Standard IV

January 15, 2552 1123hrs
ONI Site 7G/A, Tomsk Steppe. UEG Colony world, Siberia.
Staff Sergeant Nick Walker

The guarantee that Nick had received about not being on the front line turned out to be only a half truth, much to the expectation he had for all dealings with the Office of Naval Intelligence.

Once he and the other members of his fireteam had finished their rushed ODST training, they were assigned to a regular battalion, on a regular ship, in a regular fleet. They were only broken off at the fireteam level for ONI operations, and those operations were exceedingly rare. Over the last fourteen years, most of the time had been spent on, or near, the front line. Thankfully though, their special purpose nature ensured that he and his fireteam were usually one of the last units deployed if they were ever actually needed; that was one advantage he was glad they had. Despite everything however, combat was not rare.

Nick and his squad were assigned to an ONI Captain going by the name of Barstow for their current tour of duty, and their operation on Siberia was one of the rare ONI Ops. They needed to attempt to extract an asset from a small research site in the middle of nowhere; this time however, the middle of nowhere happened to be hosting a small Covenant Battlecruiser directly overhead. Due to the Cruiser their drop zone had to be over the horizon and out of sight from the ship, and then needed a long trek across the steppe on foot. It had taken them a few hours to get to their concealed position that overlooked the battered facility.

Nick slowly inched through the grass clumps on his stomach and up to the crest of the hill to join the other trooper stationed there. Sergeant Oceana Luzana was laying at the top with an optical camera peeking out over the grass observing the situation beyond. He stopped beside her and patched into her feed, putting the camera view onto his visor.

The ONI facility had once been a collection of structures arranged to look like an old abandoned survey mine from orbit, but from the ground it just looked like any other field lab operation. At Least what was left of one; the Covenant had hit the site hard, and all that was left was the main permacrete building and scattered bits of slagged sheet metal.

He wanted to get a look himself, to stick his head out over the grass and really see what was going on, but he would have to accept the video instead. It was not worth alerting the enemy with his sliver-blue faceplate or even just the movement that might give away their position. Being signed from the air would not be an issue however, their normally black BDUs had been painted over in local camouflage tones. The paint was temporary and was supposed to last for ninety hours, but it tended to flake off whenever it came in contact with water.

"So, what do we got, Luz?" Nick asked.

"Covies own the area," she replied and shifted the camera. "They have foot patrols going around the complex and a banshee overwatch. If they keep their current pattern, I don't think this place'll be a good spot to be in about ten minutes or so."

"Alright, then we'll shift with their patrol until we get in there." Nick suggested.

Luzana shrugged. "Maybe, They have a few Shadows parked around, being loaded with something coming out of the building in the middle."

Captain Barstow butted into the conversation, joining the two on the rise. "Can you get a shot on the Shadows? I need to see what they're taking."

Nick rolled to his side and pulled his own optic camera out from a pouch. "Yes sir, I'll get a shot on it. Stay on overwatch Luzana." He stuck the camera overtop and looked for the Shadows down in the dip. They were parked on the east side of the building and had large cargo compartments where they would normally carry vehicles. "View is up on screen two."

"Hmm..." was all Barstow said in return. Nick rolled his eyes and went back to the view. Barstow was a good Officer, but he was ONI, and you could never fully trust the Office of Naval Intelligence. Sure, Nick worked for them too, but at least he was not a spook.

There was a troop of Grunts loading what looked to be silver metal tablets and struts into collection boxes onboard the Shadows; they were bits and pieces of old Forerunner technology, a great prize for the Covenant. Nick sighed and glanced back at the friendly icons on his VISR interface. There was too much Covenant for his small team to face alone.

All of his original fireteam members had made the move into the ODSTs and onto ONI operations with him. Spanner had originally continued to be his Fireteam assistant, but a blast of plasma artillery had completely destroyed his leg. He was lucky that he only lost the leg and they had managed to get him out safely, but he was out of the Marines. His replacement had been a Private Weitzel from Reach, she had done pretty well so far. Ackland had reached the rank of Sergeant as well, but moved on to command his own squad. Ackland's replacement, Corporal Pruit, and Weitzel were a bit further down the hill, watching their backs.

"Huh... that's new." Luzana mumbled.

"What is it, Sergeant?" Captain Barstow asked. Nick flipped back to her camera feed and saw what she was probably talking about, he guessed Barstow was doing the same.

"I've never seen an Elite in green armor. What do you think that means?" She asked.

"I don't know." The Captain replied. "Look at the way the others are clearing space for them. Looks like a High-value-target to me."

The UNSC E-band COM channel flashed with activity. "BREAK BREAK! All ground units, this is the UNSC Mists of Fire. New Covenant Fleet jumping in system. Admiral Duca has ordered all active ground units to fall back and prepare for evac. I say again all ground units must fall back and prepare for evac."

Nick looked over at Barstow, who seemed to stiffen, he was not feeling the best either right now. It had taken them a few hours to hike this close to that Cruiser; if they had to go back the whole way, there was no possible way they were making it off the planet.

Captain Barstow seemed to be on the same line of thinking. He had switched to a FLEETCOM channel, and they could only hear one side of the conversation. "Captain, Sir. How much time do we have before the Evac? Mhmm... yes sir." He was talking to their ship, a Cruiser named the Farlow, and gave their grid coordinates, then he paused. "I do not know how fast- No Sir, that should work just fine. I will request that this site be hit by a nuclear strike once we are clear."

Nick looked over at Luzana. "Sounds like we're falling back."

Getting off the COM, the Captain looked at the two of them. "That's right, we are getting out of here. As much as it pains me, there's no way we're getting that asset with the cruiser up there and then making it to an evac point. Better to just take it out with a strike."

They slowly crawled back down the hillside, standing up would not be considered safe until the next hill over. "Understood, Captain. Where are we headed?" he asked.

At the bottom of the hill, Barstow stood up. "We need to make it to an extraction point five kilometers out in twenty-five minutes. That's all the time Captain Landry thinks he can get us, any more or less depends on how the Covenant fleet reacts." He looked around at Nick and Luzana on the ground still. "Sergeant Walker, we need to run."

A waypoint appears on his visor from Barstow, with the location of the landing zone that had been selected. Nick got to his feet and glanced at the sky for any Banshees. "Alight everyone, form up and make for the waypoint. Let's move it!"

They all sprinted at a good speed across the steppe, and thankfully there were no Covenant air vehicles in their vicinity. The waypoint marker was directing the fireteam into a small valley with a smoke column billowing out of it. Nick hoped that it was not from their extraction Pelican. They were almost there, with the timer counting down in the corner of his visor.

Pruit ran next to Nick, at a matching pace. "Great... another planet lost." He spoke between breaths. "This planet was one of our few victories" Siberia had been invaded once before by the Covenant in the 2540s.

Nick shook his head. "It was bound to happen eventually... unfortunately. All it meant was that they would be back later, like Arcadia."

"Damnit, we need an edge in this fuckin' war." Pruit sighed.

The pillar of smoke was coming from a cluster of small squat structures, looked to be a farming homestead. Fields stretched out into the distance beyond the structures. Definitely some sort of farm. As they moved into the structures, they swept them for Covenant contacts. No Human bodies, just a couple Grunts. There was a message sprayed onto the wall of the house to let someone else know that whoever had been here had left and gone for the spaceport. They had killed some Covenant on their way, so they probably had made it.

Once they were satisfied that they were clear, Barstow called for the Pelican extraction on a COM channel Nick was not currently connected to. He waved back to him after a few moments. "Staff Sergeant Walker, pop smoke. Pelican inbound."

Nick nodded and grabbed a smoke grenade from a pouch and tossed it. Blue smoke billowed up into the air, mixing with the grey and black from the structure fire. He glanced down to the corner of his visor, where the clock ticked down, nearing zero. Hopefully this timer only meant until evac could not be called, not when it was too late.

It was not long before the whine of a D77-TC Pelican could be heard screaming across the steppe. The angular spacecraft emerged from the smoke and did a single orbit around the farm. "Lima-Three-actual, this is Echo-five-five-seven. Is the LZ clear?" The Pelican came over the TACCOM connection.

Captain Barstow replied. "Echo-five-five-seven, LZ is clear, I say again, clear."

"Affirmative, setting down now." The Pelican completed one last orbit around the homestead and then extended its landing gear. The jets scorched the grass as it settled close by, and then opened the rear hatch. The craft's armor was scratched and burned, with splatters of indigo blood along the front and nose.

"Alright, let's get the hell out of here! Everybody on." The Pelican's Crew Chief leaned out the back and waved them on.

The fireteam piled aboard, all eager to get off world. Nick was the last to climb aboard, behind Captain Barstow. He had a seat in the back, near the Crew Chief. In the front of the troop bay sat a squad of Spartans around a heavy metal crate, four of them. Nick looked at them and their beat up armor, he had a bit of deja vu but ignored it with the shake of his head. He strapped in as the spacecraft lifted off and accelerated for the sky.

Once the rear hatch was sealed, and the sound of rushing wind and engines were muffled, he got the attention of the Crew Chief. "So, how did you get all that blood on this bird?"

The Crew Chief laughed. "Oh yeah, we flew through a group of Split-jaws with jet packs while getting those Spartans extracted." He shook his head and let out another hearty chuckle. "Bastards didn't even know what hit them."

"Goddamn, that's brutal." Nick glanced up at one of the situational monitors mounted to the Pelican's ceiling.

"God, I hate this part. Can't see anything and we're just sitting ducks for any Seraph on our six." Luzana shook her head and closed her eyes. Her leg began to bounce up and down.

"Hey, we'll be fine, Sergeant." Nick said. "Take a look at the tac-screen, we've got two Longswords escorting us up."

"Two for us?" She asked, then glanced over at the front of the craft. "Oh right, the Spartans... Lucky us."

The Pelican soared up through the atmosphere, headed for the Marathon-class Heavy Cruiser that sat in low orbit. The space around the UNSC Farlow was abuzz with Pelicans returning all the ground troops they could. Across the other side of the planet, the incoming Covenant fleet was already deploying dropships and fighters. On the Farlow's bridge, Captain Landry paced behind the two Helm officers.

"COMs, how long until Admiral Duca jumps out?" He turned his head and shouted to the Ensign at the Communications Station.

"Sir, the Mists of Fire is already on an exit vector." The Ensign replied, then read something on their screen "Captain, we have received a shuttle pod from the Admiral's ship. They have coordinates for our rally point once we are finished with our jump."

The Captain turned. "Engineering, get our drive charged asap. COM, eta on Covenant contact?"

"Unless the new fleet jumps to this side of the planet, ETA five minutes." The Ensign said.

The Captain leaned against the holo-table and rapidly tapped his middle finger against the metal cover. "Status on Evac shuttles and our ground forces? What about the Spartans."

"Sir, all registered Evac shuttles have completed their exit jumps, but there are still civvie ships leaving the surface." The other COM officer replied. "Our ground forces have been recalled, almost done loading now. As for the Spartans, their Pelican successfully diverted to pick up Lima-three and is entering the hangar bay as we speak."

He sighed. "Recall our fighters, and as soon as they're docked, initiate a randomized jump out system."

"Aye sir," the Helm replied.

The last of the cruiser's Longswords returned to the hangars. More than a few were empty, casualties from planetary defense. They had given the civilian population all the time they could to evacuate, but there were bound to be people left behind. There was no such thing as a total evacuation, it was just not possible. The Cruiser broke orbit and accelerated out towards the colony's moon. It moved on an exit vector and jumped away, headed for a random point.

As the Farlow slipped away, the Covenant support fleet moved to follow the tracking beacon they had planted in the artifact that the Spartan team had retrieved. The Covenant knew that it would take days to hear back from the beacon, but their duty was done at this Human world; the other fleet would finish the job. They spooled up their own slipspace drives and departed.

A Few Days Later

The UNSC Cruiser Farlow had dropped out of slipspace in the outer system of Standard IV the day before. The planet was home to an UNSC Decommissioning and Refit facility run by the Army, but twenty years into the war with the Covenant, it did more refitting than not. That was the only strategic military asset on the planet.

For as small and out of the way as the planet was, the Colonial Administration Authority had seen it fit to provide it with its own space tether, to which the battlegroup was docked to.

Nick thought it was a little odd that they had spent those funds for such a backwater. He sat in one of the ship's mess halls with the others in his fireteam, a cup of hot coffee cupped in his hands. It had been a quiet day with some time to rest and decompress after combat. They had not seen much on Siberia, but that was beside the point. Rest was rest.

He took a sip and listened to Luzana and Weitzel argue about what had been in the large box the Spartans had carried from the surface. There had been ONI logos on it, but Barstow had not budged on any information, it was all classified.

"I'm tellin' you, the Captain knew," Luzana said.

Private Weitzel shook his head. "Of course the Captain knew, but it was probably some data-cache from another ONI site."

"Why send a Spartan team to retrieve a data-cache we should-"

She was interrupted when an alarm sounded across the mess hall. "All hands to battle stations, Covenant ships inbound! Security teams man your posts. Ground forces prepare for deployment to groundside defense."

Nick took a final sip of his coffee and stood from the table. "Well back to work." He led his fireteam down to their assigned armory, passing the other crew moving to their own stations. The armory was at the bottom of the ship, near the SOEIV drop bay. The rest of their Company was also scrambling for gear; the alert did not specify how much time they had.

Their Company commander, Captain Caster, was standing up at a large holographic tactical table. The projection of an expansive space port was displayed on the table. Icons showing defensive positions and lines of sight were appearing wherever he pointed.

"The Army, and local Militia have already begun establishing defenses around the starport, but the Admiral is unsure how long we will be able to maintain orbital control over the population centers." He paused for just a moment. "This does appear to be the same fleet that we encountered over Siberia. Don't know how the Covie bastards tracked us, but that's behind us now. We should expect them to play by the same rule book previously. So they'll be defensive up here, but aggressive on the ground."

The table zoomed out to show a representation of their Cruiser entering low orbit over the northern continent. "The Farlow will drop us in the crash field to the east of the starport, and we'll coordinate with local command once on the ground. The nearest city to the spaceport is Tumble, population ninety thousand. They'll be on their way to the port by the time we land, so watch for civvies."

Luzana nudged Nick's side and whispered. "What kind of wacky place is this; Standard, Tumble? Who came up with these names?"

"Happened a long time ago I'd guess." Nick replied, trying to pay attention to the operation briefing.

With the presentation complete, the Captain lifted their tactical-pad from the table and scrolled through it. "Get with your Combat team leaders for assignments and move on the double." Nick turned to find their Master Sergeant. He spotted her up by the table as she began to make her way back towards the others.

She found the highest concentration of their team and spoke up. "Combat team Lima, we are unfortunately assigned to remain on board for ship defense until we are deemed unnecessary. I know you're itching to get down to the ground, but that just means that we will be going down wherever the fighting is the hardest as support."

"Or just dying in orbit when the ships were gutted by a pulse laser..." Nick thought, mentally shaking his head. He knew the others in his fireteam were thinking similar thoughts, no matter how morbid. They had spent plenty of time on anti-border operations where fellow fireteams were in crucial areas that got boiled or flash cut away.

Their Gunnery Sergeant started to dole out assignments to all the fireteams, it looked like they were going to be guarding the port hangar bay. "Alright Lima, Get your gear and move out."

Nick acknowledged the order and moved to collect his weapons from the plentiful armory rack. He selected an M6C and MA5B combo. Ideally he would have taken a DMR, but anti-boarding operations require a higher rate of fire than the semi-auto rifle could dish out.

They took up their positions across the ships deck around the Port Hangar. Nick leaned against the wall as they waited for anything to happen. There was not a lot to do when assigned to this position, unless the Covenant actually launched a boarding party all he could do was wait. He could feel the deck tremble with every MAC round fired, and the synchronous rumble of the missile pods.

Nick braced himself against a wall support as the emergency thrusters boomed and launched the ship port a few dozen meters.

"Alert! Boarding Craft incoming. Port side." The ship's warning system sounded. He readied his weapon on his shoulder and waited for further information. The boarding craft had to make it through the point-defense fire before locking onto the hull.

"Boarding Craft, port side hangars." That was their cue. Nick moved his fireteam into the hangar bay, a favorite for Covenant boarders.

He took up position behind one of the mobile barricades facing the hangar doors. He was thankful for his gear being vacuum rated, sometimes they just blew the doors before putting up an atmospheric retention field. The artificial gravity in the hangar shut off, and the magnetic clamps in his boots held him to the deck.

Just a few moments passed before the triple thunk of a boarding craft latching itself to the hull reverberated through the deck; then a loud hiss could be heard as the docking tube burned its way through the hangar doors. A circular patch of plating heated and burned before being blown inward. The white hot edge of the tube extended into the hangar another meter before the hatch on the end popped open.

"Lima-One, grenades!" Their Gunnery Sergeant shouted. "Lima-Two, patch kit."

As they had done many times before, Nick aimed his rifle down the tube as the other fireteams moved into action.

Six grenades went into the boarding craft's tube, and they could hear the shout of surprise from the occupants. Seconds passed before they detonated and tore the tube apart from the inside. Pressure alarms sounded inside the hangar as the tube lost integrity, and the bit that had extended into the hangar was yanked out into space in the ensuing explosion.

Lima-Two rode the suction on a large sheet of titanium plating specially cut for this exact use. They slammed into the doors and quickly applied the emergency sealant around the plate.

"That's one down." One of the other ODSTs said.

The Gunnery Sergeant spun her hand around. "Back to ready positions. There's a second one coming in, right door."

Nick and Luzana pushed off the deck and moved over to another piece of mobile cover with good sightlines on the presumed next site. He had Pruit and Wetzel stack up on the other side of the hangar platform. He reactivated his boots and stuck to the deck.

The telltale sounds of another boarding craft were heard right where they were expecting. Only this time the hot circle took a few nerve wracking seconds longer than normal to appear. When the disk was ejected from the door, it was quickly followed by a volley of plasma fire. The bolts tore through three members of Lima-one before sweeping towards the two holding the patch kit.

Nick popped up and spotted a Grunt in a pressure suit hunkered behind one of their small mounted plasma turrets. He opened fire, sending a burst of bullets into the Grunt's large forehead. Nothing else came through the tube after it.

"Fucking bastards!" Someone shouted. "Medic!"

The Gunnery Sergeant had survived the change up in Covenant tactics. "Lima-one, status!"

"Lima-actual, we have three casualties. Medic requesting gravity restoration."

It just took a moment before Nick felt the tug of restored artificial gravity. He made sure his fireteam was all up and aiming for the next form to emerge from the tube. Everyone on his end was fine, all where they were supposed to be. He glanced over to where Lima-one had been and saw the Combat Team's medic moving then dead or dying out of the hangar bay.

He brought his attention back to the tube, still sitting there empty. Movement stirred inside and two plasma grenades flew out. "Clear the deck, incoming!" He called out an alert.

Lima-two and the remnants of Lima-one lept away from the tube, no matter how far away they had been. The grenades detonated, vaporizing the deck plate and splashing heat across the space.

Two Grunts threw themselves out of the docking tube and were immediately gunned down by Nick's fireteam. Two Jackals with bright blue energy shields moved out next, their shields blocking any bullets sent their way. More Covenant forces came through the tube, pushing into the hangar against the onslaught of gunfire.

Once the fighting had waned and the hangar silent of Covenant activity, the Gunnery Sergeant called out. "Lima-three, Walker. Get over here."

Nick moved over where their Gunnery Sergeant could see him already near her. "Yes, Sergeant?"

"You're being pulled off counter boarder operations. Captain Barstow has requested y'all, again." She shook her head, not letting the annoyance be missed in her voice. "Hangar five, starboard side."

To an outside observer it may be a little confusing, having as many Sergeants as there were in this Combat Team. However, that was only because of the unusual situation with Nick's fireteam. It was not that there was an excess of personnel, in fact there was a lack of experienced soldiers, so many positions were occupied by under ranked Marines, or hasty field promotions. ONI and the Navy just liked veteran Marines in charge of their special action groups, even if fireteam leaders usually are only corporals.

He nodded in reply. "Understood. You all got this without us?"

"Damn right we do," she replied, knocking one of the other team leads on top of the helmet.

Nick smiled behind his helmet, and then turned for the door. Alarms blared in the hallways beyond hangar two; impact alerts, calls for assistance, and it was all the usual fare during a space battle. He led his team forward, towards the stern as the only way to make it to the starboard hangars was a cross corridor. There were only a handful between sides of the ship on the deck they were on. The first two were sealed by pressure doors and there was no way he would risk opening them up just to get to the other side.

"Lima-three. Captain Barstow. Hangar is a no go. Reroute to SOEIV bay to link up." The COMM clicked, and Nick acknowledged the new orders.

They headed down into the lower decks of the ship, and from the sounds they could hear it was obvious that Covenant boarders had broken through somewhere. It was not long before they had to blow through contested junctions. Much to Nick's relief, they were mainly Jackals and Grunts in vacuum suits.

The density increased the lower they got. More Covenant and less Marines. They were all headed in the same direction as Nick's fireteam, more than once they had finished off Covenant kill teams with their knives from behind. It was an occurrence that worried Nick; why were the Covenant so interested in the lower decks.

They cleared a junction and stacked up on the corner. Weitzel popped his head around the corner. "Sergeant, no live aliens, just a big ol' pile of dead ones. Corridor beyond is barricaded."

"That should be the drop bay, I bet that is where the Spartans are at." Nick pressed the manual transmitter on his helmet. "Spartan team, Lima-three. Friendlies coming out."

The voice that responded was cool and professional, plus it sounded a little too calm for this sort of situation. "Clear, Lima-three. Willow-two will move the barricade."

It was not a heartbeat later that a scraping sound came from the corridor. Nick quickly moved through the opening presented by a large khaki armored Spartan. As soon as they were through, the Spartan pushed the heavy metal barricade back into place. Nick looked around and saw that three of the Spartans were on the door, and one was with Captain Barstow; a large black case sat between them.

"Sergeant Walker, this is Sierra One-zero-two, leader of Willow team. You'll be supporting them on their mission to get this asset to an airbase on the surface." Captain Barstow said. "The Farlow will drop out and skim the atmosphere. Lima and Willow will deploy from the ship in drop pods and then you will make your way to the site."

"Sir, why are we dropping onto a surface that is currently being evac'd?" Nick asked.

"The airbase has an ONI Prowler standing by. They cannot dock with the Farlow during combat operations. This is the only option." Barstow sent a map to Nick's VISR with the approximate landing zone and the airfield.

Nick noted the airfield was located next to one of the Deep space Comm stations. A well-used road linked the two; however there did not appear to be any noticeable path from the nearest road. "Understood, sir."

Barstow called up to the bridge, to confirm that they were ready for the maneuver to begin. Nick moved to his fireteam and relayed the plan.

"So, we're babysitting Spartans?" Luzana asked, with a hint of amusement.

Nick shrugged, "More like chauffeurs or escorts. I think the Covies are after whatever is in the case, that's why they're clamoring to get down here."

"Sounds like 'fun' doesn't it?" She replied.

He agreed but was not able to keep talking. Barstow called them over to the pods. "Let's go Lima, Willow drop is in ten."

"Are you joining us, sir?" Nick asked, while getting into an open drop pod.

"Not this time Sergeant Walker. I have business up here." Captain Barstow hit some buttons on a control panel standing before the pods. "Good luck."

The Spartan, Willow-one, picked up the crate and loaded it into their pod's overhead storage compartment. They dropped themselves into the pod's seat, and Nick watched the pod visibly bounce on its anchors. With a shrug, Nick buckled himself into his pod and secured his MA5B into its cradle. He momentarily panicked when he realized that no one had restocked on ammunition before dropping, but a quick check on the pod's cargo space found it plenty stocked for their future adventure.

The door dropped down and sealed with a hiss, then the entire pod itself rotated around and then began to shake. The shaking started in the ship, as it buffeted into the planet's atmosphere, the heat generated from the friction crept through the ventral doors and heated the drop bay. The doors opened once the Farlow dropped low enough, and a countdown lit up inside the pod.

At zero the drop pod rocketed away from the belly of the Cruiser and began its journey to the surface. Nick was jostled inside the pod, and he strained against the harness that held him in place. Above him, the Farlow streaked across the sky, with its point-defense guns firing on pursuing Seraph fighters. None seemed to notice the small cluster of shapes descending into the clouds.

An alert blinked on the pods controls indicating that they were off course. Through the small windows, Nick saw the tips of snowcapped mountains pushing through the thickening cloud layer. It was a very bad sign, there were no mountains near the landing zone, and these looked to be in for some rough weather.

"Uh Sergeant!?" Corporal Pruit came over the COM. "This doesn't look right."

"The drop is off, we'll correct it on the ground," Nick replied.

The braking rockets fired with a jolt as the system detected the rapidly shrinking distance to the ground. The pod slowed down, but still slammed into the hard packed snow on the side of the mountain. His pod bounced off the steep slope more than once, before finally just sliding down the glacier on its side.

Once Nick had managed to reorient himself inside the pod, he gripped the secondary chute release and pulled, hoping it would catch on something and slow his slide. The emergency chute was ejected but it was a fabric weave and not a metal drag chute; all it did behind the pod was flap around on the barren landscape. He could feel the transition from ice and snow to dirt and gravel rather well, it was much rougher, and it caused the pod's slide to become an unstable tumble.

His pod began to pick up speed as Nick bounced against the restraints like a pinball. There were trees and craggy outcroppings now that he was below the snowline and crashing into those slowed him considerably. He went over a small cliff and landed in a fairly large scree pile, but even that did not bring the pod to a complete stop. It slid just a bit further, coming to a rest against a large conifer tree.

Nick sat there for a few moments to check himself over. His armor's system registered slight bruising and blunt trauma across his body. Nothing severe, the padding in the pod and armor was responsible for that. Through the cracked viewscreen he could see up the mountain ridge he had just slid down, and he was surprised he had not suffered worse. It looked close to maybe two-thousand meters to the snow line, and he had landed far above that. With a long sigh, he reached out and activated the explosive bolts on the pod door. The hatch blew out and crashed into another tree.

He released his restraints and crawled out of the pod before taking a better look around. The forest looked a lot like home, with fir trees and ferns all over the place; he had come to a halt maybe a few hundred meters from the valley floor where a wide river flowed. From his current position he saw no other pods nearby. Either they had landed further up the slope, or somewhere else entirely. A quick check with his VISR and the local terrain map confirmed it, they were scattered. Willow-one's pod was nearby, just a bit further down slope; everyone else had landed on the other side of the mountain ridge. He called in a status check, bouncing the message off of an orbiting relay, and got quick replies that dispelled any worries about the rough landing. Unfortunately, there was no easy way to get across the mountain and link up. The entire ridge was a few kilometers long and it was at least mostly in the direction of their objective.

Nick hopped down the ridge toward and hiked down to the Spartan's pod. Willow-one was already outside the pod and attaching the crate to their magnetic back clamp. "Spartan." Nick said as he approached. "Are you ready to get going?"

"Yes, Sat-imagery showed a homestead down river. We should see if there's any transport available," the Spartan replied.

"Sounds good, did the crate make it down alright?" Nick moved to a path along the riverside. It looked well-traveled, and likely led to the houses the Spartan had seen.

"Affirmative, asset is intact."

He knew from experience that Spartans were not talkative, so down river was spent in near silence. This part of the planet was sparsely populated from what he saw on the map, probably just homesteaders and farmers. There was no sign of Covenant activity, the nearest enemy ship had been nearly a thousand kilometers away right before they dropped. All seemed to be going well on their end, there were not enough ships to glass a planet yet, all they had to do was make it to the Prowler and they were safe.

The houses came into view after a few minutes, and he could already see a civilian warthog underneath a carport connected to the barn. From his view, he did not see any people around that lived on the property; hopefully they had all evacuated.

"Vehicle spotted." The Spartan announced.

"Yeah, I see it too. I'll check the house for the starter fob." Nick headed for the house at the other end of the compound.

Once he was closer, Nick could see fresh tire tracks in the mud leading out of the area. Judging by the mud splattered across the front of the house, they were in a hurry when they fled. The front door was wide open, and a suitcase was lying in the front room with everything sprawled across the floor.

He stepped inside the kitchen and spotted the key-fob for the Warthog hanging on a hook. Seemed that these people were the same as their old Earth counterparts. Lucky for him or else he would be out of luck.

He jumped out of the house and clicked the remote start. The rumbling sound of the engine came from the carport confirming that it was the right set.

"Alright, let's get the fuck out of here." Nick hopped into the driver's seat and waited as the Spartan climbed into the passenger seat.

The Warthog's suspensions groaned with the vast difference between each side. The Spartan placed the crate into the back of the Hog and signaled forward. "Ready to roll."

Nick pressed the accelerator with his foot and took off down the dirt. The Hog's large off-road tires provided great traction through the slick mud; nevertheless, he added his own mud streak to the barn to match the house.

The dirt road eventually became paved and that then led onto an elevated highway that cut through the forest. If it was not for the fact that there was a genocidal alien attack going on, Nick would have enjoyed the drive.

It started to snow soon after, and it had begun to stick to the roadway almost at once, but thankfully the highway was nearly empty. There was only an abandoned trailer some trucker had ditched across the median. The rendezvous point was more than a few dozen kilometers away. Nick found it hard to believe that a single mountain could really cause that big of a hassle, but then again it was a mountain and they had a... reputation.

A piercing beep sounded from the Warthog's stereo system and a local emergency alert sounded off. "Attention. Alien Activity has been detected in your area. If you are hearing this message, seek shelter immediately and stay alert. Arm yourselves if possible but only attack out of necessity. Evacuation activities..."

A similar alert popped up on Nick's VISR with more information from the local UNSC B-net. A flight of Covenant Dropships had flown into the area, further down the highway.

"Fuck..." Nick stole a quick glance at the Spartan, for the first time he examined the actual weapons that they had brought along. The Spartan had an M392 DMR and a M41 Jackhammer rocket launcher; they were not the most powerful weapons Nick would have asked for, but it was better than nothing.

The Spartan had gotten the same alert, if not more, and was scanning the skies ahead. It was hard to see anything far off through the snow.

"We're gonna have to get off of this road..." Nick mumbled. There had not been any exits for the last few kilometers, but he remembered a sign saying that there was one ahead.

"Yes, we are too exposed here," the Spartan said.

Up ahead, the highway went into a half tunnel where the ridge faces closed into the river. It was one of the classic styles with one open wall down its entire length; a perfect shooting gallery for any passing Covenant dropships, but the offramp was right after the tunnel. There was a bright purple-pink light that appeared through the snowstorm, but it was too hard to see it through the weather. Hopefully, it was the same for them; Nick just kept driving down the highway.

A digital sign lit up on their approach with another alert about the Covenant activity and a warning about the snowstorm making highway roads impassable. It helpfully directed him to the next exit. Further down the road, he could see more bright lights cutting through the storm, and they seemed to be at road level. So, he swerved the Hog across the lanes and followed the exit ramp off the highway.

"I'd hold on to something... it looks a little rough ahead." Nick gripped the wheel harder than before as the Hog bounced down the snow covered dirt road.

They were headed in the wrong direction, but this had been their only choice. With one hand, he flipped on the Warthog's built in navigation system and spared some glances down at the map.

"There is a road on the left in two hundred meters. Take it," the Spartan said.

"Got it." Nick slowed and turned the wheel. The new road was also dirt but was narrower than the road they had just left. The tree canopy was thick above them as well.

"This road will eventually link up to another that runs parallel to the highway. It should bypass the Covenant activity by twelve kilometers."

The road never did return to the highway, after night fell, they came across a shattered bridge that had once crossed a deep river. It was an old collapse, not related to the invasion; the icicles on the metal were evidence of that. Nick glanced through the snow at the river and then over to the map on the Hog's center console. "I don't think we can ford the river here."

"There's another bridge crossing up river from here," the Spartan pointed east. But then his helmet snapped left and gazed across the water. Nick started to look over, and a bright green light lit up the forest and it looked like it was rapidly approaching. He threw the Warthog into reverse even before the Spartan gave the order.

Unfortunately, a Covenant Fuel rod cannon fired a projectile that was faster than their Warthog. The glowing green ball of energy detonated against the Warthog's hood and launched the vehicle end over end. It landed against a growing snowbank and Nick's helmeted head slammed into the wheel and the world went fuzzy.

The Spartan had leapt out of the passenger seat and opened fire at the Covenant ground forces that were appearing on the far side of the river. Nick blinked and crawled out of the Hog, the vehicle burned behind him and his helmet was cracked and shattered. He shoved the helmet off of his head and dropped his face into the cold snow. Through the Spartan's shots he also heard the sound of incoming plasma fire.

Another volley of green plasma struck the Warthog and the ground around him, sending Nick twisting further away from the river. His legs had been caught in the vehicle's roll cage and it had flung him away.

"Fuck!" he spat the blood from his mouth, it had been dripping down from somewhere above his forehead. "Under attack..." He tried to call their grid coordinates into his COM but forgot that his helmet was somewhere else now.

His right hand found his M6C, and he tried to steady himself to support the Spartan. However, the world spun, and he dropped back into the snow, his left arm refused to respond to his desire to move. Everything was wrong.

There was another flash of green from somewhere else on the riverbank, and the sound of human gunfire suddenly ceased.

Splashes in the river, the strange guttural sounds of alien talking. The feeling in the air had changed suddenly.

Nick sat there, phasing in and out of consciousness. When the first Grunt came ashore, he fired his pistol at it. The shot went way wide and probably embedded in a tree on the other side.

Something solid collided with his face, sending him into the darkness of his own mind.

xxx

The Sangheili Major glanced down at the smoldering corpse in disdain and shook his head. The damned Unggoy had been to trigger happy with their heavy weapons. They had destroyed the Demon and denied them their prize.

"Blasted Unggoy," he growled. "Officer, is there anything to be salvaged from here? 'Cimutee will not be pleased."

The Special Operations Officer paced around the far end of the ambush site, near where the Demon's transport had landed. A single shot came from a bank of snow, and the Officer punched downwards and there were no more shots after that. "This Human is still alive."