Prologue: One Last Run

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Asteroids. Spinning balls of rock hurtling through space at insane speeds, chock full of all sorts of useful minerals and ores, ready to be harvested by the first space-age species to manage to build a mine on one. Or something else. For eons, asteroids have been used as things other than just for mining. If one were to build, say, a barracks to house soldiers on one, one could design the station to be energy self-sufficient for a time by using the already available minerals inside the asteroid. And if one happened to be an almost inconceivably advanced civilization from millennia ago, such a station could last for an almost infinite amount of time, barely functioning on its lowest capacity. Silent. Waiting.

-----

“Alright, marines! It’s time for you to prove yourselves to the United Nations Space Command! This is the only chance you will get to earn your measly place on this ship! Am I perfectly clear?”

“Yes, sir!”

I watch traces of spit fly out of the sergeant’s mouth as he addresses the twenty or so marines assembled in the airlock. I have a good vantage point, standing behind him, to see the effect he was having on the soldiers. Because all of them have been through rigorous training, and some combat, I am disappointed. They had all heard the talk before, but it was tradition.

“This here is my good friend Lieutenant Cooper. He is a soldier who is my personal friend, and who advanced into the new Spartan IV program.” Taking my cue, I step up next to him, and he claps his hand on my shoulder. I am a foot taller than him, so he has to reach way up to do it, but he doesn’t seem to mind. His palm rests on my armor, right above the ODST text that adorns the bottom of my right shoulder, a reminder of a time past. “Through his service in battle, he has proven himself to be worthy. He is the example of the ultimate soldier!” The marines all look up at me with admiration and respect, and I heard a small snort in my ear. “He is your commanding officer on this mission. Treat him as you would treat a god! Follow his orders to the letter, marines! Am I clear?” he yells, looking each marine in the eye as his gaze swept across them.

“Yes, sir!”

“You drop in five!” With these final words, the sergeant walks out of the open airlock door, which slides shut behind him with a hiss of air. The closed airlock is dimly lit by yellow lights in the ceiling, which reflect dully off of the polished helmets of the men and women who stand waiting for my order. The UNSC marines wear the standard green body armor of their branch. It wraps around their legs, torsos and arms in many overlapping metal segments, with flexible black under armor showing in the gaps, with a helmet that covers the tops and backs of their heads. The visors reach over their faces and tints their somber expressions grey. An option to turn on my external speakers shows up in the top corner of my blue tinted Helmet User Display (HUD). I blink at it to turn them on, and the option disappears. My voice booms out of my helmet when I speak.

“Alright, marines! Do a last weapons check, then into your pods! Move it!” I shout, my amplified voice echoing across the small room. The marines jump, startled at my sudden yelling, since I have been silent the entire time. “Move!” I roar, and they scramble to check their weapons. They pull back the slides on DMR’s and Assault Rifles, checking that they have enough ammo to last the duration of our stay on the asteroid. Clicking and the sound of metal sliding and locking fills the airlock, bringing with it a sense of familiarity and comfort.

I do likewise, following my own orders. My magnum is in shining condition, sliding back smoothly and loading the rounds from the magazine as it always has. The reliable pistol is a steel grey, and it shines as I slide it back into my hip holster. I take the suppressed DMR off my back and do the same, checking the rifle over. Once I am satisfied that they are both in perfect order, I check my belt and left thigh. My large knife is still in place, along with my four frag grenades. I have plenty of ammo, stored in the backpack attached to my armor. I slide the DMR over my shoulder and next to my back, where it magnetically attaches with a small click.

“All good?” I ask, and receive a chorus of “Yes sir’s” from the marines. “Then into your pods!” I yell. They all run along the walls of the airlock, each to a person-sized indention in the metal. I do likewise, turning to my left. The blackness beckons to me, and I step into it gladly. The familiar tight space of the pod is almost like coming home. UNSC drop pods are small airtight containers, shaped like diamonds with flat tops. They are dropped from space and hurtle down to impact the ground below, where the soldier inside bursts out with the element of surprise. The entire front side is sectioned off into numerous dark tinted windows, the largest of which will be directly in front of my face when the door closes. My shoulders press into the sides of the pod, which are blinking with red and green lights. My hands automatically perch on the small areas of buttons and levers for the pilot. I hear a crackle as my helmet switches to private coms, and a small rectangle appears in the top right of my HUD, moving up and down at the noise on the new line.

One of my squad starts chuckling. “I love these missions!” Daniel says, and I can hear the head shake in his tone. His deep voice betrays his true age, which is years older than I am, even though you would never notice by the way he looks and fights.

“Those recruits never knew what hit ‘em,” the only female in our group joins in on the conversation. “Nice work, by the way, Mr. perfect soldier,” Tracey says, sarcasm dipping form her tone before she sobers up. “Though it’s a shame you will be leaving us for real this time, I will always think fondly of seeing you shout at people.”

“Thanks.” I chuckle. My three-man squad is a tight-knit group, as one would expect. I met them a while back on a previous mission, and we’ve stuck together since then. The com box on my HUD blinks and then re-appears, listing a different com channel. “Com silence, Singular,” a stern voice breaks into the conversation. “Drop in T-minus 30 seconds.”

“Sorry, Captain,” I say. I blink my status light blue on my visor. The others on my squad will see it and know that we will have to be silent. Two small circles on the very corner of my HUD both light green, from Daniel and Tracey signifying that they understand.

“Forgiven, now tell the marines to close those doors,” Captain Alfen says firmly. I hear a few people talking in the background, probably finalizing the logistics for our drop. “Put your serious face on, Spartan,” he tells me.

“Yes, sir!” I answer. I switch to the general frequency, so I am broadcasting to the marines who are in their respective drop pods. My training kicks in, and all traces of humor are wiped from me, leaving behind cold calculation. I’m in battle mode, no joking anymore. Everything is sifted through my brain, noted, and analyzed.

“Doors close on my mark, marines!” I bark. “And do not blast your doors on the surface until I give the order. Understand?”

A “Yes, sir” chorus makes its way from the other pods into my helmet.

“3, 2, 1, mark!” I yell. Up near my head is a small handle, sticking out horizontally towards my helmet. I reach up and grasp it, pushing it upwards, where it clicks into place against the wall of the pod.

With a loud hiss of escaping air, a black door slides from the floor. It attaches into the ceiling of the pod with another hiss, locking into its airtight seal. The large black tinted windows are given a blue shade through the edges of my HUD. The edges of my visor flicker, and the normal altitude, distance, and scope options are replaced by other icons. There is a spinning model of the pod that sits in the bottom left, as well as a small box on the bottom right of my view that lists thruster fuel as a small text feed lists general status reports as my armor links in to pod’s systems.

Rule number one of being an ODST: no claustrophobia. The drop pods are coffins for many who stepped into them. Even if they aren’t for you, they are scary as heck at first anyway. The mic in my helmet crackles softly and the com box flickers as it switches coms. A ship technician, speaking to us from the bridge, starts a drop countdown.

“5,” I shift my stance slightly into a more comfortable position. “4, 3, 2, 1.” There is total silence for a moment, as if time itself had stopped.

“Drop-” The last word hasn’t even been finished when everything vanishes from view. My stomach shoots into my throat as I am released from the belly of the ship into the grip of gravity. The view out the windows turns into a dizzying swirl of blacks and whites, and I let the pod autopilot stabilize the fall. The view sharpens, and I look out. A flatter box appears next to the model of the pod on my HUD, showing a view of all of the other pods in relation to mine on a small grid. We come from the bottom of the UNSC Indomitable, an old and reliable cruiser that has recently been refitted. Its huge silhouette blocks out millions of tiny stars as it moves slowly in orbit around our destination, which lies far below. It turns at just the right angle so I can see the port lights wash over the white name painted on the grey hull.

I look away from the receding ship to the expanse of space. A familiar sight for any soldier that served for enough time in the UNSC, it stretches on in every direction, interrupted only by the Indomitable and the stars. I look down, and got my first glimpse of asteroid Omega-7485. Instantly, I know why they wanted to drop us in. It’s huge, easily the size of a small moon, more of a planetoid than an asteroid. It is completely grey, pitted with numerous large craters, and I can see where the colorless horizon curves from my vantage point above it. The whole asteroid is swathed in large shadows, making it difficult to see anything with real clarity.

Everything is going well, so far. Because this is a training mission, we were told that detected Covenant Insurgent contacts inside the small Forerunner station are minimal, and that we are to expect little resistance. We want to test the recruits’ mettle, get them used to the ODST way of things, not risk killing them. Because the station we will be infiltrating is underground, I can see no trace of anything on the surface. The Indomitable had seen a few Covenant entering the asteroid from a point not too far from where we will land, and that will be our entrance point.

I tap a few things on the controls with a finger, and I see the model of the pod on my HUD tilt back to being completely vertical. Just as I am starting to become optimistic, warning lights flash on the inside of my visor, lighting the whole thing red. A loud beep sounds repeatedly, in time with the flashing of the warning messages. White text scrolls across the inside of my visor.

CAUTION: Shield technology detected. Impact in fifteen seconds. Deadly impact is 62% probable. Structural integrity compromise of Pod 8A093-B is 98% likely. On the right side of my HUD, a series of horizontal bars with listed numbers starts to scroll vertically, with a green line falling through them towards the dangerously close bottom.

I swear loudly. Why had we not been warned? Had the shield not been detected from the ship in the preliminary scans? I access the feed from one of the pod's external cameras, and though the gritty feed I see it. A thin orange layer is floating above the planet’s surface, shimmering as it suddenly appears, barely discernable through the black and grey of the surface. This is really, really bad. If we impact the shield with enough force, it will mean a quick death. My fingers yank the controls upwards, firing the bottom stabilizers at max, a string of profanity whispering from my lips. I brace myself as the green line hit the bottom of the bars on the altitude counter.

First there is a flash of white that lights up the inside of my pod, so bright that even after my visor automatically polarizes to protect my eyes, I am still blinking away painful spots in my vision. It is accompanied by a tremendously loud smashing sound, and my pod wrenches to one side, the model spinning drunkenly on my HUD, and I completely lose all semblance of direction. The other box next to it shows the other pods being flung about, the grid flickering as it does its best to keep up with each one.

Instantly, more warning messages flash up onto the inside of my visor, and my shield bar flashes a dangerous red. Numerous portions of the pod model flare crimson, informing me of the structural damages my pod has sustained. The bottom has been completely smashed inward, and one side of thrusters on the outside of the pod has been obliterated, leaking air into space, spinning the pod dangerously. With the streamlined figure of my pod completely gone, it tilts to one side. Something on my HUD catches my eye, and I look back out the window. I manage to catch a glimpse of another pod, which is hurtling towards me. Or, rather, I’m hurtling towards it. I swear once more, but the sound is lost over the warning beeps inside my helmet.

My fingers dance across the unresponsive controls as I fight the damaged pod into doing what I want. Thankfully, the side of thrusters not damaged with the shield impact is the one closer to the other pod. I grunt as I fling my pod in the opposite direction, fighting to try and stabilize the pod to no avail. I’m now spinning out of control, the leaking thrusters throwing the pod in every direction. I can’t get a clear glimpse of anything out the windows, and I can only hope that I am not close to hitting another pod. I press a few more buttons, managing to at least slow the spin.

The next pod that flashes past is about as intact as mine, but is falling askew on one side. Someone inside is trying to right the pod; I can see the jets of air spurting off from either side. There’s a bright flash, and I see a different pod in the distance break apart as my view spins past it, ripping itself apart in a storm of metal shards. A dot on the grid on my HUD flickers before disappearing. I do a quick check of the rest of the pods as I rotate again.

Out of the twenty-five pods that had been dropped from the Indomitable, only ten remain, including mine. All are in bad shape. I swallow as the altitude bars pop up on my HUD once more. The green line is still falling towards the bottom. The last bar reads “Impact”.

I work the controls on the pod once more, hoping that the top is as intact as the spinning model shows. I’ve survived the shield, but none of that will matter if I can’t slow down. I’ll become another crater on the surface of Omega-7485. Finally, the controls yield, and there is a loud grinding noise. My pod shakes, and the top segment of the model flies away, letting a large four bladed rotor unfurl from the top of my pod.

My gut is thrown up into my throat once again as the blades on top of the pod activate, spinning out above me, slowing my fall drastically. I breathe a sigh of relief once my organs are all back in the right place, seeing the green line slow in its decent. It’s much closer to the bottom now, and my eyes flick over my HUD to check the condition of the other pods. I’m happy to see that all but two of the remaining pods have also activated their rotors, and are now slowing near to my pod. The other two doomed pods rocket out of sight, their respective dots disappearing.

A message pops up next to the altitude counter. Rotor activated. Impact in sixteen seconds. A survivable, if rough, landing. The grey horizon line of Omega-7485 is coming rapidly closer, in tandem with the falling green line. I brace myself.

-----

I reach up, and find the handle near my head with my hand, a motion made extremely uncomfortable my buffeted frame, bend in the damaged bod. The red warning messages about structural integrity are still clinging to the inside of my visor, along with my fizzling shield as it recharges. Everything aches. All of my joints seem like they have been dislocated and then put back in place. My bones seemed to throb painfully with every breath, though the pain is receding quickly. I feel small pricks of pain dot my arms and legs. My suit has started to administer pain killers directly into my bloodstream. I feel bad for the marines who don’t have this benefit.

I pull downward hard on the handle, and am exposed to the surface. The small explosive charges that line the door go off simultaneously, blasting the door outwards and upwards. In the low gravity, the grey door goes spinning off into the blackness of space, and I step out of the pod. The magnets in my boots cling to the surface of the asteroid, letting me stand upright without having to worry about flying away. When my armor touches the space outside, it warms up to a comfortable temperature, the gels and microfibers inside regulating the heat to keep me alive. A small icon, a bar showing how much breathable air I have left in my suit, pops up in the top left corner of my visor, right next to my shield meter.

As my helmet disconnects from the pod’s communications, the red warning lights and annoying beeping sounds disappear, leaving my field of vision thankfully clear. I take in my bleak surroundings. Pods litter the grey asteroid surface around me, each inside their own crater. Most have landed right side up, if at a funny angle. The black outside of most of the pods are dented and steaming, still bleeding off heat from our collision with the orange shield high above. I am glad to see that all seven that I had seen trigger their blades are sitting, relatively undamaged around me. The other pods were not so lucky. Pieces of broken metal lie strewn in every direction, protruding form the rock surface like black teeth. No one survived that.

Another pod to my left shudders as its door goes flying off. The normally near deafening sound is reduced to a dull thump as the sound vibrates through the ground and into my helmet. Small pieces of metal twinkle in the starlight as they are carried by the force of the door, expanding in a sphere from the pod. I am relieved to see the familiar ODST suit with dark green highlights step out of the blackness. Tracey shakes herself once and turns to me, her dark visor hiding her face. I don’t let my feeling show in my body language, but I wave a hand up and down my body in the hand signal for ‘Armor status?’ Radio silence is still key; we don’t want to alert any of the Covenant who might be looking for any radio signals.

Tracey makes a circle with her index finger and thumb, with the other three fingers pointing upwards. At the same time, one of the two status lights in my helmet winks green. I make the hand signal back at her, and then motion towards the other pods. Her status light blinks green again, and she runs off towards the pod nearest to her, bouncing in practiced motions in the lower gravity. I turn to a different pod and do the same.

The first pod I come to has landed in the opposite position from mine, with its door facing downwards. The top of the pod and door are smashed, probably from another piece of debris that had fallen on top of it after it had landed. The ruined top keeps the emergency hatch on the top from opening, pinning the occupant inside. I skid down the hard side of the crater, using a hand on the side of the slope to keep my balance, looking the pod over once I get to the bottom. I pry a small gap in between two exposed pieces of the pod, using my above average strength, and some assistance from my MJOLNIR Gen. II armor, and peer inside. Sensing the darkness, my visor tints a greenish hue. Seeing my helmet block the light from the gap, the person inside leans towards me. When the marine inside sees it is me, he mouths something under his visor, and motions to the door.

I nod, and unsheathe my knife from its sheath on my thigh. The very edge of the blade glows a bright blue as I unsheathe it, the plasma inside coming to life. I stick it into the gap and shear off a piece of metal, small spots of liquified metal spiraling off in all directions. After a minute or so of work, the marine squeezes out of the gap I had created. He tries to look cool and unfazed, but I can see his hands shaking slightly under his green gloves. I motion towards my helmet with a hand, and he holds up all ten of his fingers.

He has ten minutes of air left, according to his signal. I point to another pod a dozen yards away, and motions prying something apart with my hands. He nods, and runs off towards the pod I had designated, where Tracey is, to see if someone was inside and provide assistance.

The next pod I go to has a damaged door, but the occupant has activated the top emergency hatch and is climbing out, squishing themselves to fit through the small space. It is Daniel, who jumps to the grey ground, his deep purple highlights flashing in the low light. I greet him the same way I had Tracey. His status light goes green also, and he walks off to help someone out of another pod. As I am helping the last marine of her smashed pod, it hits me. While I work to open the unresponsive door further, I take the opportunity to look around. I have not really gotten a good look at the landscape yet, as I have been busy helping the marines.

Grey rock, as far as I can see. Craters here and there, making a range of small to medium hills across the landscape. Space, dark and cold, stretches above us. Nothing obstructs it, not even the Indomitable from all the way down here. Countless stars stretch across the heavens, unimpeded. But the surface is lit, and the gravity is relatively close to Earth's something that should not happen on an asteroid this size.

Where was the light coming from? The gentle glow that makes it possible to see without night vision or using our helmet lights? There is no sun, no moon or planet for light to reflect off of. Why is the gravity so high? Is the Forerunner structure somehow lighting the entire surface of the asteroid, and changing the gravity? I file these questions into the back of my mind for another time. I have other priorities.

After all of the soldiers inside the pods have been freed, whether on their own or with assistance, we gather in a loose circle a few yards away. I sweep my eyes over the group, analyzing who had survived. All three of my squad are here, along with five marines, two females and three males. Each has about seven minutes of air left, enough to get us to where we would enter the Forerunner structure. i count myself extremely lucky to have such a large group, and with my squad all alive as well. I push the brief thoughts away, and move onto the situation at hand.

We have another problem. The Indomitable can’t pick us up with Covenant on the surface; they run too great a risk, now that the Forerunner shield has revealed itself; there are too many variables unaccounted for. We will, even with our small numbers, have to clear the facility ourselves to let the Indomitable have a chance to get at the surface. A blue arrow appears on my visor when I blink on the objective tracker. It points to the east, a mile or so away. If we run at a good pace, we can make it with time and air to spare. I deliver a series of rapid hand gestures to the rest of the group. They form into an arrow formation behind me, with me at the point. Tracey and Daniel are behind me, with the marines in the back. I have given the signal for ‘Weapons caution’, telling them to be wary, and to keep a lookout for anything suspicious.

We set off, following the arrow on my visor. The run is fast and brisk, but nothing we can’t handle. Even the marines make it up the semi-steep crater sides with ease. Compared to the runs we have been put through in training, and on a daily basis, this is nothing. We make it to the entrance in a little above five minutes.

It is a door, set into a large chunk of rock that juts out of the surface. It is silver, with no blemish or scar, and it glows slightly. Blue veins of power twirl this way and that inside the metal, the light pulsating at random. It is about eight feet high, giving me most of a foot to pass through with my augmented height. We stop a few feet away from the door. Tracey’s status light goes orange in my helmet. She is wondering what her orders were. I flash mine yellow, the color for ‘wait’ and make the matching hand signal for the marine’s benefit.

I step up to the door. There is no obvious button, no way to visibly open the door. I lean my body to every angle, careful not to touch the door. If this thing is booby trapped, I don’t want to get my hands blown off by touching it. Remembering the power in the shield high above us, I don’t want to risk it. Nothing. It is the same from every way I look at it. Blue streaks of glowing power, embedded in the silver rectangle, no scar or blemish that I can take advantage of. No way to avoid it now.

I reach my hand out slowly, and lay my palm flat on the metal. I spread my fingers wide to feel the most of the door that I could. The door pulses under my glove, giving off a feel of restrained power. I yank my hand from the door. A blue hologram appears where my hand has been. I take a reflexive step back at its instant appearance, my hands flying to my DMR out of reflex. I have it in my hands and aimed at the hologram by the time the first words start to scroll across it. My weight has shifted into a battle stance, knees bent and DMR stock pressed against my right shoulder. As it is, the hologram message is not what I was expecting.

“Please, enter the airlock. Welcome to the Arbosra Hospital for Wounded Military Personnel. Have a nice day,” It reads in perfect English. The words are a stark white, and stay on the door a bit before disappearing as quickly as they had come. Both Daniel’s and Tracey’s lights flash the same color. I flash back green and relax my stance, but I keep my DMR in my hands just in case. I step back, waiting once more for something to happen. I am not disappointed, but I am expecting the movement this time. From what the greeting message had read, this is an airlock. And airlocks open

The door slides downward silently at a slow and relaxed pace. It disappears into an invisible slot in the ground, vanishing from sight. Bright white light pours from the opening and onto my helmet. My visor polarizes again. I flash another green light to my squad, and step into the opening, cautious and with my DMR at the ready, pointing ahead of me. The room I enter is the same as the door. Silver, with blue veins of power running along the walls and ceiling. Unlike outside, I can actually see the source of illumination for this room. The stark lights are imbedded into the ceiling and walls, casting strange shadows on the ground from my body. The room is about the same size as the airlock on the Indomitable, able to fit twenty to thirty people. I can’t see a second door, just three walls to greet me.

My squad follows me in. Daniel is the first to step up beside me, looking around at the room from under tinted visor. His two suppressed SMGs are held in either hand, hanging by his sides. The last marine steps across the threshold, and joins the rest of our group inside the Forerunner airlock. There is a rumble and a jet of air, and everyone but me spins around to see the first door closing behind us, trapping us in this empty room. Daniel’s light flashes a question once again, and I flash back the ‘wait’ color without looking at him.

The entrance door locks back into the ceiling with a slam. There is a loud hiss, and my suit informs me that the room had been flooded with oxygen, and that it is now safe to take off my helmet. I don’t, but activate a different option on my visor. Small gaps in my armor open, sucking in and compressing the available air to replenish my lost stores. I also assume, since this is a hospital, that the outsides of our armor have all been disinfected. I have no way to be sure, since I can’t run a test, but it is logical. I also don’t see any way for air to enter the airlock, but I had heard it, and I trust that the Forerunner airlock has done its job. I turn to the rest of the group, seeing them all look at me questioningly. I blink on my external speakers.

“Maintain radio silence,” I say softly “Only talk if the person next to you can hear. No using the coms.” Daniel takes the cue and speaks back through his helmet.

“Understood.”

Tracey nods next to him. Tracey has her pistol in her hands, as her long sniper rifle is still attached to her back. Her pistol is a beefed up version of the standard, similar to my .50 Cal. Magnum, with large rounds and a long barrel. It's a powerful weapon, as it is the weapon Tracey has to fall back on if she isn’t in a position to use her sniper. At least my DMR and Daniel’s SMGs work at close range.

One of the male marines pushes a button on his armor, and the visor extending over his mouth slides upwards. His normal green visor is back in place, covering the of his face. His armor hisses as it deactivates its airtight mode. “Always hated those things,” He says softly. “Feels like I’m suffocatin’ in there.” He shakes his body out, getting rid of the rest of his fear, then settling naturally back into his combat stance. The tag on his chest plate reads “Rameson”. The other marines follow his lead. I nod once.

“What is this place?” One of the female marines- her tag read “Baler”- asks, still looking around. Tracey and Daniel look back to me for an answer.

“It’s a military hospital,” I answer, inclining my head slightly. “The Arbrosa Hospital for Wounded Military Personnel, or so the door said,” I answer in a half whisper, just loud enough for everyone to hear.

“A military hospital?” Tracey asks with a trace of disbelief in her tone. “What are the Covenant doing at an ancient military hospital?”

“Yes,” Daniel says softly, his voice rumbling. “And why is it so oddly defended? A shield of that power would rip anything apart that came close enough. And yet the surface was dotted with craters, and we made it through. Maybe artificial craters and a test of our technology? To see if we could make it to the surface?” I nod at the good train of thought, something that hadn’t occurred to me. It is also a bit unsettling. A Forerunner station that has been testing us? One that killed a dozen marines?

“We will have to see, but priorities.” I say, and turn my head to the marines. “Weapons caution marines. Silenced or suppressed weapons only. If you see any enemy contacts, take them out quietly.”

“Enemy contacts?” Another marine asked. Even with the question, she does as I had ordered, grabbing a black suppressor from her pack and sliding it onto the barrel of her Battle Rifle. “Where?” She glances around at the small room.

“This is an airlock,” I answer. “It enters to the rest of the facility. We will be seeing them soon.” There is a slow rumble, and the wall opposite the entrance door starts to descend, as if activated by my words. A hallway, the same height as the room we are in, stretches off ahead of us. It is lit in the same way, with lights embedded in the walls and ceilings.

I motion with two fingers forward. Being as silent as I can, I sweep smoothly forward into the hall, knees bent so I stay level. The marines and my ODST squad mates follow, weapons pointed over each other’s shoulders. The hallway is eerily silent. The bright lights reflect off of the silver Forerunner metal, and my visor polarizes slightly. We continue forward at a cautious pace, eyes peeled for any movement.

I come to a small indentation on the right of the hallway, what I assume to be an entrance to a room. I hold a closed fist over my left shoulder, telling everyone to stop behind me. I make another signal, telling my squad to cover the hallway and my back. I take a deep breath, and tense my body.

I pivot on the balls of my feet, so that I am facing the gap in the wall, my eyes taking in the inside in an instant. It is a medium sized room, with a large bed in the center, obviously the main focus of the design. The room is the same silver and blue style as the hallway, but the lights in the ceiling are softer, more of a gentle yellow. Two large machines stand to one side. Each is a box floating slightly off the ground, hovering by an invisible means. Both have tubes and electronic arms extending out of every side, tipped in silver blades or small nimble hands. They hang there silent and unmoving.

Two Grunts are standing over something that lays partially smashed on the floor, facing away from the doorway. Most of the broken object is obscured by the Grunt’s stubby stature, making it impossible for me to see the object of their scrutiny. Each Grunt stands almost up to my waist. They have short stubby arms and legs, with grey skin, scaly in appearance. They both wear yellow armor, which is wrapped around their torsos and groin. A huge gas tank is attached to their backs, shaped like an oblong pyramid, which obscures their small head from view.

I make a split decision, and assume that they haven’t heard me. I take a large step forward, silently gliding behind the Grunt closest to the door. I slowly reach up and put my DMR next to my back, where it attaches with a small click. At the sound the Grunt makes a confused noise in its high pitched voice. It starts to turn, but I don’t give it the chance. I grip either side of its small head with my hands, reaching around the gas tank. I feel the tubes and mask that fed the gasses in the tank to the Grunt, and I tighten my grip around them. With one movement, I whip my hands to the sides. The Grunt’s small neck brakes with a sickening crack, its head turning until it faces me. Its small black eyes are full of disbelief and shock looking right into my visor over its large gas tank. A burble emerges from under the mask, and the Grunt falls limp in my hands. I let it drop to the floor, discarded.

The other Grunt spins around, hearing the death of its comrade. A small, blue Plasma Pistol is gripped in its chubby fingers, and it jerks it up towards me in surprise, eyes widening. The tip of the weapon starts to glow green, a grating hum filling the air. It lets out a little squeak, and then I am on it. I send a fist rocketing straight into its jaw, a sharp crack as the bones in the Grunt’s jaw break. The Plasma Pistol tumbles from its grip, and I grab the falling Grunt before it can hit to the floor.

Crack. I drop it to the floor, twisted neck a lump of flesh. I flash a green status light, and hear small clunks as Daniel walks in behind me. I let him pace the room, as I kneel down to the ground, examining the object the Grunts had been inspecting on my entrance. Unlike I had first assumed, the thing wasn’t completely smashed. It was a sphere like object. It was a different version of the box-like devices in the room, with many tubes and mechanical arms. The bottom half of the sphere is completely smashed and plastered to the floor. I poke it with a finger, but it doesn’t twitch.

I grunt in disappointment and stand, turning. Daniel has put his weapons back into their respective holsters, and is examining the floating boxes, his head cocked to one side humming thoughtfully. He reaches out, and grabs one of the arms with a hand, extending it towards his visor.

Tracey takes a step into the room. I can see the marines still in the hallway, guns trained forward. Tracey grunts and kicks one of the dead Grunts with a foot. “Covenant,” she grumbles. “Well, here they are.” I motion back into the hallway. “Nothing else,” I say softly. Daniel grunts again, and walks back into the hallway.

“Unresponsive,” He tells me as I fall into step in front of him. “Have gone into some kind of stasis mode, I can’t do anything to them, and they won’t move.” He shakes his head slightly, in disappointment. Daniel always enjoys new toys to tinker with. We pass more empty rooms, identical to the first, minus the orb like device. Just floating boxes, unresponsive, and spotless beds. As we pass, I flash my gun into each one on the left, checking for enemies. The marines do the same on the right side of the hallway, but they see nothing as well.

The silence and the emptiness are starting to frustrate me. After the two Grunts, we know there are other Covenant somewhere, but they have vanished into thin air. The hallway seems to stretch on endlessly, just a long parade of empty rooms and floating boxes. Finally, after what seems like an eternity, but is only forty minutes, as my visor clock smugly informs me, I see a different door in the distance. This one takes up the entire hallway, its corners touching each wall. Unlike the other doors we have encountered, which look like gaps in the walls, this one clearly has glass that takes up a large chunk of the door. It is tinted a blackish grey, making it impossible to see the other side. A small chunk of silver is sticking out of the center of the glass panel, and I approach it. I hold a fist over my shoulder, and hear the soldiers behind me stop. With no other apparent way to open the door, I put my palm flat against the small silver box. It hums under my glove, and a small ding comes from a hidden speaker.

“Welcome to the Hub of this facility. Please, have a nice day.” A female voice, soft and smooth, announces these words from the box. I hear Daniel chuckle at the voice from behind me. The door slides smoothly to the side, to reveal another room. One already occupied with Covenant. I spot five Grunts, which each shriek and hold out their Plasma Pistols as I enter. I spot three Jackals, who look up, startled.

The bird like Jackals are tall, but not as tall as a normal man, and extremely skinny. They have a sickly yellow skin, with a thin face that ends in a brown beak. They are clothed in blue armor, with a chest plate that covers most of their frame. They have blue forearm and shin guards. One of them squawks and slaps the armor on its arm. There is a whoosh of plasma, and a circle extends from the section of armor. It grows until it covers most of the Jackal’s body, glowing and rippling blue. A small notch is cut into one side of the shield and the Plasma Pistol gipped in the Jackal’s other hand fits in this slot as it points the weapon at us. The other Jackal’s do the same, leveling Plasma Pistols at us.

There is one Elite in the room also. It stands as tall as I do, completely covered in the same blue armor. It had thick and muscular arms and legs, and it has a Needle Rifle gripped in its four fingered hands, the long pink spikes on the top vibrating ominously. The Elite’s long head is topped off with its four pronged mouth, which open in a loud roar, exposing its sharp teeth. The covenant are all standing behind large panels of metal, which jut out of the floor. Each had a screen on one side, and they ring around the circular room like a target. The bull’s-eye is a large hologram sphere which floats above the floor in the center of the room.

Seeing them first, before anybody else, I yell “Contact!” Having no time to try and run to the nearest panel, I make a split decision, blinking at an option on my visor. The Thruster Pack on the back of my suit activates, shoving me forward at in incredible speed, the edges of my vision blurring. I smash my shoulder into the panel as I dash forward, my armor leaving a large dent, my shields flashing yellow, and I hear a whine as the Thruster Pack runs out of energy. A small circle starts to slowly fill back up in the corner of my visor, showing me the time until I can use the ability again.

At the roar of the Elite, the Grunts and Jackals all retreat behind their own cover. Green blobs of plasma splash against my panel and the doorway, melting away small chunks of steaming metal. I slid my DMR from my back as Daniel lunges into the room. He impacts the same panel that I am behind with his back and a loud thump. He takes out an SMG and starts rattling off bullets around the panel in the direction of the Covenant without looking, forcing them to duck behind cover and stop firing. Tracey and the marines race into the room as the Covenant pause their hail of plasma. They each dive behind other panels, taking precious cover.

The door slides shut behind them, clicking into the wall. “Thank you for visiting,” The same voice from before says. Daniel ducks his gun back behind cover, ripping out the spent magazine and replacing it with another from his pack. The second SMG seems to fly into his hand, almost too fast to see. The Covenant return fire. The green plasma once again impacts the panel we are hiding behind. The Elite, with his Needle Rifle, aims towards my cover. Small pink spikes impale themselves into the wall just to my side, glowing and arching with energy. The metal behind my back heats up from the plasma impacts, but my suit cools my body off to keep it at the right temperature. The air is buzzing with the scream of the Needle Rifle, flying plasma, and the discharge of our own weapons.

I lean my head out very slightly, and see Tracey raise her pistol. There is a crack and a flash, and a spray of purple blood explodes from behind one of the opposite panels. A dead Grunt, its head practically blown off, falls to the side. One of the other Grunts screams and panics, running out from cover, flailing its arms madly.

I sight it down my scope and squeeze the trigger. Pop, pop. The rifle kicks into my shoulder, but the two shots are on target. One hits the grunt in the arm, spinning it around. The other, while it is spinning from the force of the previous shot, hits it dead center, punching a thin hole though its chest plate. The Grunts slides to the ground against one of the walls, a slimy trail of purple blood lying in its wake.

“I got a Jackal advancing on my position! Reloading, need help!” One marine, to my right, the side that Daniel is on, madly scrambles to reload his empty DMR. A Jackal, with its shield raised in our direction, sneaks behind another panel, steadily getting closer to our position. The Plasma Pistol in its hand is vibrating, ready to release a super charged shot.

“Got it!” Another marine, this one on the left shouts out in response. Pausing from shooting over to the other side of the room, he points his Battle Rifle in the Jackal’s direction. Right as it crosses in between two more panels, there are two rapid series of shots, and the marine of my right jerks back from his rifle’s recoil.

The shots are well aimed, and hit the Jackal’s hand, right where it is holding it in the notch in its shield. It sheiks in pain and stumbles backward, its pin wheeling arms making the shield rotate. The reloading marineslams his magazine home and puts four quick shots into the Jackal’s chest plate, and it collapses with a last shriek. The shield coming from its arm sputters and dies. Another Grunt on the other side of the room goes down in a spray of liquid, riddled with holes from Daniel’s SMG’s.

“Grenade!” The marine to my right, who is in cover with Tracey, shouts. A blue glowing ball arcs over the room, coming straight towards them. Tracey and the marine dive towards my cover, and Daniel moves in the same direction to the next panel over with two more marines, giving them room to slide in. The marine hits my shoulder with his, disrupting my shot. The bullet that was aimed towards the Elite’s head, who had just poked it out of cover, went wide, hitting him in the arm instead. The Elite’s shields flare bright blue around his body as they absorb the impact. He ducks back into cover, and I growl under my breath.

The plasma grenade lands and sticks to the wall behind the abandoned panel. It explodes, sending a flare of heat in all direction. The blue ball of fire is blinding, and I am once again glad for my visor. Once the fire clears, it leaves a large black scorch mark on the floor and wall.

“Another Grunt down!” One of the grunts is shrieking in pain and panic, its gas tank leaking green gas from where it had been punctured. The high pressure flings the Grunt about in the air like a deflating balloon, until it explodes with a bright green flash and rain of purple gore. One more Grunt remains.

I can’t see any enemies, and move to a new position. I lunge at full speed to move two panels over, but am not quick enough. The Elite roars as it sees my movement, and levels its Needle Rifle in my direction. My shields flare yellow, and I watch as the shield meter on my visor drops to half. The shots interrupted my momentum, but I still complete the lunge under another panel, just as more plasma rains on my position.

I look down at my black chest plate. Two glowing purple spikes stick straight out from the shield, crackling purple electricity arcing between them. I grip one of them with my glove, feeling it humming beneath my hand, though my shield takes the energy. I pull it out with a sharp movement and a flare of yellow as it slides out. I pull out the other needle in the same fashion. I lay the needles carefully on the ground. I duck back as another needle whistles past my panel and hits the back wall. Small purple chips pellet my armor, bouncing off my shields. I get back to my work, and smash the needles under my heavy boot. They shatter, bursts of electricity crackling and then dispersing on the ground

A status light winks in my helmet. I blink back a green to Daniel. Thank goodness I didn’t get struck by more than two. Get hit with too many needles at once, and they explode, causing an instant death, even with energy shields.

“Frag out!” Daniel yells, and pulls the green sphere off of his chest, where it was attached. He pulls the pin, and lobs it over his head across the room. There is a squawk of confusion and before the grenade detonates, and I feel the concussive force push against my armor. The area where the grenade lay is now blackened and smoking from the explosion. A burnt and mutilated Jackal falls, shield dying on the floor.

I take stock of the situation. We have suffered no casualties, and only minor injuries. As I watch, a marine cracks out five shots in rapid succession, sending the last Grunt into the wall with a thud. One Elite and one Jackal remain. The firing from their side of the room stops as they both duck back into cover.

“Close in!” I yell the order. I begin to stalk around the edge of the circle of panels, towards the other side, and the others do the same on theirs, closing the noose on the last surviving Covenant. There is a shout from the other side, and I see Daniel lash out with an arm.

He hits the Jackal that just appeared mid center with his armored forearm. The blow sends the Jackal flying into the air. A female marine’s DMR barks and the Jackal spins from two more bullets, causing blood to rain onto her head. Unfazed, the marine calmly takes out the magazine from her weapon and inserts another fresh one in its place. One last Elite. Not on their side, so it must be on- My train of thought is interrupted by a loud roar. There is a flash of blue as the Elite dashes out from behind cover, where it was hidden by the panel. Its Needle Rifle lies on the floor, out of ammo.

An armored fist rockets into my chest, sending me backwards into the wall, shields flaring. My DMR falls from my hands, clattering to the ground. I shake my head, glad that my shields absorbed the impact, but my shield breaks with an ominous crackle of dying energy. The Elite celebrates its small victory with a laugh. It’s all the time I need. I whip out my knife with my right hand, and lunge at the Elite, the edge of my blade shining blue. It sees my movement, and jumps back out of the way of my swipe. I smile under my helmet. The Elite lands right in between the gap of two panels, giving the other squad members a clear line of sight.

CRACK! The gunshot is deafening, and a fine spray of blood spatters against my helmet, leaving small droplets all along my visor. The Elite spins to the side as the force of the shot slings it up and away from me, slamming its corpse against the wall. It’s head lolls unnaturally to the side, a huge hole blown into the side and back of its head, leaving most of it a bloody pulp. The shields around its body sputter and die.

I wipe my visor clean with the back of a hand and look over to the other side of the room. Tracey is kneeling on the ground, one calf flat on the floor, the other leg bent at the knee. Her sniper is held to her shoulder, the long black barrel smoking. She cocks back the slide with a hand, and a single spent shell clatters to the floor. I simply nod to her, showing my thanks. She returns the gesture, and stands. She slides the sniper over her shoulder, letting it attach to her back. She pulls her pistol back out with her hand and lets it dangle loosely at her side.

“Room cleared!” I shout. As I walk to the center of the room, I grab my DMR with a hand and sling it onto my back. I stop next to the spinning hologram globe I had noticed as I had entered the room. It is large and blue, and it probably had a diameter near my wingspan if I held my arms out straight to either side. It spins slowly, and I notice a bunch of scars on the surface of the globe.

“It’s the asteroid,” One of the marines says. I nod, agreeing. “A control center of some sort.” The marine shrugs. He takes the ending of the firefight to swipe a new magazine into his Assault Rifle.

“Where there is a control center, there is a computer,” Daniel rumbles.

“I hope we didn’t mess up to much with our little fight,” Tracey says. She glances around at the room. Plasma burns and explosion marks litter the room. Bullet holes riddle the surface of each panel and the walls. Something electrical inside one of the panels sparks and hisses. The dead Covenant bodies are strewn in every direction, purple and blue blood sparkling.

I nod. “Computer?” I ask, looking around at the room. Maybe it is voice activated. There is a scratching noise, like feedback from a speaker. It soon fixes itself, letting a clear female voice filter into the room.

“Yes?” She asks, her voice coming from the direction of the sphere. I chuckle. I hadn’t actually thought that that would work. Something was going right after all.

“Computer, show the layout of this station,” I say, directing my voice towards the sphere.

“As you wish,” The computer responds. The blue hologram flickers, and the surface of the asteroid becomes more transparent, letting the inner workings of the facility to show through. A huge network of tunnels and rooms make up the entire inside of the asteroid. They twist and turn around each other in a large jumble.

“It’s huge,” one of the marines breathes. “It makes up the entire asteroid.”

I get right to next question. “Computer, show all signs of life on this station.”

“As you wish,” The computer responds once more, and the globe flickers again. Small red dots appear in some of the rooms. There is a series of green dots in one of the larger rooms, which I suppose is us. Most of the other life signs are fairly spread out throughout the facility, dispersed across the huge area. But there is a huge block of orange a few rooms below us. It takes up an entire room, this one bigger than the one we are in. Just as I am about to ask another question, the screen flickers and changes. The orange block has grown, and is spilling into the hallway next to the room it previously occupied. The red dots are all fleeing the hallway, moving into the rooms father away from the orange block. The hologlobe flickers again, and the scene changes once more. The orange is now spilling through the room the red contacts were in. They have all disappeared.

A deafening siren pulses from the walls. “WARNING! Parasite containment compromised!” The message repeats over and over again over the siren.

“Computer!” I shout. “What’s going on?” As I am asking, the globe flickers again, and the orange contacts have almost doubled in their reach, expanding into every room on their floor, two floors below ours. Everyone in our group is back on alert, guns all held at the ready, pointed at every door.

“Parasite has escaped containment,” The computer continues calmly over the siren. “Station self-destruct immanent.”

“What?” I start. “Abort!”

“Denied. Parasite containment is top priority. Stand by for self-destruct.” We all watch as the orange dots spread to the floor beneath us. There is a muffled explosion and the floor vibrates under our feet. “We need to get out of here.” I look at the floating hologram of the facility. “The quickest way outside is the way we came in.”

“I’ll try the door,” Tracey says. She runs over to the glass door, and puts her hand on the center panel, in the same fashion as I had when we entered. She waits for a second, but nothing happens.

“Please, do not attempt to exit the room. Station is now in lockdown,” The computer informs us, with the same near-monotone voice.

I look around. I have a sneaking feeling I know what the parasite is, and a cold feeling drops in my gut like a stone.. I hope I am wrong. “Defensive positions!” I bark out suddenly. “I want every single door covered in this room! Nothing comes in or goes out!”

“Yes sir!” The marines shout. We all duck behind panels, the same ones we hid behind before. There are three doors into the room. The one we came through, one across from that, and one on the wall that I am facing. There is another explosion below us, and the floor vibrates again. The globe in the room flickers, and now the orange dots are spreading into every floor in the station, an impossibly large area. They are on our own floor now, on the other side of the asteroid. There are no red dots left. There is total silence for a moment, except for the siren and the warning message. No more explosions rattle the floor, no more screams. My feeling of dread grows and grows.

I jump as the computer speaks again. “Self-destruct in two minutes.” It goes silent, and the globe flickers again. The orange is getting closer to us.

I blink on a timer in the top right side of my visor. It counts down from two minutes, keeping pace with the timer that the walls are now blaring, on top of the siren. The feeling of tension in the room is palpable, and I begin to sweat under my armor, gripping my DMR harder in my hands. The globe flickers, and the orange are now right outside our doors. The way we came into the station is now covered also, the orange coming up from another entrance to that hallway. The door across from the door we entered in leads to a clear hallway, which ends in a dead end. This room is the only access to that hallway. If worse comes to worse, we can at least make a final stand there. I can only hope that the last room is some way to escape. As it stands, we are all going to die. Either by the parasite, or the ensuing self-destruct of the station. I wait.

Something smashes into the door across from me. The glass buckles, but holds against the pressure. Immediately, every gun in the room is trained on the door. Tracey is kneeling again, her sniper in her hands. There is another crash, and the door buckles once more, but holds. Cracks appear in the tinted glass, spider webbing outward from the center. It won’t hold for much longer. There is a final smash, and the door explodes inwards. Shards of glass pepper the front of the closet panels. Something stumbles into the room.

One of the marines screams and empties his magazine into the thing right as it is coming through the doorway. Its movements are jerky and halting, almost like it is being controlled by some outside force, not moving of its own violation. They entire magazine of Assault Rifle bullets rip it to shreds, and yellow, thick, puss-like blood splatters against the wall. There is a boom as Tracey’s sniper goes off. My worst fears are confirmed. The thing that stumbled through the door way is an Elite. Or, it used to be.

All of the Elite’s skin is now a sickly yellow. Its armor is peeling off of its body, sections already fallen to the floor. One arm is huge and bloated, with too many fingers to be normal. Each finger is long, and has blood encased on them, like they have been used as a whip. The other is skinny and looks like a deflated, misshapen balloon. The legs are large and thick, more so than when the Elite was alive. Its head has been split down the center of the forehead, and small stalks have grown out, each tipped with small red puffs. The jaws are all hanging down on its face, nearly touching its chest. The bullet holes in its bulk leak a yellow pus, smelling like rotting meat. The horribly mutated Elite falls to the floor, dead.

As I see that my nightmare has come into reality, a memory surfaces, strong and lighting fast. I push it down, I will remember it later. Right now, we need to get out of here. There is no surviving these things. “Fall back!” I roar, and run for the other door. The others look at me in surprise, and all but one follows me. I run at the door at full speed, and use my Thruster Pack to throw my shoulder into the door like a football player going at an insane speed, the edges of my vision blurring. It thankfully shatters, and I go sprawling into the hallway.

The marine closest to the other door doesn’t move fast enough. Something flies through the gap in the doorway, and hits him in the face. He goes down screaming, dropping his gun to rip at the small creature who has attached itself to his head. It is like a small squid, with a sphere like body, and many small tentacles. It is the same sickly yellow as the skin of the Elite we killed moments ago. Each small tentacle is tipped with the same small red puffs. The marine continues screaming as the thing burrows into his mouth, sending tentacles down his throat and up into his head. His jaw cracks sickeningly as it has to widen to let the creature inside. His screaming stops.

His body starts to change, thrashing on the floor. His arms grow and shrink, bones breaking with each movement. His skin changes color under his armor, which creaks with his growing body. Small stalks rip out of his mouth and eyes, each tipped with small red puffs. Haltingly, he picks his gun off the floor and levels it at us, the weapon looking small in his large and boated hands. The transformation happened in a matter of seconds. I am the only one who sees this, as the others have stepped over me. I am facing the room, lying on my back, and my gut clenches in horror. I roll to my feet and turn down the empty hallway after my squad.

Behind me, thousands of the small creatures spill into the room from the ruined doorway. They each slide along the ground on their many tentacles, pulsating with a sickening noise. More of the mutated Covenant step into the room. One Elite was very clearly dead some time ago, as he only has a stump for a head, with a few flower like projections shooting out of his neck. Nevertheless, he continues into the room, like a puppet being pulled by strings. Most of the mutated Covenant clutch weapons in their hands, and they level them through the doorway at us as the smaller creatures rush around their feet. Plasma bursts from behind us, splashing against the walls and floor as it chases after us. The dead marine fires his Assault Rifle, and the shots ping off the walls around me.

“Don’t look back!” I shout, not even bothering to fire behind me. I focus all of my energy in pounding after the rest of our group, the silver walls flashing past me. The siren is still blaring annoyingly in the background, oblivious to our situation.

One of the marines ignores me, and turns her head. She screams and trips, falling to the floor on her stomach. I hate to do it, but I leap over her and keep running. The fallen marine is quickly over whelmed by the wave of creatures, flowing over her body like water. She bats one away in a panic, still screaming, but another attaches to her chest plate. Her cries increase in pitch and volume as it borrows through her armor and into her chest, blood spurting out of the open wound. I don’t look back as her screams stop.

The hallway seems impossibly long, and even at our breakneck pace, I can’t see an end. I see the marines faltering ahead of me. Even with our training, sprinting for this long would wind anybody. I am quickly gaining on them, my armor and augmented body giving me a huge speed advantage. My chest heaves and I am sweating under my armor, the cooling systems not quite able to keep up. I am pumping my legs and arms as fast as I can, keeping my gaze squarely on the back of the marine in front of me, the gap closing. The foreboding timer on my visor has lost about a minute, and the siren is still blaring through the hallway.

Another marine trips, but is able to keep his balance. I flash past him, and he is unable to build up his speed fast enough to catch up. He goes down as the huge wave of death behind us hits his him in the back. His screams only last a second as we leave him behind. The mutated marines behind us drop their weapons, but the Elites with the long distance Needle Rifles keep shooting. The dead marines sprint, impossibly fast on their powerful legs after us. I risk a quick look back, careful to keep my footing. They are gaining on us, slowly but surely, whip like hands and fingers trailing behind their broken bodies.

Three of our already small group are gone. Two males and one female, taken over and shooting back at us. Me, Tracey, Daniel, one male and one female marine remain, and still there is no end in sight as my timer continues to tick downward. We make it only ten seconds before we lose the last female marine. Needles whistle past me as the Elites behind us take their aim. They impact all around me, and one hits me in the arm. My shields flare, but I don’t stop, ripping out the needle with a hand as toss it over my shoulder. The marine in front of me is not as lucky. Nine of them hit her in various places, almost simultaneously. They all crackle and jump with electricity, and there is a high whine of power before they all explode. I leap through the purple fireball and what’s left of the marine. Heat slams into my armor, but I keep going.

Finally, the doorway is in the distance. It stands slightly ajar, darkness beyond it. Daniel makes it there first, and he heaves it open. He dashes inside. I see him on the other side with his hands on the door, ready to close it as soon as we are all through. Tracey flies through the doorway next, vanishing from sight. The last marine makes it through after her, scraping his shoulder on the doorframe. Something impacts my foot and I stumble, but keep my balance. My suit visor flashes read, informing me that something is burrowing through my shields, draining them nearly instantly. A torrent of pain explodes into my body, and I feel tendons and bone snap in my foot. I go down with a scream, slamming into the floor. My neck whiplashes and I see spots as my head impacts the hard surface. I turn over, crushing the thing attached to my leg, just in time to see one of the creatures flying at my face.

The impact slams my head back against the floor. Another hits me in the chest, and another. My vision goes white with pain as I am ripped apart from the inside out. Something is in my chest, in my brain. I don’t even get the chance to scream again before I die.

-----

I am floating. I can see nothing but darkness, feel nothing, but yet, I know I am floating.

I died. Of this I am sure. I didn’t make it to the door. Daniel’s form flashes into my vision, as he waves at me to go faster. I trip, I fall and I die. I don’t make it. And yet, here I float, in this darkness, with nothing but my final memory to keep me company. It replays over and over again, starting from when the first mutated Elite burst into the control center. The death of the first marine, and then the others one by one. Then I trip, and fall, and the scene restarts over again.

It wouldn’t have mattered anyway, even if I had made it. The timer on my helmet only had thirty seconds left on it when the creature hit me in the face while I was on the floor. Half a minute after I died, and Daniel, Tracey, and the last marine were dead too. Incinerated instantly in the huge explosion that contained the parasite. My last mission with them. Their last. A wave of sorrow hits me, blackening my vision and blurring my thoughts.

Is this death? An eternal replay of one’s last moments? I try to remember back farther, but my thoughts are scrambled, and the scene restarts over again, tearing my attention away from trying to remember. I am . . . I don’t even know who I am. I try to remember as I watch myself die once more. And then the Elite stumbles through the broken door, and the marine screams as he fires.

Was I, right before the station exploded, one of the mutilated corpses trying to break through the door to get to the others? Was I just cast out of my body in death, as the parasite took me over and used my empty husk as a puppet? The scene starts again, and these thoughts are whisked away. Then something changes. The vision pauses, right when I am leaping through the purple explosion in the hallway, right before I go down. Pain bursts across my conscience, scrambling, once more, any coherent thoughts I might have had.

“Savior Protocol activated. Please stand by for Rest.” The female voice comes from everywhere and nowhere at once. The paused instant fuzzes out, static rushing across its surface, obscuring the image. It vanishes, leaving me suspended in this darkness once again. I only have a moment to contemplate the strange accent the voice put on the word “Rest” before I am whisked away once again.

A New World

View Online

Once again, I wake to darkness. But this darkness is different, more . . . real. The darkness before was so complete, so all encompassing. I open my eyes, and it hits me. I'm alive. Somehow, against all odds, I survived. I cannot see anything, but I feel my muscles in my face moving as I try to smile. My brain is still fuzzy, putting everything into a dream like haze, keeping me from arranging any complex thoughts. But one abounds over everything. I am alive.

With a mental snap, I realize why there is darkness. I am lying face down, and my visor is pushed down into something dark brown and soft. My body responds to my movement, slow at first. I twitch my fingers, and unlock my elbows from where they lie at my sides. I can’t move my head, but I can blink my eyes. My mouth tastes like it has been stuffed with cotton, and I can’t move my lips. If I could I would have cheered.

I'm alive.

I gather my strength, and I roll over. Instantly sunlight streams down into my face, and I close my eyes tightly with a jerk of pain as stars dance under my eyelids. My body is still sluggish and mostly unresponsive, so me trying to put a hand in front of my face just results in my hand limply smacking my chest plate. I breathe through my nose, relishing in the feeling as my chest rises up and falls back down.

I lie in that position for what feels like an eternity, my brain still mostly fogged over. Eventually, my eyes adjust enough under my eyelids for me to squint them open. Through the crack in my eyelids I catch the familiar sight of the inside of my visor. The sides and the lights on the visor are flickering, probably the computer trying to restart its systems, which would explain why my visor doesn’t darken in the sunlight. It would also explain why it was hard to move. Without the mechanical assistance, the MJOLNIR armor was incredibly heavy. Above that, clear blue as far as my narrow field of vision allows.

I still can’t turn my head, but my arms and fingers are becoming more responsive. I wiggle them to try to hurry up the process. I do the same to my toes, and am glad to know that I can still move them. I open my eyes a little bit wider, but all I can see is more blue stretch above me.

It takes me awhile to finally open my eyes fully. By this time, I have been able to open my mouth and breathe through my lips, instead of my nose. A small line of green is visible on the top and bottom of my field of vision, through the comforting dark blue tint of my visor. My fingers are almost up to normal, though the bottom half of my body is still slightly unresponsive, the weight of my armor pinning me down. The fog around my brain is mostly cleared, and memories are resurfacing, slow at first, but growing faster.

The drop, the shield. The rough landing, and exiting my pod, helping the others do the same. The run across the surface of the asteroid, entering the station. The two Grunts that I killed from behind, the battle in the control room. The parasite escaping, killing the marines. My run through the hallway, the pain, and then. . . .

I died. The thought breaks into my conscience, as if my brain is fully recognizing the implications for the first time. It shatters all of the numbing feeling in my brain, and instantly my limbs are responsive. I sit up lightning fast with a gasp and a rocket of pain that stabs me in multiple places. My foot screams with the pain, and I bite my lip until I taste blood. That’s where the parasite hit me first.

The other is my chest. It feels like something has burrowed inside and is living there, sending pulsing waves of nauseating fire up through my body. I look down, tears blurring my vision, and clutch a hand to my chest, trying in vain to squeeze out the pain as I grip my black armor. My brain dully registers the lack of damage to the chest plate, as if it has been completely repaired.

I sit in this position, breathing hard and trying not to cry from the pain. I had been hit with plasma, with needles, and slammed through a wall on my missions. None of them compared to this. While I am here, the inside of my visor finally lights up, and it polarizes, giving my eyes a better time without the bright sunlight. No warning messages beep, and a scroll of text, blurry through my watering eyes, informs me that my armor is in perfect condition and one hundred percent charged and resupplied. Small pricks dot my body as painkillers go into my bloodstream, but they do almost nothing.

The pain doesn’t subside, even after my suit attempts to dull it, but I gather my strength once more and stand woozily, my hand still clutched to my chest. I wobble from lack of balance, but am able to stay upright. My body automatically hunches over my center as it recognizes that I am in pain, protecting my vital organs. I do a quick weapons check with one hand, discovering that I still have my Magnum, DMR, and knife in their respective places. My pack also, according to my armor, has been filled with the max amount of ammunition I can carry. I look up, craning my neck to look forward, into the green I had seen earlier.

The green is trees and grass, the perfect scene of serenity and peace. A gentle breeze rustles through the plant life, making a sleepy whooshing sound. The bright sunlight I had seen earlier reflects off of the leaves and undergrowth, revealing a path that leads into the woods. I do a quick circle, and discover more trees in every direction, making a wall impossible to see through. In the distance, birds fly over the treetops, cawing and screeching softly.

“Where am I?” I think, and turn back to the pathway. I crane my neck even farther upward, looking into the sky. Not a cloud in sight, just a sun beaming brightly overhead, and the clear blue sky. I have no choice but to follow the pathway.

My walking is halting and painful, one foot dragging behind my body as I stumble forward. I still have a hand clutching at my chest, and my back is still hunched over, my other arm hanging at my side. I make it to the entrance of the dirt pathway, and lean on a tree to catch my breath, winded and gasping from the short walk.

The pathway winds off for a couple dozen yards, before turning off to the right and vanishing from sight into the trees. I blink down the temperature inside my suit, sweating a hot from the exertion and pain. I sigh in relief as cool jets of air blast over my body.

I continue on my way, shuffling for a few yards before I have to stop once more. The path is remarkably beaten down, with not a single root growing into it or any large rocks strewn on it, as they normally would be in this type of environment. The shrubs are growing in an unusually straight way, lining the pathway, but not growing out into it.

Despite this weird plant growth, when I try to stumble the next few yards, I trip and fall. I cry out in pain as my chest and foot scream in protest, feeling like my ribcage is going to explode from the inside out. I hit hard, one arm tilting me so that I land on my side. I take shuddering breaths as the pain once again launches itself through my system.

My shout and fall have disturbed something in one of the bushes that line the pathway. The leaves rustle and something white bounds out and away from me, vanishing into the trees on the other side of the path.

A rabbit? I would like to believe my eyes have fooled me, but I got a good look at it. A rabbit, completely the same in every way as the ones I had seen on other planets. Now that I thought about it, all of the wildlife and fauna seemed eerily similar to those found on Earth.
My visor, as informative as ever, when I blink on an option, tells me that the rabbit was indeed a species indigenous to Earth. As I look around, it tells me that lots of things were. The grass and a few of the shrubs. Even the brightly colored birds spotted in the distance. And then there were some things that weren’t. The trees were not. They are slightly off from other trees I had seen, as if too bright and colorful.

Now unnerved even more, I stumble back to my feet, hunched over in the same potion as before. I take a second to catch my breath and assemble my scattered nerves, and continue on, leaning on trees as I go.

I have walked not too far a distance, only a hundred yards or so, when I come to another clearing. This one, however, is filled with water. A small pond, about a dozen yards across, sits in the middle of the clearing. There is no inlet that I can see, so I assume that it is a natural spring. Many small streams wound their way out of the pond vanishing off into the forest.

I fall to my knees next to one side of the circular pond. I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the abnormally clear and sparkling water. My black helmet and my blue tinted visor, with the same dark blue highlight running up the center of my head and down to my back.

I reach up and grab either side of my helmet. I turn it forty five degrees to the left, air hissing as it disconnects from the neck segment of my armor. I raise it off of my head and set it down in the grass next to my knees.

The small walk has taken a lot out of me. Sweat clings to my face and runs in rivulets down the back of my neck. The cool breeze is a welcome relief across my face, and I tilt my head up into it, breathing hard. The air ruffles through my short and unruly hair, a sensation that I haven’t felt in a while.

The water that my suit has been feeding my into my bloodstream is nourishing, and it serves its purpose. But it never goes through my dry and parched throat, so I dip a finger into the pond. I let my suit analyze the content, still gasping and holding a hand over my chest. My suit beeps loudly to show that it is potable, and fit for consumption. I sigh in relief, and cup some water into my palms.

The liquid dribbles through my fingers as I raise it to my face. I take a sip of the water. Cold relief washes into my throat, and I take another drink larger this time. The water runs down my chin and neck as I drink greedily. I sigh again after a few more drinks, satisfied.

I kneel in this position for a minute more, feeling the warm sun on my face. The pain in my chest has subsided after my rest, while I’m not moving, but its steady and burning ache continues nonetheless, as well as the pain in my foot. The peaceful forest is humming around me, birds chirping in the background as smaller creatures rustle through the bushes.

I grab my helmet from beside me, and hold it in the crook of my elbow as I shakily stand once more. I’m not ready to put it back on just yet, the air and slight breeze feel too good on my face. I lean on another tree near the edge of the clearing as I look down the path once more, trying to see where it would lead. It winds once more out of sight, the turns into the trees making it impossible to follow with my eyes. Out of a hunch, I click on a waypoint on my suit, getting it start building a mini-map that I could see on my visor, in case I needed to come back this way.

I sigh, and began the short trek to where I would once more rest. I debate just staying here and setting up camp, and to try to survive here in these woods, but my curiosity gets the best of me. This isn’t any game trail; it is too wide and well worn, like it was made for larger organisms. Something has made a path here, and paths always led somewhere. If there is any chance at finding civilization, it is a better alternative that staying out here. And in my state, if some larger predator comes and tries to eat me for lunch, I am in no condition to fight or defend myself, even with my armor.

So the process continues. I walk a few yards, then stop to rest against a tree, looking farther for any hint of something other than more woods. I can’t have been walking for more than a couple hours; the sun has only sunk a bit on the horizon, not close to touching the peaks that seemed to rise in the distance in every direction. I contemplate just picking a mountain and walking towards it, using it as a goal to reach to keep myself going, but I decide against it. The path is still my best option.

This place is eerily similar to somewhere I have been before, where I first met the parasite that almost took my life and actually did take the life of my squad back on Omega-7485. So peaceful, so colorful and lively. I almost expect a Forerunner structure to start rising out of the ground at any moment.

I shove back the memories of that mission, locking them into the back of my mind. Spartan now or not, I hadn’t been back then, and the memory has been clawing at me since we first saw the parasite inside the instillation, and it would resurface eventually, it is just a matter of time. I just hope it will be when I am out of danger, somewhere where it is safe to relive my past.

And suddenly, I break the tree line. There is no warning, no edge in the distance for me to see. I am in the trees one second, and I stumble out of them the next. I nearly lose my grip on my helmet as pain wracks my body as I nearly twist my injured right foot on a root at the edge of the forest. I grunt, holding the pain back. The forest behind me is like an organic wall, rising out of the soft soil with definite purpose, a line of bark and leaves that stretches off to either side.

The path continues ahead of me, and there are still trees where I am, but they are completely different than the ones behind me. These are most definitely apple trees, and, to confirm my guess, I spot numerous red, shiny fruit nearly hidden in the leafy depths. The path is now a straight shot ahead of me, going in between two of the neatly ordered rows of trees, which goes off into the distance once more. I think I see a large black silhouette over the tops of the trees on the horizon, maybe a building of some kind.

As I rest on the side of one of the trees, catching my depleted breath, I reach up and pluck one of the apples off with a hand. It comes off surprisingly easy, apparently ripe. I raise it to my face, taking in the scent. I haven’t had a fresh grown apple in ages, ever since I was a little kid. I take a large bite, and hum in approval as the juices wash across my tongue. I finish the apple quickly, taking the last bite before stumbling another few yards, wincing.

The adrenalin of waking up in this strange place has subsided, leaving behind a tired ache that added on top of the already wracking pain in my chest and foot. I need some sleep, and badly, which would give time for my body to heal whatever was damaged in my chest. My upgraded body is doing its best, but rest is key to a fast recovery.

The repressed memory, taking advantage of my drowsiness, tries to resurface once again. I flinch and pushed it back once more, stopping to rest on another tree, my chest heaving. I don’t know how much farther I can walk, every step feels like fire shooting through my leg. I slump to the ground, my back on the tree, my feet splayed out in front of me. I resolve to rest here for a while, and look up at the sun, squinting in the bright light. The sun has fallen more, and I estimate it to be about five o’clock in the afternoon. I could know for sure if I put my helmet on, but I keep it off. My guesses are nearly correct ninety nine percent of the time, and I trust my gut on this one.

My eyes start to droop, my head falling next to my chest. My drowsiness is like an ocean, waves lapping up against the feeble barriers in my mind. I try not to give in, but I sink into sleep anyway.

----- 3 Years Ago

I slam into the ground inside my pod, my new armor clanging against the metal sides. I lose sight of the window as my field of vision is thrown about. I hear muffled screams and explosions from outside the close confines of the pod, and I swallowed back my fear. I reach up and pull the lever.

Just in time too. The door flattens an Elite as he comes charging towards my pod, his lit energy sword flying out of his hand to fizzle out in the sand. All at once, the sounds of the battle hit me full on. Screaming, explosions rattling the ground, sending white sand flying into the air, speckling my armor and making it difficult to see clearly. Gunfire rattles on every side, soaring off into an unseen enemy as plasma splashes and hisses against the ground.

I jump out of the pod, my boots sinking into the soft beach. There is a loud boom and another explosion of sand, and I look to my left. Rows and rows of pods stretched behind me, most of them emptying as black silhouettes poured out, racing headlong into the waves of blue and green plasma that splashed in the sand all around us. Another ODST leaps out of the newly landed pod to my left, right into a waiting energy sword.

The blue blade slices through his chest, blood exploding outward. The blue clad Elite in front of the doorway lets out a laugh, before being jerked to the side by a batch of bullets that sent his shields sparking. Another black clad ODST, one racing past, leaps onto the Elite, and sinks his knife through its shields and into its forehead. Not wasting any time and not even bothering to wipe off his blade, the ODST leaps up and past the dead Elite to continue forward.

With a panicked shake of my head, I join the sprint with another ODST who was running past my pod, a female with red highlights along her suit. She gives me only a passing glance as we run towards the waiting trees at the edge of the beach, firing with our weapons into the foliage as more plasma rained around us.

Boulders rise out of the white sand, black and grey. Groups of ODSTs are already taking cover behind them, firing back at the Covenant just out of sight. My motion tracker pings in my helmet, and I start, nearly falling over as my foot hit a rock. I am still not used to having the more high tech helmet, and the sound surprises me.

I look at the circle for a fraction of a second, and see the mass of green dots running around me. Another line of red dominated the field not too far away. I see no purple contacts, and I wince. None of my squad members were detected.

Another ODST, SMGs in either hand, sees me faltering and waves to me. His highlights are dark purple, and he is in cover with another female ODST, their rock only big enough to shelter three people. Another person goes down beside me, glowing needles sticking out of his visor.

I sprint to the cover of the rock, ducking my head so that it isn’t exposed. The ODST with purple highlights speaks to me first as I put my back against the rock.

"New? Lost your squad?” He asks. His voice is surprisingly deep, and I judge him to be older than me. He peeks out from behind the rock, but quickly ducks his head back in to avoid a blob of plasma.

“Yeah,” I manage to get out. The ODST shakes his head as he reloads.

“It’s my second mission. Lost my squad too, they all died in the first wave,” He says grimly. He sends sporadic bursts into the trees from our position, sending pieces of bark flying. “I’m Daniel.” He doesn’t look at me as he introduces himself, his focus on the tree line.

“Michael,” I answer. From my point in the center of the rock, with the still unnamed female marine on one side and Daniel on the other, I can’t shoot or see anything behind us. The female ODST has her pistol out, a beast of a pistol, and is firing at specific flashes she sees through the tree line. Her dark green highlights are dull in the bright light.

“Tracey,” She says unexpectedly. “My first mission as well, squad all gone.” Her voice is slightly shaky, and I am impressed that she is holding up so well. I am still a little shell shocked myself.

There is another explosion from the tree line, and the ODSTs who can see give a roar of triumph. One section of the forest has been set ablaze, and burning Covenant stumble out into our fire line, and are shot down.

The battle for Delta Halo has begun.

----- Present

A thwack thankfully wakes me from my dream. I jerk and hit the back of my unarmored head against the trunk of the tree I am still sitting next to. I nearly swear as I realize that I had fallen asleep without putting my helmet back on, but I keep myself silent. There is another thwack sound, and I swivel my head in that direction. The sound is off the path to the left, a little ways away. The cause of the thwacking noise is hidden by the rows of apple trees.

The pain in my chest and foot have subsided slightly, and I stand with a little less difficulty that before. I lean my back against the solid tree as I raise my helmet to my head. My helmet hisses quietly as it attaches to the neck armor. The lights inside my helmet wink on instantly as the visor falls once more in front of my eyes. I am slightly regretful to do it, as the reprieve from the helmet had been welcome.

I grimace as I see the time on my visor. I had been sleeping for an hour, and the sun is touching the tips of the mountains on the horizon, the golden rays of sunset starting to peek through. Anything could have stumbled upon me in that time, I am just lucky nothing had.

Still holding one hand to my burning chest, I reach down and grab my Magnum in the other, holding it at a downward angle in front of me. The motion tracker in my helmet confirms my suspicions; something is to my left, about twenty yards off the pathway. The dot is orange, my armor telling me that it didn’t know if it is a friendly or enemy creature. I limp to the other side of the pathway, watching as the orange dot gets closer to the green dot in the center of the circle, which is me.

Another thwack sound, this one louder than the others, comes again as I make my way into the trees. The shadows have started to lengthen, and I try to stick to them as much as I can, my dark armor blending in. The orange dot on my visor is not that far away now, the shorter distance confirmed by another thwack. It sounds like something hard hitting the bark of a tree, accompanied by many other smaller impacts that I hadn’t been able to distinguish before.

I am about to peek out from behind my tree to try and catch a glimpse of the creature, when it speaks, and I freeze in my tracks.
“Whew. Just a few more trees left an’ I’ll be done,” The voice is definitely female, and it is speaking perfect English, if with an exaggerated accent. Whoever has spoken seems to be tired, but content at the same time. Some part of the back of my brain links it to the way I had heard farmers talking back when I was a boy.

I blink in confusion under my visor. I had expected to find some kind of species harvesting the apples in the trees, as this was obviously a planted orchard, but I didn’t think they would speak English, or have the same accent as the human farmers I had seen before. There is another thwack, and this time she counted.

“One, two, three four an’ five. That’s the rest of y’all,” She says. There is the sound of wood creaking and another heavier thump. I peek out from behind the tree, thinking that the creature’s back would be to me.

I immediately put my head back to where it had been, my eyes wide. My mouth opens as if to say something, but I close it again without making a sound. I blink heavily a few times, and then look back around the tree.

It is certainly a unique creature that I have never seen before. It is similar to an animal that I have seen before, but with many key differences. It is a quadruped, standing on four legs. It has a horse-like body, with a long neck and large ears that stick straight out of the top of its head. Its colors are totally bizarre. The orange dot on my motion tracker has been ironically fitting, as it is the same color as the creature’s coat. Its mane and tail are braided in a ponytail, held together with two red bands at the respective ends. The hair is the color of fresh straw, and it has a worn brown Stetson perched on its head.

It stands about almost to my waist, maybe that tall at the tips of its ears. It is actually surprisingly cute.

And its eyes. They are huge, way too disproportionate to be normal, just adding to the cuteness, and the strangeness of its appearance. They take up most of its face, with large green irises that seemed to glow. It has a small rounded muzzle, which is cracked into a smile, revealing white teeth. It is similar to a pony, in a weird sort of way. It is standing next to a large wooden cart, with many baskets full of apples.
“What?” I mouth the words as I retracted my head back, looking upward at the sky. “What?” I mouth again. This makes no sense, and my brain is struggling to come up with any kind of logic to explain the situation, or the evolution that gave birth to this creature. I shake my head in disbelief at what I have just seen.

The orange pony walks over to the tree I am hiding behind. I have no idea how its hooves still made that ‘clop’ sound in the grass, but that is a minor detail for my brain at the moment.

“Last one,” She says cheerfully.

My head shoots up as the implications of what she just said hits me. I look down at my feet and notice a few things that I hadn’t before. Brown woven baskets are placed around the tree in strategic locations, corresponding with the apples that hung on the branches above me. The pony is somehow making the apples fall off the tree and into the baskets, where she will gather them and put them into the brown cart I had seen.

I swallow. I am going to be discovered. I can’t run away, I won’t be fast enough to escape detection in my injured state. As if to serve as a reminder, the pain in my chest hikes up another notch, and I wince, gripping my armor tighter.

I could just shoot her when she comes around the tree and saw me. It would be the best plan strategically, at this point. But I know I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t live with myself if I killed something that cute without provocation. I am out of options.

There is a loud thunk and the tree shakes, leaves swishing from the force. I keep my balance while I am leaning on the tree, swaying. The apples in the branches above come falling down, landing in the baskets on the ground. One of them hits my helmet and bounces off, and I catch it in my hand out of reflex, the one not holding the pistol.

The female pony begins to count, like she did with the previous tree. “One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight,” She pauses. “Where’s number nine?” I drop the apple a little too late, realizing that I am the reason she had gotten curious. My pistol hand inches back upward, but I hold it down, and put the weapon back into its holster as a way of ending my internal argument.

I hear the walking noise again, coming from around the trunk. She is coming to the back, where I am hidden. I look over, just in time for something orange and green to pop right next to my visor.

The pony’s ears are perked up with curiosity, her green eyes curious. She spots me in an instant, a small squeak coming from her mouth. She looks right into my visor, her eyes widening and ears falling flat on her skull. There is a moment of complete silence as we look at each other, both completely still.

And then the stupidest thing that could have possibly been said in this situation comes out of my mouth of its own accord.

“Hi.”

The pony lets out an earsplitting scream.

With surprising agility, the pony turns and sends a pair of back hooves rocketing towards my visor. I dodge my face out of the way, and the strike intended for my head hits the tree instead, sending leaves raining down onto both of us.

I back up a few stumbling steps as the pony screams again, and another buck, this one aimed for my chest, comes at me from the orange pony. My eyes widen, and I take a step to the side, but not fast enough. My injured foot trips me up, and I am too slow to avoid it.

The back hooves don’t hit me full on in the chest like they were supposed to, but they both clip me as they sail past. I only have a moment to admire how strong the strike is before pain erupts all over my body as I go stumbling to the side.

I open my mouth to scream as my vision blurs, but something bubbles out of my throat instead, chocking me. The orange pony has backed up in fear again, watching me warily.

I gag on the fluid in my throat, and start to panic as I can’t breathe. I fall to my knees, and rip off my helmet desperately. I cast it a few feet away in the grass, still gagging as my body is wracked with shudders of pain.

My chest heaves and something red and liquid spills from my mouth onto the front of my armor and the grass. I spit out the rest of the blood, taking in ragged breaths and still holding in my screams. Blood trickles down my chin as I breathe. Something feels like it has smashed inside me, and is stabbing into my lungs, making it near impossible to get air through my throat. It feels like I am starting to drown, even in the air.

I put my palms flat on the ground as I cough and sputter, more blood falling onto the grass. I only catch a glimpse of the orange pony that bucked me, but I can see that she has taken a step closer. Her expression is still wary, but she is eyeing the blood on the ground in fear. I go back to hacking, still struggling to breath. The edges of my vision are starting to fuzz even more, giving me a sort of tunnel vision.

“Are y’all okay?” She asks slowly. “I didn’t mean to hit ya’ that hard.” She had taken a step closer, but she is making sure to stay out of arms reach.

I manage to speak through the blood in my mouth. “Not you,” I gasp, and point a blood stained glove at my chest. “Broken rib. Stabbing into my lungs. Can’t breathe.” I hack out another glob of blood onto the grass.

“What?” The pony says in alarm. This time she does take another step in my direction, into arms reach. She doesn’t seem to notice.
“You need a hospital!” I look at her again, blood dribbling down my chin as my chest heaves. I nod weakly. Apparently they have hospitals here, wherever this is. Thank goodness. Without proper medical treatment, I will probably be dead soon.

“Thank goodness Twi’s here helpin’ out today,” The pony says to herself. She looks at me again, her eyes narrowing with determination. “I’m gonna’ go get someone who can help ya’. You stay right here, and make sure to not die while I’m gone. You got that, alien, er, whatever ya' are?”

I nod once again, breathing heavily. I feel like I can’t get enough air into my body. My suit is trying to pump me full of painkillers, trying to do what it can about the internal injury, but it isn’t helping much. The best it’s doing is pumping blood into my system, keeping me from dying from losing all of it. I have seen men and women die from this kind of injury before, and it was never pretty or painless. I won’t be going anywhere.

The orange mare (I feel safe to classify her as such now) nods stiffly and goes galloping off, her hoof beats loud and urgent, disappearing at an impressive rate. As she turned to go, I saw something that I hadn’t noticed before. Three bright red apples sit on her flank, making a triangle. They all look almost exactly the same, as if someone has tattooed them there.

I stay on my hands and knees after the mare gallops away, nearly crying from the pain and gasping out more fluid as blood begins to fill in my lungs. But this feels more than a broken rib and a punctured lung.

The pain in my chest has tripled, and is now echoing through my entire body, as if it were not confined to only my torso. It is pounding in my brain, as if banging a hammer on my soul. Or, whatever is left of one at this point.

The grass around my hands and knees gradually turns red. I have lost track of time, but I look up weakly when I hear a pair of hoof beats running in my direction. I haven’t moved from my position behind the tree, and I can’t see who it until they come around the trunk of the tree.
It is the same orange mare from before. Her coat is slicked with sweat, her stetson slightly damp and starting to fall its perch on the top of her head. Her green eyes fill with relief in seeing my kneeling there, still not dead.

There is another pony with her. This mare is purple, with a dark blue mane and tail. Each has a purple and pink highlight running down the center. Her eyes are a slightly lighter purple color than her coat, and they widen when she sees me. This is not what catches my attention, however.

Unlike the orange mare, who looks mostly like a horse, with no extra features, this pony has two. First of all, two purple wings are coming out of each side of her body, which are folded so that they rest against her sides. I can see the purple feathers inside them, each looking nearly identical to the rest.

She also has a unicorn horn, sticking out form the top of her forehead. The purple horn comes out of her mane, and rises a few inches before coming to a dull point. I can see that it has a spiral motion in it also, a single line going upward and around the whole thing.

I cough once more, but this time more in surprise at the purple mare’s strange appearance. Was she a unicorn or a pegasus? I couldn’t tell, but another glob of blood forcing its way through my throat brings me back to my priorities.

The purple mare quickly looks at the orange one. Her voice is also female, but thankfully it lacks the accent. “I’m going to teleport it to the hospital,” She says. I can’t bring myself to feel offense at the term. Had the roles here been switched, I probably would have called her an ‘it’ also. The horn around her head suddenly begins to glow purple, a flickering aura of color.

I jerked back in surprise as the orange mare nods. There is a bright white flash, and I was torn from reality. I pass out and fall into darkness. And for the second time in as many hours, I dream.

----- 3 Years Ago

The beach is secure, at great cost. The bodies of ODST are strewn about, lying in the sand. The black pods are still where they fell, some still steaming. The remaining healthy ODSTs are doing what they can to help the injured.

I hiss as the needle punctures my cheek. A marine medic, one of the many landed on the beach by Pelican after the LZ was secure, keeps my head firmly in place. Her armor is white, with a large red cross on the center of her chest plate. After slowly pulling the needle back out of my skin, she puts it back into a case lying next to us on the sand, and she pulls out another.

“That Elite got you good,” She says, making small talk as she slides the needle in another spot on my face, this one right next to my right eye. I breathe out slowly, and then answer as the needle is pulled out.

“Got me as I came around a tree. Blade went right through my helmet and visor.” I answer, remembering the flare of pain as the energy sword went flashing though the skin on my face.

“Well, the engineers have put another visor on your helmet, and repaired the cut, so it’s good as new. You can pick it up as soon as I’m done,” The medic answers, her brown eyes still on the cut that is now clotting and starting to close, thanks to the fast acting medication she gave me. It runs from just above my eyebrow almost down to my chin, and it will leave a large scar. “Just one more,” She says cheerfully, sliding another needle into my face.

“Thanks doc,” I say gratefully, clapping her lightly on the shoulder as she slides out the needle. She smiles as she puts the last needle back into her box. She picks it up with on hand.

“Just doing my duty soldier. Try not to get cut up any more, alright?” Michelle says as she turns to go. She is the new medic that has been assigned to me, Tracey, Daniel, and another squad. Seeing that the three of us had lost our old squads, they had put us into one together.

I wince and prod the area around my jaw with a finger, noting the soreness. It will hurt to blink with that eye for a while. I stand from where I have been siting cross legged on the ground, sand falling off my legs as I get to my feet. I pick up my DMR from where it has been lying on the ground, dusting off the fine layer of grit that had gathered on it.

I walk through the sea of pods, watching as white clad medics treat to numerous wounded. The rest of the ODSTs that are not injured are gathered in squads not too far away, chatting, but they all keep one eye on the forest. I look over to the ocean side of the beach, where more ODSTs are casting the dead bodies of the Covenant into the ocean currents, to be carried off. No need to waste resources burning them.

Beyond the field of pods, where they have room enough to land, are the row of Pelicans that carried to medics and engineers down to the surface. In front of the large green space/air craft, which all have their doors down so that the green clad marines could unload cargo, a base camp is already starting up. White tents that have been erected in the sand house all of the communications to the UNSC In Amber Clad high above, letting them know the situation.

Here is where I find the first member my new squad. Daniel is sitting on a crate of ammunition, his helmet off and his forearm exposed. Another male medic, because Michelle is busy already, has just finished wiping a plasma burn on the inside of Daniel’s arm with some kind of healing ointment. Daniel grunts his thanks to the man as he re-attaches the section of his armor, standing with his helmet in a hand.

Daniel and I are about the same height. Despite him being older than me, I actually might have a quarter of an inch on him, now that I get a good look at him. He has dark brown hair, and hard green eyes. His face is marked with numerous small scars from battle, something that I am sure accompany my own large scar on my face now. His skin is actually tanned, contrary to common knowledge, as is all ODSTs. To keep up our levels of Vitamin D, we run in ultraviolet lights every morning that mimic the sun. His expression is hard and stone-like, but I detect a hint of humor in his eyes as he sees me approach, my helmet in the crook of my elbow, where it is most comfortable.

“Michael,” He greets me simply, and we clap forearms firmly. His grip is strong, his hands strengthened from years of hardship.

“Daniel,” I nod back. “I guess we are a squad now, huh?” I smile slightly, but stop when the cut on my face stings.

“It would appear so,” He rumbles back. “Along with Tracey, the sniper.” We release each other’s arms, and turn together to walk back into the sea of pods to locate out new member. “Where you from?” He asks me.

“Reach,” I say simply. “Lived on a farm.” Emotions surge, but with practiced ease I push them back down. Daniel nods in sympathy, and claps a hand on my shoulder. I nod in thanks to acknowledge it. “You?” I ask back.

“Earth, actually,” He says. I look at him in surprise. His eyes hold more than a hint of pride at being from the mother planet. We continue to make small talk as we weave in and out of the pods, keeping an eye out for the elusive third member of our new squad. Now that the medics have treated most of the patients, those with minor injuries and burns that needed attention, most of the ODSTs are setting up a perimeter near the camp.

I can see some of them digging a large trench about a foot into the tree line, heaving the dirt up on the other side to start construction of a low earth wall. Some of the other ODSTs are constructing sniper positions, which are being raised into the trees behind the new line of trenches. The last few are continuing to unload supplies from the landed Pelicans. As I watch, a green dot in the sky continues to grow larger and larger, solidifying into the shape of another Pelican. With the roar of engines it lands, sand whipping about under its bulk. The door on the bottom slowly slides down onto the ground, and a few more people walk out.

We finally find Tracey carefully doing what every ODST does in the morning. Weapons maintenance. She has placed a mat down on the ground to keep the pieces she has taken off from clogging up with sand. Her pistol is already re-assembled on the mat, the huge side arm shining from its recent polish.

Her sniper lies in many small and numerous pieces, carefully ordered and in certain position in the mat. Tracey has her helmet off, like most of the ODSTs, with a rag in her hand as she lovingly wipes and checks each and every individual piece of her weapon. Her helmet is lying on the mat next her pistol.

She looks up as she hears us approach, finishing on one piece of the sniper and moving on to another.

Questions and Introductions

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When a creature goes unconscious, and then wakes up in a strange place and in pain, its first reaction is to play dead. To make itself look as if it is still asleep, in case the predator that dragged it off it still in the vicinity. If it isn’t, the creature will run as far away as possible before the predator gets back. In my case, it wasn’t a predator that dragged me off, but a purple talking pony with pegasus wings and a unicorn horn. But the principal still applies.

Unlike last time I woke up, startled by the orange mare kicking the trees, I slowly come back into the waking world amid a haze of pain. My senses return to me slowly, feeling being the first one to come back into full functionality.

I fight down the urge to gasp in pain as the burning in my chest hits me full force. Unlike before I had blacked out, spitting blood onto the ground, the pain isn’t as sharp a sensation as it had been. It is more spread throughout my chest and stomach, as if someone has repeatedly hit me with an extremely large and heavy hammer. I make sure to keep my breathing steady and my eyes resting closed, despite the pain. This is a technique that, although basic, has helped me a few times in my career.

The smell of blood and concrete invades my nostrils, as apparently no one has cleaned off my armor. The room is extremely dusty as well, as if it is unused, and I want to sneeze.

I can still feel my MJOLNIR armor on my body, though my helmet seems to be gone. I try to move my arms, but I only hear a clank of metal on metal. I open my eyes, immediately squinting at the bright light. I move my legs, but again hear the same metal on metal sound, and I stay immobile.

By now my eyes have adjusted, and I can look around at the room I am in. It is large, probably a dozen meters across, with a twelve foot ceiling if I were to guess. It is all grey concrete, without a window in sight. Underground then? I am lying in the center of the room, on a slab of metal raised off of the ground.

I look down, and discover the reason I cannot move. Bands of metal, probably a couple of inches wide and fairly thick, strap my legs, arms, and chest down to the table. I struggle again, grunting. There is a groan as the metal straps bend, but do not break. If I am given enough time to recover my strength, I could break these and escape. I rest my head back, sighing and focusing on relaxing and saving my energy. At least my captors were thoughtful enough to get me a pillow.

I am only given a moments peace though, as I soon hear a scraping noise somewhere behind my head, the sounds of metal on concrete. It is confirmed as a door, when I hear numerous hoof beats coming in my direction. I count six creatures, probably ponies.

Almost, Almost. Another minute and I will be out of here. I crane my head upwards as far as it can go, trying to see behind me. It is no use, and I relax once more, sighing. And I wait. The ponies seem content to sit behind the slab, out of my field of vision, and just watch me. I hear breathing and shifting, but that is it.

Then, a voice. The same purple mare from the apple orchard. “Who are you?” She asks. Her voice is hard, trying to project an air of confidence. But underneath is an obvious shiver in her tone, giving away her fear. I smirk.

“Spartan 0343, Lieutenant, serial number: 123A4567J-A127F” I say stiffly, following protocol. Though I am fairly confident the UNSC never thought I would be in this position, rules are rules. I discover that my chest hurts when I talk too much, the throbbing kicking up another notch at even my short sentence. I want to wince, but I keep my face still.

“What are you doing here?” The mare asks, still behind my head. I think about a response. Say the same thing again, or actually provide some kind of an answer? While I would usually give the textbook answer, which is to say absolutely nothing in a complicated way, it is probably in my best interest to be in the good graces of my “captors”. I can break the metal bands now, I am sure, but I lie still. The rules pounded into me over the years put up a fight, but my logic wins out.

“I am here . . . on accident,” I settle with the short answer.

“On accident?” Finally, the purple mare trots over into my field of view. Even when the room is dark, except for the single light above me, and though the mare tries to stay in the shadows, my enhanced eyes see her fine. She is looking at me with an air of caution. Probably wise on her part. I flex my hands, feeling the metal bend. “How did you get here on accident?”

“I died,” I clip, not lying at all. But I have a feeling she won’t believe my answer.

“Don’t joke at me,” She answers, narrowing her eyes, again trying to project that feeling that she in is charge. It doesn’t work well, to say the least.

“Take it like you will,” I shrug, before the pain in my chest flares and I dissolve into a bought of painful coughing, my eyes squinted shut. After a few seconds, I open them again with a grimace.

“So you died,” The purple mare says again, sarcastically. Then another voice speaks up, one from behind me.

“Well, he is obviously . . . not from around here, it would explain his numerous injuries, darling,” The voice sounds high class, and oozes female. A long shot from the marine’s I am used to hearing. “Why don’t you read the list again, for all of our benefits,” the unnamed and unseen pony suggests.

The purple mare, I remember the name that the orange pony mentioned, Twilight, nods. An area of light appears, glowing purple around the mare. From . . . her horn? When I had thought unicorn, I didn’t think it was literal. So, “magic”, or something like it. Covenant Engineers have some low level telepathy, is it the same kind of thing here? Just in more advanced ways, and the power is manifested in the color purple? Then a clipboard floats out of nowhere, inside another purple aura, coming to stop at Twilight’s eye level. Great, telekinesis as well. This day is getting better and better.

“Well, after the hospital refused to take you inside for . . . various reasons,” Twilight rolls her eyes, “I had to bring you here and do it all myself. My scans indicated that you,” She flips a paper on her clipboard, reading off the new page. “Had two cracked rib and one broken one, which was stabbing into your lung, thank goodness I got that fixed, and severe bruising on your chest and right foot, along with approximately,” She pauses. “Four hundred and thirty five recent scars from potentially deadly laceration.”

I blink, surprised. That many? I knew I had some, but not anything close to that number. The parasite is the only reason I can think of. I imagine the scars, spider webbing like broken glass on my chest and foot, and with purple and black bruises covering the skin below them. Okay, that would explain the intense pain real well. But Sparkle isn’t finished yet.

“And your internal magic was so messed up you might as well have been a cabbage, though it has stabilized now. It’s a wonder you only had one broken rib, even after what you are wearing absorbed the blow from my friend.” She flips the paper down, but keeps the clipboard in front of her, looking back at me. “So, that adds some measure of truth to your story. Now,” She goes on to the next question. “How did you end up in Ap- my friend’s orchard?” She catches herself. Another tell of her emotions under her poker face.

“Well, I did not start out there,” I answer. “I was in some woods. I came out of the woods to find your friend’s orchard as well as her,” I am going to say a bit more, but another series of painful hacking stops me. I have enough strength to get free, but beyond that I don’t think I can do much.

“How did you get in Cottontail Woods?” Twilight cocks her head. I add that name to my mental list. A fitting description for what I had seen.

“I died,” I say again.

“Because that is a helpful answer,” The mare says, exasperated. She shakes her head, levitating her clipboard out of my plain of vision.

“It’s the truth,” I shrug. I sniff and try to get more comfortable on my slab of metal. “Can I get out of here now?” I ask.

“No!” Twilight exclaims. “I have more questions!”

“I’m not answering them until I can actually stand,” I say. I make the motion to cross my arms, but the restraints stop me. I shouldn’t break them while these ponies are watching. But if they leave, I will not hesitate to. Then I will need to find the rest of my gear. I don’t know about my Magnum and knife, but I am certain my DMR and helmet are gone.

Despite what I said. Twilight starts to rattle off questions. “What are you wearing? How high tech is it? How did you get it on? What were you carrying?” I stay stubbornly mute. “Why has your DNA been messed with?” Twilight shouts in exasperation.

I speak, interrupting her “How do you know that?”

I can see the spark of triumph in Twilight’s eyes as she answers my question. “Well, for one, you have advanced bones and muscles, that is easy to find out with a scan,” She seems proud of that fact, “I’m not sure about most other things, but I know the part of your brain for fear has been reduced, among other things.”

Jeez, for an apparent civilian doctor, this Twilight does know what she is doing. I also have enhanced intelligence, reaction time, senses, more pain tolerance, but there would be no way for her to know that when I was unconscious.

Now that I have spoken after I said I wouldn’t, Twilight apparently thinks that I will answer her other question, so she says them all again in the same order. I give back the same response as before. That is to say, nothing.

Finally, she growls and slaps a hoof to her face. I quirk a brow, fighting down a smirk. “All you have to do is let me stand,” I suggest.

“Fine,” She groans. “Then will you talk?”

“If it is something I can answer,” I say. I’m counting on her to not see my real meaning in the half-truth sentence. If something is classified and she doesn’t need to know it, she won’t get an answer. Even if the UNSC isn’t here, their rules are in my head. I generally make it a point to stick to them, even in the strangest of situations, of which this definitely counts.

The purple glow surrounds the metal band, and they snap one by one, the metal groaning in protest. Finally freed from the constraints, I sit up, immediately wincing as my chest lets me know how it feels about me moving. But I am undeterred, and after a second of breathing, I try to stand.

At which point my foot lets me know how it feels by dropping me back onto my butt. I groan involuntarily, pain pounding through my body. I smash a fist into the panel, denting the metal. I am a Spartan, and yet I can’t stand! This is pathetic.

Twilight had taken a step forward when I was trying to stand, but she moved back when I punched the metal slab. She now eyes me with fear and apprehension, and I feel my face harden. Pain isn’t going to stop me. I stand again, this time blocking out what my body is telling me. Beads of sweat drip down my neck. I keep telling myself I’ve been in worse. As a Spartan, I need to be able to keep functioning, however damaged I may be.

“Where’s my helmet?” I ask, my half glare turning on Twilight. She shrinks back, her ears flattening to her skull. Her horn lights up, and my familiar black and blue ODST style helmet floats into view from the darkness. I snatch it out of the air, quickly attaching it. I am soon staring out of the comforting visor of the helmet, my systems powering on. There is a loud hum and my armor glows yellow as my shields recharge.

I feel better with my entire suit on. Stronger, more complete. The pain fades, more insignificant. I am a Spartan. I grow colder, more efficient. This is what I am. This becomes my mantra. I am a Spartan. I look around the room, my vison tinting barely green as my visor adjusts.

Just like I had thought, there is a group of ponies standing behind the metal slab, hiding in the shadows. I take my time and look closely at each one, taking into account the green tint when I see color.

The first one is stark white as far as I can tell, and I am glad she is standing in the shadows. She has dark purple hair that is stylized into curls that fall away from her head and flanks. Her blue eyes are surrounded by a light shade of makeup, and I spot three diamonds on her flank. A unicorn horn spirals its way out of her forehead. Interesting.

The next is so prismatic I am even gladder she isn’t in the full light. Her coat is a light blue, and her magenta eyes are narrowed in silent challenge, one that I dismiss immediately. Her hair is the thing that stands out, as an entire rainbow seems to be captive in her mane and tail. A pair of wings are held to her sides, obscuring her flanks. I cannot see a mark on them from my position, by I would guess there would be one.

The third is hard to see, mainly because she is hiding behind the blue pegasus. She seems to be a buttery yellow, but all I can see is a patch of pink hair and a large fearful green eye that peeks out from behind the hind legs of the blue pony.

I know the fourth pony, the orange mare from the apple orchard. The fifth is bright pink, from head to hoof, with a mane and tail that are so big and poofy that I am surprised she can balance enough to stand, let alone hop into the air like she is at the moment. A manic grin spits down this mare’s face, and her blue eyes shine.

I assess the situation. Six potential hostiles, in a confined space. I pat my thigh with a hand, sensing my Magnum still there. One magazine, six kills. It would take less than two seconds.

Pro: I would be able to locate my gear and move freely.

Cons: Too many unknown variables. Where am I? Can I escape? Are there more hostiles nearby?

Conclusion: Find another option.

I turn back to Twilight, asking another question. “Where is the rest of my gear?”

“I can’t let you have it,” She says, stubbornly.

I stare into her eyes, seeing my faceless blue visor reflected in them. “Where?”

“You have to answer my questions! You promised!” Twilight says, exasperated, stamping a hoof onto the ground.

I incline my head. “No.”

“W- What?” She sputters. Apparently the thought that I would break my promise never occurred to her. I almost laugh.

“Give it to me, or I will find it,” I growl. I am not in the mood for this. My headache is pounding and my body throbs with waves of pain. I will not have these prismatic ponies getting in my way.

When she stares me down in defiance, I turn and survey the room more carefully. I spot a place in the wall different from the rest. A door. I stalk towards it, when I feel myself halted by an invisible force.

I look down to see one leg incased in a purple aura. I look back and see Twilight, her face determined, her horn aglow with the same color. My instincts flare.

I jerk my leg forward, but Twilight grunts and my leg is pulled back into place. I turn.

“Release me.”

“No,” Twilight replied adamantly. “I won’t let you leave until you answer my questions.” She is sweating, and I can see her legs shaking. Despite her obvious fear, she stands fast. I hear muttering from the group of other ponies.

I take a step towards her, my armor scraping against the floor as Twilight’s aura holds it to the ground. I am only a few feet away now. I loom over the purple pony, my seven foot height dwarfing the creature only half my size. I feel my rage building. How dare she?

I put on a burst of speed, and Twilight shrieks, surprised. I am on her in a flash, and my glove closes around her throat as I easily lift her into the air. She gags, and my foot is free, her aura sputtering and dying.

I turn, holding Twilight in one arm. I am putting enough pressure on her neck for it to be extremely uncomfortable, but not enough to do any serious damage. Each member of the group of ponies has taken a step closer to me, and all but the yellow and pink one are snarling, eyes alight. The pink one looks surprised more than angry, and it seems like her mane has flattened a bit.

“Let her go!” The blue one shouts. All of the other mares shout various things along the same lines, except for the yellow one, who just cowers in the back, and the pink one, who eyes me the same way as before.

“No,” I growl. “Get me the rest of my gear, or she will die.” I do not feel like sugar coating it. It would be easy, and I am in a bad mood.

“Why you little-!” The blue mare shouts, making a gesture to rush at me, her wings flared out. I tighten my grip on Twilight’s neck. She lets out a gag, her eyes popping out as her hooves scrabbling uselessly against my armor. The blue one pauses, snarling at me.

“My gear,” I say again, shaking Twilight a bit for emphasis.

The white one speaks next. “Fluttershy, could you go get the good gentlecolt’s stuff?” She bats her eyelids at me. I am unfazed by the abrupt change in tactics; I’ve seen it all before. Tracey was a master at that strategy. I do not answer, keeping my pressure on Twilights neck, letting her breathe shallowly as she keeps struggling. “Do not even light that horn,” I whisper to her, seeing the thought in her eyes. “I will kill you.” She drops limp, looking into my visor with fear. I don’t care.

The yellow one all but crawls off, opening the door that I had seen in the wall. The room goes silent as it closes with a bang, and the stare off continues. Me versus four tiny horses. I resist the urge to shake my head, tightening my grip. Twilight gags more, and I smile. It feels good.

The yellow mare returns a minute or so later, slinking back in the way she came out. I sneer as she grovels on the floor, slinking near me. My DMR and knife are deposited in front of my boots. Most of the ponies growl and snarl as I move forward, but I don’t care. I am in charge here.

I sweep up my gear, depositing each into their respective places. One part of my mind nags that I have what I want, holding Twilight hostage will do no more good at the present time.

The rest of me ignores it. My rage is so complete that my arm is shaking. I can feel it, almost taste it. The bones breaking, the screams. My vision goes red. I am consumed with a need. The need to kill, consume, grow. I tighten my grip, and I can see I am really hurting Sparkle now. She can’t breathe, and her face is changing to a sickly blue. I revel in it, in her pain.

And then with a snap, it’s gone. The rage, the anger, all disappears as fast as it came. I gasp as it leaves an empty spot in my chest, one that pain rushes to fill. My injuries are back in full force, and my knees buckle, and I nearly fall. I barely keep my balance, my vision swimming.

What am I doing? I was supposed to be getting on their good side, not nearly killing one of them! Where did those feeling come from? This is a civilian for heaven’s sake!

I immediately relax my grip on Twilight. She gasps, and her face fills back into its normal purple color. I need to make up for this, try to show them I have a trace of good will. I mentally pound myself at my loss of control.

I set her down gently, and I can see she is surprised. The other ponies move forward, but don’t dare come any closer while I am still near their friend. I kneel down, so that we are almost at eye level. I see the fear in her eyes, the pure terror. Of me. My heart wrenches.

“Let me see your neck,” I say gently, keeping my hand on her shoulder. She doesn’t move, paralyzed with fear. I tilt her chin upward myself, and I wince. Her neck is ringed with large bruises, quickly becoming blue and purple, showing under her fur. I reach back to my pack, and she tenses, her eyes refilling with terror.

I slowly grab a needle that pops from a section in the backpack. I keep stores of painkillers here for marines or others that get hurt on missions and need them to keep fighting. I wanted to save them, but I need to show that I am still a good guy. More to myself than anything.

I gently lift the needle back to where she can see it. She squeaks, but is still frozen. Her eyes are locked onto the small point. The other ponies gasp, and I hear one start to cry loudly. Probably the yellow one.

“Its painkiller,” I say, keeping my voice as soft as possible. “Would you like some?”

She dimly nods. I can tell she is in shock. Her movements are jerky and her eyes clouded, not registering what is happening. This should help with that. I gently tilt her head farther upward, and slide the small needle into the side of her neck, right below the ring of bruises. She hisses as I push down the plunger, quickly depositing the clear liquid into her neck. I pull it out, and crush it in one hand, throwing the plastic and metal shards behind one shoulder.

“Does that feel better?” I ask. I look her in the eyes, trying to get her to look into mine, but I remember my helmet is on. I take my hand off her shoulder and remove my helmet, the armor hissing as I set it next to my foot. I hear a gagging noise in the background, but I dismiss it. I try to pour as much caring emotion into my eyes as I can, meeting Twilight’s large purple ones with mine. Show her that you are a good guy, Michael.

You are a good guy.

“Does that feel better?” I ask again, and she nods slowly. “Good.” I stand, attaching my helmet, leaving her sitting there on the floor. I take a few steps backwards, nearly hitting the metal slab in the center of the room.

As soon I am a bit away, the other ponies rush to the sitting Twilight. They crowd around her, all rushing to examine her neck, and the rest of her. She stays there on the floor, but her expression brightens, recovering from the shock. Probably a combination of the drug and being temporarily out of danger.

“Darling! Are you alright?” “Sugarcube, are you feeling okay?” “I might have something for those bruises . . . I mean . . . if you want . . .” “I can’t believe this! That freak almost killed you!” This last sentence is accompanied by a chorus of scalding glares from the group, the largest one from the blue pegasus, who is hovering above the rest. “I say we pound him right now!” She snarls at me.

I say nothing. My mind roams over the last minute. Where did the rage come from? All of those feelings? The enjoyment. I shudder. They said that the gene alterations could have adverse effects on some Spartans. They told me I would be fine. I saw some of the broken ones though, sick and mad, raving before being put down, or killing themselves. I hadn’t had any problems before, why now?

I shake my head slightly. Can’t dwell on that now, there is no time for it. I have to focus on the situation on hand. I slowly drop into a sitting position, the back of my shoulders knocking against the metal slab behind me. My foot immediately shows me how grateful it is from my new position, and the pain falls down to more manageable levels.

The fawning continues for a couple minutes, until Twilight seems to be at full capacity again. Her glare has joined the glares of the rest of the group. The pink one’s mane has completely flattened now, and she look at me with a morose expression.

“I see now that you are a violent beast,” Twilight announces, as if she is about to start a speech. “And that you cannot-”

“I’m sorry.”

“Remain-” Twilight pauses, looking at me in surprise when I interrupt the beginning of her apparent presentation. “What?” She asks.

“My flank you’re sorry!” The rainbow pegasus erupts. “I mean, even Applejack can tell that aren’t telling the truth on that one!” The pony glances at the orange one, for support.

“He’s tellin’ the truth, Dash,” Applejack answers. Even with this, her glare doesn’t lessen.

“What?” the blue one sputters. “How can you say-”

“’Cause it’s true, he really is sorry,” Applejack answered. The blue one looks crestfallen, but perks up at the orange mare’s next sentence. “But that does not excuse what you did to my friend!”

All of the mares nod. I see that the pink one’s mane has fluffed up a bit, and she looks at me with only hostility now instead of sadness.

“This armor is . . .” I pause, searching for what to say. “Very important to me.” All of the ponies look to Applejack, who nods. They treat her like an organic lie detector. I keep that in mind.

“Does that warrant choking poor Twilight nearly to death?” The white one asks, with a toss of her mane.

“No,” I answer truthfully. Applejack nods again.

“Then why’d you do it?” The pink one asks this time. Her eyes stare dead into mine, even with my visor in the way, as if she can see right through it.

“I-” my formulated response flies away under that stare. “I don’t know.” Even when Applejack nods, the blue one is outraged. She flies to only a foot away, her eyes alight with anger.

“That’s a bull crap excuse if I ever heard one!” She jabs a hoof at my chest accusingly.

“Ask your friend if you don’t believe me,” I point back to the group. The blue pegasus opens her mouth as if to respond, but she closes it when she can’t make a comeback. With an angry huff, she flies backwards to the group, her glare not lessening. “I feel like I owe you some recompense for my actions,” I say, and the blue one snorts. Ignoring it, I look at Twilight. “I will answer your questions.”

“Really?” Twilight beams. It seems her injury at my hand is already forgotten, though I can’t say the same of her group of friends. She looks like a little kid presented with a million credits when I answer in the affirmative. It’s a bit creepy. The blue one throws up her hooves a storms off near the back wall.

Twilight plops down a couple yards away, and her clipboard and notepad come back from where they hand been lying on the floor, held in her purple aura. She leans forward with her question. “What are you wearing?”

“MJOLNIR Generation Two Armor.” I answer. Twilight scribbles the answer down.

“What’s it made of?” She launches at me.

“Cerematic-metallic alloy,” I tap one of my shoulder guards. The under suit is made of a combination of a bunch of other things, and I don’t care to list them all, so I just don’t mention it. I don’t have to, as Sparkle asks another question.

“Tell me more about it,” She says.

“Well, it weighs a little over a ton,” I begin, but she interrupts me.

“A ton?” She exclaims. “How do you move with that much weight on you?”

“Mechanical assistance,” I answer. “Thousands of parts and electronics that help me move.”

“What powers it?” Her eyes are shining as she scribbles furiously on her paper.

My helmet helpfully pulls of the schematics. “A fusion plasma hybrid power system,” I tap my backpack with a fist. “Housed in here.”
I spend another half hour or so answering questions about my armor. I can see I lose her on ninety nine percent of the technical stuff, but she doesn’t seem to care at all, jotting down every answer I give. Another plus of the questioning in that I can see the group of ponies warming up, if not to me, than to the situation. The pink one is back smiling and happy, and the yellow one is no longer crying, though she eyes me fearfully. The blue one and Applejack are still the most wary, sticking to the back of the group and whispering quietly to each other.

I’m not sure what to think of the white one. She just keep s staring at my armor, her facial expressions ranging from disgust to intrigue. I honestly don’t know what she is thinking.

We finally move away from my armor, and Twilight asks a question that perks my attention. “What happened to your skin? Was that a chemical reaction or something else?” She leans forward more. I don’t know how she can stay in that position without falling over.

“My skin?” I look at my hands, a mental blank, as I end up staring at my armor. I look up. “What about it?”

“Well, it was when-” A large yawn interrupts Twilight. I look to the left to see the white pony blushing a bit and holding a hoof over her mouth.

“So sorry to interrupt darling, but it is getting a bit late,” She apologizes with another small yawn.

“If I may ask, what time is it?” I interject.

“Around 10:30, if I were to guess,” The white one muses, eyeing me warily as I speak to her. I reset my helmet clock to 2230 hours, nodding my thanks. “Anyway, I feel like, now that we have,” She looks at me again, “Come to somewhat of an understanding, that it is safe to retire for the night.”

“But I have more questions!” Twilight protests, but she can’t stop a yawn from escaping. “But maybe they can wait until tomorrow,” She says sheepishly.

“We can’t just leave it here with you!” The blue one points at me.

“Why not?” Twilight asks. “As long as he promises not to hurt me or try to escape.” I take the hint.

“I promise not to hurt anyone or try to escape tonight,” I answer. Applejack nods, and sends the blue one into a rage. I smile under my visor at the last word in my sentence. Insurance of a sort.

“I don’t know who you think you are,” Small flicks of spit fly into my visor. “But if you think you can just come in here, hurt my friend, and get off scot free, you got another thing coming buster!” She lashes a hoof at my face. My armor glows yellow, and I don’t flinch as my shields absorb the impact.

“Please,” I say gently, holding up my hands in a placating gesture. “I realize I did you wrong, but this is not necessary,” The only answer I get is another wild strike.

Finally, after a minute of the blue pegasus punching at me, Twilight intervenes. The blue pony is pulled back by her tail, which Twilight has grasped in her purple aura. “Rainbow Dash, that’s enough!” Twilight stamps a hoof on the ground.

“But Twilight!” The pegasus looks at Twilight, a pleading. “How can you be like this? After what it did to you?!”

“I know, and it was wrong,” Twilight answers patiently. “But he has apologized honestly, and he has promised not to try and escape. That’s good enough for me for the moment.”

“But it isn’t for me!” The newly dubbed Rainbow Dash exclaims. “Come on Applejack? Rarity?” The white pony shakes her head slowly. “Pinkie?” The pink pony just look up at her with a hint of sadness. “Fluttershy?” The yellow pony shrinks back, but does not reply.

“Fine!” Rainbow shouts, tears running down her cheeks. “I can tell when I’m not wanted!” The door slams as the pegasus speeds out of the room.

“I’ll go talk to her . . . um . . .” The yellow pony, Fluttershy, stutters, giving me one last look before walking to the door and exiting.

“Oh dear,” the white unicorn, Rarity, holds a hoof to her face. “I will go as well, Twilight,” she looks apologetically at the purple alicorn. “I will see you tomorrow, alright?” With that and a final sigh, Rarity exits as well.

The pink pony bounces over to me, beaming. “What is your name?” She chirps.

“Michael,” I answer slowly, a bit put off.

“Ooooh, I’m so excited! Your party is going to rock!” She shouts, jumping into the air, before sprinting out of the room, leaving me and Twilight alone. I look at her, pointing to the door.

“Yes, she’s always like that,” The purple mare sighs, before straightening. “Anyway, I forgot to introduce myself. I’m Twilight Sparkle,” She holds out a hoof to me.

“Michael,” I answer, gently shaking her hoof. She flinches at the contact, but doesn’t waver. “Nice to meet you, Miss Sparkle.”

“Will you be okay down here tonight?” She bites her lip and look around. “I can try and make a room, but I don’t know if there’s anything suited to your size and weight but I can-”

I interrupt her. “I will be fine, thank you.”

“Are you sure? It’s not the most comfortable of bedrooms,” She looks around. “At least let me get you some blankets or something.”

I wave her concerns away. “I have slept on worse. Anyway, I have given you too much grief already today. “

“If you say so,” She replies. “Just remember your promise.” Her gaze is rock steady.

“Of course,” I incline my head politely. “Good night Miss Sparkle.”

“Good night, Michael.” And with that, and one final slam of the concrete door, I am left alone. The light above me flickers out, and I am left in pitch blackness. I blink off the night vision on my visor, laying down on the hard concrete. My chest and foot are throbbing, but I ignore it.

After a few minutes, I fall into a fitful sleep.

----- 3 Years Ago

“Alright ODST, gather round!” The shout rings above the makeshift camp. The black clad soldiers stand, brushing sand off armor and weapons. The landing on the beach was only about an hour ago, so everyone in the camp is ready to go at the drop of a hat.

I stand with Daniel and Tracey, joining the flow towards the center of operations. A large crowd gathers around a single place. Tracey and Daniel elbow their way to the front, while I hang in the back, content to watch over the heads of my fellow ODSTs.

A single ODST has stood up on top of an ammo crate, his helmet removed. He has a long and chiseled face, with tired but alert eyes and a three o’clock shadow dusting his chin. His suit has a light grey highlight on the visor and helmet. As he speaks, his voice booms over the group, and it goes silent.

“My name is Jacob Hislar, and I am the commanding officer for this mission,” His eyes roam over the crowd. “Do not think that just because I am of higher rank, that I cannot fight. I can, and will, fight by your side when the time comes. On the battle field, I am just another soldier, but until then, you take orders from me,” There is a murmur of approval from the gathered soldiers. No one likes a stuck up commander. Those kinds are more likely to get you killed saving their own butt than to do anything.

“Commander Keyes has given me direct orders,” Hislar continues. “The Spartan, Johnson and another detachment of ODSTs have landed six klicks west of here,” Whispers start up at the announcement.

“The Spartan?” A man whispers to my right.

“Yeah, I’ve heard he’s like the devil himself on the battlefield,” Another answers. “A killing machine.”

Hislar holds up his hands to silence the crowd. “They got chewed up pretty badly,” He said, a trace of sadness in his tone. “And they want three ODSTs to serve as a guard for Keyes and Johnson with a few marines. Where is Delta squad?”

I start when I remember that that is my new squad. “Here sir!” I shout, and Daniel and Tracey do the same.

Hislar nods in our direction. “Since you three are new together, and, although I hate to say it,” He runs a hand through is short hair. “You are going to be benching this one. You leave in five, to fly to their position.” He jerks a thumb over his shoulder, pointing to a Pelican that is starting up its four Thrust Vectoring engines, a dull roar in the background.

I a crestfallen. My first mission as an ODST, and I don’t get to see any more action? I can see Daniel and Tracey feel the same by the glances they are giving each other.

“Alright,” Hislar claps. “The rest of us will be staying here for another few hours before we move out to our next objective.”

I walk from the back of the crowd, circling around to meet Daniel and Tracey near the Pelican. Daniel claps me on the shoulder. “We’ll get them next time,” He rumbles. I nod, stepping onto the ramp of the pelican with a thump. Daniel and Tracey follow.

“Hey there!” A green clad marine pilot greets us as we step on board. “Forgive the mess,” She waves at the piles of crates that sit in the bay of the ship, where the marines usually would sit. “I’m running resupply as well.”

I shrug, and find a place to sit wedged in between two ammo boxes. “If I were you,” The pilot goes rummaging through a bag on top of a crate. “I would be glad to fly out, do a bit of body guarding than be here.” With a smile, she pulls out a pilot style helmet, plopping it on top of her short hair and fastening the chin straps. The dark visor covers most of her face, but we can see her smile still.

“Not us,” Tracey speaks up. “We’re ODST. We belong here, not watching the back of some higher up.”

“Suit yourself,” The pilot shrugs, stepping into the cockpit. The engine roar increases tenfold, and the pilot’s voice comes out of my helmet next. “This’ll be a short ride, more of a hop than anything. Don’t get to comfortable back there.”

And with that, the Pelican rises off the ground and begins to turn to the west. Behind me, I can feel more than see the camp disappearing, along with all of my comrades in arms besides my squad. I stifle a sigh. Next time, Daniel said.

Next time.

----- Present

I jerk upright in my suit, breathing hard. Shaking my head, I look around, only to see nothing in the pitch blackness. I groan, popping my back as I stretch. Sleeping in armor on hard concrete is not the most pleasant thing in the world. I blink on my night vision, and the room is bathed green. I also check my helmet clock.

It’s 0400 hours. I doubt that Sparkle (I find myself using her last name, like she is a soldier in the UNSC. Force of habit, I suppose) is awake yet, seeing how she isn’t here pestering me with questions. I take the time to do a quick body check. My chest still throbs, but much less so than last night, thanks to my rest. My foot is in a similar situation, but it still hurts.

I stand, stretching again. I jog in place a bit, feeling out how tired and hurt I am. Content that I can now run and walk, I do a couple laps of the large concrete room to warm up my muscles. It’s only 0415 now. I sigh, pondering what to do for the probable hour or so until Sparkle and her friends arrive again.

I made a promise to stay here, and that Applejack seemed to be a living lie detector, so I was telling the truth, according to her. But if I leave, that means I was lying, so therefore not telling the truth, but if I wasn’t telling the truth she would have said so. . . I shake my head, banishing the paradoxical train of thought. I can’t leave. If Sparkle arrives and I am still gone, I will be at another setback to gaining their trust.

I blink on my objective list, planning to add a few keep me steered in the right direction, but something catches my eye, and I stop. On the list on the inside of my visor, all of the objective slots are empty except for the top one. This one is filled with strange symbols, ones that I recognize as Forerunner letters. What is that doing there?

I blink it on, and start as a blue arrow pops up on the bottom of my vision, pointing south west from where I am, according to my compass. My helmet also informs me that it is about five miles from my current position. I wrack my brain.

The only explanation is that whatever saved me and brought me here put this objective here as well, though how it figured out how to do that is beyond me. There is no noticeable UNSC or Covenant trace that I have seen, with no communication on any bandwidth for either. What does it lead to? My bored speculation continues for another hour or so, when, around 0530, the door to my room is cracked open, and light spills in.

Sparkle is the first to enter, her horn glowing, lighting the light in the center of the room. I blink off my night vision. She is followed by Rarity, Fluttershy, Applejack, Pinkie, and finally Rainbow, who flies inside, glaring tiredly at me, apparently not used to waking up at this early time. She seats herself in the back with an angry thump and a yawn, as the rest of the ponies come farther forward.

“Good morning, Michael! Sorry for the early start,” Sparkle smiles, pulling out the same notepad as yesterday. We are getting right into it, it seems.

I incline my head. “I’ve been awake for a while.”

“Good!” Sparkle chirps. “You can answer my questions better, in that case.”

“I suppose,” I hedge, but she doesn’t notice, like I expected. Just like yesterday, the group of ponies sits down a few feet behind Sparkle, far enough away to not appear threatening, but close enough to show their support for the purple mare on the floor. It’s a surprisingly human gesture.

“So, we have already asked about your armor,” Sparkle begins. I sigh, sensing where this is going. “Now, I need to ask what you do with it. What is your occupation?” She asks eagerly.

“I am a soldier,” I answer curtly.

Sparkle scribbles an answer down. “I had supposed as much.”

Applejack interrupts from behind Sparkle. “What do you fight?” She is watching me with that suspicious glance again.

I mull this over. They would not know who the Covenant are, though I don’t technically fight them anymore, so I settle with a more vague answer. “Creatures that would harm my species.” True enough.

“And what species is that, your species?” Sparkle asks, shooting Applejack a glance for interrupting.

“Homo Sapien, or human,” I answer.

“Fascinating,” Sparkle says giddily. “I thought you were only myths!” He pen is scribbling madly on her paper.

“Same thing here,” I mumble, but, unfortunately, Sparkle hears me.

“Really?” Her eyes grow wide. “We are myths to you?”

“Yes,” I point at Rarity. “Unicorns,” then to Rainbow. “Pegasi,” then to her. “Alicorns. We have numerous myths and legends about you.”

“That can’t be a coincidence,” Sparkle whispers to herself, and I am inclined to agree. It is quite the parallel. “So,” The purple mare continues. “How old are you?”

That one is easy. “21.”

“And when did you begin military service?” These questions are getting a bit personal, but I keep answering for the sake of courtesy.

“I was drafted at 16.”

“What?” Her head whips up. “That young?”

“Yes,” I answer. I see the question on her mind, so I answer it before she can ask. “I was needed.”

“To be forced into military service so young?” Rarity gasps, a bit dramatically. “What could have possibly forced your people to do such a thing?” Sparkle nods, looking back to me.

I go for an unorthodox approach to answer this question. “How many people live on this planet?” I ask Sparkle. She hums a bit.

“Probably around 8 billion,” She guesses. “If you count everyone.”

I nod. A good sized planet, for what technology I have seen so far. “Have you ever had extraterrestrial contact?” I ask, and Sparkle tilts her head in confusion.

“No, why?” Her face lights up. “Were you attacked by aliens?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

I come up with a simple answer to a complicated question. “They believed that we, meaning all humans, were a scourge on the galaxy, infidels to their religion, and they were bent on our total destruction.” I clip. Pretty much.

“What?” Sparkle gasps, and it is echoed by all of the other ponies, including Rainbow, who is now listening contently. “What kind of religion would teach such a thing?” She asks, horrified.

“Theirs,” I shrug. “We were at war for over twenty five years.”

“How many humans were killed in this war?” Rarity asks, again from behind Sparkle, her face a bit green. Pinkie’s hair has dropped again, and she looks on with the air of extreme sadness. Strange how she can flip so fast.

“23 Billion.” I answer sadly.

“What?” Sparkle blusters. “That many fit on one planet?”

“No,” I shake my head. “Numerous planets, almost too many to count, rendered uninhabitable by our enemies attacks,” My voice softens. “They killed every man, woman, and child on each of those planets before the war ended. Including my entire family.” I feel a pang of grief, but I push it down.

Rarity faints, and Applejack looks on with a sad expression. Fluttershy is crying silently, but now it seems it is for me, not from fear. She looks at me with eyes full of sympathy. Rainbow, in the back, has floated forward a bit, her eyes wide. I continue, even though she hasn’t asked a question.

“I was born nine years after the war started. Humanity was running out of men. They needed me. I answered the call.” I feel a surge of pride at this.

“That’s,” Sparkle struggles to come up with words. “That’s . . . horrible! So much death, it’s . . .” She can’t come up with another word. She doesn’t need to.

“Yes,” I whisper. “Yes it is.”

Sparkle shakes her head, composing herself. She takes a deep breath and draws herself upwards, and I can tell more questions are coming. Behind her, Applejack is trying to wake the unconscious Rarity, while Rainbow, apparently over her anger towards me, comforts the sobbing Fluttershy. Pinkie looks on, with the same expression as before. It seems her pink color has been de-saturated, more of a grey now.

To my surprise, Sparkle does not ask a question. Instead, she turns to her friends. “I feel as if I have all I need to know, to justify Michael’s actions yesterday. All in favor of letting him be free?” To my surprise, every pony votes in the affirmative, even Rainbow. “That settles it.” She turns back to me. “You will need to be accompanied by one of us at all times, but I feel it is safe for you to now roam around outside this dungeon.”

I nod my thanks, eyeing the small blue objective arrow. “Thank you.” All of the ponies stand, and I follow suit.
“Let’s go upstairs, I need a cup of tea or something,” Sparkle announces.

“I am in the mood for one of Spike’s teas as well,” Rarity, who is now awake, though still a bit woozy, says. The ponies walk towards the door set into the wall, and I follow, my boots clunking on the concrete floor. I am stopped by a wall of pink that fills up my entire visor. Sobbing fills my ears, and I can tell that someone has wrapped something around my neck and chest, and it is gripping there.

I push my head above the pink, and look down, my eyes widening. Fluttershy is hugging me, sobbing into my shoulder. “I feel so . . . so sorry for you! I can’t imagine-” Her eyes are shut tight, and tears trace down her cheeks. I am surprised, but I don’t let it show. I slowly drop to the ground, settling into a kneeling position.

I gently lift her head away from my shoulder with one hand, taking off my helmet with the other. “Hey,” I say gently, wiping a tear off of her cheek. My hand looks gigantic next to her head, almost as if I could palm it like a ball. I give her a smile, which she doesn’t return. “There is a happy ending,” I murmur softly.

“How?” She asks, and the innocence in her eyes wrenches my heart.

“We won,” I answer simply. “We beat back the evil three years ago. Yes the war was awful, but it’s over now.”

Fluttershy nods, and she takes a stop back, wiping at her face with her hoof. “S- sorry,” She stammers. “I didn’t mean to. . . I mean. . . ”

I chuckle, standing and reattaching my helmet. I pat her mane with a hand. “It’s no problem,” I gesture to the door, where all of the ponies are watching us. “Your friends are waiting.”

Fluttershy smiles a bit, walking over to join the group of ponies. I go after them, holding the concrete door open with a hand for a moment. The light flickers out behind me, leaving darkness at my back. With one final tug, I seal the room.

Tea Time

View Online

As it turns out, I was in a dungeon. A medieval style dungeon, complete with iron bars and unused chains on each cell wall. The corridor we are walking in is lined with them, all illuminated by the small lights in the ceiling. They flicker on and off as our group passes, apparently motion activated. The sound of my boots on the floor echoes in the long hallway.

The ponies are chatting ahead of me, occasionally glancing back to make sure I am still here. Where else I would go is beyond me, but I just keep following at a respectful distance. While I walk, I am blinking through files on my helmet, always keeping one eye on the small blue arrow on the bottom.

I growl as I flick my eyes to the side, opening another one of the armor’s settings as I silently thank the man who taught me how to look through my suit’s dumb A.I. (Smart A.I. are sapient). The folders hold no hints on how the mysterious objective made it into my helmet, except for the occasional scramble of Forerunner letters. The blue file I have open is as useless as the rest, and I dismiss it, abandoning the hope that I can find out what happened. My only option now is to follow the arrow to see where it leads.

The group of ponies nears a large door set at the end of the hallway, and Sparkle’s horn lights up, the door groaning as it opens. Bright and cheerful light floods the gloomy hallway, and the ponies all quickly go through. I follow, stooping as to not hit my head on the top of the door which is only about six feet tall. A set of stairs leads upwards, and I follow the ponies, still hunched over.

The new hallway we enter is a polar opposite from the one we just left. Instead of concrete, every surface is made from shining purple crystal, from the walls and the floor to even the large chandeliers that hang suspended from the high ceiling, shining from the abundant light in the room. Large windows flank one side of the hallway, and sunlight pours through them, painting bright patterns on the delicately designed rugs that line the floor. The windows show nothing but a peaceful grassland, with sparse clouds floating in the sky.

I look around, stopping at the head of the concrete stairs as the ponies continue to walk and chat quietly. Holy crap, is this where these ponies live? It is easily the most lavish and expensive place I have ever been in, and I acutely smell the blood and dirt that encases my armor. I make a note to clean that as soon as I get the chance. I take a step onto the crystal, and freeze when a huge cracking noise echoes off the walls. I look down, raising my foot. The floor where I had stepped has splintered from my weight, the cracks spider webbing out for about a yard or so.

The ponies’ heads whip around, staring at me. I point downward. “It broke,” I explain simply.

Sparkle hums and trots over. “I guess it wasn’t made for something as heavy as you. One second,” Her eyes narrow and her horn flashes, and the crystal is back into perfect condition, shining as if it had never been broken. “Try it now,” She motions to me.

I take a slow and careful step, gradually putting my weight onto to floor. Seeing and hearing nothing, I lift and place my other foot onto the crystal. When there is not sound of protest at my weight, Sparkle smiles.

“That should do it! Just put a little strengthening spell on the floor. You should be okay to walk around now,” She boasts.

“Thank you,” I answer.

“No problem,” She chirps, making her way back to her friends. I follow again, still taking in the splendor of the hallway. My boots clink against the crystal, a different sound than I am used to. I notice that everything in this place has been carved with a pattern similar to that of the tattoo on Sparkle’s flank. Does she live in this place?

If she does, than I am glad I caught myself before killing her. She must be royalty of some kind, and killing her would have had all sorts of negative ramifications. Better to befriend the leaders of a world than kill them. Especially if they could do “magic”.

The ponies turn into another door, all making sounds of relief. I stoop once again, preventing my helmet from making another crack in the crystal of the building. I enter a large kitchen.

In this room, a few things are made from other things than crystal, thankfully. I see a large metal stove and oven, as well as other cooking appliances that could be found in a human kitchen. All of the cupboards were still make out of crystal, but I would take what I could get. The brightness of this place is started to get on my nerves.

“Spike, could we have a bit of tea?” Sparkle asks the occupant of the kitchen.

“Sure thing Twi. What for-” The creature turns and its eyes widen. I assess it.

I estimated the ponies to be about four feet tall, standing to my stomach area. This thing is two thirds that size, standing to mid-thigh. It is bipedal, with two thick legs that support its body. It has arms as well, each ending in in a hand. Each finger is tipped with small claws, and each toe as well. Most of the creature is purple, though its reptilian eyes are green, as well as spikes that run from the top of its head down its back and tail. I classify it as some sort of lizard, though nothing I have seen before.

The lizard gazes up at my visor, before shaking his head. “I guess I know why I wasn’t allowed into the dungeon,” it speaks under its breath. I estimate it to be around eleven years old, a good number of years younger than I guess that all of the ponies are. It is also the first male I have seen in this place.

“Hello,” I say. The small creature jumps in surprise, and Sparkle speaks from where the group of ponies had been standing, a few feet away. They seem to be watching the exchange between me and the small lizard with interest.

“Michael, meet Spike, my little brother,” She says fondly. I look to her, and raise one eyebrow, though I know she can’t see it. “He’s adopted.” She clarifies.

“You’re big,” Spike blurts, and I chuckle.

“Yes.”

“What are you?” He asks, the pot on the stove forgotten at the moment.

“I’m a human,” I look to the ponies, but Sparkle motions to me to keep talking to Spike. I sigh softly and oblige, eyeing my objective tracker arrow.

“Really?” Spike leans forward, and I have a feeling he is going to fall off the small stool he is standing on if he goes any further. “Like, a real human?” Spike looks to Sparkle who nods. He looks back to me. “Awesome,” He pauses. “I didn’t think you would look, or smell like that.”

“That smell is not what I usually smell like, and this is armor,” I rap on my chest plate with a fist. Speaking of the smell. . . “You wouldn’t happen to have a wet rag that I could borrow, would you?”

“Oh sure,” Spike turns, opening one of the crystal cupboards with is claw and sifting through it, before pulling out a brown rag. He twists a nob on the sink, soaking the rag in the stream of water before handing it to me. “Here you go.”

“Thanks,” I nod.

“Spike darling, I think you should watch that pot of water,” Rarity hints.

“Oh!” Spike jumps, quickly turning to the steaming pot which is rattling on the stove top. “Oh, sorry! I’ll have the tea ready in a minute,” He grins sheepishly, showing sharp canines. “Just head on in to the table.”

The ponies walk through an adjoining door. I take one last look at Spike before shaking my head and following. The door leads into a huge dining room, once again in the complete crystal style. The table seems to have grown straight out from the floor, and is large enough to seat twenty or thirty people, or ponies in this case. Once again, the tattoo that Sparkle has is in the center of the large table.

The ponies take up the seats around the large table, in huge crystal chairs more akin to thrones, and I make to do the same, before seeing that the size of the remaining empty throne. I decide to not subject the chest high chair to my weight and sit on the floor instead.

I drop cross legged a few feet away from Fluttershy, who happens to be on the seat nearest to me. I take of my helmet, and start to clean it with the rag, scrubbing off the layer of blood and crime that had accumulated on it. I make sure to do the visor especially well, as anything on the outside will be annoying when I am looking through it.

“So, I have sent a letter to Princess Celestia about this,” Sparkle waves a hoof. “Situation. She will be here tomorrow.” I perk up a bit, setting down my now clean helmet and moving on to the top of my chest plate.

“Princess? So I assume this place is a monarchy,” I say.

“This place is Equestria,” Sparkle informs me, and I stifle a snort. What a name. “And yes, we have royalty here.”

“Of which Twilight is one, so you better not try anything, buster,” Rainbow speaks up from across the large table. I wave my hands in a placating gesture before looking to Sparkle. I am surprised to see her blushing a bit, sending a look to the multi colored pegasus, who shrinks down a bit.

“Yes, I am a princess,” She seems hesitant to admit it. My guess earlier had been correct. I am now even more grateful that I caught myself before killing her. Murdering a princess? That could have had devastating repercussions, both for me and the ponies. That does bring up questions though. If this is a castle, where are all the guards, the staff? Not to mention the king and queen. Did they send their daughter to deal with me instead of doing it themselves?

What Sparkle says next interrupts my musings. “The Princess of Friendship.”

Wait, ‘Princess of Friendship’ is a title? Maybe her family rules over a kingdom that is super friendly to all of the other nations or something. Interesting.

“When can I meet the king and queen?” I ask, scrubbing the now dark and red rag over a section of my shoulder armor. “Maybe they can help me with my situation.”

“Oh, we don’t have king and queens,” Sparkle answers, and I look up, surprised. It must show on my face, because Sparkle takes a deep breath and launches into a history lesson. I can tell this must happen a lot, by the groans that I can hear from the rest of the group, besides Fluttershy, who looks like she wants to say something but doesn’t have the courage to.

“The last queen we had was Queen Platinum, over a thousand and five hundred years ago,” Sparkle begins. “She ruled over the unicorns before Equestria was founded. When the three races were combined and Equestria formed, she stepped down so that the Princess’ could rule. The reason they don’t use the title ‘queen’ is because they feel that it would imply that they are here to rule, instead of to watch over and protect,” she finishes, and Rainbow mutters something along the lines of ‘at least this one was short’.

“So you rule Equestria?” I ask, setting down the now useless rag.

“No, that would be Princess Celestia and Princess Luna,” Sparkle replies.

“Oh,” I frown. “So what are you the princess of?”

“Friendship!” Sparkle beams.

So the “Princess of Friendship” is an actual, literal, title. I actually feel bad for Sparkle. She seems perfectly content to be the princess of nothing. At least she got this castle, though her fake title does explain the absence of guards or staff. Why protect a useless princess? Maybe Spike is her butler . . . thing, and is the only servant she has.

At least she said I would get to meet with this Princess Celestia tomorrow. Maybe she can help me, though from what I’ve seen so far, I doubt they have interstellar travel. But maybe the Forerunner aspect of this place does. I once again eye the blue arrow on the bottom of my visor.

“Tea’s done!” The large door is slowly opens, as Spike uses his small back to push on it while balancing two trays in his claws. He goes around the table, setting down small cups to each of the ponies, who all thank him in kind. I notice that he beams at Rarity’s comment.

“I didn’t know what tea you like or, even if you could have tea,” He coughed upon reaching my sitting position on the floor. “So I just made chamomile for you. Is that okay?” He offers a small cup.

“That is prefect, thank you,” I answer, and Spike bustles back into the kitchen with a nod. The tiny cup is dwarfed in my hand, though I notice it is bigger than any of the ponies have. I take a sip, humming as I swallow the warm liquid. That’s good tea. The soothing drink also helps me gather my thoughts, as well as the relative silence as the rest of the ponies drink as well.

“When can I go outside?” I ask Sparkle. She thinks it over, looking at each pony in turn. I can sense the silent conversation going on.

“After the meeting tomorrow with the princess,” Sparkle answers. “But you will have to be with one of us,” She adds hurriedly.

That long? Though I suppose it will give me another night to build back my strength and to get to know this world more. I also assume that the entire group of ponies will be staying near me tonight, not giving me a chance to escape quietly even if I wanted to.

“That is fine. There is something I have to do,” I say, finishing off the tea and carefully setting the cup on the table. There is a second of uncomfortable silence, that I am happy to let stew. Rarity finally breaks it with a hurried question.

“Why did you pick those colors on your armor?” She blurts, before shrinking back a bit.

“Black and blue?” I turn my helmet around in my hands absently. “They blend in to shadows, help me stay hidden. It’s part of my job.”

“What about in the day time?” Fluttershy asks quietly.

“There are shadows, even in the day,” I shrug. “Even if there aren’t as many. I also find that black is a good intimidation color. Most people won’t be very calm if a dark, armored giant is coming at them.” I look to Rarity, whose eye is twitching sporadically. “Why do you ask?” I hedge slowly, warily watching the twitching mare.

“Well,” Rarity starts, taking a deep breath. “It’s just that it well, doesn’t match your skin tone,” She states.

I lift one eyebrow. “I am aware of my pale skin,” I respond. After all, I do live in this armor. “Your point is?” I shift on the ground as the eye twitch starts up again.

“I am somewhat of a fashionista, if you will,” Rarity states. I see Rainbow look at me with something akin to sympathy. I catch the same look on Applejack and Sparkle’s face as well. Strangely enough, Pinkie has her head buried in a large stack of paper, and occasional giggles can be heard. What she is planning will have to wait for later.

“And I make it my job,” Rarity continues. “To improve the fashion situation of all of my friends.” She looks pointedly at me.

“You don’t like my color scheme?” I guess. I honestly don’t know where this conversation is going, or when Rarity and I became “friends.”

“No, no,” She waves her hooves at me in flat denial, though her eyes say otherwise. “I think it could use some, improving is all,” She hints. “I happen to be an expert in this field.”

“Nope,” I say flatly. The other mares gasp at my denial of Rarity’s offer.

“But dear!” She grins, her one eye still twitching. “A nice light blue would match perfectly!”

“I must decline,” I answer. “Sorry, but you aren’t touching my armor.” I look to Sparkle. “What will we do all day?” I ask, terminating to conversation officially. Rarity narrows her eyes at me in a half glare, apparently taking my denial as a challenge. Well, she will be disappointed in this regard.

“Well,” Sparkle pauses. “We could, um,” She looks down at her cup of cooling tea, troubled. “How about . . .” She looks to the rest of the ponies for ideas. “Well, we can’t take him outside yet. What do you think, girls?”

Pinkie started hopping up and down madly. I blink, taken aback. The huge stack of paper she had been sitting in has disappeared somehow during my conversation with Rarity. I look around, not noting any hints as to how or where it went.

“No, Pinkie,” All of the other ponies say in unison. She flops back into her chair, disappointed.

“I have an idea,” I say. “I need to learn about this place’s history and culture, if I am going to be staying here for a while,” I talk mostly to Sparkle, who starts to smile happily.

“You sure you don’t want to reconsider, Michael?” Applejack asks, eyeing the purple mare. “I’m sure the rest of us can come up with something, less . . .” she trails off, but Rainbow picks up where she left off.

“Boring!” She shouts, and Sparkle’s head snaps to her. The glint in Sparkle’s eyes makes the pegasus shrink back down.

“Studying is not boring, Rainbow,” Sparkle says slowly. Rainbow nods fearfully, and Sparkle turns back to me. “Not boring at all!” She chirps, suddenly chipper. “I’m so glad you are interested,” She tells me. “I have so much I could tell you!”

I am suddenly rethinking this idea, but I stick to it. It seems to be the best option available, especially if I am stuck in this crystal building.

“We are going to have so much fun!” Sparkle exclaims. “I’ll tell you all bout Equestria-” She pauses. “But why start there? We’ll go all the way back to Discord’s reign!” She seems lost in her own little world now, staring into space while talking excitedly. I see Spike poke his head in the room out of the corner of my eye. He takes one look at Sparkle and backs out again, shutting the door quietly.

I point at Sparkle while looking at Applejack. She nods, and I shake my head, before motioning them towards the door. Rainbow takes the opportunity as soon as I offer it, speeding out, with Applejack on her heels. Pinkie bounces out next, with a cheerful “Bye Mr. Michael!” Rarity mouths “Good luck dear,” Before following. Fluttershy gives me a shy smile as she stands.

“It was nice to meet you, Michael,” She whispers, barely audible over Sparkle’s ongoing one sided conversation.

“You too Fluttershy,” I answer with a smile and a nod. With an answering nod, the yellow pegasus says farewell to an unnoticing Sparkle, before closing the door behind her as she leaves.

I shift on the floor, clearing my throat to get Sparkle’s attention. She looks over and blinks, as if she forgot I was in the room. “Shall we get started?” I ask, keeping the sigh from my tone.

“Yes! Spike!” Sparkle yells, and I nearly chuckle as I see a regretful purple and green head poke into the room.

“Yeah?” He asks, shooting me a glance.

“Get my blackboard! And my chalk!” Spike nods and vanishes through the door. Sparkle stands, flourishing with her front hooves in the air. “To the library!” She freezes in this position, as if expecting something to happen.

After thirty seconds or so, I shift on the floor, looking around the room, before attaching my helmet with a hiss of air and standing. I glance around again, but still see nothing but Sparkle, who is in the same position as before, but glaring at the door to the kitchen. I follow her eyes right as the crystal creaks and the door opens.

Spike backs through the doorway, obviously struggling to pull a large blackboard with one hand while holding various supplies, including chalk and a board eraser, in the other. “Sorry Twilight,” He gasps. “This stuff is a lot heavier than what we had at the old library.” He stops as the blackboard clears the doorway, leaning his back on it and breathing heavily.

“Come one Spike!” Sparkle admonishes. “We have no time to lose! Education is at stake!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Spike grabs the blackboard again, but I stride over and interrupt him.

“Here, let me,” I rest one hand on the top of the blackboard’s wooden frame, which only reaches up to my chest. Spike nods gratefully, and moves his other hand to the load of supplies he is carrying. I lean down to put a hand under the main part of the board, lifting it to a relatively comfortable position.

“This way!” Sparkle’s voice calls, already sounding distant as she skips out another door that leads deeper into the castle.

Spike rolls his eyes and follows, and I choose to walk with him instead of the energetic pony. I shift the load in my hand, and Spike glances up at me as we turn through the doorway Sparkle had gone through out of the throne/dining room.

“So,” Spike hedges nervously. “Where, um, did you come from?” He winces, as if expecting me to bite his head off. I chuckle at his nervous demeanor.

“It’s a bit of a long story,” I tell him, shifting the load in my hand as I carry it a foot or so off the ground. “But I’ll give you the short version.” I summarize the basic events of my arrival, as well as the answers to some of Sparkle’s questions. This castle must be huge, because after the summary I still have no idea if we are closer to our destination. We just keep following a skipping Sparkle who is always a few yards ahead. Spike struggles to keep up with my stride, since my legs are larger than his whole body, so his next question is a little breathless.

“So, you are a soldier, right?” He looks up at me, and I nod. “Why are you so loud then?”

The question takes me a bit off guard. “You mean when I walk?” The sound of my boots gets more pronounced to me as Spike points it out.

“Yeah,” Spike answers, looking at my feet. “It’s not the quietest thing I’ve ever heard.” I hum thoughtfully. I guess after three years of the constant sound, I’m used to tuning it out most of the time.

I shift my stance instantly, and my footfalls turn as silent as a ghost, and Spike starts. “How do you do that?” He asks in awe. “You said your armor weighed over a ton!”

“Training, and electronics I can’t explain to you,” I answer. “As for the why,” I interrupt the question I can see on his face. “I walk noisily because people generally don’t like it when they turn around and a person like me is standing behind them who they never heard coming,” I shrug. “It’s more of a courtesy than anything.” I shift my stance back to normal and the sound returns.

“Oh,” Spike said simply. A silence settles over us, one that thankfully only lasts a few seconds before I see that Sparkle has finally stopped in front of another large crystal door, which she is opening with her magic. She makes an impatient gesture at us, before grinning and prancing into the room. I motion to Spike for him to go first and follow, letting the large crystal door swing shut behind me.

When Sparkle had flourished upon announcing our destination, I had been expecting a big library. This was a castle after all, and as the old saying goes, knowledge is power. What I had not been expecting, though, is a library the size of a destroyer hangar bay.

I instantly decide that this is my favorite room in the whole castle so far. The shine and annoying glare of crystal has been replaced by deep colors of some dark wood that my helmet can’t identify. The floor is covered in a plush carpet that my feet immediately sink a few inches into, colored in a deep purple, as I probably should have expected. The room is lit by what seem to be intricate gas lamps, which line the walls and hang from the ceiling, casting comforting and warm light through the entire room.

The bookshelves, made of a lighter shade of wood, reach nearly fifteen feet high in spots, more than double my own height. They stretch back for at least forty feet, and each is filled to the brim with colorful books of all shapes and sizes. Tall ladders that hang from the top of the shelves wound grant easy access to any pony who used the library. A whole section of floor in one corner has been devoted to reading and studying, with chairs circling a few tables and even a few plush couches in front of a large open patch of carpet.

I breathe deeply, enjoying the musk of old paper and ink. I can see Sparkle do the same, before she leads me and Spike, more calmly this time, to the couches I had noticed. I again let Spike go first, shifting the blackboard into my other hand as to not bump the bookshelves on my right.

As we walk, I notice that each shelf has small golden plagues attached to them, and I note the familiar Dewey Decimal System, although each shelf has an incredibly specific number in the system, as there are so many bookshelves to make it through the whole thing. I see Sparkle’s horn flash, and I instinctively tense, but I relax when I see that she is just picking books off of shelves as she passes, compiling a floating stack next to her.

We reach the chairs, and Spike dumps his load onto the ground and hops up onto one, sinking into it with a sigh of pleasure. Sparkle motions at me to place the blackboard down opposite the couches at the end of the small floor clearing, and I do so before sitting cross-legged next to the couch that Spike is occupying.

“Now,” Sparkle’s eyes are shining. “Let’s begin.”

A Day Of Rest

View Online

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.

A Meeting With A Goddess

View Online

My own momentum nearly carries me out of the bed as I lurch awake. The dark room is swimming in my blurry vision, and I feel a cold sweat encasing my entire body. I wipe the back of my hand along my eyes to clear my vision, and when I take my glove away, my fingers are wet and my hand is shaking.

I wipe my face once more, my chest heaving as I try and clear my thoughts. Already the black wisps of the nightmare are fading, and the last image I get as I try to pull them together is a young, dirt streaked face, before it slips away. I look down at my other hand, which is squeezing my magnum as it shakes slightly. I relax the muscles slowly and deliberately, and holster the weapon.

The crystalline bedroom is nearly pitch black, but my eyes adjust quickly. The pale light of a bright moon is filtering through the thin curtains, casting the room into deep shadow. I stand, hopping up and down on the balls of my feet briefly. Out of habit, I do a quick room check, and see nothing out of the ordinary in the main room or the bathroom.

I walk back over to the bed and grab my helmet, sliding it over the back of my head. The HUD flickers on and I check the time, the normal views of the elevation and distance indicators along the sides and bottom of my vision welcoming me. 0432 hours. The sun shouldn’t be coming up for at least another hour or so. I sigh, falling back onto the bed, trying to get as comfortable as possible in my armor. I do a small breathing exercise, as I had been taught years ago, to slow my heartbeat and focus my mind as I shake off the last of the lingering panic from my sleep.

After a silent moment, I open the file view on my armor. I sift through the files in my helmet and find the recording of the part of Sparkle’s lesson I missed yesterday. I hit play, and settle in to wait, my hands across my chest. As I had predicted, the room starts to brighten about an hour later, and I content myself to watching the shadows disappear along the walls as Sparkle goes on further about the history of her country. There are a few interesting facts in Sparkle’s lecture, and I file them to the back of my mind.

Oh, and apparently I missed that the flank tattoos are called cutie marks. They represent a pony's “special talent”, and they appear from pure magic when a pony discovers their true self or something along those lines. I can’t withhold a snicker at that. It seems like six year old named everything in this place, horse puns for city names and all.

Sparkle’s lecture ends at around 0547, and I stand and stretch a bit, feeling out my body. My chest and foot are sore still, but another night’s sleep has greatly diminished the pain. I can almost move my foot through a whole range of motion with minimal discomfort, though it still flares a bit on some movements.

I fall into push up position, catching my momentum on my hands, and start a decent workout, or as much as is possible in the small space and with no equipment. When I first was made a Spartan IV, we were given a schedule of exercises to let us maintain our peak physical condition. Because I have missed a couple of days, I shorten a few of the exercises and substitute in a few of the ones from previous days, like running in place and certain stretches I wouldn’t otherwise do every day. I feel the pleasant burn of work settle over my body, and it lifts my mood.

After the workout, it’s around 0620, and I sit back on the bed and flip though my armor files again, pulling up a program designed to let me keep my mind conditioned as well. I open up a chess program, and set it on the highest difficulty. I play a few games and then switch to a strategy game, one set on real scenarios from the Human-Covenant war, set in a 3-D cube environment. This I find more difficult, as my strength has never been in large scale strategy as much as other Spartans. After struggling with a particularly intense battle for a half hour or so, there is a knock at my door.

I exit out of the program and stand. I grab my DMR with a hand as I walk to the door, and attach it to my back with a click. I open the door, and look down. Way down.

“Good morning!” Spike says cheerfully, my impassive visor reflecting in his eyes. The small reptile smiles brightly up at me, showing off some impressive incisors. He has his chef hat on his head again, and my stomach growls slightly at its implications.

“Good morning,” I incline my head.

“Well, Twilight wanted to get an early start today, as Princess Celestia will be coming pretty soon to meet with you,” Spike says conversationally. He steps back a few feet from the doorway, and I take the cue and follow, out into the hallway. “She wanted me to come tell you that breakfast was ready.”

“I assume you made it?” I ask as he starts down the hallway at a brisk pace. I easily keep up.

“Yep,” He answers. “I do pretty much every morning.” He doesn’t try to hide the pride in his voice. I hum in answer, but don’t respond and we fall into silence, aside from Spike’s claws clicking on the crystal and the thudding of my own footwear.

Similar to what I had seen yesterday, the bright sunlight from outside paints the hallway in swathing patterns of purples and pinks that I don’t think I’ll ever quite get used to enough to like. I glance out what windows I can as we walk, to the town across from Sparkle’s castle.

The streets and airways are quite a bit busier in the morning apparently, and I see numerous ponies milling about in the distance, as well as pegasi flitting around above the town. I also see some new stall-like structures that hadn’t been there yesterday, around which ponies seem to be congregating. I don’t get enough time to zoom in using my helmet functions to get a better look, but I assume it is some kind of morning market or exchange. The mostly translucent blue distance bars going horizontally from the bottom of my helmet expand outward, sensing what I am focusing on. The numbers flicker, the yard markers rising. The town is less than a mile away, and I note this to myself.

Once again, the coziness of the view strikes me. I frown slightly as I recognize the small feeling in my gut as it flares. I am . . . wary. Of the peacefulness of the whole world, of how calm it is. I am wary of how nice and understanding Sparkle and her friends are. I am wary of how bright and cheerful this whole place is. It just seems like it was designed somehow, like it’s too good to simply exist.

And something in me is just waiting until it all falls apart.

I shake off my dark thoughts, and turn away from the windows. One thing at a time, Spartan, as my instructors would often say. I find that I am farther behind Spike than a moment ago, and I catch up by increasing my stride slightly. I make it to his side just as he heaves open the large door into the throne room. He motions me in with a claw, and walks into the kitchen after I enter.

I blink as I see not the one pony that I had expected, but five more sitting at the throne room. All of Twilight’s friends pause their conversation and look up at me as I enter. Pinkie Pie’s face breaks into a huge smile and she waves one hoof in the air. “Hi Michael!” She shouts as if I am across a large distance, not standing ten feet away.

I raise one hand in greeting. “Hello.” I look at the rest of the occupants. Rarity smiles and nods at me, and Fluttershy gives a shy wave from her throne. Applejack tips her hat with a hoof as she lounges with her back hooves up on the large table. Rainbow huffs at me from her place.

“Oh, good morning Michael!” Sparkle smiles. “Breakfast is almost ready.” I say nothing, instead crossing over to her silently. I kneel next to her throne, and she eyes me. “Michael?” The rest of the group watches in silence, and I hear Rainbow growling.

“Mind if I?” I motion my hand towards her.

“Sure?”

I gently tilt her head up with a hand, my eyes hardening. The bruises I caused are still readily apparent, marring Sparkle’s coat with a line of blues and black. There are deep bags under her eyes, and her mane is frazzled. I tilt her head to either side, before dropping my hand and standing. “How does it feel?” I ask.

Sparkle rubs at her neck with a hoof, her eyes averted. “It still hurts a bit.”

I shake my head, more angry at myself than anything, my loss of control still echoing in my mind. “Keep icing it, and if you need to, I have more painkillers.” I say softly. She nods, and the mares watch as I cross to the other side of the table, dropping cross legged next to Fluttershy’s throne. “What are you all doing here?” I break the tense silence.

“We are here to support you while Princess Celestia is here, darling,” Rarity answers after a pause. She adjusts her mane delicately with a hoof as she speaks. “Waking up so early was a hassle,” She scoffs lightly. “A mare does need her beauty sleep after all, but it was not an issue for being here for you.” Pinkie Pie nods enthusiastically, and I receive nods and smiles from the most of the ponies. Curiously, Sparkle doesn’t answer, her eyes thoughtful as she rubs her neck with a hoof. “Plus Spike’s cooking is fantastic,” The white mare adds. I hear a gasp and a crash from behind the kitchen door. I glance back at it briefly.

I turn back forward. “You didn’t have to do that. I can handle myself,” I state.

“We know you can,” Applejack says with a chuckle. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t be here anyway.”

“I suppose,” I answer, after a pause. “Thank you.” As I finish, Spike bursts through the kitchen door. His chef hat is perched precariously on one of the spines coming from the top of his head, and he is having trouble balancing eight trays in his hands (although he is managing it rather impressively). One is even set on the end of his tail, strangely enough.

“Breakfast is served!” He gasps, laying a tray down in front of me and Fluttershy quickly with a sigh of relief. He goes around the table delivering the food, and I notice he pauses at Rarity’s chair before going to his own. I look down and smile slightly in surprise.

Heaped in front of me is a stack of pancakes, covered in syrup and with a slab of butter on top. I notice out of my peripheral vision that my stack is at least twice as high as any of the ponies’. The delicious smell invades my nostrils through my helmet’s filter, and my stomach gurgles a bit. I take off my helmet eagerly, setting in gently on the floor beside my thighs, and pick up the small utensils before digging in.
Most of the breakfast passes in silence, besides some idle chatter from Sparkle and her friends which I am content to sit out of. Fluttershy seems to be doing the same, sneaking in a word or a nod but generally observing. A sense of tenseness seems to gather as the meal draws to a close. It seems that despite their cheery attitudes and some promises about the wholeness of Princess Celestia’s character, the ponies are actually nervous about the visit. Pinkie Pie seems to have picked up on it, and starts hopping up and down animatedly, beginning some story that involves lots of hoof gestures to bring up the group’s mood.

I finish up my large stack of pancakes at around the same time as everyone else, and Spike appears to take away my tray, visibly more comfortable now that the eight trays are empty. Spike steps through the kitchen door, kicking it shut behind him as, I assume, he goes to clean the dishes. I let Pinkie Pie draw to the end of her story, which concludes with a giant cupcake squashing an evil cooking utensil or something along those lines. The room falls into a brief silence, and I take advantage.

“So, Twilight,” I start, placing my hands back on my lap. “I’m curious. When will Princess Celestia actually get here?” I check the time. 0738 hours.

“Well, she should be here any-” Sparkle pauses. In sync, every equine ear in the room swivels toward the entrance to the throne room. I also catch the sound of numerous hoofbeats crouching into dirt and gravel, as well as the thump of something heavy landing.

“Well, that was good timing,” Rainbow Dash notes, and I can’t help but agree. There is a loud knock on the crystal door, and I hear muttering voices behind it. All of the ponies are turned to the door, and tensing as if to stand.

“I’ll answer it,” Sparkle says, almost to herself, as she stands. I grab my helmet and slide it onto my head, where it connect with a hiss. My HUD powers up with a small hum, the blue edges of the visor flickering before holding steady, and I feel myself relax slightly. I sigh gratefully as the visor polarizes. My shield bar flickers into life, and all of the ponies gaze’s besides Sparkle’s focus on me as my shields flare yellow around my body, humming loudly and sparking as they charged.

My eyes flit to the motion and heartbeat tracker in the bottom left of my view, and I quickly count five lifeforms outside the door. All this happens in the span it takes for Sparkle’s purple aura to encase the door, and with a deep breathe, she opens it.

Sunlight pours into the room from outside. There are noises as all of the ponies stand, and I do the same, quickly taking in the view. Outside there is a large dirt path that leads to the large crystal porch of Sparkle’s castle. A few yards away is a chariot, with large wheels and a cabin for passengers. There is a single door and a window with curtains drawn on the inside. There are also two horizontal bars with what appear to be harnesses at the end.

The whole vehicle is meticulously decorated. Gold stylized plates cover parts of the vehicle, with the rest painted in swirling whites and other light colors. I have never been one for aesthetics, but even I can see the elegance apparent across the chariot. It seems to be glowing itself, reflecting the suns light in a gently way.

My brain highlights this and files it into the back of my mind as I take in the ponies standing in the doorway. There are five of them, as I had seen earlier. Four of them are similar, and my brain points it out to me as such.

They are all male, white pegasi, who are taller and quite a bit sturdier than Sparkle and her friends, Applejack possibly excluded. Being the first males I have seen, I took note of the thicker chest and neck, as well as the squarer and stubbier snout. Under their coats are the toned muscles I am used to seeing in equines, evidence of rigorous training and workouts. All of their eyes immediately flash to me upon the opening of the door, though I am still sitting, their expressions hardening into a stony battle mask. Their weight shifts backwards, and I also notice their wings flaring slightly.

They are garbed in what seems to be old-fashioned knight armor, circa one thousand human years ago. Golden plates of metal that wrap around their chests and back, before sloping around the back of the flank. Helmets in the same style fit snugly over the stallion’s heads, a Mohawk of bright blue hair sticking out the top of each one. They have golden shoes on their hooves, which are sharpened at the end, and look rather thick. These are not the most interesting ponies however. It is the last one who, without a doubt, is the reason the ponies are standing. I can only assume this is Princess Celestia.

Her coat is as white as the guards, but it seems to be radiating light and warmth, as if she has a light held in her fur. As almost evidence to this, her blip on my motion tracker is slightly blurry, as if the armor's systems aren't sure what is happening. She is tall, nearly as tall as me, at the end of her horn. Much like Sparkle, she has both large wings and a long horn, which is considerably bigger and sharper than either Rarity’s or Sparkle’s. Her body is also more slender and elegant, with longer legs and neck. Her eyes are a light pink that sweep over the group warmly before landing briefly on me. Behind her expression is a seemingly ancient wisdom and intelligence that make me blink in surprise.

Her mane seems to be completely made out of pure energy, and it flows from her body like ocean waves of gentle greens, blues, and pinks. It is nearly as big as the ponies she stands over, I note. She has on a chest plate of gold similar to the white pegasi, but to my trained eye it is readily apparent that this is for decoration more than actual protection. She has golden shoes that were also this way on all four hooves, and well as a tiara that perches at the base of her long horn. Both the crown and chest plate have large purple gems inlaid into their faces. Inscribed on her flank is an orange and yellow sun.

“Princess Celestia!” Nearly all the ponies speak in a reverent unison, dropping their front legs into a bow that leaves their muzzles near the floor. I see Spike doing his best bow as well, much like a human would. I note that Sparkle also bowing, despite her own status as a Princess. I catch Rarity giving me a deadly look out of the corner of her eye, I give a short half bow with my waist and say nothing. Celestia gives a curt nod while looking at me before turning her gaze to the rest of the room.

“Please rise.” She smiles brightly at the ponies and Spike. Her voice is gentle and motherly, and yet has an undercurrent that requires respect. “There are no need for formalities here,” She continues as the ponies hastily stand. “Especially from you, Twilight.”

Celestia leans down and nuzzles Sparkle’s head, an action that Twilight reciprocates with a smile. It seems almost like a greeting between mother and daughter. Celestia looks up and met each of the ponies’ eyes, smiling in greeting. Applejack tips her hat with a grin in response, and Rarity does another short bow. Pinkie Pie hops up and down, beaming from ear to ear as Celestia meets her eyes, and Rainbow Dash nods similarly to me. Fluttershy is smiling openly, but she ducks her head shyly with a small blush as she meets the Princess’ gaze. Spike gives a small wave with his claw.

“It is good to see you all once more,” Celestia steps into the room, her guards following closely behind. Her large horn lights a bright yellow, and the door closes silently behind her. “I fear it has been too long since my last visit. I trust that everything is going well with you all?” I can’t help but be curious as Celestia takes the time to listen to each of the group’s short responses, which I file away in the back of my mind. She also leans far down and nuzzles spike in the same way she had Sparkle.

As I analyze her, I am perplexed by what I see, and I feel my muscles tense on instinct. Her gait and expression tell of countless hours of application, and she holds herself this way as if it was completely natural. She seems to almost glide instead of walk, but that too, I can tell, is deliberate. Her expression practically radiates motherly affection for every single member of the group, as they step up to converse with her. Even Fluttershy does so without pause, speaking softly. Celestia even responds in kind, with a gentle voice that most people would be strained to hear. The whole time, I am standing in the back, watching silently. The display is in no way forced; she truly cares for them.

Finally she faces me from across the table. “Greetings,” She says formally, but warmly. “I believe we have not been introduced. Twilight did feature you in her letters, and she has spoken highly of you.” The undertone is clear. She knows the entire events from my arrival to Sparkle’s castle, both my attack on Sparkle and my apology afterword. As I gaze into her face, I am unnerved to discover I can’t tell how she feels about it, despite the fact that she knows I injured her own personal student, and the evidence is on the neck of the mare she nuzzled earlier. Her expression is impenetrable.

“I am Princess Celestia, Co-ruler of Equestria and Shepherd of the Sun,” Celestia gives a short bow to me, as if addressing someone of equal status, and I tilt my head slightly.

“Lieutenant Michael Cooper,” I answer, giving my own half bow in response. “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance Princess,” I straighten. “I hope this can be the start of a mutually beneficial relationship.” I keep my voice as straight and even as possible while still keeping the genuine nature of my words apparent.

Celestia smiles brightly. “I wish the same,” She answers. “Excuse me,” She says softly, before turning, speaking to the rest of the room. “I’m sorry to ask this of you after you came to be here for my arrival but I must ask you all to wait outside,” She looks at Sparkle and each of her friends in turn.

Sparkle looks like she is about to object, but she closes her mouth and nods. “Yes Princess.” Her words are echoed by the rest of the group except the guards, who are silent. “Come on everypony, we can wait in the hallway,” Sparkles horn lights, and the group files out. They each make it a point to send me supportive glances and smiles as they exit, Pinkie even going as far to pull out a piece of paper that reads “You got this Michael!” in pink crayon. Where she got it, I have no idea.

I shake my head slightly, before looking back to Celestia, who is now regarding me in turn. “Please guards, you as well.” She speaks without looking away. Her expression is even and measured, not at all perturbed by the fact she will alone in a room with me, a giant and deadly alien from another world.

The guards glare at me, but do as the Princess asks, stepping out the same door that Sparkle had gone through. I see them take up positions in front of the door as it closes with a thud.We stand regarding each other for a moment, simply watching and analyzing. For the first time I see her eyes flicking over my visor, as if not sure where my face is. It is so brief that any other person would have missed it.

“How about we take a seat?” I begin, motioning with a hand the chairs. I am already tired of speaking in such a formal tone. I may not like diplomacy, but I am gladder now than ever to have been trained in it.

Celestia nods, taking a throne gracefully. “A good idea,” she answers cordially. I sit in a throne across from her, careful to choose the one Sparkle had enchanted this morning. Her horn lights a bright yellow, and I tense. “A simple silence bubble, to make sure we are not overheard,” Celestia says nonchalantly. I nod, careful to not let my disbelief show, and her horn flashes brightly before her aura goes out.

“So,” The white alicorn begins after a pause. “I am curious,” She tilts her head. “What do you think of Equestria so far?”

I decide to humor her small talk. “It is beautiful to be certain,” I answer curtly. “The sun is always bright and it seems to be a very calm and peaceful place,” I make sure to add the compliment to the sun. Whether or not what Sparkle had said is true is still yet to be seen, but it couldn’t hurt. “Twilight and her friends have been far more generous and kind than I deserve. I hope I can repay them some day,” I add, judging her expression. If she wanted to play the subtlety game, so be it.

Celestia beams, but I know she has received my message. “I’m glad to hear it. I am quite fond of Twilight and her friends myself,” she adds, as if it were some conspiratorial secret.

“I can tell. Twilight did mention she was your personal pupil for some years.” I answer, keeping my voice cordial. I honestly can’t tell what the white pony is playing at. Her expression and words seem completely innocent, as if she is genuinely interested in getting to know me. Either she really is the kind and loving leader she was made out to be by Sparkle, or I am severely outclassed politically.

I’m beginning to think it might be both.

“Indeed,” Celestia answers. “She caught my eye when she was just a filly, and I have watched her grow and blossom over the years, into a princess herself.” Celestia’s eyes shine with pride.

“She is indeed very talented,” I answer, though I really have no idea whether that is true.

“Oh yes,” Celestia laughs. “She caught my eye in quite a situation,” She leans slightly forward, as if to tell me a secret. “She hatched Spike from his egg, and grew him to the size of a house with her sheer magic alone in mere seconds!” Celestia shook her head. “And she was still a young filly too.” She giggles lightly, a sound that seems to carry on an invisible wind. There is a moment of silence.

“Princess,” I say a bit abruptly, deciding to end the idle chatter. She focuses back onto me.

“Yes?”

“Forgive my forwardness,” I start. “But as you no doubt know from reading Sparkle’s letters, I am a soldier.” I fold my hands together on the table, staring into Celestia’s eyes through my visor. “I have never been one for round-about talking and dodging around an issue,” I raise a hand. “I mean no disrespect, of course, but may we please cut to the chase, so to speak?”

“Of course Lieutenant,” She answers. “Though I did not mean to imply that I was dodging any issues,” Her eyes have a hint of steel in them. “I take my position as Princess very seriously, and I feel it is my duty to get to know every creature who resides in my domain.”

“For which I thank you, Princess,” I answer.

“Think nothing of it,” Celestia raises a hoof. “But we digress. Let’s, cut to the chase, as you said.” She proceeds to give me a measured look. “What do you think the real issue is here Lieutenant?” Her eyes search my visor.

“My attack on your student is the first thing that comes to mind,” I answer evenly.

“Oh, I don’t believe so,” Celestia answers good-naturedly, and I blink in surprise.

“What do you mean? Were I in your place, I would have serious issues with someone harming a person close to me.”

Celestia smiles. “I put a good deal of trust in Twilight,” She shrugs. “After all, she is the Princess of Friendship. If there is anyone qualified to judge an apology and a creature’s character I think it would be her,” She laughs lightly. “So I am trusting her judgment on you.” Despite her words, I get the feeling she isn’t as laid back as she seems about it.

“That’s. . .” I tilt my head. “Very kind of you Princess.”

She waves a hoof again, and once again I get the feeling she is deliberately keeping herself from doing something. “No matter. Now, the real issue is what I,” She places a hoof on her chest plate. “Can do for you.”

“I beg your pardon?” I reply. This conversation is not going at all the way I had imagined it would.

“You are a creature flung from your world into ours, and not by your own choice, or so I gathered.” Celestia states. “It is my hope that I can help you get back home. It would be what I would do for any lost pony.”

I sit there for a second, searching her expression. She really means it, and her warm gaze meets my visor. “Thank you Princess,” I bow my head. “The one thing most helpful is the ability to move. I would ask for your permission to travel around as needed, unimpeded.” I put heavy emphasis on the last word.

“Consider it done,” Celestia answers. “As long as you have one of Twilight or her friends with you, I see no problem with that,” She pauses, her expression suddenly grave. “But along with that I expect no creature, pony or otherwise, to come to harm by your hoof,” My visor informs me that the temperature in the room has hiked up a couple degrees. “Should such a thing happen, I cannot guaranty that I can uphold such an agreement.” Her eyes drill into my visor, and I find my hand straying towards my Magnum. There is something itching in the back of my mind, like a distant humming that I can't pin down. I fell a bead of sweat drip down my neck.

“If someone gets in my way or attempts to harm me, I can’t promise anything,” I say in a low voice. “But I will only do so in the face of a significant threat. You can rest easy Princess.”

Suddenly the room seems a bit dimmer and the temperature falls, and sigh unconsciously. “I believe you Lieutenant.” Celestia says.

“Very considerate of you Princess,” I say in thanks, but then I pause. I suppress a sigh, registering the condition for my moving. Having one of the ponies with me would slow my progress exponentially. I shake off my feelings. “That is the only condition I have Princess.”

“Then there is one that I have,” Celestia answers, more seriously. I look up. “I would ask you to take off your helmet.” I stiffen slightly, and Celestia continues. “Twilight has told me you are not a mechanical being, but I would like to know for myself.” Her expression is even. “I like to believe that you must know the face of your friends.” The implication is clear.

“Of course Princess,” I answer. She had been more than reasonable, especially considering the circumstances, and I see no reason to keep my face hidden, despite my discomfort of showing it to someone I didn’t trust. Whether instinct or training, I know that all Spartans have these kinds of feelings. I reach up and detach my helmet, and Celestia’s eyes widen a fraction as I turn it ninety degrees. The glare of the crystal room assault my eyes as I place the helmet on the table in front of me.

I feel Celestia’s eyes trace the large scar that runs from my forehead across my eye and to my chin, before flitting across the tiny scars that cross my face. She finally meets my eyes, and I stare back, seeing my face reflected in her pupils. The man I see is almost a stranger. He is worn, tired, and scarred, but his eyes are strong, and I almost am surprised. Her expression seems to soften as we gaze at each other.

“The face of a soldier indeed, and eyes that have seen much,” She mutters to herself, so quietly that even I can barely pick up the words.

“You have no idea Princess,” I say just as softly, and my armor makes a small noise as it shifts on the crystal table, almost like a reminder. Her eyes widen and her ears flick towards me as I speak. I keep my face masked as we look at each other. There is a pause.

“I might more than you know,” Celestia answers under her breath, her eyes searching mine, and for the first time, her façade breaks. Its tiny, a crack in her mask, and I feel my breath hitch. For a fleeting moment, I saw a familiar expression, ones marines and ODST give each other after a battle, of shared nightmares and pain. The face of someone who has been through hell and come back to tell the tale, but never quite the same.

There is a moment of silence, but it is not awkward. We just search each other’s expressions, and I suspect we are both basking in the unexpected feeling of understanding.

“Michael,” Celestia speaks, and I blink as she uses my first name. “There is one more matter we must discuss.” She leans backward, seemingly relaxing in her chair. I simply tilt my head as a motion for her to continue. “As Twilight may have told you,” Celestia smiles slightly. “I co-rule Equestria with my sister, Luna. She has expressed a desire to meet you but was unable to make this meeting.”

“Understandable,” I answer curtly.

“I hoped you would see it that way. She can, however, meet with you tonight,” Celestia says nonchalantly, and I quirk an eyebrow, suppressing a smirk.

Celestia shakes her head, but gives a small laugh anyway. “Not in that kind of context,” She answers, before waving a hoof in a circle in the air, growing more serious. “My sister has dominion over the night much like I do the day. Out sleep schedules are thus inverse, so it is practically ten o'clock or so for her currently.”

“Ah.” I answer, nodding. That does kind of make sense, whether in the context Celestia and her sister actually raised the sun and moon or were just symbols of it. “I am alright with meeting with Princess Luna as well. I assume she will show up similar to the way you did?” Celestia nods, but I suppress a frown when I notice a twinkle in her eyes, but it’s gone before I can see it clearly.

“Do not wait up for her tonight,” she says a bit abruptly. “Feel free to get some sleep until she should arrive.” I nod slowly, letting my confusion show a bit.

“Fabulous,” Celestia smiles widely and the room seems to physically brighten a bit, and the awkward moment is past. Celestia stands gracefully, and I do the same.

“Well, I think that concludes our business,” Celestia says, and I nod. She holds out a hoof over the table, and I gently take it in my glove, and we shake like old accomplishes.

I swipe my helmet off the table, and reattach it with a sigh of relief. Looking at Celestia’s stark white and shining coat was hard enough on my eyes, compounded by the crystalline nature of Sparkle’s home. My familiar HUD powers up, and I see that the whole interaction has taken only ten minutes or so. The four guards have not moved from outside the doorway, and there is a clump of beings not far away that I assume are Sparkle and her friends.

Celestia’s horn lights and there is a small pop, which I assume is the silence spell she talked about the begging breaking. The door is surrounded in her yellow aura, and it swings open silently. The four guards turn sharply around, eyes once again focused on me. As I had suspected, Sparkle and her friends stand a few yards away, talking quietly, heads together as they huddle in a circle. Seeing the door open, Applejack elbows Sparkle and the rest of the ponies take her lead as she turns around.

They all wear expressions of a bit of hidden stress, except for Pinkie, who once again waves enthusiastically. “Hi Michael!” She shouts, a huge smile stretching across her features as she hops into the air. I resist the urge to shake my head as I wave back, and I hear Celestia chuckle from where she stands next to me.

“I’m sorry to keep you all waiting,” Celestia takes a small step forward. “Michael and I had some things to discuss rather privately.” I blink at her using my first name again. Apparently we were on that basis already.

Of course Princess,” Twilight nods, her eyes quickly flicking to me. Her friends all nod as well.

“And now, I’m afraid this is where I must leave you for the time being,” The white alicorn says regretfully.

“Really?” Sparkle blinks. “But you just got here, Princess.”

“Unfortunately,” Celestia steps forwards, looking at Sparkle and her friends in turn. “I have some urgent business to attend to back in Canterlot. I apologize for bringing you all here, and having barely any time to actually visit.”

“It’s no problem Princess,” Applejack tips her hat with a hoof. “I know all about work takin’ your free time away.” Rarity nods in agreement from beside her, flipping her mane with a hoof.

“As you would Applejack,” Celestia smiles. Leaning down, she nuzzles Sparkle. “Be sure to send me any more notes you take, Twilight,” she adds as she straightens.

“Of course Princess!” Twilight beams.

Celestia leans down and nuzzles Spike once more, before straightening. “Farewell then, my little ponies,” She looks over at me briefly. “I trust that Michael will explain the terms we can to agree on.” I nod at her, and she continues. “Then I am off. I hope you all have a wonderful day. Goodbye, my little ponies.”

With one last glance at me, she crosses to the large door outside. The pegasi guards fall into a neat formation behind her as she opens and closes the door, sunlight streaming in briefly before her guards close the door behind her.

There is a moment of silence, and I turn to find every single pony staring at me expectantly. Even Fluttershy has her head out from behind her mane, though her gaze is less intense. I just look back at them silently. This goes on for a beat before I sigh. “You want to know what happened, don’t you.”

“Yep!” Pinkie hops up and down happily. “We were super-duper worried, but we know you are a big soldier person, and that you could handle it, so we stayed out here to let you talk, but we were still worried and then I thought that maybe you and Celestia were having some kind of secret party in there without me, and I was about to go in with my party cannon but then Applejack-”

Pinkie’s incredibly fast run on sentence was interrupted as Rainbow Dash shoved a hoof in her mouth, rolling her eyes. “She means yes,” She states flatly.

I shrug, resting my hands behind my back in an at ease position. “Not much happened. We talked, she trusted your assessment of me,” I incline my head at Twilight, who blinked in surprise. “And then we agreed that I can move around and do whatever I need to do get home within reason as long as one of you are with me, and I agreed to meet her sister.”

“That’s it?” Twilight blurts, before blushing and shrinking down.

“Yep,” I answer. “It was short, much quicker than I had been expecting.” I shrug again. “But Celestia was very thoughtful and kind.”

“That sounds like the Princess alright,” Rarity nods, and the rest of the mares sound their agreement.

“So. . .” Fluttershy starts softly. “What exactly are you going to do?” She scuffs a hoof on the floor, looking at the ground shyly. “I mean . . . if you don’t mind me asking. . .”

“I have a place to start,” I answer, eyeing the blue objective arrow, and Twilight tilts her head. “It’s just a hunch, but it could be something.” I continue. Applejack narrows her eyes and gives me a look, but stays silent, tipping her stetson up with a hoof.

“So when are you going to go check it out?” Spike asks.

“Now,” I answer. “I hoped one of you would accompany me immediately.”

The ponies gave each other silent looks, and I could see the words passing in their gazes. After an entire silent conversation that I had no part of, they all look back at me. “I’ll go with ya’,” Applejack steps forward, and I blink. I would think that Sparkle would be jumping at the chance. As I look at her though, I see that she is reserved and nodding in support of the orange mare. Well, I guess they figure the walking lie detector is a good companion for me, and as Sparkle yawns I wonder if it was so she could get some more sleep as well.

As I look the orange mare over quickly, I nod a bit. She is definitely in better shape than any of the other mares, so that is a plus for me moving quickly. And Applejack looks like the sort of person who can at least handle herself if something goes awry.
“Thank you,” I answer.

“No problem, Michael,” She responds, but I see her eyes narrowing a bit. She still doesn’t trust me fully it seems. I shrug internally.

“We’ll be off then,” I say to Sparkle. “We will be back before night time.” I reach up and sling my DMR off my shoulder, racking back the slide with a hand. All of the mares eye the weapon as I hold it loosely across my chest, though only Sparkle knows what it can do. I turn and stride back through the throne room to the door. I do a small inventory check once more out of habit.

I am full up on rounds for both my DMR and my Magnum, and I still have my four frag grenades as well as my tactical knife. All in all I’m not off too badly, but if I get in a firefight I’ll need to conserve ammo as much as possible, and stick to my knife or brute force. Who knows when the next time will be I’ll get a weapon even close to as good as the ones I have now.I fling open the door unceremoniously, stepping out into the sunshine. I hear Applejack follow behind me, and the door shuts with a thud behind us. She stands next to me silently as I swivel my head, taking in the sights around me.

As I had seen when Celestia entered and exited Sparkle’s castle, the large crystal structure is set apart a bit of distance away from a large collection of mostly one story buildings, and connected by a large, worn dirt path. On either side of the path stretches rolling fields of green grass, occasionally interrupted by a few trees and other various plants. The sky is absent of any clouds, and its light blue stretches uninterrupted from horizon to horizon, where it meets the tops of a few mountains that rise miles and miles away. The cheerful sounds of chirping birds and the far off tones of the town life make their way into my helmet.

With a blink on an option, my view is suddenly much closer as my helmet whirs softly. The path is empty of activity, though I can see ponies in the town stopping and looking at us curiously in the distance. I can’t make out any rhyme or reason to the colors of the townsfolk or the houses; it seems like they had spun a wheel of bright colors and thrown darts at it and just stuck with what they got, ranging from white to a darker blue or green at the darkest, with maybe a splash of black or brown in between. The houses in the town, from what I can see, are wooden structures with thatched roofing, each possessing a small front lawn before the street begins. Most have some sort of garden out front, and all are painted just the same as the ponies. Cheerfully.

Celestia’s chariot is also absent, but there are a few large wheel ruts in the ground from what I assume was its takeoff and landing, as well as some hoof prints from the guards.

Compared to everything in this world so far, my black and blue MJOLNIR armor stands out like a sore thumb. I’m not sure if that’s good or bad at this point, but my training is leaning me towards the latter. My armor makes a sound as I tense a bit more, my hands tightening on my DMR. With a slight frown affixed to my face, I set off towards the town at a brisk walk, my boots sending up dust as they leave imprints in the path triple the size of any of the hoof prints.

Applejack canters quickly to catch up to me, eyeing the now growing crowd of ponies at the town’s edge much like I am. “How fast can you run?” I ask quietly.

“What?” She blink, looking up at me. “Why?”

“Just in case,” I answer, my gaze affixed ahead. The large mass of ponies is entering my sensor’s range now, and the mass of orange blinking at me from the corner of my HUD. We are about fifty yards away when Applejack answers.

“Pretty fast.”

“Good,” I grunt. At a quick count, there are twenty five or so ponies gathering in a circle at the end of the street we are walking towards, about where the dirt path melds into a large road and the houses begin. I can see a few smaller ponies in the crowd as well, peeking in between legs or around torsos. I can feel the crowd’s eyes following me, and I catch snippets of murmurs as the ponies talk amongst themselves.

They all look up at me with undisguised suspicion, and I can see them shifting as we draw closer. Apparently it’s good Applejack is walking with me, because her presence seems to be calming the crowd somewhat. If the blue arrow didn’t clearly point straight through the center of the town, I would rather have gone around the edges of the buildings, even if it had taken a bit longer.

I step to about a yard away from the crowd, and the group parts down the middle. Quirking a brow beneath my helmet, I start into the crowd, watching all of the ponies head’s swivel at me. It’s a bit unsettling, to have so many eyes on me and so close, but I don’t let it show as I walk silently through them, and start into the town.

A Soldier's Rest

by Blazing47s

Prologue: One Last Run

A New World

Questions and Introductions

Tea Time

A Day Of Rest

A Meeting With A Goddess