I didn't have time to consider the other five elites in the room or what Grace, Malcolm, and Anton were doing.

In that moment, all that existed was me and alien in front of me. It brought its sword across in another swing, trying to cut me in half at the midsection. I backstepped and rolled away, bringing up my rifle as I did so.

I squeezed the trigger. A spray of 7.62mm rounds lit up the elite's shields a bright glowing blue as it tried to close the distance.

To humans, the idea of using a sword in an actual engagement sounds hilariously antiquated, but even an obsolete weapon can still be useful in the right circumstances. In the tight confines of a starship interior, with limited room for maneuvering, the Covenant energy sword was beyond deadly.

I had less than two meters of space between me and the elite when the magazine of my rifle ran dry. I was running out of room to move. The elite was trying to corner me. I didn't have time to reload, instead I brought my left hand down to the underbarrel shotgun I had replaced the rifle's flashlight with.

I only had time for one trigger pull before the elite took another swipe at me. This time the blade missed me by mere inches. The swing cut my rifle in half, but the 8-gauge shell had finally overwhelmed the alien's shield. The blue energy barrier burst with a satisfying pop.

All around me gun fire was going off. I could hear the overwhelming noise of the rest of Green team's ballistic weapons and the comparably muted noise of Covenant plasma rifles.

This time, I closed the distance. The elite tried to swing again but now I was close enough to step inside its guard. Its face was masked behind a full helmet, but had it not been I would have been close enough for its breath to fog my faceplate.

I caught the elite's sword arm with both hands to stop its swing, then lashed out my right fist into its face.

I'm just shy of seven-foot-two in armor, but even then sangheili are always taller than me. They're a magnitude stronger than any normal human, but with my augmentations and MJOLNIR suit, I had the strength advantage. My blow to the elite's head shattered the eye-lenses of its helmet and snapped its head back.

It reeled, its footing came off balance, but I still held its left arm.

I twisted it until the wrist and shoulder locked, then the wrist broke. The elite let out a cry of pain and let the energy sword fall from its grip. I caught the sword's handle mid-air and drove the blade up through the elite's chest at a horizontal angle. Unlike us humans, sangheili have a binary circulatory system.

A fancy way of saying that they have two hearts, one on the left and one on the right sides of their chests.

Driving the energy sword in horizontally ensured that both were destroyed, before I yanked the blade down, ensuring that the elite's spinal chord was severed. Energy sword wounds are nasty, but they're usually clean. The intense heat of the blade flash-vaporizes any blood or fluids it comes into contact with and cauterizes the wounds it leaves.

With its spine severed, the elite crumpled to ground like a marionette with its strings cut as it lost control of all motor function below the neck. I saw its head wobble back and forth a little. Like its brain hadn't realized yet that it was already dead.

I brought my attention back to the situation at hand. Green team was mopping up. Three of the other elites laid dead already. The two that were left were too distracted to look my way. I brought my looted energy sword up and leapt towards the closest one.

It pulled a plasma grenade from its belt and prepared to throw it at Malcolm when I shortened the elite's arm up to the elbow before it could thumb the activation trigger.

I could only imagine what the surprise on its face must have looked like behind its helmet. Probably all eyes-wide, mandibles agape. I brought the sword across and swiped the elites head off.

The final one turned to face me, a millisecond of hesitation in its step. Like it was trying to decide who was the bigger threat; Malcolm, Grace, and Anton shooting at it or me closing the distance with the sword.

But the millisecond was too much. I brought the blade up in a diagonal swing and split it in two from its left hip to its right shoulder, the two pieces falling to the ground in a gross heap as the elite's insides spilled out onto the floor.

The entire engagement had lasted less than a minute.

"Clear!" Anton yelled as he panned his rifle about the room, searching for more targets.

Malcolm looked at me. "The data recorder?"

"Destroyed," I replied. "Split-lip sliced it in half before the download finished."

"Damn," said Anton. "I hope Blue team made it to the aft recorder."

"They know we're here," Grace said matter-of-factly. "Now what?"

Malcolm shook his head. "Proceed to the secondary objective. Ody, Anton, plant the HAVOK's. I'll radio Blue team. Grace, get that door open."

Anton and I snapped into action as Grace examined the door.

"Door is sealed up tight, controls are non-responsive. I'm going to have to make a hole." The excitement was apparent in her voice.

"Do it," Said Malcolm as he activated his helmet's radio. Breaking radio silence would have been enough to alert Blue team and the Night Fox that the mission was compromised, but we needed to know how to proceed. "Green-One to Blue team, enemy knows were aboard. Port data recorder is fubar, going away present is planted, please advise. Over."

Blue team's comm channel came to life on my helmet's internal speakers. I saw John's S-117 tag glow green as I heard his voice. The sound of gunfire could be heard in the background. "This is Blue-One, I read you Green team. We've already been engaged. Aft data recorder is secure, present is placed. Proceed to- "

John was cut off when the Night Fox's priority channel sounded. Captain Shelby's voice was steady, but didn't fully hide the sound of panic. "Night Fox to Sierra, be advised, we're reading multiple Covenant contacts on intercept course on long range scan. They knew we were coming. Your mission is scrubbed. Get moving for immediate exfil. Over."

"Copy, Night Fox," John replied. "Blue team's primary and secondary objectives are complete. We're moving to exfil, Sierra out."

Anton and I finished arming the HAVOKs on a fifteen-minute timer when I regarded the slain elites' corpses. The one with the sword had been a Silent Shadow. A kind of Covenant special forces unit designed for eliminating high value targets. We'd run into them before, as early as 2526.

After operation: SILENT STORM, ONI had gathered that the Shadows had been tasked to hunt down Spartans. Not that they had succeeded. Still, they were not to be taken lightly. But the other five elites had been wearing white armor. Ultras. Skilled, no doubt, but not in the same league. If there was one Shadow, there were bound to be more lurking in wait for us.

"Blue team, be advised," I said as I activated my radio, "we we're engaged by Covenant special forces. Looks like a Silent Shadow. Keep your eyes peeled for active camo. Over."

I heard Kelly's voice on the return signal. "We ran into one too at the aft recorder. Watch yourself, Ody. Over."

"Green team, form up on me." Called out Malcolm.

Grace held up a detonator. "Charges are planted on the door, ready to breach."

"Good," said Malcolm as the four of us took positions. If there was an elite team waiting for us at the data recorder, then there were bound to be more fodder waiting outside. I drew my SOCOM pistol. My rifle was in two pieces back by what was left of the data recorder.

"Let's see what's on the other side, Spartans," Malcolm said.

I pulled a flashbang from my belt.

"Breaching in three, two…" said Grace. I hit the grenades activation pin. "…One"

The door exploded outward into the corridor. Part of it flattened a jackal as I tossed the flashbang into the breach. My visor automatically polarized and the audio quieted to protect my vision and hearing as it went off.

Malcolm, Grace, and Anton fired controlled bursts with their rifles as I squeezed off three shots with my pistol. Three bullets, three headshots, three dead grunts. They had been sent into a panic when they were blinded and deafened by the firecracker I had tossed at them. The rest of Green team mowed down the rest.

We moved out, running and gunning as we went.

Our exit strategy was to get out the same way we came in. We needed to link up with Blue team, find an airlock, exit the ship, and then set a thrust vector. Once we were at safe distance from the ship, we would activate our locator beacon and then the Night Fox would come pick us up.

I saw Blue team's IFF tags pop up as we got in range. We made a left and met at a junction. I'm sure John was keeping an eye on BIOCOM to monitor everyone's vitals, but he still asked anyway. "Status?"

"We're green, Chief," said Malcolm. "No injuries. You?"

Fred spoke up. "I took a stray hit from a plasma rifle," he said, gesturing to a scorch mark on his side, "but nothing serious."

I couldn't see her face behind her helmet's polarized visor, but I did see Kelly's head slightly cock to side as she looked at me. I gave her an almost imperceptible nod. A silent signal that I was fine.

"We're green," John said, "let's get on with it."

We made to move to the nearest airlock. We'd lost the data from the port recorder, but Blue team got the data from the aft one and the HAVOKs were planted, a readout in my head said we had a little less than twelve minutes left before they detonated. We had had ops go worse before. But remember:

No plan survives contact with the enemy.

We were almost at the airlock when the Night Fox's comm signal came back to life. This time it wasn't Captain Shelby's voice though. Probably some ensign instead.

"Mayday, mayday! Sierra, we've been engaged! Multiple Covenant ships exiting slipspace! We're-"

The signal cut off abruptly.

We came to a stop. Loss of contact in a scenario like this meant one of three things. Either our communications were being jammed, the Night Fox's communications relay had been damaged, or the Night Fox had been destroyed.

Yeah. The op was fubar.

Some part of me in the back of my mind cursed whoever at ONI was responsible for such a drastic intel failure.

But it didn't matter. Night Fox or not, we we're getting off the ship.

We had John, the Chief.

And the Chief always got us through.

"New plan," John said, "we're taking a phantom out of here."

"Where are we going to take it?" Anton asked. "The moon's atmosphere isn't habitable, we'll run out of air eventually."

"We'll have to land planetside," Fred said.

"Agreed," John replied.

"Better hope we're lucky the covies don't realize we're taking one of their dropships and shoot us down," Grace added.

"We make our own luck," John said.

We made our way to one of the CCS's aft hangar bays, the closest one to our position. A CCS has four total, two port and two aft. They're the single biggest rooms on the ship. A large cavernous space where seraph and banshee fighters and phantom and spirit dropships hang in storage racks from the ceiling and the hanger floor is filled with Covenant ground vehicles and battlefield supplies.

What was great for us was that a lot of those supplies were left unattended, so we decided to help ourselves to some ordnance. It was one hell of a firefight. I remember blasting apart covies with a stolen fuel rod gun and my SPNKr.

By the time the fight was over, my launcher was out of ammo, I was down to my last grenade, and I had appropriated a needle rifle from a dead elite. I still had my SOCOM and my looted energy sword.

John started giving orders as soon as the hangar was clear. "Malcom, Fred, get in the phantom and get it ready to launch. Grace, Anton, Kelly, load what gear you can. We'll need it planetside. Linda, Ody, cover the doors," he said, referring to the hangar entrance. Linda took up a position further away and brought her DMR to level. I was closer to the doors.

Fred got the phantom disconnected from its storage rack and Malcolm got in the cockpit. I saw Grace, Anton, and Kelly load what munitions they could carry and fit, sending them up through the phantom's grav-lift on its underbelly.

"Let's get out of here," John said.

Anton was the first up, then Grace, Kelly, John, and Linda. I was the only one left not on board.

Malcom had the Phantom's thrusters cycling up and I was crossing the deck, when the hangar's force field that stops the ships interior atmosphere from venting into the vacuum of space went from its passive to its active state. In the passive state, ships could pass through it, that's how the CCS was able to deploy craft from its hangars without having to cycle the atmosphere in and out. In the active state the barrier was impermeable.

We had been locked in.

You see, us Spartans have a tendency to volunteer for the most dangerous ops. It's not because we're death seekers. It's because we're family, and if we don't volunteer it means someone else will get picked.

"Chief," I said as I turned on my comm, "we gotta disable the lockdown from hangar control."

"Ulysses, wait for backup."

I eyed the countdown timer for the HAVOK's on my HUD. Less than seven minutes were left.

I shook my head and said, "There isn't time. I'll disable the forcefield, you guys get the phantom into the void. Launch as soon as the shield is down. I'll EVA and you can pick me up. We'll need time to make it clear of the blast radius."

He could have ordered me not too. I don't think I would have listened though.

I heard Kelly's voice. "Just be careful, Ody."

I broke into a run. I'd have to clear the security station and reset the forcefield. Once the phantom was clear, I would have to find an airlock and get clear of the HAVOKs' blast radius using my thruster pack. I couldn't chance it going back to hangar. There was no guarantee that another enemy unit wouldn't resecure the shield after I left.

I thumbed the glyph on the controls and the door to hangar control room opened. I pulled my last grenade from my belt and tossed it in. The fragmentation grenade tore apart the soft targets in the room. Grunts and jackals were sent flying.

I saw the shields of a blue-armored elite minor burst as the blast knocked him down and he didn't get up. A red-armored officer stayed standing. He brought his plasma rifle up and opened fire. The blue bolts pockmarked the threshold of the bulkhead as I took cover.

I ejected the magazine from the needle rifle. The weapon wouldn't be able to break the elite's shields without exposing me to the barrage of plasma fire.

Needle rifle magazines are cylinder shaped. It wasn't the right color, but I was hoping in the pressure of combat that the elite wouldn't notice the difference. I lobbed the magazine into the hangar control room like it was a grenade. The elite ceased fire and ducked for cover.

With the successful deception giving me a brief respite, I activated my energy sword and rushed the elite. When no explosion from the false grenade came the elite stood from cover to resume firing only to be met with the blade of my sword through his chest.

I reached the hangar controls as I eyed the timer on my HUD. Five minutes.

I should have double-tapped every bastard in that room.

The elite minor. The one I thought was dead from the frag grenade. He was clinging to life.

He brought up his plasma pistol when my back was turned. I heard the whirring sound as it overcharged. I drew my SOCOM as I turned but I was too late.

The elite's shield generator was destroyed by the grenade, so the bullet from my pistol splattered its brains out the back of its head and all over the wall behind it. But it had let go of the trigger and the overcharged plasma pistol shot slammed into my gut.

There has to be a separation of armor plates at the abdomen to facilitate movement, but it's also a weak point.

The plasma burned through my black undersuit and I doubled over in pain, my hands clutching my wound. A searing, burning sensation washed over me. Red warning lights were going off in my HUD but I didn't need to read them to know what they said.

I saw it well enough when I pulled my hands away. There was a singed hole in the black undersuit, and likely a severe third-degree burn on my torso. Moreover, I knew my suit was compromised. If I stepped out into the vacuum, I was as good as dead.

I turned back to the console and hit a glyph to reset the hangar forcefield.

"Chief," I said through clenched teeth, "you're clear."

Kelly was the first on the comm though. The worry in her voice was apparent. "Ody, your vitals just pinged on BIOCOM, what's wrong?"

My breathing was heavy as I dealt with the pain. "Kelly… I'm hit."

I thought could hear her inhale sharply.

"Get back to the hanger, we'll wait for you," She said desperately.

I…

…

…If I was a more selfish person, I would have said yes. But that would have been grossly irresponsible. I knew they could see the countdown timer for the HAVOKs too, and if the covies retook the hangar control while everyone was waiting for me to get back to the hangar, then we wouldn't have enough time to clear the blast radius.

I couldn't endanger the lives of seven other Spartans for the sake of myself. The lives of my family. Of her. But I wasn't going to resign myself to death like Sam had either. During the battle of Chi Ceti IV we didn't have any experience against Covenant ships, no idea of how they were laid out. Now we had eight years' worth of gathered schematics.

"No."

"Ody."

"No, take the phantom and get of here. Once you're clear, I'll grab an escape pod and exfil that way. I'll see you planetside."

I think she knew what I really wanted to say, but it was best left unspoken.

As soon as the phantom was clear, I set off as fast as I could for the nearest escape pods. My SOCOM in one hand, a plasma pistol in the other, with two looted plasma grenades at my belt and the energy sword mag-locked to my thigh.

I opened a bulkhead into an escape pod bay. Several of them had already been launched, but there were still a few left. The launch bays that were empty had forcefields separating the ship's atmosphere from the outer vacuum just like the hangar.

Then I saw it again. A shimmer.

Three shimmers, to be precise.

The first elite decloaked, black-armored and sleek. A plasma rifle grasped in each hand.

The second stood with identical weapons and armor. The rest of the Silent Shadows.

I was already charging the plasma pistol in my left hand as they opened fire. The overcharged bolt struck the first elite and his energy shields overloaded as he let out a roar of anger. I silenced him with a bullet to the head from my SOCOM. Without his energy shields, the bullet went through his helmet and he hit the deck.

I didn't have time to charge a second bolt, so I threw the plasma pistol as hard and as fast as my MJOLNIR and biologically enhanced arm could manage. The pistol flew past ninety miles an hour at the second elite's head.

As the impact caused its shields to flare and knocked it off balance, I primed one of my two pilfered plasma grenades and tossed it too. The glowing blue ball flash fused to the elite's torso and it stumbled back towards one of the empty pod bay's forcefields, before detonating.

The elite exploded into charred gibs. The shield behind flickered but held as the blast damaged its generators.

The third elite decloaked but didn't make a move. Its armor was different. It was more ornate, its panels etched with glyphs and engravings. Its black helmet bore an ornate crest. Its suit was hermetically sealed. I couldn't see its face, but I could tell it was regarding me. Sizing me up.

It drew an energy sword with an engraved hilt. The blade ignited with a more flowing, wider shape than the typical energy sword. It glowed with a deep violet hue.

The elite was standing between me and the escape pod.

I checked the timer. Three minutes.

I checked my ammo. Not enough.

The elite spoke. I couldn't understand what it was saying, but my armor picked up the words and translated them for me.

"Come, demon. Draw your blade and meet me. I am Xe'sa Vorumee, and I am your death."

I was out of options.

I took the dead shadow's energy sword from my thigh's mag-plate and lit it, the red blade springing to life.

The elite took a stance, putting a foot forward and a foot behind and bringing the pointed ends of its blade to be level with me, holding the hilt in a two-handed grip.

I raised my sword, taking my stance from what I remembered about human fencing techniques, from épée and saber. I was out of my element. Using a sword against an unsuspecting opponent or against one with no way to defend against it is one thing. Dueling a sangheili blademaster is another thing entirely.

I was running out of time. My chest wound burned.

Vorumee made the first move, his muscular multi-jointed legs springing him forward in a speedy lunge. I brought my sword across to deflect the blow. I made to riposte and he countered. He slipped his violet blade through my guard and struck my right shoulder.

A glancing blow, not lethal. But it went through my armor and cut through muscle. Not deep enough to touch bone, but my blade lowered as a sharp searing pain rocketed through me from the wound.

He bounded away. I was right-handed. Either I could fight through my weakened arm, or switch to an off handed grip. Neither option was good.

"First blood is mine." My helmet translated from his words.

Blood was rushing in my ears, anger flowed through me, adrenaline had me fighting through the pain. I lunged, he deflected. He riposted, I countered. He brought his blade across in a horizontal decapitation strike.

I brought my sword up at the last moment and blocked, using both hands to grip the hilt. He wrenched his violet blade down and scored a gash through my left thigh. I felt the leg want to give out, but first he brought his up and kicked me straight in the chest. He caught me out of stance and with my weakened leg I went tumbling across the deck onto my back.

He was toying with me.

He could have killed me right then and there.

I tried to stand, shifting my weight onto my right leg. I needed to figure something out fast. I couldn't run. With all my weight on my right leg, and my right arm drooping from my shoulder wound, any semblance of stance or technique was gone. The searing pain of the sword wounds and the burning of my abdomen made me want to double over.

He lunged a final time, I brought the sword up, but he caught mine between the two blades of his and wrenched it from my grip. I made a grab for my SOCOM, but he slammed me into the wall, spun me about and brought the edge of his sword up in a shallow cut across my back, and then threw me away.

All the strength went out of my lower body and I crumpled to the deck in a heap. I could still feel my fingers, but I didn't feel the pain in my chest or leg anymore. He could have cut me in half, but instead cut just shallow enough to sever my spine.

I thought of my family, the Spartans. Cal, Fhajad, John, Linda, Fred, Malcolm, Anton, Grace, Jorge, Alice, Li, and all the rest.

I thought of Kelly. Of how I would never hear her voice again.

"I expected better."

Now, when I was helpless, he slinked towards me for the kill. His movement was almost lazy. Behind him I saw the damaged forcefield from the earlier plasma grenade blast. It flickered but held.

My suit seal was breached, but I wasn't going to go out being gutted like a fish.

I pulled the last plasma grenade from my belt, primed it, and threw it at the elite. There was no strength in the throw. I didn't have any left.

He sidestepped it easily. It connected and flash-fused with the field generator.

"Pathetic, demon."

'Demon, heh,' I thought.

"I'll see you in Hell," I growled.

He glanced behind at the grenade as it detonated and the field generator failed. The deck explosively decompressed and He, the remains of the two other elites, and I were sucked out into the void.

I think I saw the timer in my helmet click down into the last sixty seconds as the emergency door slammed shut, sealing the breach in the deck as the force of the decompression sent me rocketing towards the orbit of Kursk's moon. It didn't matter though.

With a breached pressure seal, a human will lose consciousness on average in about fifteen seconds in space.

Considering my injuries, I think I stayed conscious for less than half that time. I'd be dead in less than a minute.

The last thought that went through my head was I'm going to die.