Hello everyone! This is the first brand new chapter in several long years. Expect the gap between chapter releases to be roughly a month or two from here on out. But, at last, this story will have some story progress and we can begin Story Arc 1 of this grand saga. I hope you all enjoy this kickoff of a chapter!

And, as a man of one of my favorite games once said, "Hell, it's about time."


Praetor

Location: Unknown

Time: Unknown

Date: Unknown

There was not much to say or know… other than the fact that it was cold and dark. Just cold, as cold as a tundra in a snowstorm, and dark, as dark as the endless void haunting the edges of the known universe. Yes, it was dark…

Except there was something off with this darkness and this frozen cold. It wasn't the same as before. It didn't feel the same as before. There was no way to describe it other than it felt… off.

He had no memory of where he was, much less who he was. He struggled to think, struggled to remember. Did he have a name? He had to have a name, didn't he? His name… it had to be someone important, like Moore, or Mike. No, that wasn't it. Maybe it was Matt? Mark? Mitch? Maybe it didn't even start with an 'M', like Jordan. No, that sounded worse than the last several. His name definitely had an 'M' in it. He just couldn't remember what it was.

Thinking about his name was too hard. Maybe if he thought about something else, the ache in his head would go away. He remembered white, black, and grey, a mass of power, of strength and speed, but he couldn't place any meaning behind it. What was that power? The strength? Was it a person or an object?

It hurt to think. Thinking was hard, it required energy, energy he didn't have.

He heard muffled noises around him, voices, like there was a wall of some sort. He had no idea what they were saying. Not like it really mattered, he was stuck where he was. Nothing could fix that.

If only he could move, feel like he could do something, anything. Instead, it felt like a whole building was on top of him with how much he couldn't move. Maybe that was for a good reason.

It didn't really matter after all. He would just rest until something else changed. Thinking was hard and moving was impossible. Maybe he should just rest and wait…


Location: Praetor System

Time: 1600 Hours

Date: June 19, 2557

Located around the outer edge of the boundary that separated the Inner and Outer Human Colonies, the Praetor System was home to a sparse four planets, Kyron, Iris, Praetor, and Gaelon. The former two were gas giants, one bearing a thin ring very much in the same manner as Saturn in the Sol System, and the last one was located a quarter of an astronomical unit from the system's star. Only the planet Praetor itself was habitable.

The All or Nothing emerged from Slipspace three hundred thousand kilometers from the planet's surface, its engines flaring hot, its sensor array scanning for targets, its weapon systems ready to go. The ship's crew were equally as prepared, manned at their battle stations and awaiting orders. The Reds and Blues had their equipment prepped and were simply waiting on orders. And Carolina, Washington, Sarge, Church, and Tex stood on the command podium, watching the planet before them.

Although Washington had only wanted Carolina on the bridge initially, being a fellow Freelancer, he decided it would be better to allow the other three to join in on the initial sighting as well, with Sarge being leader of Red team and Church and Tex declaring themselves coleaders of Blue team. When asked, Junior, Tucker, and Caboose were more than okay with this decision.

The grey-and-gold trooper eyed his fellow Freelancers. He could feel that there was still tension between Tex and Carolina. The finger in their hands seemed tempted to clench and he had no doubt they were staring at each other out of the corners of their eyes.

Off to Tex's side, Church had his head facing both him and her. Occasionally the black Freelancer's fingers would close into fists, but Church would bump his arm against hers. She relaxed every time he did, as if he was grounding her in reality.

The group stared in amicable silence at the planet before them. Compared to most terrestrial worlds, this one sported lots of greys and whites. Whether that was from the various mountain ranges, tundras, or clouds, the planet looked bleak. There were patches of greens and blues dotting the landscape, but otherwise it retained a monotone of silvery-grey.

"Well, it's not much to really look at," Church finally spoke.

"It's not supposed to," clarified Wash, not disagreeing with the Blue's assessment in the slightest.

"Looks like one of those boring whatchamacallit mosaics," remarked Sarge. "I never really understood what people thought was so fascinating about them."

"No readings of any kind coming from the planet," commented Carolina. "Are you sure the intel is correct?"

"Based on what the UNSC was able to piece together, yeah, this should be one of the possible locations," replied Washington. "Keep in mind they said one of the possible locations."

"Well, in that case, let's get closer so our sensors can get a better read-". A warning klaxon interrupted her. The screen in front of them lit up with a red warning sign.

"Warning, MAC cannon energy signature detected," spoke Sheila in her cheerfully monotone voice.

Everyone's pupils dilated. Mass Accelerator Cannon rounds were bad news for every ship larger than a transport, which the All or Nothing happened to be. They were nothing more than large solid slugs of metal, for sure, but they were fired at hypersonic speeds from magnetic rails. They were capable of destroying capital ships with naught but a handful of shots. Some of the larger ones could cut through even Covenant capital ships, shields and all, in two or three shots, and those things could absorb entire volleys of Archer missiles.

Based on the size of the signature, it looked like one of the larger ones.

"Evasive maneuvers, now!" commanded Washington. The ship lurched very suddenly off to the side, its starboard thrusters firing at maximum power.

A streak of yellow-white light flashed right past the ship's flank. Warning klaxons continued to sound off as the energy brushed off against the All or Nothing's energy shields. Once the Human-Covenant War had ended, humanity had taken steps to even the playing field with their former enemies in the event of another war breaking out. One of these steps was the integration of energy shields to every Slipspace-worthy ships for some much-needed durability. Before them, human ships could easily be shredded by the Covenant's much more devastating plasma weaponry. Now they were much more capable of going toe-to-toe with them. The smaller ones could still be annihilated by the full force of a well-placed MAC round though.

"FILSS, find the source of that shot," the grey Freelancer ordered, attempting to steady himself as the ship continued to drift off to the side.

"Complying." There was a brief pause before she answered, "Target acquired." A bright red circle appeared in a seemingly insignificant spec on the planet's surface. One of the ship's cameras magnified and zoomed in on the spec.

Instead of a spec, as they had initially assumed, there was a single orbital defense station floating around Praetor. It was similar in size and scope to the ones seen around Earth, with a gunmetal grey aesthetic and the boxy layout of typical human engineering. It was located roughly one hundred and twenty-five point five kilometers from the planet's surface.

"Wait," Tex called out before Washington could give the order to fire. "Wash, we still don't know anything about this planet."

"Go on," he motioned for her to continue.

Instead it was Church who answered. "We should try to board the station instead. No doubt they'll have intel on the planet below. And something is better than nothing."

Washington looked out at the display, no doubt contemplating the risk of losing the ship versus the reward of making searching the planet easier. Finally, after a few tense seconds, he looked back at the assembled soldiers. "Sarge, Church, Tex, get your teams ready. Carolina, go with them, give them backup."

All four of them nodded and rushed off towards the hangar.


The teams were assembled in the hangar, armed and ready for the drop two minutes after the first MAC round fired. Since then, four other rounds were fired, if the sudden swerving was any indication. Four-Seven-Niner was already in the pilot seat, prepping the ship for takeoff. Each simulation trooper had a jetpack mag-locked to their back.

As soon as they saw the remaining teammates were prepared, they all boarded the transport. The team consisted of Church, Tex, Caboose, Tucker, Sarge, Grif, Simmons, Donut, Lopez, and Carolina. Junior would not be joining them as they did not have a Covenant Ranger suit available for him, Doc figured he'd be better off waiting for the fighting to clear up before joining in since he was a pacifist, and Washington would take control of the ship as it continued to evade the deadly ordnance being fired its way.

The troopers strapped into their safety harnesses as the pelican lifted off. Several long minutes went by in silence as the transport ship propelled its way towards the space station. The team went through what passed for pre-battle rituals as it continued on course. Sarge counted his ammunition repeatedly while Grif sharpened the blade of his brute shot. Simmons was doing a software check on the inside of his helmet as Caboose seemed to stare off into the distance. Tucker was taking the time to stretch his limbs as much as he could, particularly his arms and wrists. Church merely went through a series of breathing exercises and watched Tex out of the corner of his eye. She was staring Carolina directly in the eyes, her body language betraying nothing. Carolina was mirroring her motions.

The dropship's interior suddenly shook. "What the hell was that?" exclaimed Tucker.

"Station's point defense turrets are firing on us," Four-Seven-Niner called out. Another rumble across the hull signaled the ship taking fire. "I won't be able to dodge these shots for long. Get ready to jump on my mark."

"Wait, what does she mean 'jump'?" questioned Simmons. But no one bothered to answer his question and instead disengaged their safety harnesses.

As they made way to the back of the pelican, Carolina turned to ask, "Who knows how to use their jetpack?" Church, Tex, Sarge, and Donut raised their hands. The cyan Freelancer sighed. "Okay, quick tutorial. Your jetpack is controlled via the neural uplink to your helmet. Choose a thought or neural impulse to assign the commands to turn it on and off. Got it?"

"Got it," everyone else answered.

"Alright," she continued. "Be careful with how you use them. Overuse can damage the pack."

"Yeah, or knock your head against the ceiling," commented Church. Tucker gave him a curious look, but refrained from making a snide remark. Now wasn't the appropriate time for that.

The pelican rear door opened and the oxygen in the back compartment got sucked out into space. Things got deathly quiet for the team as their hearing went with it. They could see cannon and machinegun rounds spit past they as Four-Seven-Niner continued to dodge and strafe the turrets' targeting systems.

"Mark."

The pelican dropship lurched suddenly to the side, pivoting its rear compartment to the station while simultaneously decelerating. The team was thrust suddenly out of the troop bay and began accelerating the remaining three thousand meters towards the station. Some of the less prepared sim troopers, namely Grif, Simmons, and Caboose, waved their arms about wildly, trying to get their bearings. Tucker felt himself lose control for a second but regained it just as quickly. Lopez had no trouble as his programming allowed him to adapt seamlessly. The rest flew forward with ease.

They advanced on the station, determination in their eyes. As the continued forward, Church was able to look upon the station more clearly. It had a primary and two secondary hangars, at least half a dozen defensive turrets, a relay station, control tower, and command tower for those directing the MAC cannon. Seeing the number of personnel they had for the assault, he opened a channel to the teams. "Red team, redirect yourselves to the MAC command station at the base of the cannon. Blue team, on me. We're moving to that relay tower-"

"Negative, Blue team," interrupted Carolina, "continue on station towards the control tower. Make sure they don't launch any fighters on the All or Nothing."

"Belay that order, Blue team," barked Tex. "Carolina, what the hell are you doing?"

"Leading this team, Agent Texas," the cyan Freelancer hissed back. "If they launch any fighters, Four-Seven-Niner will be done for alongside the All or Nothing."

"Worry about those fighters later, Agent Carolina," Church interjected. "Our priorities are the MAC gun and getting intel on that planet."

"Then I'm going for the hangar controls. You can continue onto your objective." The line went quiet and Carolina began drifting away from the rest of the group.

"Son of a bitch," the former AI muttered under his breath. He opened a channel again. "Tucker, go after her. Make sure she doesn't get herself killed."

"On it." He saw Tucker move away from the corner of his eye, trailing after the other bluish-green team member.

Once they got within a thousand meters of the station, the Reds and Blues split off. Church couldn't believe Carolina had decided to split off from the group. Now Blue team was down two members, leaving only him, Tex, and Caboose to break into and access the communication tower.

When they got within five hundred meters, Church could see a pane of Plexiglas that gave a view of the comm room. He raised his sniper rifle and fired. Though Plexiglas was typically more than enough for most small firearms and even a few smaller explosives, it still couldn't hold under the intense power of 14.5×114mm armor piercing rounds, which he just so happened to have in abundance. All four rounds found their targets, going straight through the glass and killing four of the room's occupants. He reloaded his weapon as he saw Tex and Caboose capitalize on his actions, firing their Battle Rifle and Assault Rifle respectively. Their rounds didn't go through the covering, but they did increase the amount of cracks there were in the portal.

The Blues smashed through the Plexiglas with the force of their momentum and landed on their feet, built-in gravity boots sticking them to the floor. By the time the room's remaining occupants realized there were intruders, it was already too late. The air in the room immediately got sucked out into the vacuum of space, dragging them out with it. Church heard the Insurrectionists scream in terror as they were flung into the void. Two seconds later an emergency shutter closed around the breach, leaving only the Blues occupying the room.

That was way easier than I thought it would be. Tex moved over to a panel and inserted a data drive into a nearby port. The drive immediately began downloading all of the system's files. Caboose stood guard, his weapon lowered but ready to aim at any potential intruders.

"Alright, we're in," the cobalt sim trooper radioed to the rest of his teammates. "What's your status, people?"


The body of the last Insurrectionist fell, multiple wounds puncturing his chestplate. Sarge pumped his shotgun to cycle the next shell into the firing chamber. The spent shell clattered against the floor.

Across the room, over two dozen enemies, soldier and crew alike, scattered across the floor and control consoles. A handful of the stations had taken heavy damage, blasted by Brute Shot grenades or badly damaged by Simmons's rockets. There were at least one or two craters where Donut had thrown his plasma grenades. None of his team had, thankfully, been hurt. They had taken fire from the enemy, but the rounds largely bounced off their energy shields.

While the All or Nothing was being restocked and retrofitted for use, Agent Washington had taken the time to request armor upgrades and an upgrade station to be put onboard. One of these upgrades was an energy shield for their suits. The energy shields were a welcome addition to the simulation troopers. If there was one thing that could improve the survivability of each and every one of them, it was this singular upgrade. Before it, there had always been a distinct possibility one someone dying from a stray bullet to the head. Hell, if the records were correct, the Freelancers suffered from this same vulnerability back in the day. There were multiple instances where Freelancer Agents had died or nearly died from singular gunshot wounds, from the arms and guts to the throat and head. Now they had a semblance of durability that their normal armor couldn't provide, thus drastically increasing their survivability. And if these firefight proved anything, it was that they'd desperately need it.

Sarge heard the Blue radio in for their status. He brought a hand up to his helmet and tapped his communication device. "MAC control room secured, Church. Moving to disable the system's targeting matrix now." At that, he lowered his hand back to his weapon. "Simmons, Lopez, stop that gun from firing. By any means."

"On it, sir," responded the maroon sim trooper. He and Lopez hurried off to two nearby consoles, furiously tapping away at the keyboards to override the current automatic firing solution the cannon was enacting. Another round fired, signaling the urgency required for the given task.

"Donut, Grif, guard the exit. We don't need any of those dirtbag Innies interrupting us." The remaining squad members nodded in recognition and moved to cover near the single entrance to the room, taking cover behind some crates and aiming their weapons at the door.

"Almost through, just about to shut the hangars clo-Shit," Sarge's radio lit up, the sound of Tucker emanating in his ear.

"Tucker?" It was Church now. "Tucker, what's your status, over?"


One Minute Earlier…

Tucker could see Carolina ahead of him, her jetpack flaring as she boosted with increased speed toward the hangar door. She kept her body angled away from him, poised and ready to engage the enemy the second she was within effective firing range.

He could see her bright blue armor, the layers of armor covering what was ultimately a very attractive woman beneath it. He saw her taut rear pointed at him, and his mouth watered very slightly. It had been way too long since he had properly laid eyes on such a fine woman. Sure, there was Tex, but she had made it very clear a long time ago that she wasn't even remotely interested in him. She only had eyes for Church as far as he was aware, and he wouldn't get between them. Church was his best friend, so he'd leave them well enough alone. Carolina was different though, still similar in many aspects to Tex, but different enough to not be the same person. They were both mean spirited, both rather abrasive, but Carolina had a sort of leadership vibe Tex never possessed, a ferocity that wanted to be released. The way she commanded Blue team just then was proof enough of that.

He shook the thought from his head. Now really wasn't the best time to be admiring a woman's body. That could always come later. He guessed some habits just died hard.

He could see that she had dual plasma rifles attached to her thighs, her hands lingering near them. He could also see that she had chosen to bring a Brute gravity hammer with her, a weapon he was uncomfortably familiar with. It was the only real weapon that could overrule the finesse of the energy sword in melee, its power able to crush heavy armor, whether it was a Spartan's or a tank's. It would pulverize humans like they were nothing.

He focused on their projected flight path, taking in the view of the hangar roughly three hundred meters ahead of them. There were a number of figures arrayed before them, many of them moving about in scattered groups, no doubt attempting to scramble the Broadswords loaded within the hangar. It looked almost like none of them were prepared for their new arrivals. A shame for them.

Tucker activated his energy sword, poised for the incoming fight.

They flew in like a pair of bright blue comets, smashing into the unfortunate crew members that were unaware of their presence. Carolina slammed into two of them, spinning as she brought her gravity hammer around and spun before hitting a large crate, sending it flying towards another group of Insurrectionists in the back. The crate smashed them to a fine red paste. Meanwhile, Tucker landed with a little more finesse, choosing instead to fly past three of them, lobbing their heads off in passing, before cutting through the wing of one of the Broadswords. He flipped over and double kicked another hapless soldier in front of him, sending him flying.

Once his momentum was spent, he landed gracefully on his feet and pulled his DMR from off his back. He lined the reticle of his marksman scope up at the nearest head he could line up and pulled the trigger. The head jerked back, a spray of blood coming out the same direction.

The Blue popped off a handful of other shots before ducking behind a forklift. And not a moment too soon, for he heard multiple shots ping off the metal around him. He peeked his head out to try and get a bead on Carolina.

She wasn't hard to find. In the time it took him to kill those soldiers and get behind cover, she'd soared across the room, smashing down upon clusters of enemies with her hammer and blasting those out of immediate reach with her plasma rifles, leaving smoking holes riddled across their bodies. He saw multiple crates and loading mechanisms scattered about and in various states of disrepair, either bearing scorch marks from the superheated projectile weapons or being dented or otherwise caved in from the brutal melee weapon.

The Freelancer was currently having at it against another dozen or so Innies, spraying them with her dual weapons and catching at least three of them with her hail of firepower while forcing the rest of them to duck down. Almost seamlessly, she holstered the guns and brandished the hammer once more, twisting her body for whilst boosting with the jetpack for additional momentum before smashing the head down upon the remaining squad. They went flying from the resulting shockwave.

She looked graceful, even in the face of combat, if Tucker was being honest with himself. He'd seen many different kinds of fighting styles before, from lightweight martial arts to heavyweight brawling and boxing. He'd seen human musclemen and Elite swordmasters at work, each with a very distinct and unique style of fighting. But he'd never seen someone fight quite like Agent Carolina. She was lithe, she was swift, she was flexible; she was cunning, brutal, and lethal. He'd seen all of those traits before. There was one thing that made her a standout though: she was graceful. Somehow in a way that even the swordsmen and martial artists of the Sangheili weren't, she was graceful. Sure, it wasn't the most artistic or pristine combat he'd ever seen, but the gracefulness in which she approached the fight made her unique. It was smooth and it flowed, even if there was a directness and a brutality to it.

More shots pinged off the forklift next to him, bringing him out of his stupor. He looked around for the source and found three enemies behind a makeshift barricade, one of them on a turret.

He brought his marksman rifle around and fired three times. The shots each found their marks and the soldiers fell, quarter-size holes in their heads. Normally, he would've ducked back to cover as soon as possible, but he had faith that his shield would hold long enough for him to kill them. And they did, if only just, for his shields popped the second the last enemy died.

Tucker ducked back down to reload, making a mental note that even energy shields were easily shredded under heavy machinegun fire.

With one last thunderous boom, the hangar fell silent. Carolina made a three-point landing, her right fist connecting with the ground while a handful of explosive go off behind her, killing the remaining defenders. He suspects she threw grenades at them in the midst of finishing a brawl against another group.

The Freelancer looked up and returned to a more natural stance. "Let's get those doors closed."

Tucker simply nodded and moved to a nearby control panel. He scanned the device for anything that could accomplish such a task. He wasn't really a tech expert, not by a longshot, especially in comparison to Simmons or Sarge. Even Caboose was surprisingly capable with technology. He barely knew how some of the parts of his armor worked at the best of times even after all the years he had it.

As he was scrolling through the option, he saw her taking up a defensive stance, no doubt wary of any potential hostile reinforcements. The glow of the interior lights reflected off of her armor, giving it a rather moonlight look. It looked good on her.

She noticed he was looking at her and he turned away, trying to focus on the task at hand. He continued looking at the buttons and options before him. "Alright, we're in," his radio lit up, Church's voice echoing in his ears. "What's your status, people?"

"MAC control room secured, Church," replied Sarge. "Moving to disable the system's targeting matrix now."

Tucker raised his hand to the sensor-activated earpiece where his ear would be on his helmet. "Almost through. Just about to shut the hangars clo-". Suddenly, a shot whizzed over his head and he reflexively ducked behind the console. "Shit!" he exclaimed.

"Tucker," Church asked, a hint of worry in his voice. "Tucker, what's your status, over?"

"Hostiles are attempting to stop us." He briefly peaked up and fired a small burst of shots at the new squad making their way into the hangar. Even Carolina ducked at the shots being fired at her.

Several seconds of sustained fire hit the console and surrounding machinery. He heard the pings of metal as they struck near his head. He flinched down a bit more.

He waited for the fire to briefly subside before quickly standing up and firing his gun. Carolina fell in sync and unleashed her own fire. The lack of cover proved to be the Insurrectionist's undoing and they fell like the last several squads.

Tucker raised his hand to the radio again. "As I was saying, about to shut the hangars closed now." The second he went back to his previous task, he heard a deep rumble. The Blue looked up and saw a handful of fighters shoot out of the three hangars around the station. Noticing that that was most likely only the first squadron to launch, he redoubled his efforts in finding the option to force the hangar shutters closed. No doubt the first squadron was already on its way to the All or Nothing.

"Move," he heard Agent Carolina say from behind him. He felt a hand on his shoulder before being forcefully pushed to the side. Before he had time to protest, she pressed a button and a massive steel shutter closed behind him. He heard a series of other loud metallic bangs, presumably the other shutters closing around them.

The female Freelancer looked back up at him and merely shook her head in disapproval. Tucker sighed under his helmet before contacting Church once more. "Hangars closed. We'll hold this position until we can find a more permanent solution."

"Roger that," Church affirmed. Without warning, a bright red alarm began to blare, engulfing the entire bay in a crimson hue. "Damn it. Red team, what's your status?"

"Well, good news is the MAC gun's no longer firing," responded Sarge. "The bad news is that-"

"Simmons tripped the self-destruct sequence in the process," Grif finished. He could hear Simmons complaining about how it wasn't his fault in the background. "And the self-destruct sequence consists of a Havok nuke."

A blood-curdling chill fell over Tucker's body, rendering him speechless. He was no expert on the specific weapons of war humanity employed throughout the Human-Covenant War, but he knew well enough what that meant. He knew damn-well enough to know that any sort of weapon with the word 'nuke' in it was very, very bad news for everyone involved. It often sounded a death knell for all those within its blast radius, which they certainly were in. Based on the lack of noise on the channel, he was guessing everyone had arrived at the same conclusion as him: they were all going to die.

"Fuck!" exclaimed each and every member of the team in unison. The channel was overcome by panicked garble as the teams started to lose control of the situation, fear setting in their voices. He couldn't blame them; he was having the same thought process. Here they were, on their way towards finding the man responsible for this whole mess they found themselves in so many years ago, making their first real step of progress, and they were already about to meet death. They hadn't even come close to finding him, to stopping the shitstorm that had brought them all together in the first place. They wouldn't have a life to look forward to, a life to experience, to live. This was the end.

"Everyone, shut up!" The group fell silent, the bark of Tex overcoming their panic and fear. Taking command of the situation, the black-armor Freelancer continued, "Simmons, how much time is left before the bomb goes off?"

Simmons sounded like he was taking a moment to compose himself before responding, "Four minutes."


Tex gave Church a glance as he attempted to come up with a plan for them to avoid utter destruction. She trusted him to do that much. In all honesty, there was very little he trusted her to do these days. Where once she didn't trust him to do anything of value other than provide information, now she felt she could almost trust him with her life. That was partly what love was, according to several therapeutic articles she had read a while back while trying to find a way to mend what was largely a broken relationship between her and Leonard. She hadn't thought much about it at the time, but now it seemed to show through. She trust him to do the right thing, to make the right decision.

"If we try making our way to the All or Nothing, we'll never escape the blast radius, even if Four-Seven-Niner picked us up. Trying to disarm it would take too long and it would be too risky. However," she heard him hesitate, "knowing what I know about this planet's gravitational pull and the benefits of the new energy shields we've acquired, we're down to one option."

"And what's that?" she inquired, trying to get him to keep going.

"We jump out the nearest airlock and allow the planet's gravity to pull us away from the station before the nuke detonates."

Another moment of stunned silence followed. What Church suggested had to be the most insane plan any of them had ever had. None of them had that kind of experience before save perhaps Sarge, but even he had been protected by a drop pod. And he always claimed he was never comfortable with jumps even with them.

"It'll work," Simmons called over the radio.

"Are you serious?" That was Tucker calling out in exasperation.

"Positive," the geeky Red continued. "Based on what we know, that the gravity of Praetor is the same as that of Earth, the acceleration caused by us falling will allow us to escape the HAVOK nuke's blast radius. If the Innies have the nuke set to maximum yield, that'll put the blast at a range of one hundred kilometers. And if we let gravity pull us when we jump, we should be able to clear the blast zone in a little over one hundred and forty seconds."

"Exactamente ciento cuarenta y dos punto ocho segundos [Exactly one hundred and forty-two-point eight seconds]," replied Lopez. As usual, he continued to speak in Spanish.

"Barely under two-and-a-half minutes," Church clarified. "It's risky, but it's the only option we've got.

"Well I hate to bust your bubble," interrupted Sarge, "but if what you say is true, we have a little under a minute to jump then."

With that, the line went dead, each team scrambling to find a way off the station. For Carolina and Tucker, it was pretty easy, needing only to open the hangar shutters before simply falling through the energy field keeping the air from escaping the ship. They did so at the three minute mark.

Red team made their way over to a nearby docking port meant for capital ships. There was already a prehacked terminal, the same one they used to initially get into the facility. It took naught but two button presses from Lopez to open it again, this time to go the opposite way they came. When the team opened the door and rushed out the airlock, the clock struck at two minutes and fifty-five seconds.

Getting out would be the hardest for Blue team as their way in was blocked by an emergency shutter. Instead, they had to resort to going one of many sets of escape pods lined around the facility. From there, Church forced the pods to launch and they opened the now empty tubes with a series of explosives. Once the door shattered, the air in the room got sucked out. They disengaged their magnetic boots and allowed the strong gust of oxygen to suck them out. They left at the two minutes and forty-two second mark.

As they began falling towards the planet, Church could see the faint outlines of the other team: a mass of red and reddish dots three hundred meters to his right and a pair of bright blue dots roughly five hundred meters below. Above him, Praetor glistened in the sunlight like a disco ball.

He felt the gravity of the planet begin to tug at him and he accelerated away from the station, aiming his body towards it like a spear. Barely fifteen seconds had passed when he looked back up and noticed just how small the station already was.

They continued falling for an additional fifteen seconds when their radios flared to life. "Anyone call for a ride?" Off to the side, the unmistakable shape of Four-Seven-Niner's dropship came into view, its engines burning at maximum throttle as it attempted to catch up with the freefalling soldiers.

The pelican came close enough for him to actually see the details of the ship itself, the rectangular engines, the bulbous cockpit, the steel paintjob. He could even make out the nose gun with how fast it was approaching.

He saw the ship drift towards Red team first, its bay door opening and allowing them access. They took the chance gleefully and gradually drifted inside. The going felt painfully slow as they disappeared into the ship little by little, until only Simmons and Donut were left.

And that's when he saw them. They looked like just pieces of debris, maybe even some satellites, but it was hard to tell. They were obscured by the mass of the Pelican. However, upon further, they weren't debris or satellites or anything of that nature. A realization dawned on Church. Those were the Broadswords that had launched earlier.

"Four-Seven-Niner, you have hostile fighters at your four o'clock! Evade, I say again, evade!" The flashes of autocannon fire quickly followed his warning, and the pelican jerked abruptly to the side, the rounds barely missing its hull.

Now that the pelican had moved out of the way, he got a chance to see what they were up against. There were four of them in total, two of them running as a tag-team based on their proximity to each other. The other two looked like they were running solo.

A rocket went zooming up at one of them and it barrel rolled, allowing the projectile to fly harmlessly past it. That was no doubt Simmons doing his best to destroy the machines. But they were flying at hundreds to thousands of miles per hour and his rocket launcher was designed for ground and slower air targets, not fast air or space ships.

One of the ships spun again as a second rocket came flying out the back of the pelican. He had to think fast, as they were at the minute-and-twenty-five-second mark before the nuke would go off and they still hadn't quite escaped the blast zone yet.

He loaded a magazine of armor-piercing rounds and tried firing at one of the fighters' cockpits. The shot pinged harmlessly off of the ship's reinforced hull, the body jerking around too much for him to get a good bead on the cockpit or engines. He had to find a way to get them still.

One of the fighters directed itself towards him and began firing the autocannons. There was no way the machine's targeting software could lock onto anything smaller than a banshee, much less a human-sized target, but that didn't stop its pilot from trying. Church boosted his jetpack and tumbled to the side, avoiding the stream of heavy firepower. It only took a shot or two for those cannons to absolutely obliterate him. And he wasn't an AI anymore, so death seemed that much more tangible and real than it ever did back at Blood Gulch. Tex and Caboose did likewise, evading like their life depended on it.

The remaining fighters continued to fire at the descending pelican. Church saw the ship tumble and roll, a rocket intermittently firing from the back. Without really thinking about it, he snapped his rifle off to one of them and pulled the trigger. The shot whizzed through the empty space and struck one of the Broadsword's engines, causing it to explode. He saw the ship wobble from the loss of control in its propulsion as it spun from another rocket being fired at it. Its pilot must've overestimated his skills, for he flew too far to the side and crashed into another of its brethren. A fiery explosion went off from the collision of the ships.

The former AI checked his suit's timer in the corner of his HUD. His eyes widened and his pupils dilated. Detonation in 10

"Everyone," he called out frantically over his radio, "get to the pelican! NOW!" The Blues and Freelancers made an immediate beeline towards the dropship, attempting to dodge the incoming firepower in the process. But they were almost out of time. They were so close to the edge of the blast zone, but nuclear weapons also emitted a devastating shockwave with them when detonated. That was still really, really bad for them, especially for a smaller ship like the pelican.

He sped his way closer, his heart pounding in his ears as he sailed across the empty void. He was so close, yet so far. He could see Simmons, Donut, and Lopez strapped into their safety harnesses, watching the Blues approach in anticipation. He saw Sarge leaning out of the troop bay, hand outstretched toward Caboose, the closest out of all of them. Grif wasn't with them, instead most likely helping copilot the pelican alongside Four-Seven-Niner.

5…

Caboose grabbed the Red's hand and was hauled into the ship.

4…

Tex was next, her jetpack accelerating her past Sarge and into the front. She landed gracefully before turning to face him, still outside the ship.

3…

Church boosted himself forward, watching out of the corner of his eye as Tucker and Carolina did likewise. By the looks of it, they'd all reach the ship at the same time.

2…

Tex stood next to Sarge, gripping the side of the troop compartment with one hand, and reaching out to him with the other. She was so close now, he could almost touch her.

1…

He felt his gauntlet brush against hers, fingertips sliding against one another.

0.

For a brief moment, there was a second star over Praetor, an incredible flash of light lighting up over a hundred kilometers above the planet's surface. It had engulfed the defense station wholesale and when it had dissipated, there was nothing left. The Reds and Blues wouldn't know or care about that at the moment.

In the same moment the nuke went off, a massive shockwave ripped across space. The pelican the simulation troopers had occupied shuddered and was knocked haphazardly off its original route. It began spinning in a way it should not.

Church was knocked away from Tex. Her eyes widened in horror as he went flying away from them, away from her.

"LEONARD!" she screamed in terror as he continued to plummet to the planet. In that moment, all thoughts of self-preservation flew right out the window. She desperately, desperately wanted to jump out of the ship and fly right after him. But the shockwave threw her to the front of the troop compartment instead. Her back slammed against the wall.

At the same time, Tucker and Carolina were struck by the shockwave as well, sending themselves spiraling downward. However, they were going off in a different direction from both the Reds and Blues and Church.

Four-Seven-Niner desperately struggled against the controls, the ship's instruments blaring in alarm at the sudden surge of power and energy hitting it. Below she could see nothing but mountains and valleys, various hues of white and grey taking up the viewport. Their altitude continued to drop rapidly and she pulled hard on the joystick, attempting to decelerate them before they'd become a meteor and crash with the same impact.

Their altitude fell further and further, the number on their Heads-Up Display getting smaller and smaller.

In their comms channel, as they were seconds away from landing, Carolina shouted, "F.I.L.S.S., engage 'Armor Lockdown' now!"

Church tensed as the ground neared, waiting for the inevitable, as Sheila responded. "Complying. Engaging 'Armor Lockdown'." Everything went black.


Aaaaaaaaand cliffhanger. Man, that was quite a busy chapter, with the arrival to the first planet, the destruction of an orbital defense platform, and escaping the blast radius of a Havok nuke. Anyone who knows about Halo lore will know how dangerous those things can be. I'm really proud of how well I was able to integrate Halo lore into this fic, showing the difference between pre- and post- Human-Covenant War UNSC ships and technology.

One thing that always struck me as odd through all of Red vs Blue was how the Freelancers survived as long as they did without energy shields, because they had no shields in all of Red vs Blue. You can clearly see it whenever someone gets hit by a single shot from a rifle. Their shields don't flare up or pop, they spurt blood instead. The bubble shield doesn't could since its a piece of equipment, not a universal armor enhancement. Well, I figured now would be a good time to give the Freelancers, Reds, and Blues a much-needed upgrade. It'll up their level of durability, something they will no doubt need.

Fun fact 1: I looked up the blast radius of a Havok nuke and was given three different answers for the blast radius: 44 km, 318 km, and 100 km. I chose to use 100 km to give enough tension but not seem too ridiculous or hard to believe. I also came up with the number for how long the Reds and Blues would need by plugging that number into a gravitational acceleration calculator. Because I'm that nerdy and that much of a stickler for 'realism' in a science fiction story.

Fun fact 2: If you plug in the distance of the space station from Praetor's surface (roughly 150 km) into that same acceleration calculator, the time it would take to close that gap would be 160 seconds, the time it would take to play 'Falling Towards the Sky' by Jeff Williams. Play it to immerse yourself in the experience.

Please Read and Review! I'd like to know what you all thought of this brand new chapter! Thank you!