//------------------------------// // Feet First Into Hell // Story: They Call Themselves Spartans // by Cadet Sparkle //------------------------------// Jericho-G252 “Jericho, you okay?” Skylar asked. Instantly, Jericho focused his gaze to his comrade who was standing in front of the exit to the long corridor as she broke his thought chain. He stood up from the wall and took his helmet off. Either he was deep into his rather… violent thoughts (did teenagers normally have these kinds of thoughts?) or Skylar was the sneakiest Spartan he’d ever met if he hadn’t noticed her appear in front of him, especially when her helmet wasn’t even on. "Don’t worry about it, it’s... nothing,” Jericho sighed as if he had never had those thoughts, “how’d you know it was me standing here?” Skylar let an ODST pass in front of her before walking closer to Jericho. “I recognized how zoned out you looked.You’ve been doing that a lot lately.” Jericho stayed silent, realizing how often he’d been doing that. He was sure other Spartans did that as well. Ever since everyone received augmentations, their actions had changed drastically. Perhaps it was a habit? “Anyways, here,” Skylar gave a small smile as she tossed an energy bar over to Jericho, which he caught shortly after, “I got that from a vending machine a while ago.” She probably kicked the machine until something came out, Jericho thought, ...scratch that. She probably hacked it instead. Jericho held the energy bar in front of him. On the front of the bar contained the words “HOOAH! Nutritious Booster Bar” and the words “Peanut Butter flavored”. The Spartan flipped the bar over and looked at the nutrients it had in it: 270 calories, 9 grams of fat, 10 grams of protein, and 41 grams of carbohydrates. Jericho let out a small laugh. That wasn’t much for a Spartan, let alone an ODST. With how fast a Spartan’s metabolism was, it would take more than an energy bar to actually fill him up. It was nice of Skylar to buy him food, even if he had a whole pack of MREs waiting for him in the armored rucksack they issued him. At least she had gotten him a flavor he liked. “Thanks, but I’ve already had my breakfast,” Jericho said and put in in an armored pocket on his left leg, “I might as well save it for later.” Skylar nodded. “Come on, walk with me. The drop is about to start soon,” she said as she motioned her hands to start moving down the hallway. Obliging to Skylar’s words, Jericho started walking next to Skylar. That may as well have been the last time they could ever really have a true conversation, at least to their standards. “Time?” Skylar asked, looking at Jericho for a few seconds before looking forward again. Jericho put his SPI helmet on, making a click sound as it sheltered his head for a brief moment. The Spartan looked at his HUD. “Eleven forty-five hours,” Jericho said, taking his helmet back off, “ we got fifteen minutes left.” Jericho felt more confident about what he was going to do if and when his SOEIV hit the ground. After all, Jericho and his detachment of Spartans were received deployment orders to assist one of the best ODST units: the 105th Shock Troops Division. They were “Helljumpers”, as these ODSTs called themselves. It was best to assume that most of the men in that room had been shot down from space at least twice. And with the addition of Gamma also being trained for orbital drops 2 years ago, there was a good chance that the Spartans would come out of it alive. They were gonna show how tough Spartans really could be. The two came to a halt when they reached Jericho’s drop pod and started preparing their materials for the mission. Kneeling down, Jericho placed his SPI helmet on the ground. He opened his armored rucksack, making sure everything his squad needed was there: food, water, and medical supplies. Technically, he was the pack mule of his squad. “Never accept a ‘who’s stronger?’ challenge from an ODST,” Jericho said to himself quietly. “It’s your fault for being the ‘toughest Spartan’ in Gamma,” Skylar said walking towards a nearby weapons rack. She was obviously referring to the words spoken to Jericho by Lieutenant Ambrose, Gamma’s company’s commanding officer. The female Spartan took a DMR equipped with a silencer from the weapons rack. “So. How do you feel about the new body armor?” she asked. Jericho carried his armored rucksack over to the weapons rack Skylar was at. “SPI? It isn’t MJOLNIR armor, but I think it’ll work just fine,” he said as he put several boxes of M6G ammo in the rucksack, “besides, those suits don’t even have Active camo installed in them.” The thought of moving around the battlefield like a phantom sounded very exciting, especially for Spartans from Gamma company. Even if the cool down time was drastically longer compared to the Covenant's Active camo systems, Jericho knew he'd enjoy the feeling. "Hmm," Skylar said as she aimed her Designated Marksman Rifle at an angle towards the ground, "SPI armor is about as useful as ODST BDUs. They’re gonna be shit in battle in my opinion.” “To each their own, I suppose,” Jericho said, strapping the armored rucksack onto his back. The Spartan grabbed a Magnum silencer as well as an M45 Tactical Shotgun from a weapons rack nearby, which he attached to the back of his rucksack. He looked at Skylar as she held the DMR in her arms and walked back to her drop pod which was next to his own pod and another Spartan named Ocaen-G207, a Crewman, who was preparing for the deployment as well. Apparently, Ocaen was the third Spartan in his squad. Like the majority of the Spartans from Gamma, Ocaen was 14-years-old, his strength and reflexes were enhanced after the augmentations, he was fairly well at academics, he was short, he had the body of an Olympic gold athlete, his skin was cream colored like Jericho’s, he had a regulation styled haircut that was as brown as a hazelnut and like all Spartans in Gamma company, he was an orphan; a volunteer of the program. Jericho didn’t know Ocaen too well to consider him a friend, but rather an acquaintance. Both of them were assigned as partners with each other during the UNSC Marine Corps martial arts program phase for 8 months. During that time, of course, he had been called “Nazi” by Ocaen once or twice because of his blonde hair and blue eyes. Jericho didn’t really mind that; he was even told by his instructors that he had a bit of German blood. Other than that, he knew nothing of his background story. The only thing that really bothered Jericho was how Ocaen spelled his name. “OH-SHEN,” Jericho remembered Ocaen’s 5 year old self saying to the other young candidates who made fun of his name, “you say it like the Pacific OCEAN.” He chuckled at that old memory. Of course, Ocaen and most of the other Spartans had matured greatly. It was amazing to see how the UNSC could turn a bunch of children into war machines over the span of 9 years. Jericho wouldn’t blame Ocaen’s parents for naming him that. It was actually a pretty nice name, without looking at how it was spelled. After all, his own parents named him after Jericho VII, another human colony he suspected they were born on. What if-- Immediately, Jericho shut the thought of his old family out of his mind and put his helmet back on. The Spartans in Gamma were of his new “family” and he was proud of all 329 of them. Finally, he and Skylar were all set. Now they just had to check up with Ocaen and the rest of their squad: Private First Class Smith, Private Jackson, and Gunnery Sergeant Miller. All of them seemed to be in their mid to late 20s. Spike Standing in his and Twilight’s personal quarters, Spike put on white gloves, a red cape, a red belt, and a black half mask which covered the area around his eyes. The dragon walked over to the mirror that was between Twilight’s nightstand and one of the many bookshelves. Spike was happy Twilight would be out for most of the day… mostly so he could do things like this. Ever since Twilight became an Alicorn and a princess, she hardly ever got out anymore. With her “princess duties” and all that, Spike noticed that she had spent less and less time with her friends than when she was just Princess Celestia’s personal protégé. It was quite sad, really. The reason Twilight had planned the picnic with her friends was so she could make up for the lost time in the past few weeks. The thing was that nopony seemed to remember about the picnic at all. Even Twilight. The only reason Spike remembered the picnic’s exact date was because Twilight made the plans with Rarity. With Rarity, Spike would almost always remember the certain topic if she was somehow involved. Of course, Spike wouldn’t have a chance in the world to be with Rarity. At least not yet. He was only 14 years old. With the addition that he was only a baby dragon. That didn’t keep him from trying. Spike would be alive for a very long time and might as well have done a few fun things before he became an adult. “I’ve waited for this moment my whole life," Spike smirked as he talked to his reflection as if he were a narrator, observing himself, "all I ever wanted to do was to be a hero. I will show the whole town who is in charge,” Spike punched the bookshelf to his right. “And I will not let anypony get in my way. Today is my day. I. Am. Spike the--” In the doorway to the balcony stood a certain cyan rainbow-maned pegasus, trying her hardest not to laugh but obviously failing; Rainbow Dash. As soon as Spike heard her raspy laughs get louder, he stopped talking to himself. He looked at the at the now hysterically laughing pegasus and glared, while heavily blushing. He saw that she was wearing a saddle bag. “You look so stupid!” Rainbow Dash laughed with her face turning red, “what is up with your outfit?” Spike gave a small, sheepish smile as Rainbow moved flew a bit closer to him. “Dash! Wh- why’re you even up here? We have a front door, ya know.” Rainbow Dash wiped a tear away with a hoof and imitated Spike’s voice. “‘I will not let anypony get in my way. Today is my day.’ It sounds so cheesy!” She continued to laugh as she set her hooves down in front of Spike. Spike’s blushed even more. It had to be Rainbow Dash of all ponies to catch him. He prayed to Celestia that this would just end soon. Spike sighed while taking his half mask off. “Why are you even here?” Finally, Rainbow had stopped laughing, “I’m just here to give Twilight her copy of the latest Daring Do book back. But back to the more important: why are you wearing that?” Rainbow Dash almost bursted out laughing again to which Spike ignored. That was fast. Rainbow had just borrowed that book two days ago, and it was 400 pages long. “You do know we’re closed during the weekends, right?” Spike said. “Yeah. But Twilight said the library was open to her best friends. Which is also means her best reading buddy: me,” Rainbow said with a more serious yet joking tone to her voice as she opened her saddle bag to bring out the Daring Do book. Spike opened his mouth to say something, but then closed it again. She did have a point, even if the thing about Twilight’s best reading buddy was false; he was her best reading buddy. “And that means you can just fly into somepony’s home without their permission?” Spike asked feeling annoyed about that. Rainbow Dash flew around the room to to find a place to leave Twilight’s book. “I’ve been knocking and waiting for 5 minutes and nopony was answering. Somepony as awesome as myself shouldn’t have to wait that long,” Rainbow said back to him as she flew around, “plus the balcony door was open. Who in their right mind would leave the balcony door open when they’re not even home? I mean, I even heard your voice.” Dammit, Twilight! Spike thought. He realized that he wouldn’t even be in that embarrassing situation if she just remembered to close the door. The purple dragon finally moved from his initial position and walked to the middle of the room. He really wasn’t in the mood to start arguing with Rainbow at that point as she flew around to find the right bookshelf in Twilight’s personal library. “Just… leave the book on her desk,” Spike sighed and pointed to Twilight’s desk, “I’ll take care of it in a bit.” Rainbow Dash stopped and looked at him. She noticed how Spike’s facial expressions told her that he didn’t seem too thrilled that she was there. For a few moments, the pegasus thought about what to say next. “What’s with the outfit?” Rainbow asked. That caught Spike off guard. “Uhh… i-it’s nothing,” Spike stuttered, “just me being… a child.” “Seriously, tell me.” “It’s something I want to show Twilight, it’s kinda personal,” Spike lied. “O-okay then. Speaking of Twilight, where is she? I was planning on getting her opinion on the book.” Rainbow had finally said, tilting her head to see what Spike would say. Knowing that Rainbow was very obnoxious when it came to being left out, Spike thought of lie to try and screw with her. “Oh, Twilight?” he asked, “she’s just practicing with Fluttershy to, you know, perfect her flying skills and all that pegasus stuff.” “Seriously?!” Rainbow exclaimed, “Not to be mean, but ‘Shy is a terrible teacher when it comes to flying. Come on! I even said that I’d help her when she needed it. Where are they?” “Geez, calm down, Dash. I was kidding!” it was Spike’s turn to laugh. It was the best feeling to screw with his friend’s emotions. Sometimes, Spike thought he’d become very sadistic as he’d get older. “Haha, very funny,” Rainbow responded with obvious sarcasm, “but really though, what’s she up to? Did I miss something that the others remembered?” “Twilight’s out at the marketplace right now,” Spike said, “she’s getting some supplies for the picnic tomorrow.” “Ohhh... wait, that’s tomorrow?!” Rainbow exclaimed, looking panicked as her hooves met with the floor. Spike responded with a smile and a simple nod, silently congratulating himself that he had once again been “useful.” Rainbow had suddenly thrown Twilight’s book at Spike. Snapping out of his thoughts just in time, Spike caught the book. That was rude of her; then again, that was just Rainbow Dash being herself. “Crap! I’ve gotta make those sandwiches I told everypony I’d be making! Seeya!” Rainbow galloped toward the balcony door. Spike slightly jogged over to where she was. “Can you at least--” but Rainbow was already off by the time he'd gotten within 2 feet from her. Spike walked out and looked at the rainbow blur in the distance as well as many of Ponyville’s residents. He had a feeling that Rainbow was heading over to her house and work on those sandwiches she said she’d be making for the seven of them. At least Rainbow was bringing something to the picnic that time; she never brought anything. Some Element of Loyalty she was. “--make sure that the other girls know?” Spike face palmed, suspecting at least one of the other girls (excluding Pinkie Pie, of course) had forgotten. The dragon walked back steadily into his and Twilight’s room. He looked for the A.K Yearling section of Twilight’s personal library. Once he found it, he placed the Daring Do book in front of the other books while mentally noting to place the book in its proper location later. Spike took his gloves and cape off. “There’s always time for heroics another day,” he said and sighed. Skylar-G316 “Take these emblems,” Smith said, handing over circular vinyl decals to Skylar, Jericho, and Ocaen who stood in front of him, “put them on your right shoulder pauldrons. The three of you and the rest of your friends are a part of Quebec company for this operation.” Each of the 3 Spartans took a sticker without saying a word. Smith’s words were reasonable, so why not? Skylar observed what Quebec company’s emblem was: it was a griffin that looked as if it were in a fighting stance and a big “Q” for Quebec company under the griffin. Peeling the sticker from the paper, Skylar positioned it on her right shoulder and rubbed it until she couldn’t take it off; she was soon followed by Ocaen and Jericho. “It looks nice,” Ocaen said, “...what exactly is it?” “Have you been living under a rock?” Smith asked, with an almost insulting tone to his voice. All three of the Spartan, and even the other ODSTs in their squad, looked straight at the Marine as if he had done something wrong. “S-sorry, ignore I said that,” Smith finally said. "It's no problem, Private," Skylar responded, making the ODST look a bit relieved. She didn't get it. What was the point the feud between the ODSTs and Spartan IIIs? They were both made to be expendable infantry. Only, one of the groups had more strength than an entire battalion of Marines. Smith stood up from the ammo crate he was sitting on and joined the two other ODSTs in Skylar's squad who were only a few feet away. "Haha. You almost got your ass kicked by a bunch of Spartans!" one of the ODSTs said. That was wrong. She would only hurt those who posed as a threat to her or any of the other Marines or Spartans. Skylar looked back at her two other squadmates. Jericho was still looking at the ODSTs; facial expression telling her that he was more than happy to know some ODSTs were downright afraid of Spartans, maybe even more than the Covenant themselves. Some people even thought that Spartans weren't even human and were some kind of machines instead. Did Spartans really seem like that? Ocaen sat down where Smith initially sat and stared at his right shoulder, trying to figure out what exactly the creature on the emblem was. From the looks of it, he had no idea what the creature on the armor sticker was. Skylar stood in front of him. "It's a griffin," she said plainly, "it has the body of a lion and the wings and head of an eagle." "It's a creature from Greek mythology," Jericho added in as he crossed his arms and leaned against the wall. Doing so, the Spartan closed his eyes. The only reason she and Jericho knew about the griffin was because Skylar had taught him a bit about what she found in a digital Greek mythology book; she had read that book a few weeks before the Covenant invaded Miridem. It seemed that everyone else didn't pay attention to the less important history. "Huh. Makes sense," Ocaen responded as he looked up at the two other Spartans. Jericho opened his eyes and looked at Skylar. "Well then… the more you know," Jericho said. “We should get back to our pods. I'm pretty sure the--" The sound of a siren followed by a female voice on the PA system finished Skylar's sentence. "Attention, all UNSC personnel aboard the UNSC Desert Heat. Please report to your designated posts. I repeat, please report to your designated posts. The Orbital Drop Shock Trooper combat drop into New Birmingham, Victoria will begin very shortly." ODSTs of all ranks scrambled across the drawn-out chamber to get to their posts as the sound of the siren continued to ring throughout. The three Spartans jogged past a few ODSTs and over to their drop pods, making sure they had all that they needed. The fact that people down in Birmingham were dying at that moment was enough to give everyone the motivation to hustle their movement. “Come on, come on! Move your asses!” First Lieutenant Vasquez, Quebec company’s commander, shouted at ODSTs passing by, “the Covenant aren’t gonna fight themselves! Move!” Once the sirens had stopped ringing, everybody, including the Spartan IIIs, stood at attention in front of their SOEIVs with their helmets off. No one moved a muscle or made a sound as they stood at attention on each side in a horizontal line all across the SOEIV chamber. There were a few moments of silence after the noise of running had died down before Vasquez walked to the middle of the hallway and had started speaking again. “Quebec Company, stand at...!” Vasquez said in a voice loud enough for everyone to hear. “Stand at!” the whole company responded. “Ease!” Vasquez said and at his command, all of Quebec instantly stood at ease with their hands behind their back and looked at the officer. This was the first time the Spartans had followed direct commands from another officer in another branch of the UNSC. "Marines," the ODST officer said, "as you all know, we have 27 very special guests joining our 90-man company today.” I like the sound of that, Skylar thought. Using her peripheral vision, she could tell that some of the other Spartans smirked. Vasquez continued his loud words as he walked back and forth to engrave his words into his men’s heads. “Now, from what I’ve heard, these Spartans were made to be like us: special operations, cheap to produce, expendable and deadly shock troopers. Am I correct, Spartans?” Each of the 27 Spartan IIIs stood back at attention. “Yes, sir!” the young voices of the Spartans filled the entire chamber and stood at ease again. That was probably the loudest group of teenagers the First Lieutenant had ever heard. “Good,” Vasquez responded, “Marines. It is most imperative that we, as ODSTs, treat these Spartans with respect. They’ve already done enough for humanity, and they sure as hell can do more than we can ever do.” He does know we’ve just received our very first deployment orders, right? Skylar asked herself. “As you’re all aware,” Vasquez said, “our orders are to assist the Marines in New Birmingham with evacuation of civilians; something that we aren’t usually tasked with. With the mass genocide on Reach which happened recently, new protocol dictates that ‘should the threat of Covenant glassing be near the colonies, UNSC special operations organizations are called to duty to assist in evacuation of civilians.’ That means us. I was surprised when the brass told me that Quebec would have Spartans assigned to our company for this operation. I realize now that this is our chance to show how them how the 105th Shock Troops Division does things around here.” Skylar heard a single Spartan give out a quick snicker, something he probably shouldn’t have done. Hopefully Vasquez hadn’t heard that. “Quebec Company, attention!” Vasquez shouted once he reached the middle of the SOEIV chamber. With that command, everyone in the company stood at attention. The ODSTs recited their motto. “Who are we?!” Vasquez shouted. “Helljumpers, feet first into hell! Hoorah!” the ODSTs shouted. “Fall out,” Vasquez said. With his command, the Spartans and ODSTs of Quebec company went to gather their needed materials and to situate themselves inside their pods. Skylar picked up a med-pack that was sitting on a nearby crate and strapped it to her thigh armor. Making sure all her ammunition and weapons were where they needed to be, the Spartan placed her SPI helmet over her head and looked back at Jericho who in turn looked up at her as he inspected his combat knife. “‘Feet first into hell’, huh? I like it. It goes with their nickname,” Jericho said lucidly. The Spartan made sure the golden visor on his SPI helmet was shiny before putting it on. He then strapped a bandolier holding cartridges of M6 ammo as well several shotgun shells. Looking over to Ocaen, he was turning the safety mechanism off on his Battle Rifle and loaded his ammo and weapons into his drop pod. “You’re damn right it does, Spartan,” Jackson, a ODST Private in her squad, said. Skylar strapped herself into her pod as she listened to the conversation. Personally, she thought something like “no man left behind” sounded much better. “And especially--” Smith said, but was interrupted by Sergeant First Class Miller, their squad leader. Normal humans seemed to do that a lot. “Hey, this ain’t the time to be arguing about which motto is better,” Miller said solemnly at Jackson, “and that goes for you too, Smith. Our temporary replacements are way ahead of you two. Now get haul ass!” “The man has a point,” Skylar heard Jericho say. He was positioned in his drop pod as well. Moments passed and all Spartans and ODSTs were inside their drop pods; which again caused total silence, save for the final words of the commander. In unison, the hatches of the drop pods shut themselves with a loud bang and a hiss. Skylar watched outside the window of her hatch as her drop pod ever so slowly rotated around, making a whirring sound. Skylar heard the "3, 2, 1" beeps followed by a "go" beep from the inside of her drop pod. Squad by squad, drop pods were shot out abruptly from the frigate. She felt her drop pod physically shoot down with a jolt. Skylar loved the feeling of the drop in all honesty; it was like a roller coaster. A very long roller coaster that fell straight to the ground. She could feel the “butterflies” in her stomach once she looked down. Skylar wasn’t sure how the other Spartans felt, but could only assume what they felt: nervousness and excitement. Two years prior to that day, she could remember the sounds of 11 and 12 year-old children screaming as they jumped out of D77-TC Pelican dropships and free fell with parachutes during SOEIV training week; later that same week they practiced falling from outer space with drop pods. She gave out a chuckle as she remembered that memory. At least she didn’t hear any screaming now. Then again, only members in each squad could hear each other. On both sides of the hatch, there were two screens which revealed Jericho’s and Ocaen’s SPI helmets as they were also shot down. On the bottom left of their screens contained the word “Sierra” followed by the numbers their candidate numbers. “Hope you Spartans aren’t afraid of heights! We've got about 4000 meters left to go!” Jackson shouted over the radio. “Ha,” Skylar laughed back sarcastically, “I’m sure we can all manage.” Several minutes passed when Ocaen broke the silence. “It’s gettin’ pretty hot in here,” Ocaen said. Skylar was thankful that they were even wearing armor. She couldn't imagine how it would feel to wear civilian clothing during a drop. "Listen up," Miller said, "first, second and third squad are going to rendezvous at Chandler plaza. Command says it’s clear of Covenant activity for now. Hoo-ah?" Everyone responded with a "hoo-ah". As the pods descended closer to the ground, Skylar looked down through the lower window and zoomed in with her HUD to pinpoint the squad's rendezvous point, an area for an LZ and to see if there were any Covenant in the air space. At that point, most of what she could see below her were dark clouds and was most likely storming and raining heavily upon New Birmingham. Perfect timing. Thirty seconds had passed and the drop pods descended through the dark clouds and into the storm. Skylar heard the rain patter against her pod as it zoomed past the raindrops. Again, the Spartan looked down and zoomed in to continue her scouting. Instantly, she saw Covenant ships deploying Covenant infantry to get ready for a firefight. Their sensors must have picked up the pods falling from the sky. “Hey, I’m seeing 3 Covenant dropships, over,” Skylar said over the comms, “two Type-25’s and one Type-52. 6 o’clock from your pod, Sergeant First Class.” Ocaen’s pod was probably the lowest out of the other SOEIVs. “Affirmative, Sierra 316,” Ocaen said, “I’ve got visuals on them.” “Solid copy, Sierra 316,” Miller said. It wasn’t long until Skylar would be in a full-on firefight with the Covenant. The thought of being shot at and returning fire was exciting. She’d get to experience actual combat and get payback for what the genocide the Covenant had caused. “First squad, come in. Sierra 210 from second squad, over,” the Spartan over the radio said. From the sound of it, the Spartan sounded like Matt; the only Spartan in Gamma who was older than Jericho by year. That was easy to remember. “Sierra 210, send your traffic, over” Miller said. The three Spartans listened carefully to their comrade. “I’m s...ing two pairs of h...ters down at your squad’s drop zone as well as a large amount of Covenant inf--” Matt’s voice cut off. The storm screwing with the communications. “It sounded think he was about to say a huge amount of ‘infantry’” Smith said. “No shit,” Jackson said. Miller ignored his two men and tried contact the Spartan again. “...re de...ing... B...te Ch...tain, o...r--” “Sierra 210, say again. I repeat, say again,” Miller said sounding as if he were in a life or death situation. “Do you copy? We’re de...ting a Brute Chieftain along with a large amount of Brute ground infantry. They’ve got Marines and civilians pinned down in the building in the middle, over?” Matt said with his voice finally understandable. “I hear you loud and clear, Sierra 210. We’ll assist them as best we can, over,” Miller responded. Miller seemed to already be doing a good job to Skylar, and they haven’t even reached the ground yet. “Just watch yourselves down there, first squad. I have a fe...ing things are going to get messy down there fairly quickly. Spartan 210, out.” A chieftain? From what Skylar remembered, Brute chieftains were one of the toughest enemies to battle, let alone capture. They were known to be ruthless, merciless and physically stronger than most Spartans. It’s purpose right now most likely to eliminate the ODSTs. Little did the Covenant know that the UNSC brought Spartans along on this ride. “Sergeant, I realize that we can’t set aside our primary objective,” Ocaen said, “but if at all possible, we need to apprehend that chieftain.” “Agreed,” Jericho responded, “ONI specifically told us to bring in any major religious leaders of the Covenant for interrogation. With the fall of Reach, more statistics on any Covenant controlled planet are needed more than ever.” “Seriously, ONI?!” Smith exclaimed, “we attempt to hunt that thing down, we’ll be killed. Chieftains’ll slaughter anyone they cross paths with.” “You’re talking to Spartans,” Skylar said, bluffing, “we’re good at what we do.” “Affirmative, Spartans,” Miller responded, “but don’t forget the objective. You must eliminate that brute if absolutely necessary.” Either Jericho knew that the brute chieftain wouldn’t kill him, or he was just being cocky. Cocky was more like it. He was always like that during basic training, even if he fell more to the quiet side. Suddenly, the drop pods’ computer controlled braking rockets engaged, telling everyone that they were about 50 meters away from hitting the ground. Luckily, none of the pods that Skylar could see had anything malfunctioning. Now she just had to worry about whether or not anyone would be shot down. Immediately afterwards, an ear-splitting boom transpired which was soon followed by a bright flash of light. “Shit!” Smith shouted. “Calm down!” Jericho said back, “it was a just thunderclap. They’re louder when we’re this high up.” Closer and closer to the ground, Skylar tensed up. There was a good chance she would be killed. Several seconds passed and the pods were at 40 meters. Then 30 meters, then 20, then 10. And finally, with a several seconds continuous loud booms, the drop pods collided with the ground. 15 hours after drop, Jericho-G252 Jericho’s eyes shot wide open. All he could see was the heads-up display which said “0323 hours” in the bottom corner and dried blood that was smeared across the inside of his SPI helmet. That was weird; one second he was falling from the frigate, the next he was in a dark room. His knees were on the ground as he was in a kneeling position. Two metallic wristbands, which were attached to two long chains with torus-shaped links hanging from the ceiling, were cuffed around the wrist area of his gauntlets. They held his his torso up as well as both of his arms which were high above his head, hands facing the opposite direction from each other at an angle It was pitch black, save for the few faint lights that sat in the air nearby. His head hurt like hell and the SPI armor made him feel very uncomfortable. He could hear a faint snore on the right side of him and heard an indistinct sound of hysterical laughter in the distance. All Jericho could remember was the drop into New Birmingham and bits and pieces of what occurred during his deployment. He moved his right arm to turn the headlight on his helmet on, but was stopped mid-way. Jericho tried to get up from his position when a sharp pain ran across his right foot. Jericho let out a small grunt; his foot was sprained. He considered it more of an annoyance than actual pain. Jericho kept the rate of his heartbeats steady and tried not to think about the situation he was in. This was bound to happen to a Spartan like him at some point. Jericho looked down to the ground and shook his head rapidly, trying to get his helmet off. A minute passed and his helmet fell to the ground with a soft thump. He breathed in the not-so fresh air which instead smelled like dirt, dust, debris, death and even more blood. Where in Victoria was he? Did the Covenant take him as a prisoner-of-war? That was unlikely; a Covenant brig would seem much more high tech than wherever he was. And as far as he knew, the Covenant didn’t have any dungeons along with New Birmingham and the rest of the heavily forested planet of Victoria. What if… I’m dead? Is this what the afterlife feels like? He thought. Jericho hadn’t done many good things nor did he do many bad things in his life. For the last 9 years, the only thing he’d done was follow orders and drill with 329 other candidates in Gamma Company. Jericho couldn’t accept it. He wasn’t dead; he couldn’t have been killed on his first deployment order. He was still very much alive and was gonna kick the ass of whoever imprisoned him like that. And find the rest of his squad, wherever they were. With that motivation Jericho gradually attempted to get up onto his feet again. Ignoring the sprain, he stepped with his right foot and put all of his weight on it, followed by his left leg. Now standing up, Jericho looked up again to the two chains that were holding his arms. Using his forearm strength, he pulled the chains down with his wrists. The chains didn’t break. Jericho tried to break them again, only this time he gripped both chains in his hands and pulled down harder using his upper body strength. With the strength of the Spartan, he didn’t even struggle or have any feeling being fatigued; something a normal human would feel after the first few seconds of pulling as hard as they could. As the chains didn’t break, Jericho stepped forward and pulled again. Suddenly, Jericho heard the sound of the shifting of the stone ceiling above him as he pulled. Instantly after the sound of shifting, the Spartan felt two stone bricks shoot forward and strike his lower back. Letting out a quiet yelp after feeling the initial pain from the two bricks, Jericho tumbled forward and tripped over his helmet, falling chest flat against the ground in front of his cell’s door. Now he laid on the ground with a large headache, a sprained foot and an injured lumbar spine. Other than that, everything was fine. At least, he was free from his inceptive position. Now he had to free himself from the shackles that were still attached to his wrists, which still had chains that were attached to the two stone bricks that hit his back. At that point, all Jericho could say out loud was, “Fuck.” After a few moments of resting and easing the aching in his body, Jericho hoisted himself up off the ground and back onto his feet. He was taught to ignore the pain and keep fighting on. Being a Spartan had its perks. That was probably why the UNSC didn’t inform the public about project SPARTAN ever since the war started; the public’s moral obligation would be to protest against the idea of giving special operations training to children and sending them off to war. The public could go screw themselves. It was his own choice to join the program. The Spartan checked everywhere on his body for any potential tools. There was nothing. The bastards even took his combat knife. Jericho picked his SPI helmet and flipped it over to look inside. With how gloomy it was, he couldn’t see a thing. He tried turning the headlights on his helmet on, but to no avail, no light was revealed. The Spartan looked above him through the cell door’s bars and saw a lone lantern placed above the cell door. Immediately, he reached for the lantern which he acquired fairly easily. Sitting back down against the door crossing his legs, Jericho set the lantern in front of him and held his helmet in the light it emitted. There was a long and narrow puncture that ran down right side of his visor, presumably from an elite’s energy sword. A crack on the visor came down from the upper left of it and became smaller as it branched off into even smaller cracks until they could no longer be seen. Damn, just when he was starting to enjoy the SPI helmet’s appearance. The Spartan picked up the lantern and held it over his body. Purple, blue, and pure red blood was spattered all over his arms and torso, as if he went overboard with close quarter combat. What truly happened after they were deployed? Why couldn’t he remember anything? The sound of snoring interrupted Jericho’s thoughts. Either, whatever was snoring wasn’t a human, or that was the snore of a person who sounded like they had a tiring day. He couldn’t take chances. Jericho placed his helmet back on and picked up the lantern. The Spartan slowly walked towards the sound of snoring, careful not to make any noise with the stone bricks he dragged with his wrists. The only weapons he could use right now were his fists and the two chains. Jericho walked closer and closer until the light shined on the source of the snoring... and its armor. This was no human. It was an Elite minor judging from the blue armor it wore. Its four armored mandibles opened and closed as it snored. The was odd thing was that it was bound up in a similar position that Jericho was in before he freed himself. It was as if the both of them got caught up in a losing fight. Unless this minor betrayed its unit, which was unlikely, that meant that whoever imprisoned them was neither the Covenant nor the UNSC. Maybe they were Insurrectionists? Knowing that the minor wouldn’t lunge at him at first sight, Jericho attempted to wake it up. “Hey, wake up,” he said in a wearisome voice as it was sore. He could kill the Elite then and there with no mercy, but Jericho planned to keep it alive. For the few moments it was awake at least. He observed the Elite and found that the only weapon it carried was an energy sword hilt. Minors didn’t usually carry energy swords… unless this one stole it. Jericho slowly reached for the sword hilt and snatched it from its thigh. As if it were his own prized possession, he held it in front of his visor. The Spartan tried to activate the sword to cut his shackles off. The sword still did not show the bright cyan colors of its two blades even after a few moments. This sword probably had some kind of failsafe and could only be used by Elites. Jericho attached the hilt to his right thigh and planned to make it work later. That reminded him: where were his weapons and supplies? Whoever imprisoned the two of them must have taken all of their belongings, with the exception of the energy sword hilt. Jericho moved a few inches in front of the sleeping and kneeling Elite and stood there while holding the lantern. After tapping it and continuously trying to wake it up verbally, it still didn’t show any signs of hearing him. The Spartan then pulled all of his fingers on his right hand in together and as hard as he could, he punched it right where he thought its umbilical region was. That was strange; its shields should have flickered. At least the punch woke the Elite up. Jericho readied his right hand for another punch when Elite when it promptly started coughing uncontrollably as its eyes opened. That almost made him laugh. Did he punch it too hard? “That wake you up?” Jericho asked it, smirking. The Elite struggled to get up but fell back on its knees. “Demon,” it growled. Jericho punched the Elite again, not quite as hard, on the side of its two right mandibles. “You’ve got three minutes to explain why you and I are stuck in this prison cell,” Jericho said, holding the lantern in front of their faces and held his hand up for another punch. The Elite growled again. “I was a fool to ever trust you, human. I save your ‘precious’ life and this is how you repay me,” it coughed out. Its voice sounded more… feminine and had a higher tone than what Jericho had expected. Now that he thought of it, this Elite looked slimmer than the usual Elite. It had to be a female, but did the Covenant even allow female Elites to join their ranks? “‘Save my life’?” Jericho asked as he lowered his hand and stood up straight, “what are you talking about? Why would a minor like you save my life?” He truly wished he could remember what happened in the last few hours. It would make understanding the situation much easier. How hard did I hit my head? The elite relaxed a bit and sighed. “You do not remember me then, do you? All that has happened? My brothers, the Jiralhanae, the Unggoy and the Kig Yar-- the Covenant destroying the city…?” she asked. Jericho didn’t remember any Elites who could speak fluent English. “What?” he blurted out, “they-- you couldn’t have destroyed New Birmingham. It’s only been 15 hours since our garrison’s been deployed; the glassing was supposed to take place days from now.” Jericho could only remember the combat drop and bits and pieces of the evacuation. The Elite corrected Jericho. “No. They destroyed your city. I left the Covenant the moment I betrayed brothers who in turn did the same to me. The actions of the Covenant; ‘The Great Journey’ led me to side with your race.” The Elite had to be lying. Then again, Sangheili were very bad liars from what he studied about them and this one seemed to be telling the truth. That could be why the Elite carried the sword hilt. As hard as it was to believe, it made sense. Jericho felt as if this Elite had a connection to why they were in a prison cell. “That doesn’t explain why I’m here.” “The creatures…” she muttered. “What creatures?” Jericho asked as he leaned in and listened closely to the Elite. “The both us… we fought against the small creatures. Where we had the advantage of skill, we were conquered by numbers and power. What I do not remember is how we came to be in this world.” It took a moment, but Jericho came to the conclusion that they both of got caught up in some unnecessary fight. Now he had to figure out why they were fighting with each other and not the other way around. Looking at the time on his HUD, it read “0340” hours; 17 minutes after he woke up. “Who?” Jericho asked, “the Jiralhanae? The Kig-Yar? Describe them,” referring to them by the races’ actual names. “They had… hooves, 4 of them. Some had horns on their heads, some had wings and some had neither. They carried swords and spears, and donned golden protective covering; the ruler, she was more powerful than the rest. She was the one who incarcerated us,” the elite said plainly. “Hold it there, let me get this straight,” Jericho responded, “we were beaten down and confined by a bunch of small horses, who wore golden armor and carried swords and spears.” “Yes,” the elite responded. “Tell me, how am I supposed to believe that?” Jericho asked. He was starting to think this Elite was downright crazy. The Elite responded as if she were a young child. “You must believe me, human! If you do not want to die in this hole, then you must!” Jericho stayed silent. The only thing he could remember was an inexperienced 19 year old Marine just out of high school. “Hey!” the young Marine yelled, holding Jericho back in cover as he was about to move from his position, “what are you doing?! You’re gonna get shot!” The Spartan watched as Ocaen switched his position, shooting a jackal with his battle rifle. “We’re not being shot at yet!” Jericho shouted back over the gunfire. “How can you tell?” he asked back. “A hiss means it’s close. A sizzle means it’s--” suddenly several bolts of plasma hit the top of their barrier. “Get back down, get back down!” At least Jericho could remember something, even if it was just a small piece of the firefight. “Think harder Spartan. Try to remember all that has happened before this moment,” the Elite said. Her words clicked in Jericho’s head. “Spartan? How do you know what I am?” he asked. “That was what your compatriot called you: ‘Spartan’. She called you that as you carried on your objective. Saving the lives of your own kind? It is more honorable compared to what the Covenant has done,” the Elite said, looking at the ground. 'She?' The Elite had to be talking about Skylar. “Fine, I’ll believe you for now; I’ll help you get out of those shackles,” Jericho said, “but how do I know I can trust you? Give me a reason to believe you won't kill me once you’re freed.” “Because I see now that ever since you have convinced your allies to spare my life, you’ve grown to be my friend during this short time, human. Do you not remember any of it?” she asked, looking back up at him. Jericho shook his head. “Then it was the work of the ‘horses’ as you call them. They are the reason you are having trouble remembering what happened in the last few hours.” I really hope I’m imagining this, Jericho thought, it’s like it -- she -- doesn’t know my what my purpose is. His purpose was to be an expendable supersoldier and a killing machine; nothing more, nothing less. Who knew an alien, an Elite nonetheless, would consider him to be her friend? He couldn’t even remember how he earned the label “friend” from it. The only other being in his life he considered “friend” was Skylar and for all he knew, she could be dead. If and when the two of them got out of that prison cell and back to the UNSC, they would never allow Jericho to be friends with this Elite. After thinking for a short time, Jericho nodded and helped pull the chains down from the ceiling above the Elite. With their combined strength, they easily tugged down the first chain down with breaking a sweat. This time, it actually broke instead of taking down the entire brick with it. After the first chain was broken, Jericho helped the Elite with the second chain. Immediately, she stood up. The minor was about a foot and a half taller than he was and shorter than most other Elites. There was something about the word “friend” that compelled him want to help her; it was as if wherever they were made Jericho want to fill in that void of loneliness that he had felt so suddenly. Something about this place made Jericho feel human again, instead of how most Spartans acted: quiet, introverted, antisocial or socially awkward. He didn’t like it; but then again, he wasn’t exactly the most social child before he enlisted in the program. Still, Jericho felt different from the others in the sense that he hardly talked to anyone at all when it wasn’t needed. Maybe that’s why the Elite found an interest in the Spartan; because he reminded her of herself. Jericho gripped the second chain with both hands and got into a pulling stance. “How do you even know I’m the one you call ‘friend’? With this armor, we all practically look the same.” The Elite gripped the chain as well with both of her tetradactyl hands above Jericho’s. “The marking made by a sword on your helmet, the human number ‘252’ engraved on your armor, the blood, the way you stand, the way you smell.” The way I smell? Jericho sighed. “3, 2, 1, pull!” he counted down. With that, the chain which gave out soon after they pulled down on it. As soon as the Elite was free from her shackles, she stood in front of Jericho. “Thank you,” she said. Jericho nodded. He didn't know Elites had manners. Jericho pulled the energy sword hilt off of his thigh with a click and held it out to the Elite. “I found this on the ground,” he lied. As the Elite reached for the hilt, Jericho pulled his hand closer to him. He couldn’t take any chances. He wasn’t sure wasn’t sure if letting her free was the best option. For all he knew, she was trying lower his guard down until she got the chance to strike him down. Though it was unlikely for an Elite, it was a possibility. “I can trust you, but not with a weapon just yet. Friend.” Jericho responded. “Human, if I were planning on hurting you, I would have already done the task,” she said. The Elite had a point. Sangheili tactics in a situation like this would be much different from what a normal human adult would be thinking. That was the problem; Jericho hadn't lived long enough outside his military life to experience true betrayal and not some made up scenario. With the injuries he sustained, he was essentially risking his life. “Alright,” Jericho said as he tossed the hilt over to the Elite who caught it swiftly. “Let me cut those bindings off, Spartan. They seem to be an annoyance to you.” “That’s because they are,” Jericho responded, setting the lantern on the ground. The Elite activated the energy sword which unsurprisingly lit the whole cell with the plasma light it emitted. She walked up to Jericho who held his right arm in front of him as she held the sword up. As if she wanted to show that she meant no harm, she grabbed his forearm very gently. As she did so, the Spartan tensed up. He could die in that very moment. The Elite slid the blade across the metallic binding around Jericho’s wrist; the chain fell with a thump. They did the same with his other wrist. Jericho stretched his arms freely. They felt considerably lighter. “Thanks,” he said walking to the steel door. “It was my pleasure, human,” she said holding the sword in her hands. Just looking at her, Jericho got the impression she was somehow had the knowledge swordsmanship. “Now come on. Put that sword to good use; use it against those rods,” he said, turning around and pointing toward the door. The Elite nodded her head and walked towards the cell door. “Make the hole big enough for me to climb through,” Jericho said, “once I'm through, I’ll open it from the outside.” “And how will I know that you will not leave me in here?” she asked. Jericho grabbed the lantern and set it down near his feet. At that moment, Jericho realized how Skylar’s words made him feel. “I never leave anyone of my own behind. Dead or alive.” “Then I will start,” she responded. The Elite held up the sword up between the metal rods and tried to cut through the first one. All Jericho could hear was the sword clash against the bar, but nothing being cut down. Jericho sighed. The only one who could use the sword was her. The Elite looked back at Jericho and exhaled. “It won’t break. The material it is made of is indestructible.” Jericho picked up the lantern and held it near the metallic rods, which seemed to be made of steel. The sword was supposed to cut through the steel. He was doubtful that they had shields on them. Suddenly, the Spartan heard indistinct talking a few meters away from their cell. “Hey, put that thing away!” Jericho said in a hushed voice as she tried to cut through the other bars, “get down. In the shadows. If they’re here for us, let me do the talking, ” Immediately, she nodded and followed his commands. The minor crouched down on the opposite side of the room where Jericho stood. “...casualties Lieutenant?” the voice said as it got nearer to their cell. “Twenty-seven dead, 4 substantially injured, ma’am,” the next voice said in a much deeper tone, “the assassins need to pay for their crimes against Equestria. I suggest we hold them as prisoners-of-war until we determine when they're executed.” Prisoners of war? Assassins? Where the hell were they? Those terms were known only by humans and aliens who could speak English. “No, an execution will not be necessary, at least not yet. I want you and the rest of the Guard, Solar and Lunar, to increase the number of troops posted in every town. Including Ponyville,” the female said again, “war will break out in the near future, and I have a feeling the ‘Elements’ will not be able to prevent it. This is not just one powerful being; it is an entire nation.” Was this some kind of joke? They used both modern day military terminology and used terms that died out hundreds of years before the 26th century. The sound of hooves stepping one at a time stopped in front of their cell door. “Do not hide in the shadows, assassins,” the female voice said, “I’ve defeated you both once; I know you’re tactics.” The Spartan and Elite stayed put in their positions, remaining silent. He hoped she didn’t suspect the Elite’s stolen energy sword. The Spartan tried activating his active camo unit, which unfortunately didn’t work as expected. Instantly, a very bright ball of light entered the room, like a miniature sun. “There is no use in hiding. You will never get out of here as long as this door is closed.” As soon as the bright light revealed both of their locations, Jericho stood up, knowing that the light would remove all of the shadows in the cell he could hide in. He walked to the cell door who was then followed by the Elite. The Spartan observed his captors; the taller figure was some kind of unicorn with wings. She was taller than Jericho by a foot or two, wore a golden crown and some kind of large golden peytral around her neck. The most distinct feature about her was the cerulean, turquoise, blue and heliotrope colors on her mane which had a very natural flowing motion to it. For a moment, Jericho believed that magic actually existed. The one who stood next to her looked like a male and was much shorter. He sported golden armor and wore a helmet that looked like a lot like a Greek Corinthian helmet; the color of its crest was red. “Identify yourself. Are you the leader?” Jericho asked, looking at the presumed ruler. She looked both confused and surprised by that question. “Your words don’t make--” “Guard, stand down,” the taller one said, looking down next to her, “what do you mean? Everypony knows who I am.” Jericho crossed his arms. Did she just say everypony? Now he wanted this to be some kind of twisted dream. “No, because that’s not why my comrade,” Jericho paused and looked back at the Elite, “and I are here. Neither of us knows who you are or why you imprisoned us.” “They’re lying,” the “pony” in armor said, thinking that he Jericho couldn’t hear him, “that mind reading spell shouldn’t have erased his memories.” “Well, it should have worked with these two,” the leader said in a quieted voice, “I've used all of the energy I could. The only things I've found in the blue one were feelings of death and destruction, and I've found nothing in the green one at all. Their minds are very clouded. Not even my sister can enter their dreams. ” Jericho had no idea what they were talking about. “I’m starting to get the impression that we’re not in Victoria anymore,” he whispered to the Elite. “I do not remember the battler too well other than the fact that we were outnumbered,” she said back to him. “Look at the small griffin on him,” the guard said, “it’s obvious they’re working for them.” Jericho looked down at his pauldron and remembered Smith giving him the vinyl decal of the griffin; these ponies seemed to dislike griffins. “For now, you will stay here and think about the death you two have caused among the Guard,” the princess said, “I will determine what to do with you two. Lieutenant, I want two guards posted here 24/7. They're tricky and murderous creatures. "Yes, ma'am," he said and made way for the exit. "I don’t wish for any more fighting against the griffins. Equestria is a land of peace; not war. I have a feeling they will be useful assets to us.” “Then you will set us free?” the Elite asked. “After a failed attempt at an assassination against the princess and killing 27 of my brothers,” the Lieutenant said, “you will never get out of here.” The Elite stepped next to Jericho and sneered… or at least that’s what the Spartan thought she did. “Fool. You know nothing of brotherhood.” “Excuse me? I’m sorry, but--” “Lieutenant!” the leader interrupted, “I won’t tell you again: stand down, or I’ll bring in another to take your place in this. I understand this is your first time experiencing war, but do not let them get into your head.” “Yes, ma’am,” the Lieutenant responded. “So what, you gonna execute us afterwards?” the Spartan asked, knowing that was probably how they did things. Neither of the two creatures answered him and looked at each other for a moment before looking back. That meant they were going to be executed. Eventually. “Depending on the situation at hoof, we shall see. Twenty-seven murders at one time are hard to forgive,” the leader said and motioned to walk away with her guard into the darkness; the ball of light slowly faded away from the cell until the room became barely lit. “Wait!” Jericho said as she stopped in her tracks and looked back, “so you erased both of our memories from the last few hours. Fine. But at least tell us your name.” The leader looked back and hesitated for a moment. Jericho waited for her response. Her first mistake would be to tell him her name. The way she looked, the way she acted, Jericho knew she held some kind of great importance to what he planned to do in the near future. With the addition of his ally, it would be even easier. “I am Princess Celestia, proud co-ruler of Equestria.”