“I am James… Spartan 005, rank: Petty Officer Second Class…”

It was all I could think. Flying through the cold blackness of space, surrounded by debris and plasma fire; damn Covenant.

“I am James… Spartan 005, rank: Petty Officer Second class…”

The comms in my Mark V Mjolnir battle armor had long since gone dead; besides, talking to nobody would only deplete my already limited oxygen reserve even more. This was the kind of death CPO Mendez had never prepared me for… Us for… At least the Covenant we can fight.  I chuckled… The damn Covenant, fucking reason we were sent here in the first place.

“I am James… Spartan 005, rank: Petty Officer Second Class…”

I looked through my gold-tinted MARK V helmet’s visor, happy for once that I could enjoy the luxury of a somewhat wider field of vision than the standard-issue ODST trooper helmets; in a non-tactical situation… Might as well enjoy the view before I died.

“I am James… Spartan 005, rank: Petty Officer Second Class…”

I’ve always been calm and collected, the kinda guy who becomes a rock under fire, and you know what? I think I’m okay with this… I die so that others may live, as is my mission.

“I am James… Spartan 005, rank: Petty Officer Second Class…”

Deep breaths… The air is hardly breathable now, the stale taste of the recycled oxygen mixing with the ripe tang of the sweat dripping down my nose, caused by the boiling globs of plasma passing me by on all sides.

“I am James… Spartan 005, rank: Petty Officer Second Class…”

Fuck that… I’ve always also been the persistent one, haven’t I? The one who ALWAYS got the mission done, no matter the cost; there has to be a way for me to get outta this mess… Join John and Linda again, fuck up those Covvies who put me in this mess…

“I am James… Spartan 005, rank: Petty Officer Second Class…”

It’s easy… Just raise my right arm, the one blown off years ago in that skirmish with those hunters; flesh replaced by a shiny titanium robotic prosthetic. That was the first time humanity had ever seen a hunter pair… They had given me this, and while it increased my already inhuman strength and response times, and I could still ‘feel’ it, and the things I manipulated with it; it just wasn’t the same. Before I could thumb the emergency release valve for the tank the Covvies didn’t manage to hit, I’m thrown forwards by something… I look up, and smirk. At least I didn’t have to wait much longer to die now…

A slipspace window was opening up right on top of me, pulling me towards the event horizon. I craned my neck around, and watched as an old Halcyon-class cruiser made the jump – outer hull rocketing by inches from my faceplate.

A wave of nausea hits me, and I resist the urge to vomit inside my helmet as I’m pulled in through the event horizon; eyes involuntarily flicking upwards to the top left hand corner of my HUD, as I wait for my shields to drain, and my molecules to be ripped apart from the transition…

But it doesn’t happen. Instead, I begin to hear the telltale beeping that indicates my armor’s shields are at half strength, and feel my stomach lurch as I’m transitioned back into normal space. My stomach lurches, and I can’t help but cough up a little bile; immediately and grimly swallowing it back down again; the taste coating the back of my mouth and throat, making me want to throw up more.

My eyes shifted around, taking in my surroundings. Where was I? Instead of being surrounded by globules of plasma, and molten titanium, I was now in clean-space; the glare of the new system’s only sun beaming in through my visor as it rose over a foreign planet’s outer edge. Single moon, single planet, single sun… Oh boy.

Shields slowly charging, I glanced down at the unfamiliar green and brown continents below, noting that it faintly reminded me of the somewhat familiar blocky shapes of Earth’s continents. The only memory I have being holo stills our old teacher, Déjà the AI, had shown to my fellow Spartan IIs and I during our training at CASTLE base, Reach. I activated the 5x zoom on my visor, astonished to be able to make out the shapes of small towns and cities; which were quickly becoming obscured by a faint reddish glow, and the sparking of my energy shields as I entered the atmosphere. Whatever this place was, it definitely wasn’t one of the many UNSC outposts, or even human colony worlds.

No time to admire the planet, gotta act if I want to save my skin. I chinned the small set of controls in my helmet, showing me the status of the thruster pack still strapped to my back. No reading for tank two - no surprises there though, seeing as that was the tank hit by the needler fire. Tank one showed 25% full, enough to angle my descent so I wouldn’t be burned up. Plus I still had the two reserve tanks, not enough to stop me before I hit the ground; but enough to slow me down enough for the absorbent gel-layer in my suit to take most of the impact. I chinned another control, diverting maximum energy field strength around my bottom half, while at the same time altering my position so I was dropping in feet first. I’d have to alter trajectory again once I reached the lower atmosphere, but for now this would prevent me from burning up in the atmosphere. Jumping feet first into hell had taken on a whole new meaning.

My teeth rattled and I almost blacked out as I entered the upper atmosphere and hit the sound barrier, cirrus clouds whipping past my helmet, still encased in a red-hot ball of fire as the friction from my entry burned the atmosphere around me. Warning alarms went off in my helmet, as my shields dropped lower… 25%... 15%... 10%... Then another warning light and alarm started blaring, and I grunted as the valve popped on the primary tank, sending me spinning out of control and onto my back; the heat penetrating the hard Titanium-A casing and causing my back to blister. I fired the first emergency thruster canister, the shock jolting me with enough force to break the spine, or at least fracture the ribs on any normal human. I was lucky I survived the augmentation process; my carbide-ceramic coated bones would survive… Just.

A little altimeter popped up on my HUD as I began decelerating slightly thanks to my first emergency canister; It read 10,000 feet, and I sighed to myself. This canister, I knew, would only last until I was approximately 6,000 feet above the ground, then my second would only last until I was approximately 500 feet above ground; leaving me 500 feet of freefall to contend with. Enough for my gel-layer to absorb, but it was about to get very bumpy.

At 6,000 feet the second canister fired automatically, jolting me back across the sound barrier so I was again travelling subsonic. I slowly braced myself as the altimeter clocked downwards; first at 5,000, 4,000, 3,000 ft… Then as I reached 500ft, my stomach rose as I began accelerating again; the second canister had cut out. I closed my eyes; awaiting the eventual jarring thud that would put me out; hopefully not for good. But it came sooner than I expected.

With a deafening roar, and a series of sickening crunches and snaps, my armored body slammed through concrete and stone before plunging into a pool of water; which vaporized as the white hot titanium came in contact with it. I had one good look at a pile of rubble, which was spread around me; in and around the 10 ft crater I had created. It looked like the remains of a large ornate fountain and cobblestone surrounds, which was all I could discern before darkness rolled over my vision and I blacked out.

---

James awoke, feeling the slight chill of a morning air fill his lungs. He sighed in relief, at least the suit hadn’t been damaged; it had probably recognized an oxygen-nitrogen atmosphere and opened the external breathing filters on the sides of his helmet. He sucked in the chilling air, and winced as he experienced a stabbing sensation in his left side. Bruised ribs, great.

He moved slowly at first, just his eyes, reading the multiple damage reports being displayed on his HUD. Miraculously, James’ shield generator was still functional, although to his dismay the rest of the suit was unresponsive, having begun diagnostics- meaning he couldn’t move for another five minutes. James mentally kicked himself, realizing that he should’ve realized this sooner; considering he could feel both his arms stuck outwards, fingers splayed in what could only be called a comical fashion. His facelate hadn’t depolarized either, stuck at maximum after his hot entry. Other than that though, the only things damaged were his motion tracker and thruster pack… But the thruster pack was already shot to hell before he landed. Damn Covenant.

James chinned another control, manually toggling the visor’s polarization down to a more manageable level; what he saw at the edge of the crater astounded him. Hordes of multicolored… Horses? Were they horses? No… smaller than horses, ponies… But their faces were too short, too round. They each stood about three feet tall, differently styled multicolored manes flapping in a slight breeze. Almost all of them had a set of strange tattoos on their flanks, each one seemingly unique. Steam still hissed off James’ Mark V Mjolnir armor, trails of it lazily floating into the crowd of equines as they gazed baffled down at him. He smiled slightly inside his visor… What a sight he must be, nine-foot-tall metal man as heavy as maybe 20 of them combined; one night he drops from the sky into their midst.

“No, fuck. I must be dreaming… No, I can’t be dreaming.”

James tried activating the comms again, but was greeted only by static. Figures. Wherever he was, he wasn’t in UNSC controlled space anymore… Perhaps not even Covenant territory either? He hadn’t seen any ships as he had entered the planet’s gravity well… So whatever these things were, they probably weren’t a threat; otherwise they’d have already neutralized him by now.

A low beep, followed by a loud thud as his heavy arms fell to the floor; prosthetic jerking around like a fish out of water before it lay still.

“Must be more damaged than I thought.”

James started by moving my head slightly; muttering to himself inside the soundproof helmet:

“Take it slow, James… Just like when you first got it.  Don’t want to break yourself.”

Slowly, he got up; shrugging off the burnt out and bulky thruster pack as he did. The - what did Déjà call them? ponies? - all stepped back, and a few even bolted as he rose to his full armored height of almost nine feet, prosthetic hanging limply to one side; unresponsive to his commands. Subconsciously, James had to stop himself from reaching for his MA5B Assault rifle, knowing it had been lost when that Covvie landed a lucky shot on his thruster pack; James could’ve reached for the M6D strapped to his leg, which had miraculously survived the fall but he didn’t want to piss them off. Small as they were, there was only one of him and hundreds of them. If they were anything like the grunts of the Covenant as well; James didn't stand a chance; sure, he’d probably take out most of them, but eventually numbers would win out.

They all stood there, staring at each other; unsure of what to do, before a little yellow pony with a red mane stepped forward. Large orange eyes stared into James’ faceplate, and he noticed a ridiculous pink bow tying up its mane, which bobbed with it as it fearlessly walked up to him. It slowly extended a hoof, jabbing the top of his helmet, as one would if they were testing the water of a bath or spa before jumping in. James stood there, letting it run a hoof over the still slightly steaming alloy that made up his helmet’s visor. It overbalanced, and almost toppled head over heels into the crater James had made, but he shot out his left hand; enhanced reflexes allowing him to save the little horse from toppling into the crater below. The ponies gasped at that one, how his hand had been able to move so quickly; seemingly by James’ side one second and immediately occupying the space in front of the smaller pony (which he assumed to be one of their young) in less time that it took to blink.

“Uhh… Thanks… Mister?”

James blinked, then chuckled; gesture unnoticeable inside the soundproof helmet and behind his gold visor. He really shouldn’t be surprised that the ponies could speak, they had after all created an entire town, not to mention all the cities he’d noticed in orbit. Still, they could speak English? It couldn’t be a coincidence; then again it was a small universe.

James gently pushed the filly (he had devoted some of his brain to remembering Déjà’s lessons on earth animals, plus he had concluded from her voice that this one was female) back up onto the ledge, before slowly grabbing the still jerking right arm and chinning on his external speakers.

“Hang on a sec.”

He was startled by the loudness of his own voice, having just spent the past six or seven hours floating through space; nothing but his own thoughts to accompany him. Apparently a few of the other ponies were spooked, as more bolted when they heard him speak. What he did next sent the rest of them running. He tapped a few controls on the malfunctioning arm, and yanked it free from the socket; needles that stuck into his arm, keeping it attached to and working with his nervous system rapidly shrinking back into their individual housings like the legs of a dying spider. All but the little filly, and three fully grown ponies – two were pegasi; one was grey with a blonde mane and golden eyes (which were pointing in different directions), the other cyan-blue with a mane all the colors of the rainbow. The last one was like the ponies on earth, the ones that Déjà had familiarized him with the most; this one was orange with a blonde mane and tail both done up in a functional ponytail. He was pretty sure pegasi were mythological beasts… Then again, small universe.

James pulled the serrated combat knife from his chest sheath, working the tip into the screw holding shut the maintenance panel; a quick manual reset should solve the problem. He flicked open the panel, touched a few buttons with his massive gauntleted fingers and closed it back up again, satisfied as the arm began flexing seemingly on its own. After about a minute of this, he re-attached the limb to himself, not even twitching as the eight needles slid back into the stump where his real arm used to be, locking the titanium limb in place. He flexed it experimentally and wiggled his fingers about, digits moving faster than the naked eye could capture.

“Spartan 005 – James, Rank: Petty Officer Second class, UNSC Navy.”

“Beggin your pardon?” questioned the orange mare, who was quivering slightly where she stood.

James pulled his massive bulk out of the crater one-handed, bringing his full armored nine-foot height to ground level, towering over the ponies. Maybe a bit more menacingly than he intended, after all; he didn’t want this first contact to go as badly as did on Harvest. He kneeled, and even though he still loomed over the equines by at least two feet, it was better than five.

“My designation, Spartan 005: Rank Petty Officer Second Class of the United Nations Space Command Navy. My name is James, pleased to meet you.”

For good measure, he held out another massive gauntleted hand towards the orange pony, who backed away even farther. He held the hand out for a few seconds longer, before dropping it with a slight sigh.

James thought about it, and even though it broke every reg in the book, it would go a long way to smooth the situation. He slowly twisted the MARK V helmet and pulled it free from his head, before transferring it to his left hand letting it and the helmet drop to his side. The sun played across his pale skin, a byproduct of being in the odd green Mjolnir battle armor for the greater part of the last ten years. His M6 pistol had survived the fall, as it had been strapped to his hip and therefore protected from most of the entry by his energy shields. He unholstered it and unsheathed the large bowie knife on his chest, laying them slowly at his feet along with the helmet.

“I am unarmed,” he calmly stated, holding his gauntleted hand out again to the orange one. Before she could shake it however, the rainbow one came to her senses.

“WHAT IN THE HAY ARE YOU!?” it screamed and flew at him, hooves outstretched.

James threw back on the helmet, energy shield blazing to life over his translucent green Mjolnir armor as the helmet sealed with the rest of his suit. His training kicked in, and he braced himself for a blow, whipping up his knife at the same time… The blow never came.

“Hol’ on there sugarcube!” the orange pony exclaimed, slightly muffled due to the rainbow-maned one’s tail filling her mouth. “Let’s hear him out ‘afore we jump to conclusions.”

James stood there, still braced for a second, before dropping his left arm and again peeling the helmet from his head and re-sheathing his knife. This time, the orange mare (again, he assumed mare because of her voice) held out a hoof to shake. He took it as lightly as he could with his right hand, seeing her wince slightly as metal met velvet-soft fur; not to mention that ‘lightly’ for a Spartan was still enough to make powder of something delicate.

“Ahm Applejack… You shure are a big fellar ain’t ya?”

“What she’s TRYING to say is, who… WHAT are you, and WHY did you destroy half our town square?!”

James turned his head slightly, surveying the crater he had left; it looked as though a giant had gouged out the town square. He hadn’t hit the ground straight on, instead at an angle to dissipate the force; where he had first made contact with the ground, the crater was only about a foot deep, quickly becoming deeper until the ruins of what was a town fountain. At that point where he had ended up the crater was 10ft deep, concrete and cobblestone strewn messily all over the place…

This is where he noticed it. A midnight black tail, streak of purple running through it and covered in dust was poking slightly out from underneath a large slab of concrete slab; the size of a Warthog LRV. The slab was surrounded in a lavender aura of light, and he could see the tail still moving slightly; accompanied by a soft groaning and ragged breathing. James took one massive stride over to the Warthog-sized block, throwing both hands underneath the thing and flipping it out of the way with as little effort as one would a pillow or sack of feathers. Underneath, he beheld a barely conscious lavender unicorn looking up at him, disheveled and fear in her eyes. She was bleeding from a large puncture in her flank, presumably where a smaller piece of concrete had impacted and buried itself deep inside her flesh. She had obviously been trying somehow to keep the large slab from crushing her throughout the night, unnoticed by anyone until now.

James pulled open the med kit on his other hip and yanked out a can of biofoam. He ripped his knife free and plunged it into the wound, digging the small fractured pieces of concrete free from the pony with blinding speed and precision. At the same time he pulled the pin from the biofoam canister and flicked the spoon, inserting the nozzle into the now shrapnel-free wound before the spoon clattered to the ground. The unicorn cried out weakly as the stinging antiseptic self-sealing biofoam poured into the wound, setting into a hard sort of cast as it did. The canister expended, he crushed the steel and threw it to the ground with a metallic protest, before gently picking up the quivering unicorn and turning to the others. Cradling her near-unconscious form in his massive arms, he looked up at the other ponies, who were all staring at him, mouths open.

“She needs a surgeon, the biofoam won’t hold forever,” he stated calmly, being careful not to crush the smaller body against his massive chest.

He knew for a fact that this one was a she, having had to glimpse over ‘that area’ in his damage assessment. An old lesson of Déjà’s on animal physiology had begun playing in his head, and he was pretty sure that the other ponies by the crater, mythological or not, were also female; he could tell by the slimmer body type.

“This way!” the orange one who had identified herself as ‘Applejack’ shouted, before galloping off towards a small building with a medical cross on the front, about 500 meters away. The Spartan pulled his helmet back on with his robotic arm, being careful to adjust the lighter animal’s weight into the crook of his left before sprinting full pelt after the orange one; easily outstripping her at his top speed of 105 km/h, a speed usually only reserved for emergency situations. This was due to the huge chance he would tear his Achilles tendon if maintained for more than 30 seconds. He came to a sliding stop a few inches from the door, being careful to keep the pony still cradled in his arms perfectly still relative to the ground. Kicking the door open, he winced slightly as the heavy oak door flew off its hinges and embedded itself in a wall five meters away.

James squeezed inside and into a back room, where he was immediately accosted by another female pony wearing a nurse’s hat and a male unicorn wearing a set of round reading glasses and a necktie around his neck. The marks on their flanks were something to do with medicine, the female’s a simple cross, and the male’s a red caduceus; he reasoned he was in the right place as he lay the gasping unicorn down on a medical bed, moving aside at the two ponies rushed to her side.

“Shrapnel wound, left flank; removed the shrapnel with my knife, then cleaned and bandaged the wound,” James said calmly as the male unicorn looked at him, a mix of fear, intrigue and confusion in his eyes.

The nurse looked fearfully at the nine-foot metal man, before shrugging it off then looking at the doctor questioningly; after all, strange WAS in her job description.

“Wh-what happens now?”

The doctor pulled on a ridiculous set of red rubber gloves and donned a lab coat.

“Now?” he asked back in a ridiculous German accent, chuckled and continued, “Let’s go practice medicine…”

The doctor’s horn glowed red, and James watched in astonishment as the hard biofoam cast levitated out of the wound, the purple unicorn’s flesh knitting back together until it was as if she had never been injured. The paste made up of fur, concrete dust and blood covering her quickly vanished and she was left sitting there, sparkling clean and breathing returning to normal.

“Ughhhh, wha? Whahappa?” she tried to say, before the nurse shoved a small glass of water in her face; the doctor trotted into the front office, whistling happily as he did so.

James took this as his chance to leave; judging by the mixed reaction to his presence, maybe it was best to make himself scarce for now. While he would’ve preferred it if he hadn’t been spotted by half the residents of the town, his best tactical option now WAS a swift retreat.

Slinking out of the room, he located the back door, unnoticed by the occupied nurse and heavy armored feet somehow barely making a sound on the smooth wooden floor. The door creaked open at his touch, revealing a small fenced off area behind the clinic, a meadow with a forest bordering it behind that.  Crossing open ground while trying to slink away quietly - not exactly a wonderful idea.

James sighed, hopped the fence and sprinted, knowing full well that his body would pay dearly for the motion, though he held back from his top speed of 105 km/h; again, he didn’t want to tear an Achilles tendon. He probably should’ve gone back and destroyed the t-pack, but he reasoned that it was pretty thoroughly damaged as it was.

The huge armored Spartan tore up the soft ground as he ran, kicking up a spray of turf and grass, the detritus flying out behind him and the ground reverberating with his thundering footfalls.  He turned his head slightly and looked back as he heard a faint voice shouting at him, too far to make out anything coherent. He engaged the 5x zoom on his visor, watching as the orange pony from before began chasing him down determined to catch him, despite his extreme lead and speed. Smiling as he turned his head back to the path ahead, his eyes widened and he jumped without thinking, barely clearing a small cottage that had seemingly appeared out of nowhere. His shields flared, and he winced as he fell on top of a table, his just over half-ton weight easily demolishing the small piece of furniture with a loud cracking and flurry of splinters. He rolled to disperse the impact, jumping back to his feet and almost plowing into a small chicken coop. Darting around it, he plunged into the thick leafy trees beyond and slowed to a quick walk, keeping his pace light and stealthy as he melded into the strange forest.