into its belly, weakening it enough that I was able to draw one of my knives and stick it in its spine.

I sighed as I saw the other alien take aim with its spiker and pushed the dead brute's arm up to cover me. I cursed as the spikes hit the chunk of meat and reached for the other brute's mauler. I fired blindly, emptying the weapon as the other alien kept firing. It must've been somewhat surreal, both of us firing at each other and yelling as loud as possible, hoping to hit and not to get hit.

The spiker fire stopped and I carefully looked out, the smoking mauler still in my arm. Those things had some serious recoil.

The brute was alive, but there were two holes in its chest. I locked eyes with it and jumped on it, reaching for another of my knives. The brute covered its face, but I began stabbing at its uncovered chest repeatedly. The knife was long enough that it could hit something vital, but the brutes were simply so large that stabbing at the midsection wouldn't kill it. It would certainly hurt it though, and weakening that ape would allow me to slash its fucking throat. Sure enough, a dozen or so stabs later the brute's arms fell down and I dug the knife into its throat, viciously jerking it around before slashing it out. Blood sprayed on my chest and helmet, but the threat was neutralized.

"I've got brute stalkers in the camp!" I shouted. "They got to the pillbox!"

"Shit," Tarkov cursed before presumably switching channels to warn his men.

"Pavel!"

"I hear you!"

Suddenly gunfire started echoing from our rear, it was faint and not clearly audible, but it was evident enough where it was coming from. The mortar men had been engaged. I tried looking behind, but they were too far away and behind cover. I couldn't help. Instead I switched to thermal, subconsciously wincing as the early morning sky lit up with reds and oranges. I adjusted the settings slightly until I could make out the individual troops down on the wall and started looking for the telltale signs of brute stalkers. Namely the heat signature and the size.

The ease with which I found them astounded me. There were at least six stalkers clearly visible moving around behind our line. They weren't directly attacking them; they seemed to be setting up explosives. Admirable restraint, coming from those animalistic beasts.

"Die," I muttered as I shot the first Stalker. "Die," I repeated. "Die, die, die!"

I was angry, my whole body hurt from that tackle. My hands were bleeding and the handle on the rifle was beginning to feel slippery. I missed a shot as I failed to properly grip the trigger, pulling to the right and alerting the stalker, sending it behind cover. I tagged their positions as best I could and watched as dedicated squads moved away from the wall to hunt down the Stalkers. I kept shooting, trying to save as many of our men before I ran out.

Which I did, with my next shot.

I quickly switched out the Oracle scope and grabbed my battle rifle. I pretty much yanked the scope on the BR55HB and put the Oracle on. Progress would be slower now, but I couldn't afford to go for the sniper rifle ammunition and put it into magazines, not when everything could go to shit so fast.

"My sniper is dead," Tarkov told me. "They have the pillbox."

"The two that came after me didn't have ranged weapons," I said. "I'll take care of them when I can."

"Make it fast, I don't want to get shot from the back…"

"Tarkov, you might want to move a couple of tanks and a squad to cover our rear," I ordered, hitting a brute in the legs and finishing it off.

Pavel and my squad were now together, helping four other ODSTs hunt down the brute stalkers. I watched as a pair of those jumped from behind cover and savaged four men, three Afghans and an ODST. The ODST managed to put one of them down before the other impaled him with the spiker bayonet. I tried to help, but I didn't get a clear shot until the men were dead. The ODST fell to the floor and pressed the injuries. Two more soldiers got to his position and tried to help him, but I was already looking for something else to shoot.

"Is that a Banshee?" I asked suddenly. "Why the hell are they putting them up?"

"How are they putting them up?" Grass muttered back.

Last I checked this whole place was a deathtrap of SAM batteries.

"Fuck."

This engagement suddenly got a lot bigger than it already was.

"Tarkov, can you-"

"They're not responding! All of our SAM sites are dark."

"EMP?"

"Not bloody likely!"

The Banshee became fifteen and suddenly we were not fighting to hold this line, we were fighting for our fucking lives.

"Hold!" Pavel shouted. "Get one of those IFVs up here!"

"I need someone to patch that hole!" Grass was yelling. "They can't get through!"

I dropped my battle rifle and moved towards the machine gun. I pulled back the bolt and aimed at the Banshees as they approached. I hated firing at those things. One moment they were doing the speed of sound and the next they were hovering. I cursed and fired nonetheless, hoping to take out at least two before they started strafing the camp in the middle of the pass.

One of the Banshees exploded in flames and more gunners joined me as I tried to hit them, but the rest of the group started firing fuel rods at the wall, tearing it to pieces slowly but surely. As they broke formation and began hunting soldiers on the ground or circling around for second passes they became more difficult targets. I managed to bring another one down, but I had to duck down when two others targeted my position, breaking off pieces of the pillbox.

"Fuck."

"Multiple outposts are reporting Covenant troops sighted near SAM outposts. How didn't we spot them?" Tarkov reported.

"This was a feint…" I realized. "This thing was a fucking feint!"

"Where the hell are they going to attack next? There's no other place!"

"The airspace is open until Salang," Grass chimed in. "They don't have to bypass us."

"Wait, they need to take us out first," I said. "We're a large enough threat, which means that we can still salvage this. We need to start falling back."

"Or stop them," Tarkov said.

"If they risked taking down all the SAMs then this is the big one," I disagreed.

"Full force, huh?" Tarkov said. "Fine. We hold and we fall back later. We need to organize this… Bring the tanks up to the front, form a wedge. Put our wounded in the Mk. 87s. Shit. It's a lot."

"We can hold a little more," I said. "We'll manage."

"I'll organize the retreat," Lieutenant Tarkov told me. "I'm counting on you, Lieutenant."

"Leave the fighting to me," I said.

Soon enough we were shooting down the Banshees with machine gun fire and rockets. There weren't Phantoms or Spirits coming in yet, but they were bound to come soon. The bottom of the pass was beginning to fill up with more enemy personnel and materiel while our own numbers became depleted with each passing second. An unfamiliar voice reported that the mortar battery was now clear of enemies but they had suffered heavy losses.

"Pack up all the mortars you can't man," Tarkov ordered. "Keep firing the rest."

"Yes, sir!"

Our two Rhinos and the Scorpions stepped up their game, shooting as often as possible and trying to kill as many troops as possible. Machine gun crews were forced to target Banshees and Ghosts, letting the Prowlers and Choppers move up and around until a rocket ended their rampages. I fired my machine gun at the vehicles, occasionally trying to suppress an enemy squad that got a little bit too feisty. The barrel began to overheat and the casings almost made me twist my ankle a couple of times as I stepped on them.

I switched out the last box of ammunition and ducked behind cover as what seemed to be a whole company hammered my position. I cursed and called for suppressing fire even as needles, spikes, and bolts made it through the narrow slit and hit the anti-ricochet column in the middle of the pillbox. The fire volume decreased eventually and I began firing again, bagging another Banshee kill before I ran out of ammunition for the machine gun, leaving me with my battle rifle again.

The sun was now on our backs, hitting the attackers right in the eyes as they climbed the slope to reach the wall. Long shadows were cast by the mountains to either side of us.

"Ah, shit," I cursed as I saw a barrage of plasma shells arc up into the sky. "Take cover!"

For five minutes the firefight died and was replaced by the overwhelming noise of constant Wraith explosions. I heard cries and curses and Scorpions returning fire, but small arms died for those few minutes as us soft targets frantically tried to stay safe in that barrage.

"What the hell are you waiting for?" I asked as the barrage began dying down. "Don't stop shooting!"

I followed my own order and shot as many targets as I could. There were plenty of those and I killed them more often than not. I fired through the Shortsword firebombing and fired as our wall was finally breached. I kept shooting, covering the retreat of the last of the squadrons and then hid down in the bunker. I moved outside, grabbing the box of SRS ammunition from the hands of the dead soldier. I tried to ignore the organs lying on the snow, barely connected to his body. Once back inside I tossed the box to the floor, sending bullets flying everywhere. It was easier to pick them up that way and I began packing them into the empty magazines I had gone through.

"Frank, what the hell are you still doing there?" Pavel asked. "Move your ass!"

"I'm on my way," I said.

I filled up three more magazines to bring the total to five and put them in the empty bandolier crossing my chest. I put the rest of the empty magazines into the ammo box and grabbed as much of the bullets as I could before tossing them inside the stupid metal box. I grabbed it, placed the SRS and the BR55HB under my arm before moving outside, jumping over the corpse and putting it in the back of the Mongoose. I strapped it down and put the SRS in the holster behind me before hopping on.

A plasma bolt hit me in the side, right on the ribs. The force threw me off the Mongoose, which was a blessing in disguise, since more plasma flew directly overhead, nearly killing me for good.

"Ah shit," I muttered, looking at my bloody hand. Some of the blood had come from the hand, but most came from my torso. I cursed in Spanish, but I knew that my artificial ribs had stopped the plasma from penetrating, even if the skin was badly burnt around them.

"Alrighty Francisco, we'll just have to go through this like we do through everything. Get some biofoam in there, shoot the fucker that dared hurt us, and then get the hell out of this. You've got the high ground, but this makes us visible."

"Alright," I muttered, grabbing the biofoam can and putting it over the wound on my side. It burned as per usual, but I was up and about before it stopped hurting. I shot three grunts that had made a third of the climb and then I shot three jackals that were behind them. I looked for more possible perpetrators before hopping on the Mongoose and speeding away. Sure enough, plasma flew my way, but the bulk of the Covenant forces were concentrating their fire on the bulk of ours.

It wasn't a pleasant ride. My side was still hurting and I had to pull the Mongoose hard sideways so it wouldn't roll downhill. The tread on the back threw snow and mud behind, leaving a clearly visible trail to all that cared to look in my direction. Several stray needles flew in my direction, but all failed to hit my Mongoose or me. I began approaching our lines, realizing just how much longer I had stayed behind. Stupid choice for me, but I had probably bought some time for the troops down on the pass proper.

"Bank to the right," Pavel told me. "Cliff coming up."

I turned the Mongoose to the right and immediately sped up as I started going almost directly downhill. Snow flew in my face and my hands started hurting. I'd need to bandage them as soon as I got down if I wanted to stop them from burning every time I gripped something. I saw two spikes embed themselves on the hood of my Mongoose but kept going.

"Hit those Daemons!" Tarkov was barking. "I want them done for!"

As we began to go down the pass there was a gap between the Covenant and us. Suddenly we were briefly out of sight from them. Our vehicles and men started moving faster and mortar fire intensified. I began crossing abandoned corpses and a pair of smoking Scorpions. One of them was covered with burnt bodies of men and women. Banshees kept up with us, firing and harassing us best they could, but we managed to contain them and send them flying back.

"Frank, is that your blood?" Pavel asked.

"Most of it," I grunted, suddenly realizing that I was in a lot of pain.

"Stop by on my position," he said. "I'm strapping four wounded to a sled. A "sled." Can you drive them to base? It's seven clicks."

"Can you handle the retreat?"

"Tarkov is doing most of the job, but we'll do just fine."

I silently thanked him. I didn't like to abandon the battlefield, but there was a gaping hole in my torso and that was not usually a good sign. I changed my course and weaved through troops and tanks before finally stopping where Pavel and my men were. He greeted me briefly and then grabbed the sniper rifle and the box of ammunition. A man with a bandaged head hopped on and grabbed my right shoulder, his hand resting on the butt of his pistol. As he jumped up, Caboose and Miranda tied a piece of metal plating to the rear of the Mongoose. There were four injured soldiers on it. Three of them had lost limbs recently. Grass threw a tarp over them and secured it to our improvised sled.

"Don't brake too hard," Pavel told me. "There're no brakes for the sled."

"I'm not a moron."

"Debatable. Now go!"

He liked ordering me around whenever he could. It was a nice change of pace. For him. Dick.

The slope downwards was relatively calm. We traversed the previous position for the mortar men and saw the bodies of the brutes and the soldiers manning the mortars. It was carnage, with most of our men torn to pieces by the bayonets on the brutes' weapons. I avoided the mortar trenches and the dead bodies before making it through. There were only a dozen mortars still firing and they looked like they were about to pack up.

The base was pretty empty, with only a token force there to protect it, but it was a strong position and would be enough to deter a continued attack as we prepared to move out. Tarkov told me that the Salang tunnel had more defenders there, they would send transport for us to move over there, an airlift wasn't out of the question and we had enough wounded that the UNSC would need to divert some resources from Mumbai to us. Pelicans, we would need at least six of them to get everyone out. The tanks could move on their own, risky for them, but not overtly so.

We were received by the sergeant in charge, a young fellow that seemed fresh out of basic. He was wearing UNSC gear, but by the looks of him he could've been an Afghan.

"Get our medics over here!" he shouted. "Lieutenant, are you alright?"

"I'm fine!" I shouted back, loudly. "Get those men some medical attention."

"Priya, get some bandages over here! Sir, you need attention as well, sit over there."

"I'm fine," I insisted.

"Sir, you got a direct hit. Here, sit down and let me bandage you properly."

I glared at the young man, but he was right. I nodded and sat down in a tall stool he brought as I began taking off my upper body armor. A girl, Priya, applied more biofoam and asked me to raise my arms. I looked down and saw that the bolt had actually hit lower than I had thought, only making contact with two of my titanium ribs.

"It's not too bad," she said, her voice catching. "Looks painful."

"It is," I admitted. "But I'll manage. As soon as we get some time I can get some quick grafting done. Painkillers and biofoam will have to do for now. Easy!"

"Sorry," she apologized. "Hold this for me, please. Sir."

I gently held the gauze against my torso. It was one of those fancy styles, they had micro something or other that would help with the process of healing, sticking the damaged skin together. It made for a very messy scar, but it was a very fast one and ensured that keloid masses wouldn't form. Priya wrapped the bandage around my torso and secured it with foolproof clips. She helped me wiggle back into my undersuit and scrammed when I told her I could do my own armor.

The vest didn't have one large hole in it, more like sections of it had been melted and there were tiny little holes that had been melted completely through. The abdominal belt was now more or less a mess, but it still protected my front, back, and left sides. The belt also held most of my battle rifle magazines, so I needed it armor or not. I looked down at the hole. It was around four centimeters in diameter, but the area around it that had been melted was significantly larger. I'd need to borrow an abdominal belt from a dead Helljumper if I found the opportunity.

I realized that I had forgotten two of my knives and for a moment I panicked. I realized that my Damascus steel knife was still in my boot and breathed easily. I sighed and grabbed my battle rifle before slowly moving towards the walls of the base. The sergeant had moved the wounded inside the infirmary. There should've been a doctor or two as there were in every base of this type. Whoever that guy was I pitied him.

"No one's manning the turrets?" I asked. "Get someone on those LAAGs!"

"Right away, sir!"

Some soldiers moved up to the two towers with the machine guns and aimed down the sights. The rest began preparations to receive the contingent and to defend the walls. There were already several beds and stretchers set up for the wounded and the sergeant had begun talking to someone and requesting air assets to help us pull out. Soon someone would be setting charges to deny this base to the enemy and within a few hours we'd be pulling back out. Hopefully.

The latest explosion hit the barracks building. It was empty, but now there wasn't a single intact building in the base. That's including the walls. I ducked as yet another blast shook the crater I was using for cover. The snow had melted a long time ago and the puddle at the bottom was now mud and blood. Not mine, but unfortunately it belonged to an ODST that had been hit clean through the nape of the neck. I had struggled to stop the bleeding, but the man had died within a minute. I had burned through most of his ammunition and only had a couple of magazines left in my own pouch.

Our lone remaining Scorpion fired twice in quick succession before rolling forward, covering the retreat of the second batch of Pelicans. Pavel and Caboose were manning one of the LAAGs that had been on the towers, keeping the Ghosts and Choppers at bay. I peeked up and saw Tarkov and his men in another, bigger crater. This crater had a destroyed Scorpion flanking its front and right, providing extra cover for them. Tarkov was a good and able leader. He'd kept the morale on the men high and made sure to evacuate the forces without any bias at all. Not even I could claim that same thing.

Suddenly memories of Paris IV flashed back and I saw those people that I had sentenced to death. I hadn't seen them die, but I had made them die.

I shut my eyes tightly for a few seconds and waved the thought away. Even Schitzo seemed quiet at my distress. That was something that I didn't want to think about now or ever again.

Carbine rounds whistled past me, smacking against the rocks on the opposite side of the crater. Machine gun fire flew back from the ruins of one of the buildings. I could see the tracers clearly now that the sun had set. There was still some light in the distance, but it was beginning to go away faster and faster. I popped out and fired at a jackal trying to climb over the ruined walls. It had been just a dozen meters from Pavel's position. Someone should've taken it out before it got that close, but that someone was probably dead.

"Ten minutes!" Tarkov shouted. "Hold for ten and we're all out of here!"

The cavalry had helped us three times now. When the Pelicans came they fired their ANVILs, peppered the enemy with their heavy cannons. They killed dozens, pushed the rest back, and bought us time to regain some of our positions. This last time the Covenant had managed to regain some of the ground even before the Pelicans left.

"Grass, what's the status?"

"Good for ammo!" she shouted. "We just need to hold!"

"Caboose?"

"We need someone on our right flank, we're exposed on the right!"

"I'm moving up, cover me!" Tarkov shouted. "Go, go!"

His squad moved up while everybody provided covering fire. The Scorpion fired another time, hitting a Daemon in the distance. I could hear the tanker hollering in excitement at the confirmed kill. I grabbed the last two magazines from the dead man and dashed forward, jumping over two craters before sliding into a third one. Two dead ODSTs greeted me, each with burns to the chest and face. They had probably been victims of an accurate plasma cannon burst.

I ducked just in time for another burst of said weapon.

"Pavel, who's firing that cannon?" I asked.

"They keep moving it," he muttered. "I can't see much."

"Try and take it out, will ya?"

"Sure thing, boss," Pavel replied, obviously frustrated.

I fired a few rounds at shapes, hitting a couple. It wasn't easy with all that volume coming at us, but the Covenant were holding back their deployable covers, opting to move in the cover of darkness and keeping us guessing. I had to duck down behind the edge of this crater a few times as carbine rounds send pieces of rock flying at my visor, stunning me briefly. I cursed myself back to action and shot at the last position that I had been fired upon, trying to shoot something to death in order to feel better about myself.

"Banshee!"

Contrary to common sense, our fire intensified as the flier screamed down. Tracer rounds illuminated the night sky in order to find it before it could fire. Our Scorpion began moving, firing one last round at the enemy infantry before a green fuel rod exploded against its right rear tread. The Scorpion sputtered briefly before moving again, functional. The Banshee began putting fire out the side before diving to the ground and exploding behind our lines, putting out a huge fireball.

"Move to the right," I ordered. "They're trying to push through there!"

A few men had already realized that and had anticipated my order, but a sniper hit two of them as they left cover, sending the head into the ground. The two soldiers were still alive, but one of them was missing his right arm and the other girl wouldn't live past this minute. I zeroed in on the source of the shot and fired three bursts, failing to hit the jackal. I shook my head and climbed out of the crater and dashed towards the remains of one of the towers. Needles flew past me but I didn't stop, instead struggling to slow down as I crashed into the tower. I climbed up the flight of stairs, only stopping when they stopped against the rubble.

"That's a chieftain!" someone yelled. "Concentrate your fire on it!"

I struggled to see the brute, but I only saw it when it glowed gold, activating its invincibility. I sighed and prepared for an annoying fight with a few dead ODSTs before we took it down. The brute would die certainly, but all of us would have to work together to bring it down and the rest of the Covenant would advance on us and take the wall. Once they did that a lot more of us would die.

The chieftain closed in at terrifying speeds for such a large animal, but it was stopped short as our Scorpion fired.

The round hit it right in the chest, exploding on contact and sending it forty meters backwards even faster than it had gotten here. The bright golden lump remained there for a second before the Scorpion fired a second time. I couldn't see the brute disappearing into a tiny million pieces, but I did know that that was exactly what had happened to it.

The Covenant advance stalled slightly, but only for a little bit.

"Two minutes and we're good!" Tarkov shouted. "Get ready!"

We needed to get out of here as soon as possible, and that wasn't just a matter of everyone running for the closest Pelican. There was a method to the madness. Fifteen men per Pelican, falling back in a slow and organized collapsing pocket while the copilot of the Pelican burned through all of its ammunition. Only one Pelican wouldn't be firing, the one that would help get the Scorpion out of here.

The missiles came first. They usually did, flying as fast as they did.

The ground lit up with fire. It was beautiful. Not because it looked beautiful, but because of what it symbolized. Around fifteen seconds later the Pelicans came in, firing their powerful front cannons as close as the front walls. I left cover and began dashing towards my men. Pavel and Caboose continued firing their machine gun as much as possible while Miranda and Grass fell into step with me. My two men stopped firing as soon as I was close enough and they began jogging towards our Pelican. A squad of ODSTs covered us while we climbed in and we fired over their heads as they moved backwards and climbed on board. The third and final five-man squad climbed on board a little bit more haphazardly, rushing as the enemy returned fire.

I watched as the Scorpion was attached to the tail of a Pelican and then recoiled as another of our dropships exploded in a giant fireball, crashing down into the ground with a metallic groan. Curses flew around, but we were already flying away as small arms hit the back of the Pelican.

I looked at Pavel.

"We held."

I laughed. "For a day."

"Sometimes that's all it takes," he said, shrugging weakly and sitting down.

"I have a feeling that this is not one of those times."

This chapter was proofread by Colonel-Commissar2468. Fun fact, he wrote this in his in his post-chapter note:

"I have to admit, I felt the foreshadowing of major-league character death going here. But it was much worse.

IT IS ONE THING TO KILL A BELOVED CHARACTER, OR EVEN TWO, BUT THE CALLOUS DISCARDING OF TWO LOVED CHARACTERS IS APPALLING!

HOW DARE YOU KILL OFF FRANK'S KNIVES!

Ahem. Rant over. Cool job here."

I didn't even think he would be that affected, although I have to admit that it was a bit rough for me to get rid of a part of the story that had been here for so long. And I couldn't even get rid of the main knife. Imagine how I feel every time I kill off a character. I suspect that's the reason I drink. I'm kidding it's not. And I don't. That was a lie. Anyways, I start college pretty soon and I don't know how well I'll adapt to the whole thing and if I'll be able to write as much. I suspect I will for the most part, but that is yet to be seen.

Guest: in the Halo universe beyond the games the Covenant landed all over the planet. Books and other sources mention landings in Ross Island, Cuba, Yucatán, Cleveland, Afghanistan, and at least some damage to Sydney. I used all this places and expanded upon them, the Covenant fleet numbered in the hundreds and humanity had presence everywhere in the planet, it makes sense that they'd land in multiple locations that are of interest to them. I'm not breaking canon, I'm just expanding it a little bit. I just want to clear that up, I take pride in doing my best to adhere to Halo canon.

Other than that little clearing up thing I have another thing to add. I accidentally fucked up on my Afghan geography, which isn't really surprising considering I have never even been to Asia and don't know all that much about the country of Afghanistan. I thought that Kushan and Salang passes were east of Kabul, when in reality they're to the north of it (according to Google Maps), so there might be a slight inconsistency with this chapter and the next one. I tried fixing it in the next one and it shouldn't be too noticeable. In any case, I apologize to any Afghan readers I might have or anyone who actually knows Afghan geography. To be honest I don't know why that little mistake is so worrisome to me but I don't have too much to write about unless you want to hear about the crazy and irresponsible shit I did in Europe in this author's note section.

To those who ask: Yes, I will keep writing fanfiction after this. A Halo/Mass Effect crossover. Not nearly as long as this one, of course, but it may or may not contain cameos by beloved The Life characters.

Stay strong.

-casquis