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Prologue: One Last Run12,262 words
A New World7,771 words
Questions and Introductions8,834 words
Tea Time4,608 words
A Day Of Rest7,566 words
A Meeting With A Goddess8,093 words

A Day Of Rest

I nod my head to Sparkle, indicating that I am still listening. The mare nods in return before turning back to the elaborate illustration on the blackboard and continuing.

What she doesn’t know was that I have simply set my helmet to record and have tuned her out a while ago. I had been expecting a short lesson, but Twilight is blowing my expectation out of the water with a lecture that has been going on for more than three hours. I absently thumb through the packet of paper in my hands, looking over the “homework” that Twilight just gave me. It is over twenty pages long, and completely hand, or should I say hoof, written.

I shift on the floor, letting the background noise of Twilight’s voice wash over me. I have much more important things to do. About half an hour ago, right after I started recording instead of listening, I found something in my suit’s A.I. A pattern.

I flick my eyes to the side, smiling as I see a similar sting of Forerunner symbols. “Something was in a hurry,” I murmur to myself, knowing that Sparkle can’t hear me. I grin to myself, happy that I finally found something, anything, to even hint at why I have an objective in my suit’s systems.

There were separate paths of code, one methodical, one messy. The former goes through my armor’s ammunition and armor repair files, as well as the code for the monitoring of the user, which is me. As I had noted earlier, it is to the concise and to the point, using, from what I can tell, is the most efficient path to get from point A to point B. It is the mark of something that wasn’t in a hurry, or a routine action that is undertaken for what I assume is every arrival to this world.

The latter, though, is the interesting one. This is the one I am now following, though I have a sneaking suspicion I know its eventual destination. I nod to Sparkle once again as I flip to another file, my eyes following the strings of code on the inside of my visor. I tap a finger on my thigh armor, marking another correct prediction on my part.

Just like the last file, the Forerunner code here is messy. It strings off in one direction, only to spiral back as if it realized it was going the wrong way. It is still unbelievably precise, for what I can only assume is a system that has never seen MJOLNIR armor before. But the other coding makes this kind look extremely messy in comparison.

I pull up another window on the inside of my visor, waving my hand at Sparkle as she asks me if I get what she is teaching. I smile as I see the name of the file. Objectives. Here the code stops, flowing into one of the objective slots that I had first noticed this morning before ceasing.

I finish formulating my theory, thinking it over once again. This coding is a separate entity, one that only had a limited amount of time to do what it wanted, hence the messiness. It went against, or maybe added onto, the normal protocol of the system that replenished my ammunition and such. This one wanted me to know, and expressly notice, its existence. Hence the objective arrow that is still pointing in the same direction on the bottom of my vision.

The only question is the exact motive. What did this second entity want from me? As it is, I don’t have any choice. If this thing has even the possibility of answers, my conscience and training dictate that I seek it out.

Sparkle snaps me out of my thoughts. “And that is how Equestria was founded!” She smiles giddily.

I nod at her, dismissing the files from my visor. “Very helpful,” I say slowly. I hold up the packet of paper in my hands. “I’ll make sure to do this,” I am careful to keep the lie from my voice.

“Good!” Sparkle uses her magic to erase the markings on the blackboard while still looking at me. She opens her mouth as if to say something, before shutting it slowly. Her posture has shifted, looking more reserved than anything, and I blink at the sudden change. She looks at me with a worried expression, as if trying to express something.

“You are a great teacher. You did well.” I feel the need to add, studying the purple mare intently.

My words seem to do the trick, and Twilight smiles once again, her eyes sending thanks my way. I make note of this insecurity she seems to have. Why did she feel that she had failed until I expressly said that she didn’t? It seemed to be almost habit, as if ingrained into her.

Spike snorts and shifts on the couch behind me. Twilights blinks at him in surprise, before looking back at me. “How long?” She asks. I glance at my helmet clock.

“Three hours and forty seven minutes,” I curtly answer, and Twilight sighs.

“Sorry about that,” She says sheepishly. “I tend to get a bit carried away with these sorts of things.”

I chuckle, waving a hand. “It’s nothing.”

Sparkle perks up. “It’s almost lunch time!” She says, and I nod, trying to not look to eager. I haven’t eaten in nearly two days at this point, after all. Sparkle looks over at my reaction, before her eyes open in recognition. “Did I ever give you breakfast?” She asks. I shake my head and the purple mare slaps a hoof to her face. Her horn lights, and Spike yelps as a levitated book smacks him on the forehead.

“What was that for?” Spike throws a glare a Twilight, rubbing a claw where the book hit him.

“It’s lunch time,” Sparkle answers, carefully shelving the weaponized book with her magic. “And I never gave Michael breakfast,” She shoots me an apologetic look.

Spike nods. “Alright, I get it,” He turns to me, uncertainty written on his face. “I don’t actually know what you eat,” He states. “Can you have a salad?”

I chuckle and stand, rising to my full height. Spike, even while standing on the couch, only comes up to my lower chest. “Better make it a big one,” I answer, grabbing the blackboard with one hand. The rest of the supplies are wrapped in Sparkle’s purple aura, and they float off the ground the rest near her head.

“Big, I can do,” Spike grins, hopping down from the sofa. He takes the lead, heaving open the door to the library. I slowly slip the packet of paper underneath the couch with a foot. I don’t think Twilight would mind me not doing it for now.

Sparkle follows Spike, and I silently bid my favorite room goodbye as I exit last, holding the door with one hand until I clear the blackboard in the other. To my surprise, Sparkle isn’t in the lead as I step into the hallway. Instead, Spike is the one in front this time, with Sparkle seemingly waiting for me a few feet ahead. My long strides quickly catch up with her, and I slow to keep pace.

“So,” Sparkle begins, looking up at me once again, with a curious look that I am beginning to recognize. “You are a soldier, but the only weapon you carry is this knife,” Sparkle’s horn glows, and I feel said weapon start to unsheathe itself.

I put my palm on it, pushing it back down. “Don’t touch that,” I say reflexively, and Sparkle flushes a bit.

“Sorry.”

I wave my hand, dismissing her apology. “To answer your question, I do carry weapons. You have touched at least one of them already.” We pass by the windows I had seen on the way to the library. I note, with slight annoyance, that the light of the sun has brightened a considerable amount, and the sparkling crystal I already didn’t like has gotten worse. I blink down the brightness on my visor a bit as Sparkle begins talking again.

“Oh you mean that thing? I scanned it, but none of the components made sense where they were inside it.” Sparkle’s horn light once again, but she seems to think better of it and point to my DMR with a hoof instead. “I looked at that for an hour or so, even tried pushing in the little part there,” She motions in the general direction on the trigger, “But nothing happened.” She seems genuinely frustrated about it.

I breathe a sigh of relief that the habit of keeping the safety on had been ingrained in me years ago, before responding. “Don’t blame yourself,” I switch the blackboard into my right hand before pulling the DMR off my back with my left so that Sparkle can get a better look at it. “This weapon is most likely several hundred years ahead of your civilization in terms of technology. I doubt the best weapon smith in all of Equestria,” I do my best to conceal my chuckle, “Could figure out how it works, let alone even know what it is.”

“Tell me how,” I blink at Sparkle as her face takes on a pleading expression. “Please,” She adds. It seems this mare’s hunger for knowledge is never ending; I’m surprised I haven’t been questioned more than I have been. I have a feeling she might be knowingly holding herself back.

I nod my head, and Sparkle beams up at me. I hold up a hand, stopping what she was about to say. “This,” I shake the DMR slightly. “Is a bit too complex for right now.” I attach it to my back with a click, and reach to my right thigh and unholster my Magnum instead, showing it to her. “We will be starting with something a bit simpler.”

“Thank you!” Sparkle cries, and her horn lights up, her magenta aura surrounding the pistol in my hand as she starts to tug it away.

“Ah!” I clip, and I bop her on the muzzle with my pointer finger. She blinks in surprise and her aura sputters, and I pull the Magnum back, taking note of what I did to get her to stop. Who knew that that would actually work? I used to do it all the time to my younger sister back on my home planet, but I guess it is just as effective on ponies.

“Rule number one of my stuff,” I say sternly, and the purple alicorn shrinks back sheepishly, ruffling her wings. “No touching unless I tell you. Okay?” I holster the Magnum. “My weapons are extremely dangerous, and I don’t want you killing yourself.”

“Sorry,” Sparkle answers, her ears flattened to her head. I shake my head. I sigh to myself for admitting it, but I can’t stay mad at her, not with her innocent enthusiasm. With her lecture and readily apparent intelligence, I nearly forgot she is probably younger than I am.

“It’s fine,” I answer. “Just don’t do it again.”

“Can do!” Sparkle perks up, and looks ahead. I do the same, just in time to see Spike vanish inside a small side door in the hallway, what I remember to be the kitchen. The large door ahead, the one I recognize as leading to the throne room is the one me and Sparkle keep heading towards. I can see Sparkle brimming with impatience, probably wanting me to start the lesson right away. I figure a little waiting wouldn’t hurt, and I decide with a smile to make her wait until lunch.

Sparkle uses her magic to pull open the large doors, and motions for me to place the blackboard off to one side. She takes a seat on one of the thrones around the circular table, and I make the motion to sit on the floor once more when she interrupts me.

“Don’t you want to sit on a chair?” She blinks at me.

I shrug. “Sure, but I don’t think one of those,” I jerk a finger over my shoulder at one of the chest high crystal thrones, “Would actually support my weight. You saw what I did to your floor.” I catch the muffled sounds of metal banging from the adjoining kitchen, along with what sounds like Spike singing a cheerful tune.

“And you saw what I did, and now you are walking fine,” Sparkle smiles, and her horn flashes brightly. “Try that one now,” She points at the throne to her right.

I internally shrug once more and walk over, laying my forearms on the table as I settle my weight gently into the chair. I am only somewhat surprised to find that the throne seems fine after I drop all my weight onto it. Sure, the edge of the table is set right into my abdomen, and I have to hunch downwards, but I can say it is a slight improvement.

“Thank you,” I nod to Sparkle. I reach up and take off my helmet, air hissing as it detaches, and I set it on the table besides me. Twilight taps her hooves on the table impatiently, as if she wants to say something but doesn’t want to risk me cancelling my impromptu lesson.

Thankfully, the silence is interrupted as Spike bursts through the door to the kitchen, three trays balanced rather expertly in his claws, and a large white chef’s hat perched on his head. One tray is significantly larger than the other two, which I assume is my meal. The small reptile is humming the same tune that I had heard earlier, a rather catchy and bright song by the sound of it.

“Three salads, one extra-large and one gem encrusted,” He proclaims with what I assume is supposed to be a French accent, though he mangles it horribly. Sparkle giggles at his antics and I can’t suppress a smile. The small dragon, claws clicking on the floor, walks over and lays the largest of the trays in front of me, and I nod my thanks before looking down at the contents.

When Spike and Sparkle had been talking about salads, I hadn’t had high expectations. I thought that one could only do so much with vegetables and toppings, though I am by no stretch a cook, so my opinion was probably a bit flawed.

Spike seemed to be doing his best to change my mind. The salad sitting in front of me was, by no stretch of the word, the most magnificent looking salad I had ever seen (though the only salads I had seen were in military mess halls, so I didn’t have much experience in the matter). It consisted of a large mixture of greens and other toppings, including eggs and other types of food I didn’t even try to identify. The meal was put together very well, looking like it could have been ordered from a five star restaurant.

I pick up the fork that came on the platter, and deliver as much salad into my mouth as the small utensil will allow. I hum as I chew, smiling as a surprising amount of flavor washes across my tongue. I swallow and eagerly take another bite. “This is really good!” I say between bites.

Spike puffs out his chest proudly from next to Sparkle. The purple pony rolls her eyes with a chuckle and bobs him on the head with a hoof as she lights her horn, levitating her own silverware to begin eating as well. Spike huffs good naturedly and adjusts his hat before carrying the last tray to the seat next to Sparkle. His salad is coated in bits of a shiny substance that my mind catalogs, but most of my brain power is focused on eating the first meal I’ve had in days.

The room lapses into a comfortable silence as we all enjoy the meal. After a few minutes Spike goes back in to the kitchen, returning with glasses of water for all of us, though mine is in a large jug that fits more comfortably in my comparatively giant hands.

After a few minutes I decide to ask a question that has been hovering in the back of my mind. “So,” I swallow another bite of salad. “Sparkle,” The purple pony looks up from her meal, bobbing her head at me. “You explained quite a bit of history in the library, but one thing you didn’t explain was your princesses, Celestia and Luna,” I recall their name off the top of my head. Sparkle had mentioned them dozens of times. I take a bite of food, chewing and swallowing before continuing. “You said that they raised the sun and moon?”

This fact had been something Sparkle mentioned almost in passing, back when I was acutely listening. I had wanted to ask for clarification, but the way that Sparkle had just continued on had intrigued me. Was it some kind of religious belief? Humanity had no shortage of those, and neither did the Covenant.

“Oh,” Sparkle nods, setting down her levitated fork, giving me a curios look. “What about it?” She takes a sip of water as I blink at her.

“What did you mean by it?” I clarify, watching her reaction closely.

“It means they raise the sun and the moon, literally,” Spike speaks through a mouthful of greens.

“Is that a religious belief? I don’t mean to sound inconsiderate for prying,” I hold my hands up. “I just want to understand.”

“No, it’s not religious,” Sparkle states. “What Spike said is true. Celestia and Luna raise and lower the moon and sun every day and night. They have for thousands of years!”

I breath slowly before responding, thinking about the right way to phrase what I want to say. I can tell that Sparkle was telling the truth in saying that it wasn’t religious, but I had a feeling that it was more than that. Child indoctrination then? If this was the case, questioning such a statement may do more harm to the building trust between the ponies and I.

“Do you have proof of this?” I try and make the question as innocent as possible. “Because I have literally flown though numerous solar systems, and I have never found evidence that any being could control the sun and moon of a system,” Not to mention that no entity could simply shut off the law of gravity and other such things, but I leave that part out.

Sparkle blinks in surprise, but she recovers quickly. “Yes I have proof,” She answers, and I raise an eyebrow. “I can show you tomorrow morning!” She brightens. “When Celestia comes to talk to you!” Spike is nodding along with her now.

I brush a hand over my chin, deciding to drop the topic for now. Then a thought hits me. For all I know, this world isn’t even real. I was sent here by the Forerunners somehow, right as I died. It is completely possible this is simply the last dreams of my dying body, given substance and realism by technology I can’t even fathom. Is it that out of the realm of possibility that the Forerunners would have created a pony that could control the heavens in this world?

I file that away in the back of my mind, deciding that I have more pressing matters. I polish off the greens on my plate, and see Sparkle and Spike doing the same. Spike hops off of his chair to walk over and grab the trays and water before vanishing back into kitchen, once again humming.

“Well, I guess its lesson time now,” I state, shifting in the seat to try and be more comfortable. Sparkle’s eyes brighten instantly, and she leans forward, and her infectious enthusiasm is hard to resist. I chuckle as I unholster my Magnum and slide it on the table. I note that Sparkle has restrained herself from touching the weapon with either magic or her hooves, though it seems to be hard on her.

“Have you ever heard of projectile weapons?” I ask, feeling myself shifting into teacher mode.

Sparkle nods a bit uncertainly. “The most common is bows and arrows, all magically enchanted of course. I have heard stories of more advanced weapons, especially from other races, but have not seen concrete evidence of any, despite extensive research.”

I whistle. “Bows and arrows? We have our work cut out for us,” I point at the Magnum on the table. “This weapon is literally hundreds of years more advanced than your technology then.” I state, and Sparkles eyes widen.

“Imagine a bow and arrow,” I tell her as I slide the Magnum back into my hands. I eject the magazine smoothly, and carefully remove one of the .50 Cal rounds. It is 2/3 as long as my finger, and the same thickness around.

“This,” I tell her, “Is the arrow. And this,” I motion to the Magnum. “Is the bow.”

“But how does it fire? And how much damage can that thing do?” Sparkle points to the bullet with a hoof.

“How much damage can this do?” I ask, smiling as I turn the round to and fro for dramatic effect. “Imagine this going over the speed of sound, ejected form this gun by a contained explosion,” I show her the barrel of the Magnum. “Now imagine it smashing into a creature. The damage, especially at close range and with an unarmored target, would be unimaginable. Shattered bones, a liquefied interior, etcetera.” I smoothly slide the round back into the magazine.

“Wow,” Sparkle breathes, though I can see some trepidation on her face at the violence I hinted at. “How?” She asks again, looking up at me hopefully.

“Let me show you,” I smile. “With a bit of technology called holographic projection.” I place the Magnum back on the table. I place my right forearm as close as I can to her, tapping a pattern on the armor with my hand, as I can’t activate it the normal way with my helmet removed. A segment of the armor slides back towards my elbow, revealed a glossy black surface underneath. The black segment begins to glow a gentle blue, and a small 3-D sphere quickly forms, hovering a few inches over my armor.

Sparkle isn’t as excited as I would have thought, though she does swipe a hoof through the image a few times, eying it quizzically. I take the momentary silence to slide on my helmet with a small hiss of air, the HUD automatically activating. I toggle open menus on the visor, searching through the files until I find the simulation I want. Luckily, my armor contains more than enough information for the small lesson in ballistics.

The sphere vanishes as I blink on a button, and it is replaced by a floating 3-D model of the Magnum on the table. “This is the Magnum,” I say, and Sparkle’s focus shifts back to me. “And this is the inside.” I toggle another option, and the detailed exterior of the weapon becomes mostly clear, letting the numerous interior parts show through, including the chamber and firing mechanism, which is what I point to with my left hand. I let the animation slowly play, walking Sparkle through each step as the trigger is pulled, a round is fired, and a new one moves from the magazine to the firing position.

I pause and let Sparkle fill in the gaps with inferences and guesses based on what I have told her. I see some brilliance shining through, as well as childlike excitement as we near the final steps. I point out the grooves on the inside of the barrel, explaining a bit of their function and letting Sparkle fill in the rest.

We soon delve in to a basic history of human firearms, with my holograms filling in whenever they can. Sparkle fills me in on the more advanced projectile weapons from Equestria, as well as her knowledge from the extensive research she hinted about earlier. A content feeling is glowing in my core as I watch Sparkle’s understanding light up in her eyes. This is the happiest I remember feeling in a long time.

The thought breaks my concentration momentarily. I blink while Sparkle puzzles over a particularly difficult question, checking my armor clock. It’s 17:30, over five hours since lunch time. I hold up a hand, interrupting Sparkle’s train of thought.

“It’s already 5:30,” I say, removing my helmet, and snagging the Magnum off the table, holstering the large pistol. “I think that’s long enough for today.” I make a motion with my right arm forward towards my hand, and the small segment of armor on my forearm slides smoothly back over the holographic projector, clicking back into place.

Sparkle gives me a dejected look, complete with puppy eyes and all, but I shake my head, chuckling. “Alright,” the pony sighs, before perking back up. “But we’ll continue tomorrow right?”

“Of course,” I shift on the throne, glancing around the room. “But I was wondering,” I begin slowly, looking back to Sparkle. “Why is Princess Celestia coming tomorrow? Why not today?” With the extremely organized pony that Sparkle seems to be, one would think she would have invited Celestia to come as soon as possible.

“Oh,” Sparkle nods at the question. “It’s because, well,” She pauses. “We didn’t exactly know what would happen after last night, with the whole . . . well, you know.” Sparkle makes a motion towards her neck, and I frown. Sparkle holds up her hooves, speaking quickly. “Not that we doubted your apology, we just didn’t know you would be this normal. I felt it would be better if I waited to invite Princess Celestia until things were a bit smoother.”

I hum, thinking. I would have preferred to get out of the castle as soon as possible. And, though it has only been seven or so hours since I woke, the back of my brain is already itching with slight impatience. “Alright. It just feels like time is passing really slowly today,” I say, a bit lamely. Thankfully, Sparkle catches on my meaning.

“I know, I know,” Sparkle taps a hoof on her chin. “As much as I would like to continue in either the history lesson on the lesson on your weapons, we have been doing that since this morning.”

“And that’s my que!” The door to the kitchen bursts open, and Sparkle squeaks and jumps in surprise. Spike, once again carrying large trays in his claws, closes the door behind him with a foot as he walks over, chuckling at Sparkle’s reaction.

I raise an eyebrow. “You weren’t waiting behind that door for hours just to say that, were you?”

“Nah,” Spike shakes his head, placing one of the plates and a full jug of water in front of me. “I left for a while. When I saw that it was getting around dinner, I came in through the back to start making it,” He shrugs as he serves Sparkle. “I only had to wait for a few minutes before you guys wrapped up.”

I nod, looking down at the dish as Spike hops into his own seat. I note that while this is another salad, it still looks just as finely made. I fork a bit into my mouth, my thoughts confirmed as I chew. I see Sparkle and Spike do the same. “You are quite the cook,” I compliment in between bites.

Spike waves a claw, not bothering to swallow before he speaks. “Nah,” A few pieces of green float from his open mouth. “I’m okay. You should taste some of the stuff in Canterlot! Those gem merchants are the best,” His eyes take on a dreamy quality.

“He’s right,” Sparkle agrees. “Once we get this whole thing settled, we’ll have to show you!” She beams as she levitates her fork back to her plate once more.

The rest of meal is eaten in relative silence. I take my time to savor the filling meal, letting Sparkle and Spike do most of the talking, which is mostly about their childhoods. As it turns out, Sparkle is quite the character. Being magically gifted practically since birth, she earned her way into becoming Princess Celestia’s single pupil, which is a large honor from what I gather, though Sparkle glosses over that part.

Spike, on the other hand, seemed to have a fairly normal childhood. Though he was Sparkle’s brother (They both said so fondly. I have to assume that Spike is adopted. That would also explain why he is the only staff in this castle), he mostly spent his time Princess Celestia’s castle kitchens, learning to cook and other such things.

I deflect all questions about my own upbringing. Nicely and subtly at first, but more obviously when Sparkle gets curious. That is something that is classified, though that hasn’t stopped me most of today, but mostly they just don’t need to know. I have no reason to re-live any painful memories.

The hour grows late by the time we finish dinner. Spike collects the dishes and quickly retreats into the kitchen. “Well,” Sparkle says in the silence. She twiddles her hooves, looking for something to say.

“I for one,” I stand carefully. “Am tired. How about we get to bed?” I hint. I scoop up my helmet with a hand.

“Of course,” Sparkle stands as well, apologizing. “It has been a long day for us both. Let me show you to your room.” With that, she opens the large door to the rest of the castle and trots through, and I follow once again.

The light coming through the windows has been replaced by the red tell of a setting sun, and I breathe gratefully. The castle feels cozier, now that the crystal glare is no longer present. I get to see the full extent of the castle as we walk, and I am impressed. We go up a few flights of large stairs, and Sparkle opens another door.

It is a modest bedroom, with a single door on one side that leads to a bathroom. A single crystal chest of drawers sits by the bed, an unlit lamp on its surface. Across the room is a single window next to a large bookcase, brimming with titles I don’t recognize. The bed is covered in a few stylish purple sheets. “I hope it’s okay,” Sparkle says. “I don’t really have any bedrooms big enough for you, and this was the best I could find.” She scuffs a hoof on the floor sheepishly.

“It’s fine,” I wave away her words. Again, I’ve slept in much worse.

“Goodnight then Michael,” Sparkle answers. “Thank you for the lesson today.”

“Don’t mention it.” I chuckle. “Good night.” And with that, she is gone, the door shutting softly behind her. I walk over and gently test the bed with a hand. Sensing no serious give, I take my DMR off by back and set it next to my helmet on the chest of drawers.

I walk into the adjoining bathroom, another modest room with a shower too short for me and a single toilet next to a counter top and a large mirror. I sigh as I examine my reflection. The little sleep I have had lately is catching up to me. There are large bags under both of my eyes, contrasting sharply with my pale skin. I have a three o’clock shave wrapping around my chin as well, and my hair is a bit too long for my tastes, and I make a not to get it cut military-style as soon as possible.

My armor, despite the cleaning I gave it, has dirt crusted on the chest plate and shoulder pads. I turn the nob gently on the sink and use some cold water to clean over the ODST insignia as best I can with a hand. I also wash off the grime accumulating in the cracks of my gloves. After cleaning what I can with my hands, I use a small towel to dry my armor and walk back into the bedroom.

I walk over to the window and gaze out. A cheerful scene greets me. The setting sun shines over mountains in the distance, lighting a modest town a distance from Sparkle’s castle. I can see a few pony forms flitting about in the skies or the ground. I close the curtains, casting the room into relative darkness.

I contemplate taking off the few sections of my outer armor that I can, but decide against it. I lean my DMR up against the small table next to the bed. I gently put my weight on the bed, and hear and sense nothing.

I lie down fully, shifting on the sheets as I try and find the most comfortable position on my armor. I grab my Magnum with a hand and lay it on my chest, loosely gripping the weapon out of reflex. Thankfully it seems that Sparkle has put a strengthening spell on the bed as well, and it takes my weight just fine. With a sigh, I stare up at the ceiling.

What a day, I think, shaking my head. I yawn, shifting again, wincing as the soreness that still envelopes my body. Hopefully a good night’s sleep will help with that. I close my eyes, letting the blackness come naturally.

And I instantly open my eyes again. The hairs on the back of my neck are standing upright. Someone is watching me. I slowly sit up, scanning the room, my gut tensing a bit. Nothing out of the ordinary, or as ordinary as this place gets. I stand, checking the bathroom quickly and opening the window. There is nothing. The feeling doesn’t fade as I lie down on the bed once more, uncomfortable.

I close my eyes, listening acutely as I feign sleep. Without my bidding, the darkness rises up, promising a night’s rest. I push it back, listening. I hear nothing.

The wave rises again, and I frown, trying to open my eyes. I start to struggle as the wave of sleep looms closer, unnatural somehow, as if someone is forcing it. It breaks against the walls in my mind as I try to fight it. I attempt and move my arms and legs, but accomplish no more than shifting slightly. Neither my mouth nor my eyelids will open. I feel like I’m trapped in my own skin.

I hear a single powerful word: “Sleep!” The wave crashes over me, and I go spiraling away.

----- 3 Years Ago

“Michael!” Daniel shouts, and I dive to the side.

A splash of green plasma impacts where I was moments ago. My DMR is up to my shoulder as I complete the roll, and I put two rounds into the Grunt’s chest, the small alien spinning to the side from the force, purple blood painting the ground. I flash a green indicator light on my visor.

Once we had landed, things had gone down quickly. We had met with Sargent Johnson, a stern but likable man with a large cigar in his mouth. He had a ragtag batch of beat up marines with him, and five old warthogs.

We were told that we were to stay in the back of the group and protect the rear. Johnson, Keyes, and The Spartan were up front. I hadn’t actually seen the other two, and hadn’t had the time to try before warthogs were up and moving.

I sprint to the side as another wave of plasma splashed against the ground. I hear a scream through the coms as I dove behind a large red rock, my visor flaring as a plasma grenade explodes nearby. Grains of sand pepper my helmet as I shout into the coms.

“Report! Delta squad!” I pop the barrel of my DMR over the lip of the rock and look through the linked sight. Two green status lights flicker on my HUD, and I breathe a sigh of relief.

The red rocky geography of this part of the halo made not only for excellent cover, but an excellent ambush point. A choke point in between two huge cliffs of red rock, littered with smaller chunks of stone that forced us to reduce our pace.

The Covenant had sprung on the back of the convoy as we had been passing. The two back warthogs has been nearly flipped by plasma grenades, and one of them had exploded shortly after.

I had tumbled from my warthog, badly bruising my entire left side. I can still feel the throbbing in my ribs and hip, and I know I’m running with a slight limp. Daniel had nearly landed on me as he jumped out, rolling behind cover, and Tracey had flung herself from the vehicle as plasma fire decimated the rocks around us. It left my squad and the three marines in the other warthog, who had thankfully escaped, to fend for ourselves as the rest of the warthogs had been forced ahead.

As I watch, I see three jackals fire a volley of plasma fire to another position on my right, before shrinking back down into cover. A marine off to my right fires his Assault Rifle, the rounds skipping off the ground. An Elite dashes closer, the white clad alien’s shields flaring blue and rounds skip harmlessly away as it jumps into cover. I squeeze the rigger three times, sending chips of rock up from the elite’s cover, and I see the tip of his head duck back down.

A blue grenade lobs over my head, and the explosion of heat washes over me, followed by screams. I go to look back, but more plasma from the Elite forces my attention to the front as I lay down covering fire. “Trace,” I shout. “What happened?”

A voice crackles into my ear. “Two marines down. One is KIA, another is missing both legs,” There is a hard breath. “Requesting permission to assist,” Trace’s voice shakes slightly through the coms. “He’s panicking and flailing his weapon around. I need to subdue him.”

“Permission granted!” I shout, struggling to keep my composure. “Daniel, where are you?” I sight back over the rock, and see a Grunt screaming and fleeing from the scene, chubby arms flailing as it sprints away madly. I sight quickly and put two rounds into the aliens back. My DMR kicks against my shoulder, and there is an explosion of purple blood as the Grunt staggers to the side, two mid-sized holes punched through its armor.

“Grunt down!” I yell into the com. “Daniel, where are Keyes and Johnson?” I ask, ducking back behind my rock. A line of blue plasma goes scorching by, and I shrink down, feeling the temperature in my suit skyrocket at the near miss. I hear the echoing deep laughter of an Elite, and another shot of the alien’s weapon splashes around my rock.

“Jackal down,” I hear the racketing fire of Daniel’s SMG’s, and peek up just in time to see a Jackal, riddles with holes, collapse to the ground on the other side of the clearing. I catch a blur of black as my fellow ODST moves positions to better optimize his short range weapons. He speaks as he moves from my line of sight. “They got caught farther ahead on the trail. Long range coms are down. I can’t get anything but some non-understandable chatter from the In Amber Clad and from the local area.”

I am about to answer when Trace shouts bursts into my helmet. “Don’t point that at your face, you idiot!” I look back to see a green clad marine fire wildly in my direction, as Tracy pins him down and wrenches his Battle Rifle to the side. As I was told, the marine is missing both legs below the knees, the wound already cauterized from the plasma that caused the devastation to his lower body. A mutilated and blackened form lies nearby, and it is immediately obvious that the marine is no longer alive.

“Friendly fire!” I grunt as I bullets smash against the rocks next to my position. A stray shot whishes millimeters from my faceplate and sends bits of rock peppering into my visor and obscuring my vision. “Move out of that position Trace!”

“Copy,” She answers, and I see her kick the man’s arm harshly, sending the battle rifle spinning away. She grabs the still screaming marine by the armpits and drags him a few feet away behind a large rock. Thankfully that is where she left her sniper, and she hefts it even as the panicked marine pulls at her shin armor. The still uninjured marine to my right jerks as he sends half a clip into two jackals nearing him. One spins to the ground, and the other jumps the side behind more cover.

“Cover Fire,” Daniel rumbles. “One of the Elites advancing on my position,” I perk as I notice the fire on me has lessened, and I pop my head over my cover. I can indeed see the flashes of armor and the flare of shields as an elite dashes in between the rocks, steadily closing on Daniel. I see the eerie blue shine of a plasma sword.

“Daniel!”

There is a grunt over the coms, and black form falls into my line of sight. Daniel is clutching a hand to his chest, and I breathe a sigh of relief as he scrambles back upright, the wind knocked out of him. The Elite must have not used his sword, this time.

“I’m moving to assist!” I shout, quickly squeezing my trigger harshly, sending the jackal over to the right down in an explosion of blood.

“I got it!” Trace answers, and proceeds to stand up from behind her rock. Green plasma wizzes past her visor, but she doesn’t flinch. The Elite, not seeing her, sprints in pursuit of thee stumbling Daniel, faster than I could ever run. It leaps into the air with a roar, sword poised to strike Daniel even as his SMG rounds shatter of the Elite’s blue shields in a flash of light.

There is a boom as Tracey’s sniper goes off. The round punches a fist sized hole through the Elite. The Elite goes spinning in midair as the round smashes through its chest plate and shatters its momentum. What is left of the Elite’s ruined torso is dripping blue blood onto the ground. Daniel scrambles for more cover.

“We can’t keep this up forever,” I growl to myself, flinching as green plasma impacts the rock the one uninjured marine is hiding behind. I can see more Covenant moving up a few hundred yards back, and I grimace at the blue shine of Elite armor. There is no way we will survive here, not without reinforcements and a better position. “We need to pull back!” I say louder.

“What about the injured?” Trace asks as she ducks down, clicking back the slide on her sniper. The panicked marine is still screaming, pulling on her as tears stream down his face.

“I’ll take care of it,” I swallow, glad no one can see my expression. “Fall back!” I order.

“Yes sir,” Daniel answers, a bit shakily, and I see him move backwards, laying down fire as he moves. Trace does the same, and I motion at the marine. He follows quickly, weaving in and out to avoid the fire still coming from the Covenant.

I grimace as my side lights up in pain, sprinting as fast as I can over the injured marine. I slide behind cover, quickly assessing the situation as more plasma splashes around me. His legs are gone below the knees, the blackened flesh pulsing slightly. There is blood on his chin and neck, and his coughs are bringing up more onto the ground. His panicked sobs reach though the helmet and he grabs my shin.

“Please help me!” His shakes my leg, hacking again. “I can’t feel my legs! Please!” I swallow hardly as I look at his face, which is streaked with soot and sand. His brown eyes are cloudy and terrified, and I see my helmet reflected in them. I can tell he is younger than I am. This is probably his first battle ever. His pain is etched into his young face, and he grabs at me again desperately.

“I’m sorry,” I say, sighting my DMR towards his head. The sight is etched into my mind, and I know somehow that I will never forget this moment.

“Please!” He screams.

I pull the trigger.

Author's Note:

Hooray! Another chapter! This was was a blast to write, and I am looking forward to the meeting between The Spartan and The God, if you know what I mean. We'll see how that plays out!
As always, comment if you see anything that I could fix. Expect another chapter sometime next month!

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