> They Call Themselves Spartans
>  by Cadet Sparkle
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> Death 
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Death. The word rang throughout Jericho-G252’s head like a bunch of whispering voices. The Spartan sat in his assigned drop pod with the shadow from the pod’s opening covering most of his body, pondering on the many different ways of how much death he would see in this upcoming deployment. 

No matter how loud it was with the talking and laughter of ODSTs in the drop pod room, Jericho just couldn’t get that word out of his head. Jericho’s task, along with many other squads, was to drop out of orbit from the UNSC Desert Heat and into New Birmingham, Victoria to evacuate civilians.

Jericho leaned his left shoulder on the side of the pod, starting to fall asleep while waiting. The 16 year old Spartan felt a bit relieved when he found out what he’d be doing: evacuation. Of course, Jericho also wanted to be part of the real action with the rest of the marines, ODSTs and Spartans and finally get revenge for what the Covenant had done to him. But a part of him didn’t want all of those lives to be lost in New Alexandria, or his home planet of Miridem, to be killed from the glassing.

Jericho also felt afraid. Afraid for his own life, as well as the lives of his squad mates. Afraid of whatever could go wrong. This was a war that humanity had been fighting for 27 years; at some point, things would certainly go wrong. Especially after what happened to his family, he didn’t want to see it again. 

After all, Jericho was from Gamma Company; the company that contained the newest and youngest batch of Spartan IIIs. This wasn’t some intense training mission in the dark depths of the jungles of Onyx. This was real; Jericho knew people were going to die. He knew he was going to see good men, women, and more innocent lives lost. That was what scared him the most, and he was a Spartan. Did any of the older Spartans feel like that on their first real mission? He hoped they did. They wouldn’t be human if they didn’t feel it. 

Damn, I wish I was old enough to drink. Then again--

“Hey! You feelin’ alright?” said a voice.

Jericho snapped his blue eyes up, again becoming aware of everything happening around him. He turned his gaze to two ODSTs in their late 20s standing in front of him, clad in the ODST Battle Dress Uniform without their helmets. One appeared to be wearing the sniper class BDU, while the other wore the standard BDU. Looking at the letters engraved on their shoulder pieces, it appeared that the blood type of the sniper ODST was O negative, while the other’s blood type was AB.

“Watch who you’re talking to, Sergeant,” said the other ODST in a hushed voice, “that’s a Spartan.” Jericho instantly saw a look of fear and embarrassment in the first ODST’s eyes as they widened. 

“Sorry sir. Your armor looked like the standard BDU in the dark and I assumed--”

Jericho stood up from his drop pod as the ODST said that, revealing his olive colored Mark II SPI armor, blonde colored recon haircut, and cream colored face in the open light of the frigate. The Spartan took a step toward them. The two ODSTs took a step back even if they were were two heads taller than the him, as if they were children intimidated by an animal. In a sense, that made them look stupid.

“Don’t call me ‘sir’, Sergeant. I’m an NCO.”

Their body language told the Spartan that they were relieved after he said that. What’d they think I was gonna do, beat them up? Jericho chuckled. If this is how all Spartans are treated, I am going to have a good time with these guys.

“Wow, I am really sorry about that... but if you’re not an officer, then what--” the Sergeant with the sniper armor was interrupted by the Spartan.

“Petty Officer Third Class”

“...what?” the second ODST asked.

“My rank is Petty Officer Third Class.” Jericho had forgotten that the ODSTs were part of the UNSC Marine Corps, as ranks were different depending on the branch.

“Well, yes,” the second ODST said, “though I’ve never heard of a Spartan with a rank lower than my own.”

The boy thought for a moment as he stepped back and sat in his pod, shadows quickly covering one-third of his face. Jericho pulled out his standard combat knife from his sheathe and scraped it against the armor of his right forearm to sharpen it. This, of course, gave the two ODSTs goosebumps. Jericho made a small smirk.

“Heh. Doesn’t that just mean you’ve been alive longer than I have?” Jericho asked as he continued to scrape his knife with swift swipes. The Spartan then realized his mistake; that it was best to just keep his mouth shut.

“How old are you, exactly?” the Sergeant said with a curious tone to his voice, “you look about as old my little brother, ‘cept he’s skinny as hell.” 

“Didn’t the brass tell you about us?” the Spartan asked, looked at the Sergeant and listened closely. Was the Spartan program really that much of a secret? To not even tell who these men that Spartan super soldiers they were going to be fighting with were just a bunch of teenagers? 

“About what?” the marine asked, crossing his arms as if he were getting ready for a story. Jericho  slowed down the rate of his knife sharpening and thought about what he should’ve said next. Jericho had no idea of what to say next, but kept his face straight as if he were being interrogated.

That’s when the Spartan realized why the brass of that particular UNSC frigate probably wouldn’t have told them. The fact that the UNSC’s second best Special Operations unit would be protecting humanity with a bunch of teenagers wouldn’t be very comforting. Then again, the ODSTs would have definitely seen the faces of the other Spartans from Gamma Company, and compared to Jericho, they were much younger. Most were 13-14 years old; unlike most, only a handful of the candidates in Gamma Company were actually 15 years old or older.

We're children who are fighting a war that men are supposed to be fighting, Jericho thought to himself. That seemed a bit embarrassing; humanity's fate relied on the hands of teenagers.

Maybe they were already briefed about the topic, and they were just testing him? That was when Jericho thought of the most brilliant, and stupidest, thing he could come up with.

Jericho's knife sharpening came to a sudden halt. “Then it isn’t in my place to say, Sergeant,” Jericho said bluntly with a monotone voice, “as far as ONI and I are concerned, it’s classified.” That was the something Jericho was one of the best at: making his lies seem real, even if they were complete bullshit. He really didn’t know if ONI wanted that kind of stuff getting out to the public.	

“But--” the other ODST was interrupted by Jericho as he got up, putting on his SPI helmet. Both ODSTs stood there, looking at themselves from the reflection of the Spartan’s golden visor.

“Listen, Sergeant,” Jericho said with a polite tone, sheathing his combat knife with a click, “the drop is gonna start soon, and I just realized that one of the other Spartans may need my help prepping up for it. Are we good?” Jericho held out his hand to the ODST Sergeant, hoping for him to shake it.

Luckily, the ODST did. Jericho smiled and gave the Sergeant a very firm handshake. The type of handshake that would represent the Spartan program.

“Damn, how strong are you?” the Sergeant asked rubbing his armored right hand after letting go of the handshake.

“Good.” Jericho ignored the Sergeant, walked past him, and stood in front of the second ODST. “How about you?” Jericho asked, holding out his hand.

The ODST nodded hesitantly, but shook his hand anyway. Good. Jericho didn’t actually think that these ODSTs would actually be very cooperative with him. Maybe it was to pay respect because of how many Spartans went “MIA” trying to protect planet Reach, the home planet of the Spartans,  just a few weeks prior to this. Or maybe it was because they were afraid of him and the other Spartans. 

The 105th Shock Troops Division, one of the best ODST units, weren't exactly fans of the Spartans. Jericho had always listened to the stories about the Spartan IIs; one that always stood out to him was how the Master Chief single-handedly took on four ODSTs in a boxing ring, killing 2 of them and leaving the other two critically injured when he was just 14 years old. Maybe these guys had heard about that story as well.

Jericho grabbed an M6G Magnum and attached it to his right thigh armor. As the Spartan smirked and started walking away towards the other side of the SOEIV chamber, he heard the same ODST Sergeant call to him over the sound of men laughing and talking.

“Spartan!” the ODST said again in a loud voice. The only ones who actually stopped to look at the Sergeant was all of the Spartans. If his hearing wasn’t greatly enhanced, Jericho probably wouldn’t have stopped to turn around. As he did, he saw ODST jog over to him. “I never got your name.”

Jericho started to feel as if those two ODSTs could be trusted. “Sierra G252, Sergeant. You?" Jericho said flatly. Until he was sure he could tell his real name to people other than Spartans, he stuck with the go-to callsign of the Spartans: Sierra.

“Sergeant Kunitada. Nice meetin’ you, Spartan,” the ODST replied back and started walking away.

“Likewise, Sergeant Kunitada,” Jericho answered back, feeling a bit better that he knew the marine's name.

Jericho turned around and continued to walk past more ODSTs and saluted an officer as he passed by. The Spartan pressed forward continued looking around for his comrade. All he saw different kinds of weapons and materials that were going to be used in the field, ODSTs who were talking or stretching to prepare for the 270,000 feet drop, and a few Spartans IIIs from Gamma who were sparring. None of them was Petty Officer Third Class Skylar-G316, his best friend.

Where the hell is she? The drop begins in an hour, and she said she needed help with something last night.

Jericho continued walking and came to a complete halt once he reached the entrance; ODSTs of different kinds were coming in and out. Ever so slowly, the Spartan had started to zone out again. 

Skylar, like Jericho, was 16 years old and lived on the human colony of Miridem until the Covenant had invaded it in 2544. The two had met when they were only 9 years old in a civilian Pelican Dropship. That was when they were offered the chance to get revenge for what the Covenant had done to them: Project SPARTAN.

Up until the point of the Spartan III augmentations, Jericho had developed crush on Skylar. He had never seen an Asian before that day. She had a nice smile, her charcoal colored hair, her violet colored eyes, her voice and she seemed to be the smartest out of the 330 Spartan candidates in Gamma. Those were all things that made her seem beautiful to Jericho. 

The biggest reason Jericho could think of about why they even stuck with each other during basic training was because of how similar their ages were. But when augmentation day came, almost all of Jericho's romantic feelings for Skylar were crushed; his sex drive was lowered immensely. Even now, he wasn’t sure if he liked that or not. It surprised him that they were even put into the same team together after they “graduated” from the program.

Again, Jericho’s brain snapped back to reality. 

Look at me, thinking about a girl. He grew tired of waiting in front of the entrance to the SOEIV room and getting out of the way so that the other men could pass by him. The Spartan leaned his back against the wall and crossed his arms. More minutes passed as Jericho kept his gaze at the entrance, seeming to ODSTs passing by that he was getting impatient. They couldn’t really tell with his helmet on. Bored as ever, Jericho started humming some of the marching and running cadences that had stuck with him on Onyx over the past years. Jericho mused the time when he got to march a platoon of the other candidates and have them sing a cadence. Good memories, Jericho thought. He sighed and stretched his arms as he continued to lean against the wall. 

Eventually, Jericho's thoughts went back to all of the possible outcomes in the upcoming mission. He would let his anger out onto the Covenant, even if he was on evac duty. Over the years as a candidate of the Spartan program, his urge to kill those bastards had only grown bigger and bigger. Jericho imagined how he would finally get to have revenge. A group of stealth Elites would come up behind him and try to ambush him like they had with his family, but with his quick senses and reflexes, he'd turn around and shoot the first elite with his tactical shotgun, killing it at point blank range. 

The other two Elites would draw out their energy swords and charge at him. Jericho would shoot the one on the left, injuring it. With the Spartan's small size, he would easily duck down as the next Elite swung its energy sword at him. Once the Elite was confused about where the Spartan went, Jericho would uppercut the Elite's stomach and quickly tackle it, giving a hard time to try and push him off.  Jericho would then pull his combat knife out of its sheathe and swiftly slice the Elite's throat with a horizontal thrust, letting its blood spatter all over his visor as he put the knife back in its sheathe. The Elite who Jericho had shot would struggle to get up from the initial blow, but would fail and tumble back down. Jericho would then get up off the second elite's corpse and walk over to the Elite on the ground. It would struggle to get back up from the initial blow. Failing to get back on its feet, it would look up at Jericho as if it were pleading for mercy. Jericho would ignore its pleas and execute it with a shotgun shell to the brain. 

Or it would be the complete opposite and the Covenant would give him a quick and painful death: he'd be stabbed by an energy sword, or shot by a sniper, or the braking rockets on his SOEIV would fail during the drop and the impact would kill him, or even worse: being left behind as the Covenant glassed New Birmingham; from what he's heard, the glassing was predicted to happen. Being left behind to die gave Jericho a very sick feeling in his stomach. But that was war for him. That was war for everyone. It never changed. There were so many things associated with the word “war”: sorrow, anger, vengeance,  death--

"Jericho, you okay?" a female voice suddenly said. It was Skylar.





It was a cool and peaceful autumn morning in the town of Ponyville. The sound of laughter from the colts and fillies playing outside could be heard, as well as the sound of busy ponies selling goods or making purchases in the town marketplace. Added with the fact that it was a Saturday, Twilight Sparkle knew she was going to have a fantastic day… at least to her standards.

Everypony had their own Saturday morning routines. Some ponies would wake up very early and make breakfast, others would go about their routine as if it were any other day of the week for the upcoming work day, and the colts and fillies would go out and play with their friends. Twilight’s routine? Normally it was: wake up, fold the bed sheets, fix her mane, grab a book, make coffee, wait for Spike to finish making breakfast and plan what to do for the rest of the day, which usually consisted of making a to-do list. Or multiple to-do lists. 

However, this was not the case for Twilight that Saturday morning though. Even if she was a princess, she still somehow found time to have late night study sessions in the tree’s study area, and last night’s session was extra late.

The purple alicorn put her head down against and groaned, making it obvious to Spike that she was very tired. For the past few nights, she had been studying astronomy. To Twilight, learning about how the sun, moon, the stars, and space in general worked was very interesting. And since she was Princess Celestia’s former star pupil, Twilight got to ask her all kinds of questions about raising and lowering the sun and moon.

“Here Twi,” Spike said walking up to Twilight with a mug of coffee, “drink up.” It was obvious to Twilight that Spike had been up late as well, except he was reading that volume she had gotten him. Judging from the cover of the comic, it was about aliens terrorizing Equestria. 

Twilight lifted her head off of the table and engulfed the mug with her magic. Careful not to spill anything, she levitated the mug through the air and set it onto the table. 

“Thanks Spike,” Twilight said groggily as she grabbed a container of liquid coffee creamer, “I appreciate it.”

“Whatever,” Spike muttered under his breath, walking to the sink to clean the dishes from the previous night. 

Clearly, Twilight had not heard him and took a bite out of a baby carrot, “Did you say something, Spike?” 

“N-nothing important, sorry,” the dragon said back to her, “all I said was you’re welcome.”

Twilight nodded her head in response and poured a small amount vanilla flavored creamer in her coffee. Mixing the coffee around a bit, Twilight broke the silence between the two, “How’s that comic got you… what was it called?”

Spike gently stacked two plates on top of each other. “Heroes Will Rise?”

“Yes, that.”

“It’s amazing, to say the least. Thanks for buying it” Spike responded.

“How so?” Twilight asked curiously as she took a sip from coffee, warming her up a bit.

That’s when Spike’s voice brightened up a bit. “Well in short, it’s about alien warriors who come to Equestria as we start a war and are assumed to be hostile and once they’re trusted, the Royal Guard uses them to destroy Equestria’s enemies,” he said in a long, run-on sentence.

Twilight stretched her wings. That sounds awful! Who would want to write about Equestria fighting against other nations? We’ve always had good relations with them: the Zebra Union, Saddle Arabia… the Griffin Empire... the Changeling Empire... the Dragon Kingdom. Twilight wasn’t sure about the last three. 

There was a chance that war could happen at any moment between those 4 nations, and Equestria’s allies were sure to help them. That was too scary to think about. The Changelings had already attacked once, and she really didn’t want something like that to happen again. There was sure to be blood and death. “Death.” The word made Twilight feel sick to her stomach when she thought of it.

Spike’s voice cut right through Twilight’s thoughts, “You’d have to read the comic itself if you want to see more about it. I’d recommend it to you in your free time. The role of Equestria’s princesses plays a very important part of the story’s plotline!”

“Ehh… no thank you, Spike. It sounds interesting, I’ll give you that, but I don’t think that would be the type of story for me. War, I mean,” Twilight said with more life in her voice as she slowly started to liven up.

“Oh well. To each his own,” Spike sighed. Twilight nodded, feeling a bit guilty about turning down Spike’s offer. War and death were two of the worst things combined that made her very uneasy.  She was an alicorn, and she knew that something as horrible as that was bound to happen.

The dragon walked up to the pantry and grabbed a some gems from the upper shelf. Munching on the gems walked back to the table and plopped himself at a seat across from Twilight’s.

“Twilight?” Spike asked. The alicorn looked at Spike.

“Have you ever wondered about aliens, somewhere out there?”

“Well yes, Spike. We can’t be the only forms of life in this universe,” Twilight said in a matter-of-factly tone.

“Let me rephrase that,” Spike responded with a gem in his mouth, “have you ever thought about them... coming here?”

For a moment, Twilight thought and rolled her eyes. “As far as I know, Equus is the only planet with any sort of life,” Twilight said bluntly, “ even if there was life beyond this planet, the chances of them being intelligent are very, very slim. And if you’re thinking about the comic I got for you, there’s absolutely no way that we’d ask for help from aliens. Equestria by itself is already a powerful nation.”

“...Way to kill my hopes and dreams, Twilight,” Spike said, continuing to eat his gems. 

The mare let out a small giggle. “Sorry. But that’s reality for you.”

Spike smiled, but shook his head and a frown soon followed. “I was kidding about that. It’s just...reality is so harsh and boring. For the past few months, I feel like I haven’t been doing anything useful. I feel like I have no purpose in Equestria until I actually grow up. But then again, I don’t want to be seen as some mindless monster that makes everypony cower in fear. I feel like there should be more to it than just that. I know it sounds like I want to… you know… kill myself… but that’s not it at all. Besides, there wouldn’t be anything for me to do at all if I did that.” 

Now Twilight felt bad. Just minutes ago, Spike was talking about something that made him excited. Now, he was talking what made him feel sad. 

“Oh Spike,” Twilight said, getting up from her seat and walking over to the young dragon and trying to sound as caring as possible, “don’t say that. For the past few months, and practically my whole life, you’ve always been there for me during the times I’ve needed somepony the most. You may not know it yet, but I really appreciate all you’ve done for me. After all, you are my number one assistant, I’ll find a way to solve your problem of yours.” With that, Twilight put her hoof around Spike and hugged him, feeling his scales against her chest. 

After a few moments, Twilight let go of Spike, hoping the hug made him feel a bit better about himself.

The dragon smiled. The hug reminded Spike of another time when she was talking to Rarity and Fluttershy earlier that September. “Thanks Twilight. One thing though?”

“What is it?”

“Earlier this month, you told the girls that you’d help in getting food and supplies for the picnic you planned that you said would happen on September 22: tomorrow,” Spike said plainly, “have you gotten them yet?”

Twilight’s thoughts went all the way back to the day when she said that, forgetting all about the fantastic Saturday she thought she was going to have. How could she have forgotten that? She was the princess of friendship, for Celestia’s sake! Twilight’s heart started to beat faster.

“Oh my gosh! Thanks for reminding me!” Twilight exclaimed, feeling very unorganized, “how did you even remember? You didn’t even plan it” 

“Trust me,” Spike said, “if you walked around in my feet-- er hooves… whatever. The point is, if you were in my place, you’d definitely remember saying something like that to Rarity and Fluttershy.”

“Horse feathers! I’ve got to make a list, go into town... all sorts of things! Thanks a bunch, Spike!” Twilight exclaimed, galloping upstairs.

After hearing the sound of Twilight’s hooves fade away, Spike finished eating his last gem, feeling the last of its rock-like textures in his mouth. “One more point for Spike,” the dragon said to himself without any enthusiasm, “I wish something exciting would happen already. Maybe like something out Heroes Will Rise.”

With that out of the way, Spike had started daydreaming about what the characters in his comic were like. Heroes. Spike got up and made his way to the study area upstairs.

I wonder, Spike smiled as he thought to himself, what if... I became a hero? Like them? I’m not exactly a pony, now am I.

> Feet First Into Hell
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jericho-G252
“Jericho, you okay?” Skylar asked.

Instantly, Jericho focused his gaze to his comrade who was standing in front of the exit to the long corridor as she broke his thought chain. He stood up from the wall and took his helmet off. Either he was deep into his rather… violent thoughts (did teenagers normally have these kinds of thoughts?) or Skylar was the sneakiest Spartan he’d ever met if he hadn’t noticed her appear in front of him, especially when her helmet wasn’t even on.

"Don’t worry about it, it’s... nothing,” Jericho sighed as if he had never had those thoughts, “how’d you know it was me standing here?”

Skylar let an ODST pass in front of her before walking closer to Jericho. “I recognized how zoned out you looked.You’ve been doing that a lot lately.”

Jericho stayed silent, realizing how often he’d been doing that. He was sure other Spartans did that as well. Ever since everyone received augmentations, their actions had changed drastically. Perhaps it was a habit? 

“Anyways, here,” Skylar gave a small smile as she tossed an energy bar over to Jericho, which he caught shortly after, “I got that from a vending machine a while ago.” 

She probably kicked the machine until something came out, Jericho thought, ...scratch that. She probably hacked it instead.

Jericho held the energy bar in front of him. On the front of the bar contained the words “HOOAH! Nutritious Booster Bar” and the words “Peanut Butter flavored”. The Spartan flipped the bar over and looked at the nutrients it had in it: 270 calories, 9 grams of fat, 10 grams of protein, and 41  grams of carbohydrates. Jericho let out a small laugh. That wasn’t much for a Spartan, let alone an ODST. With how fast a Spartan’s metabolism was, it would take more than an energy bar to actually fill him up. 

It was nice of Skylar to buy him food, even if he had a whole pack of MREs waiting for him in the armored rucksack they issued him. At least she had gotten him a flavor he liked. 

“Thanks, but I’ve already had my breakfast,” Jericho said and put in in an armored pocket on his left leg, “I might as well save it for later.”

Skylar nodded. “Come on, walk with me. The drop is about to start soon,” she said as she motioned her hands to start moving down the hallway. 

Obliging to Skylar’s words, Jericho started walking next to Skylar. That may as well have been the last time they could ever really have a true conversation, at least to their standards.

“Time?” Skylar asked, looking at Jericho for a few seconds before looking forward again. 

Jericho put his SPI helmet on, making a click sound as it sheltered his head for a brief moment. The Spartan looked at his HUD. 

“Eleven forty-five hours,” Jericho said, taking his helmet back off, “ we got fifteen minutes left.” Jericho felt more confident about what he was going to do if and when his SOEIV hit the ground. After all, Jericho and his detachment of Spartans were received deployment orders to assist one of the best ODST units: the 105th Shock Troops Division. They were “Helljumpers”, as these ODSTs called themselves. It was best to assume that most of the men in that room had been shot down from space at least twice. And with the addition of Gamma also being trained for orbital drops 2 years ago, there was a good chance that the Spartans would come out of it alive. They were gonna show how tough Spartans really could be.

The two came to a halt when they reached Jericho’s drop pod and started preparing their materials for the mission. Kneeling down, Jericho placed his SPI helmet on the ground. He opened his armored rucksack, making sure everything his squad needed was there: food, water, and medical supplies. Technically, he was the pack mule of his squad.

“Never accept a ‘who’s stronger?’ challenge from an ODST,” Jericho said to himself quietly.

“It’s your fault for being the ‘toughest Spartan’ in Gamma,” Skylar said walking towards a nearby weapons rack. She was obviously referring to the words spoken to Jericho by Lieutenant Ambrose, Gamma’s company’s commanding officer. 

The female Spartan took a DMR equipped with a silencer from the weapons rack. “So. How do you feel about the new body armor?” she asked.

Jericho carried his armored rucksack over to the weapons rack Skylar was at. “SPI? It isn’t MJOLNIR armor, but I think it’ll work just fine,” he said as he put several boxes of M6G ammo in the rucksack, “besides, those suits don’t even have Active camo installed in them.” The thought of moving around the battlefield like a phantom sounded very exciting, especially for Spartans from Gamma company. Even if the cool down time was drastically longer compared to the Covenant's Active camo systems, Jericho knew he'd enjoy the feeling.

"Hmm," Skylar said as she aimed her Designated Marksman Rifle at an angle towards the ground, "SPI armor is about as useful as ODST BDUs. They’re gonna be shit in battle in my opinion.”

“To each their own, I suppose,” Jericho said, strapping the armored rucksack onto his back. The Spartan grabbed a Magnum silencer as well as an M45 Tactical Shotgun from a weapons rack nearby, which he attached to the back of his rucksack. He looked at Skylar as she held the DMR in her arms and walked back to her drop pod which was next to his own pod and another Spartan named Ocaen-G207, a Crewman, who was preparing for the deployment as well. Apparently, Ocaen was the third Spartan in his squad.

Like the majority of the Spartans from Gamma, Ocaen was 14-years-old, his strength and reflexes were enhanced after the augmentations, he was fairly well at academics, he was short, he had the body of an Olympic gold athlete, his skin was cream colored like Jericho’s, he had a regulation styled haircut that was as brown as a hazelnut and like all Spartans in Gamma company, he was an orphan; a volunteer of the program. Jericho didn’t know Ocaen too well to consider him a friend, but rather an acquaintance. 

Both of them were assigned as partners with each other during the UNSC Marine Corps martial arts program phase for 8 months. During that time, of course, he had been called “Nazi” by Ocaen once or twice because of his blonde hair and blue eyes. Jericho didn’t really mind that; he was even told by his instructors that he had a bit of German blood. 

Other than that, he knew nothing of his background story. The only thing that really bothered Jericho was how Ocaen spelled his name. 

“OH-SHEN,” Jericho remembered Ocaen’s 5 year old self saying to the other young candidates who made fun of his name, “you say it like the Pacific OCEAN.” He chuckled at that old memory. Of course, Ocaen and most of the other Spartans had matured greatly. It was amazing to see how the UNSC could turn a bunch of children into war machines over the span of 9 years.

Jericho wouldn’t blame Ocaen’s parents for naming him that. It was actually a pretty nice name, without looking at how it was spelled. After all, his own parents named him after Jericho VII, another human colony he suspected they were born on. 

What if--

Immediately, Jericho shut the thought of his old family out of his mind and put his helmet back on. The Spartans in Gamma were of his new “family” and he was proud of all 329 of them. 

Finally, he and Skylar were all set. Now they just had to check up with Ocaen and the rest of their squad: Private First Class Smith, Private Jackson, and Gunnery Sergeant Miller. All of them seemed to be in their mid to late 20s.





Spike
Standing in his and Twilight’s personal quarters, Spike put on white gloves, a red cape, a red belt, and a black half mask which covered the area around his eyes. The dragon walked over to the mirror that was between Twilight’s nightstand and one of the many bookshelves. Spike was happy Twilight would be out for most of the day… mostly so he could do things like this. 

Ever since Twilight became an Alicorn and a princess, she hardly ever got out anymore. With her “princess duties” and all that, Spike noticed that she had spent less and less time with her friends than when she was just Princess Celestia’s personal protégé. It was quite sad, really.

The reason Twilight had planned the picnic with her friends was so she could make up for the lost time in the past few weeks. The thing was that nopony seemed to remember about the picnic at all. Even Twilight. The only reason Spike remembered the picnic’s exact date was because Twilight made the plans with Rarity. With Rarity, Spike would almost always remember the certain topic if she was somehow involved.

Of course, Spike wouldn’t have a chance in the world to be with Rarity. At least not yet. He was only 14 years old. With the addition that he was only a baby dragon. That didn’t keep him from trying. Spike would be alive for a very long time and might as well have done a few fun things before he became an adult. 

“I’ve waited for this moment my whole life," Spike smirked as he talked to his reflection as if he were a narrator, observing himself, "all I ever wanted to do was to be a hero. I will show the whole town who is in charge,” Spike punched the bookshelf to his right. “And I will not let anypony get in my way. Today is my day. I. Am. Spike the--”

In the doorway to the balcony stood a certain cyan rainbow-maned pegasus, trying her hardest not to laugh but obviously failing; Rainbow Dash.

As soon as Spike heard her raspy laughs get louder, he stopped talking to himself. He looked at the at the now hysterically laughing pegasus and glared, while heavily blushing. He saw that she was wearing a saddle bag.

“You look so stupid!” Rainbow Dash laughed with her face turning red, “what is up with your outfit?”

Spike gave a small, sheepish smile as Rainbow moved flew a bit closer to him. “Dash! Wh- why’re you even up here? We have a front door, ya know.”

Rainbow Dash wiped a tear away with a hoof and imitated Spike’s voice. “‘I will not let anypony get in my way. Today is my day.’ It sounds so cheesy!” She continued to laugh as she set her hooves down in front of Spike.

Spike’s blushed even more. It had to be Rainbow Dash of all ponies to catch him. He prayed to Celestia that this would just end soon.

Spike sighed while taking his half mask off. “Why are you even here?” 

Finally, Rainbow had stopped laughing, “I’m just here to give Twilight her copy of the latest Daring Do book back. But back to the more important: why are you wearing that?” Rainbow Dash almost bursted out laughing again to which Spike ignored. That was fast. Rainbow had just borrowed that book two days ago, and it was 400 pages long.

“You do know we’re closed during the weekends, right?” Spike said.

“Yeah. But Twilight said the library was open to her best friends. Which is also means her best reading buddy: me,” Rainbow said with a more serious yet joking tone to her voice as she opened her saddle bag to bring out the Daring Do book. Spike opened his mouth to say something, but then closed it again. She did have a point, even if the thing about Twilight’s best reading buddy was false; he was her best reading buddy.

“And that means you can just fly into somepony’s home without their permission?” Spike asked feeling annoyed about that. 

Rainbow Dash flew around the room to to find a place to leave Twilight’s book. “I’ve been knocking and waiting for 5 minutes and nopony was answering. Somepony as awesome as myself shouldn’t have to wait that long,” Rainbow said back to him as she flew around, “plus the balcony door was open. Who in their right mind would leave the balcony door open when they’re not even home? I mean, I even heard your voice.”

Dammit, Twilight! Spike thought. He realized that he wouldn’t even be in that embarrassing situation if she just remembered to close the door. The purple dragon finally moved from his initial position and walked to the middle of the room. He really wasn’t in the mood to start arguing with Rainbow at that point as she flew around to find the right bookshelf in Twilight’s personal library. 

“Just… leave the book on her desk,” Spike sighed and pointed to Twilight’s desk, “I’ll take care of it in a bit.”

Rainbow Dash stopped and looked at him. She noticed how Spike’s facial expressions told her that he didn’t seem too thrilled that she was there. For a few moments, the pegasus thought about what to say next.

“What’s with the outfit?” Rainbow asked.

That caught Spike off guard.

“Uhh… i-it’s nothing,” Spike stuttered, “just me being… a child.”

“Seriously, tell me.”

“It’s something I want to show Twilight, it’s kinda personal,” Spike lied.
“O-okay then. Speaking of Twilight, where is she? I was planning on getting her opinion on the book.” Rainbow had finally said, tilting her head to see what Spike would say.

Knowing that Rainbow was very obnoxious when it came to being left out, Spike thought of lie to try and screw with her. “Oh, Twilight?” he asked, “she’s just practicing with Fluttershy to, you know, perfect her flying skills and all that pegasus stuff.”

“Seriously?!” Rainbow exclaimed, “Not to be mean, but ‘Shy is a terrible teacher when it comes to flying. Come on! I even said that I’d help her when she needed it. Where are they?”

“Geez, calm down, Dash. I was kidding!” it was Spike’s turn to laugh. It was the best feeling to screw with his friend’s emotions. Sometimes, Spike thought he’d become very sadistic as he’d get older.

“Haha, very funny,” Rainbow responded with obvious sarcasm, “but really though, what’s she up to? Did I miss something that the others remembered?”

“Twilight’s out at the marketplace right now,” Spike said, “she’s getting some supplies for the picnic tomorrow.”

“Ohhh... wait, that’s tomorrow?!” Rainbow exclaimed, looking panicked as her hooves met with the floor. Spike responded with a smile and a simple nod, silently congratulating himself that he had once again been “useful.”

Rainbow had suddenly thrown Twilight’s book at Spike. Snapping out of his thoughts just in time, Spike caught the book. That was rude of her; then again, that was just Rainbow Dash being herself.

“Crap! I’ve gotta make those sandwiches I told everypony I’d be making! Seeya!” Rainbow galloped toward the balcony door. 

Spike slightly jogged over to where she was. “Can you at least--” but Rainbow was already off by the time he'd gotten within 2 feet from her. Spike walked out and looked at the rainbow blur in the distance as well as many of Ponyville’s residents. He had a feeling that Rainbow was heading over to her house and work on those sandwiches she said she’d be making for the seven of them. At least Rainbow was bringing something to the picnic that time; she never brought anything. Some Element of Loyalty she was.

“--make sure that the other girls know?” Spike face palmed, suspecting at least one of the other girls (excluding Pinkie Pie, of course) had forgotten. The dragon walked back steadily into his and Twilight’s room. He looked for the A.K Yearling section of Twilight’s personal library. Once he found it, he placed the Daring Do book in front of the other books while mentally noting to place the book in its proper location later. 

Spike took his gloves and cape off. “There’s always time for heroics another day,” he said and sighed.





Skylar-G316
“Take these emblems,” Smith said, handing over circular vinyl decals to Skylar, Jericho, and Ocaen who stood in front of him, “put them on your right shoulder pauldrons. The three of you and the rest of your friends are a part of Quebec company for this operation.” 

Each of the 3 Spartans took a sticker without saying a word. Smith’s words were reasonable, so why not? Skylar observed what Quebec company’s emblem was: it was a griffin that looked as if it were in a fighting stance and a big “Q” for Quebec company under the griffin. Peeling the sticker from the paper, Skylar positioned it on her right shoulder and rubbed it until she couldn’t take it off; she was soon followed by Ocaen and Jericho.

“It looks nice,” Ocaen said, “...what exactly is it?”

“Have you been living under a rock?” Smith asked, with an almost insulting tone to his voice. All three of the Spartan, and even the other ODSTs in their squad, looked straight at the Marine as if he had done something wrong.

“S-sorry, ignore I said that,” Smith finally said. 

"It's no problem, Private," Skylar responded, making the ODST look a bit relieved. She didn't get it. What was the point the feud between the ODSTs and Spartan IIIs? They were both made to be expendable infantry. Only, one of the groups had more strength than an entire battalion of Marines.

Smith stood up from the ammo crate he was sitting on and joined the two other ODSTs in Skylar's squad who were only a few feet away. "Haha. You almost got your ass kicked by a bunch of Spartans!" one of the ODSTs said. That was wrong. She would only hurt those who posed as a threat to her or any of the other Marines or Spartans.

Skylar looked back at her two other squadmates. Jericho was still looking at the ODSTs; facial expression telling her that he was more than happy to know some ODSTs were downright afraid of Spartans, maybe even more than the Covenant themselves. Some people even thought that Spartans weren't even human and were some kind of machines instead. Did Spartans really seem like that? 

Ocaen sat down where Smith initially sat and stared at his right shoulder, trying to figure out what exactly the creature on the emblem was. From the looks of it, he had no idea what the creature on the armor sticker was.

Skylar stood in front of him. "It's a griffin," she said plainly, "it has the body of a lion and the wings and head of an eagle."

"It's a creature from Greek mythology," Jericho added in as he crossed his arms and leaned against the wall. Doing so, the Spartan closed his eyes.

The only reason she and Jericho knew about the griffin was because Skylar had taught him a bit about what she found in a digital Greek mythology book; she had read that book a few weeks before the Covenant invaded Miridem. It seemed that everyone else didn't pay attention to the less important history. 

"Huh. Makes sense," Ocaen responded as he looked up at the two other Spartans. Jericho opened his eyes and looked at Skylar.

"Well then… the more you know," Jericho said.

“We should get back to our pods. I'm pretty sure the--" 

The sound of a siren followed by a female voice on the PA system finished Skylar's sentence. "Attention, all UNSC personnel aboard the UNSC Desert Heat. Please report to your designated posts. I repeat, please report to your designated posts. The Orbital Drop Shock Trooper combat drop into New Birmingham, Victoria will begin very shortly."

ODSTs of all ranks scrambled across the drawn-out chamber to get to their posts as the sound of the siren continued to ring throughout. The three Spartans jogged past a few ODSTs and over to their drop pods, making sure they had all that they needed. The fact that people down in Birmingham were dying at that moment was enough to give everyone the motivation to hustle their movement. “Come on, come on! Move your asses!” First Lieutenant Vasquez, Quebec company’s  commander, shouted at ODSTs passing by, “the Covenant aren’t gonna fight themselves! Move!”

Once the sirens had stopped ringing, everybody, including the Spartan IIIs, stood at attention in front of their SOEIVs with their helmets off. No one moved a muscle or made a sound as they stood at attention on each side in a horizontal line all across the SOEIV chamber. 

There were a few moments of silence after the noise of running had died down before Vasquez walked to the middle of the hallway and had started speaking again. 

“Quebec Company, stand at...!” Vasquez said in a voice loud enough for everyone to hear.

“Stand at!” the whole company responded. 

“Ease!” Vasquez said and at his command, all of Quebec instantly stood at ease with their hands behind their back and looked at the officer. This was the first time the Spartans had followed direct commands from another officer in another branch of the UNSC.

"Marines," the ODST officer said, "as you all know, we have 27 very special guests joining our 90-man company today.”

I like the sound of that, Skylar thought. Using her peripheral vision, she could tell that some of the other Spartans smirked. 

Vasquez continued his loud words as he walked back and forth to engrave his words into his men’s heads. “Now, from what I’ve heard, these Spartans were made to be like us: special operations, cheap to produce, expendable and deadly shock troopers. Am I correct, Spartans?”

Each of the 27 Spartan IIIs stood back at attention. “Yes, sir!” the young voices of the Spartans filled the entire chamber and stood at ease again. That was probably the loudest group of teenagers the First Lieutenant had ever heard.

“Good,” Vasquez responded, “Marines. It is most imperative that we, as ODSTs, treat these Spartans with respect. They’ve already done enough for humanity, and they sure as hell can do more than we can ever do.”

He does know we’ve just received our very first deployment orders, right? Skylar asked herself.

“As you’re all aware,” Vasquez said, “our orders are to assist the Marines in New Birmingham with evacuation of civilians; something that we aren’t usually tasked with. With the mass genocide on Reach which happened recently, new protocol dictates that ‘should the threat of Covenant glassing be near the colonies, UNSC special operations organizations are called to duty to assist in evacuation of civilians.’ That means us. I was surprised when the brass told me that Quebec would have Spartans assigned to our company for this operation. I realize now that this is our chance to show how them how the 105th Shock Troops Division does things around here.”

Skylar heard a single Spartan give out a quick snicker, something he probably shouldn’t have done. Hopefully Vasquez hadn’t heard that. 

“Quebec Company, attention!” Vasquez shouted once he reached the middle of the SOEIV chamber. 

With that command, everyone in the company stood at attention. The ODSTs recited their motto.

“Who are we?!” Vasquez shouted. 

“Helljumpers, feet first into hell! Hoorah!” the ODSTs shouted.

“Fall out,” Vasquez said. With his command, the Spartans and ODSTs of Quebec company went to gather their needed materials and to situate themselves inside their pods. Skylar picked up a med-pack that was sitting on a nearby crate and strapped it to her thigh armor. Making sure all her ammunition and weapons were where they needed to be, the Spartan placed her SPI helmet over her head and looked back at Jericho who in turn looked up at her as he inspected his combat knife.

“‘Feet first into hell’, huh? I like it. It goes with their nickname,” Jericho said lucidly. The Spartan made sure the golden visor on his SPI helmet was shiny before putting it on. He then strapped a bandolier holding cartridges of M6 ammo as well several shotgun shells. Looking over to Ocaen, he was turning the safety mechanism off on his Battle Rifle and loaded his ammo and weapons into his drop pod.

“You’re damn right it does, Spartan,” Jackson, a ODST Private in her squad, said. Skylar strapped herself into her pod as she listened to the conversation. Personally, she thought something like “no man left behind” sounded much better.

“And especially--” Smith said, but was interrupted by Sergeant First Class Miller, their squad leader. Normal humans seemed to do that a lot.

“Hey, this ain’t the time to be arguing about which motto is better,” Miller said solemnly at Jackson, “and that goes for you too, Smith. Our temporary replacements are way ahead of you two. Now get haul ass!”

“The man has a point,” Skylar heard Jericho say. He was positioned in his drop pod as well.

Moments passed and all Spartans and ODSTs were inside their drop pods; which again caused total silence, save for the final words of the commander. In unison, the hatches of the drop pods shut themselves with a loud bang and a hiss. Skylar watched outside the window of her hatch as her drop pod ever so slowly rotated around, making a whirring sound.

Skylar heard the "3, 2, 1" beeps followed by a "go" beep from the inside of her drop pod. Squad by squad, drop pods were shot out abruptly from the frigate. She felt her drop pod physically shoot down with a jolt. Skylar loved the feeling of the drop in all honesty; it was like a roller coaster. A very long roller coaster that fell straight to the ground. She could feel the “butterflies” in her stomach once she looked down.

Skylar wasn’t sure how the other Spartans felt, but could only assume what they felt: nervousness and excitement. Two years prior to that day, she could remember the sounds of 11 and 12 year-old children screaming as they jumped out of D77-TC Pelican dropships and free fell with parachutes during SOEIV training week; later that same week they practiced falling from outer space with drop pods. She gave out a chuckle as she remembered that memory.

At least she didn’t hear any screaming now. Then again, only members in each squad could hear each other. 

On both sides of the hatch, there were two screens which revealed Jericho’s and Ocaen’s SPI helmets as they were also shot down. On the bottom left of their screens contained the word “Sierra” followed by the numbers their candidate numbers.

“Hope you Spartans aren’t afraid of heights! We've got about 4000 meters left to go!” Jackson shouted over the radio.

“Ha,” Skylar laughed back sarcastically, “I’m sure we can all manage.” 

Several minutes passed when Ocaen broke the silence.

“It’s gettin’ pretty hot in here,” Ocaen said. Skylar was thankful that they were even wearing armor. She couldn't imagine how it would feel to wear civilian clothing during a drop. 

"Listen up," Miller said, "first, second and third squad are going to rendezvous at Chandler plaza. Command says it’s clear of Covenant activity for now. Hoo-ah?"

Everyone responded with a "hoo-ah".

As the pods descended closer to the ground, Skylar looked down through the lower window and zoomed in with her HUD to pinpoint the squad's rendezvous point, an area for an LZ and to see if there were any Covenant in the air space. At that point, most of what she could see below her were dark clouds and was most likely storming and raining heavily upon New Birmingham. Perfect timing. 

Thirty seconds had passed and the drop pods descended through the dark clouds and into the storm. Skylar heard the rain patter against her pod as it zoomed past the raindrops. Again, the Spartan looked down and zoomed in to continue her scouting. Instantly, she saw Covenant ships deploying Covenant infantry to get ready for a firefight. Their sensors must have picked up the pods falling from the sky.

“Hey, I’m seeing 3 Covenant dropships, over,” Skylar said over the comms, “two Type-25’s and one Type-52. 6 o’clock from your pod, Sergeant First Class.”

Ocaen’s pod was probably the lowest out of the other SOEIVs. “Affirmative, Sierra 316,” Ocaen said, “I’ve got visuals on them.”

“Solid copy, Sierra 316,” Miller said. It wasn’t long until Skylar would be in a full-on firefight with the Covenant. The thought of being shot at and returning fire was exciting. She’d get to experience actual combat and get payback for what the genocide the Covenant had caused.

“First squad, come in. Sierra 210 from second squad, over,” the Spartan over the radio said. From the sound of it, the Spartan sounded like Matt; the only Spartan in Gamma who was older than Jericho by year. That was easy to remember.

“Sierra 210, send your traffic, over” Miller said. The three Spartans listened carefully to their comrade.

“I’m s...ing two pairs of h...ters down at your squad’s drop zone as well as a large amount of Covenant inf--” Matt’s voice cut off. The storm screwing with the communications.

“It sounded think he was about to say a huge amount of ‘infantry’” Smith said.

“No shit,” Jackson said. Miller ignored his two men and tried contact the Spartan again.

“...re de...ing... B...te Ch...tain, o...r--”

“Sierra 210, say again. I repeat, say again,” Miller said sounding as if he were in a life or death situation.

“Do you copy? We’re de...ting a Brute Chieftain along with a large amount of Brute ground infantry. They’ve got Marines and civilians pinned down in the building in the middle, over?” Matt said with his voice finally understandable.

“I hear you loud and clear, Sierra 210. We’ll assist them as best we can, over,” Miller responded. Miller seemed to already be doing a good job to Skylar, and they haven’t even reached the ground yet.

“Just watch yourselves down there, first squad. I have a fe...ing things are going to get messy down there fairly quickly. Spartan 210, out.”

A chieftain? From what Skylar remembered, Brute chieftains were one of the toughest enemies to battle, let alone capture. They were known to be ruthless, merciless and physically stronger than most Spartans. It’s purpose right now most likely to eliminate the ODSTs. Little did the Covenant know that the UNSC brought Spartans along on this ride.

“Sergeant, I realize that we can’t set aside our primary objective,”  Ocaen said, “but if at all possible, we need to apprehend that chieftain.” 

“Agreed,” Jericho responded, “ONI specifically told us to bring in any major religious leaders of the Covenant for interrogation. With the fall of Reach, more statistics on any Covenant controlled planet are needed more than ever.”

“Seriously, ONI?!” Smith exclaimed, “we attempt to hunt that thing down, we’ll be killed. Chieftains’ll slaughter anyone they cross paths with.”

“You’re talking to Spartans,” Skylar said, bluffing, “we’re good at what we do.”

“Affirmative, Spartans,” Miller responded, “but don’t forget the objective. You must eliminate that brute if absolutely necessary.” Either Jericho knew that the brute chieftain wouldn’t kill him, or he was just being cocky. Cocky was more like it. He was always like that during basic training, even if he fell more to the quiet side.

Suddenly, the drop pods’ computer controlled braking rockets engaged, telling everyone that they were about 50 meters away from hitting the ground. Luckily, none of the pods that Skylar could see had anything malfunctioning. Now she just had to worry about whether or not anyone would be shot down. 

Immediately afterwards, an ear-splitting boom transpired which was soon followed by a bright flash of light. 

“Shit!” Smith shouted.

“Calm down!” Jericho said back, “it was a just thunderclap. They’re louder when we’re this high up.”

Closer and closer to the ground, Skylar tensed up. There was a good chance she would be killed. 

Several seconds passed and the pods were at 40 meters. Then 30 meters, then 20, then 10. And finally, with a several seconds continuous loud booms, the drop pods collided with the ground.





15 hours after drop, Jericho-G252
Jericho’s eyes shot wide open. All he could see was the heads-up display which said “0323 hours” in the bottom corner and dried blood that was smeared across the inside of his SPI helmet. That was weird; one second he was falling from the frigate, the next he was in a dark room.

His knees were on the ground as he was in a kneeling position. Two metallic wristbands, which were attached to two long chains with torus-shaped links hanging from the ceiling, were cuffed around the wrist area of his gauntlets. They held his his torso up as well as both of his arms which were high above his head, hands facing the opposite direction from each other at an angle

It was pitch black, save for the few faint lights that sat in the air nearby. His head hurt like hell and the SPI armor made him feel very uncomfortable. He could hear a faint snore on the right side of him and heard an indistinct sound of hysterical laughter in the distance. All Jericho could remember was the drop into New Birmingham and bits and pieces of what occurred during his deployment.

He moved his right arm to turn the headlight on his helmet on, but was stopped mid-way.  Jericho tried to get up from his position when a sharp pain ran across his right foot. Jericho let out a small grunt; his foot was sprained. He considered it more of an annoyance than actual pain.

Jericho kept the rate of his heartbeats steady and tried not to think about the situation he was in.  This was bound to happen to a Spartan like him at some point.

Jericho looked down to the ground and shook his head rapidly, trying to get his helmet off. A minute passed and his helmet fell to the ground with a soft thump. He breathed in the not-so fresh air which instead smelled like dirt, dust, debris, death and even more blood. 

Where in Victoria was he? Did the Covenant take him as a prisoner-of-war? That was unlikely; a Covenant brig would seem much more high tech than wherever he was. And as far as he knew, the Covenant didn’t have any dungeons along with New Birmingham and the rest of the heavily forested planet of Victoria.

What if… I’m dead? Is this what the afterlife feels like? He thought. Jericho hadn’t done many good things nor did he do many bad things in his life. For the last 9 years, the only thing he’d done was follow orders and drill with 329 other candidates in Gamma Company.

Jericho couldn’t accept it. He wasn’t dead; he couldn’t have been killed on his first deployment order. He was still very much alive and was gonna kick the ass of whoever imprisoned him like that. And find the rest of his squad, wherever they were.

With that motivation Jericho gradually attempted to get up onto his feet again. Ignoring the sprain, he stepped with his right foot and put all of his weight on it, followed by his left leg. Now standing up, Jericho looked up again to the two chains that were holding his arms. Using his forearm strength, he pulled the chains down with his wrists. The chains didn’t break. 

Jericho tried to break them again, only this time he gripped both chains in his hands and pulled down harder using his upper body strength. With the strength of the Spartan, he didn’t even struggle or have any feeling being fatigued; something a normal human would feel after the first few seconds of pulling as hard as they could. As the chains didn’t break, Jericho stepped forward and pulled again. 

Suddenly, Jericho heard the sound of the shifting of the stone ceiling above him as he pulled. Instantly after the sound of shifting, the Spartan felt two stone bricks shoot forward and strike his lower back. Letting out a quiet yelp after feeling the initial pain from the two bricks, Jericho tumbled forward and tripped over his helmet, falling chest flat against the ground in front of his cell’s door.

Now he laid on the ground with a large headache, a sprained foot and an injured lumbar spine. Other than that, everything was fine. At least, he was free from his inceptive position. Now he had to free himself from the shackles that were still attached to his wrists, which still had chains that were attached to the two stone bricks that hit his back. 

At that point, all Jericho could say out loud was, “Fuck.” After a few moments of resting and easing the aching in his body, Jericho hoisted himself up off the ground and back onto his feet. He was taught to ignore the pain and keep fighting on. Being a Spartan had its perks. That was probably why the UNSC didn’t inform the public about project SPARTAN ever since the war started; the public’s moral obligation would be to protest against the idea of giving special operations training to children and sending them off to war. The public could go screw themselves. It was his own choice to join the program.

The Spartan checked everywhere on his body for any potential tools. There was nothing. The bastards even took his combat knife.

Jericho picked his SPI helmet and flipped it over to look inside. With how gloomy it was, he couldn’t see a thing. He tried turning the headlights on his helmet on, but to no avail, no light was revealed. The Spartan looked above him through the cell door’s bars and saw a lone lantern placed above the cell door. Immediately, he reached for the lantern which he acquired fairly easily. Sitting back down against the door crossing his legs, Jericho set the lantern in front of him and held his helmet in the light it emitted. 

There was a long and narrow puncture that ran down right side of his visor, presumably from an elite’s energy sword. A crack on the visor came down from the upper left of it and became smaller as it branched off into even smaller cracks until they could no longer be seen. Damn, just when he was starting to enjoy the SPI helmet’s appearance.

The Spartan picked up the lantern and held it over his body. Purple, blue, and pure red blood was spattered all over his arms and torso, as if he went overboard with close quarter combat.  What truly happened after they were deployed? Why couldn’t he remember anything? The sound of snoring interrupted Jericho’s thoughts. Either, whatever was snoring wasn’t a human, or that was the snore of a person who sounded like they had a tiring day. 

He couldn’t take chances. Jericho placed his helmet back on and picked up the lantern. The Spartan slowly walked towards the sound of snoring, careful not to make any noise with the stone bricks he dragged with his wrists. The only weapons he could use right now were his fists and the two chains.

Jericho walked closer and closer until the light shined on the source of the snoring... and its armor. This was no human. It was an Elite minor judging from the blue armor it wore. Its four armored mandibles opened and closed as it snored. The was odd thing was that it was bound up in a similar position that Jericho was in before he freed himself.  It was as if the both of them got caught up in a losing fight. Unless this minor betrayed its unit, which was unlikely, that meant that whoever imprisoned them was neither the Covenant nor the UNSC. Maybe they were Insurrectionists?

Knowing that the minor wouldn’t lunge at him at first sight, Jericho attempted to wake it up. “Hey, wake up,” he said in a wearisome voice as it was sore. He could kill the Elite then and there with no mercy, but Jericho planned to keep it alive. For the few moments it was awake at least. He observed the Elite and found that the only weapon it carried was an energy sword hilt. Minors didn’t usually carry energy swords… unless this one stole it. 

Jericho slowly reached for the sword hilt and snatched it from its thigh. As if it were his own prized possession, he held it in front of his visor. The Spartan tried to activate the sword to cut his shackles off. 

The sword still did not show the bright cyan colors of its two blades even after a few moments. This sword probably had some kind of failsafe and could only be used by Elites. Jericho attached the hilt to his right thigh and planned to make it work later. That reminded him: where were his weapons and supplies? Whoever imprisoned the two of them must have taken all of their belongings, with the exception of the energy sword hilt.

Jericho moved a few inches in front of the sleeping and kneeling Elite and stood there while holding the lantern. After tapping it and continuously trying to wake it up verbally, it still didn’t show any signs of hearing him. The Spartan then pulled all of his fingers on his right hand in together and as hard as he could, he punched it right where he thought its umbilical region was. That was strange; its shields should have flickered. At least the punch woke the Elite up.

Jericho readied his right hand for another punch when Elite when it promptly started coughing uncontrollably as its eyes opened. That almost made him laugh. Did he punch it too hard? 

“That wake you up?” Jericho asked it, smirking. The Elite struggled to get up but fell back on its knees.

“Demon,” it growled. Jericho punched the Elite again, not quite as hard, on the side of its two right mandibles.

“You’ve got three minutes to explain why you and I are stuck in this prison cell,” Jericho said, holding the lantern in front of their faces and held his hand up for another punch. 

The Elite growled again. “I was a fool to ever trust you, human. I save your ‘precious’ life and this is how you repay me,” it coughed out. Its voice sounded more… feminine and had a higher tone than what Jericho had expected. Now that he thought of it, this Elite looked slimmer than the usual Elite. It had to be a female, but did the Covenant even allow female Elites to join their ranks?

“‘Save my life’?” Jericho asked as he lowered his hand and stood up straight, “what are you talking about? Why would a minor like you save my life?” He truly wished he could remember what happened in the last few hours. It would make understanding the situation much easier. 

How hard did I hit my head?

The elite relaxed a bit and sighed. “You do not remember me then, do you? All that has happened?  My brothers, the Jiralhanae, the Unggoy and the Kig Yar-- the Covenant destroying the city…?” she asked. Jericho didn’t remember any Elites who could speak fluent English.

“What?” he blurted out, “they-- you couldn’t have destroyed New Birmingham. It’s only been 15 hours since our garrison’s been deployed; the glassing was supposed to take place days from now.” Jericho could only remember the combat drop and bits and pieces of the evacuation.

The Elite corrected Jericho. “No. They destroyed your city. I left the Covenant the moment I betrayed brothers who in turn did the same to me. The actions of the Covenant; ‘The Great Journey’ led me to side with your race.” The Elite had to be lying. Then again, Sangheili were very bad liars from what he studied about them and this one seemed to be telling the truth. That could be why the Elite carried the sword hilt. As hard as it was to believe, it made sense.

Jericho felt as if this Elite had a connection to why they were in a prison cell. “That doesn’t explain why I’m here.”

“The creatures…” she muttered.

“What creatures?” Jericho asked as he leaned in and listened closely to the Elite.

“The both us… we fought against the small creatures. Where we had the advantage of skill, we were conquered by numbers and power. What I do not remember is how we came to be in this world.” It took a moment, but Jericho came to the conclusion that they both of got caught up in some unnecessary fight. Now he had to figure out why they were fighting with each other and not the other way around. 

Looking at the time on his HUD, it read “0340” hours; 17 minutes after he woke up.

“Who?” Jericho asked, “the Jiralhanae? The Kig-Yar? Describe them,” referring to them by the races’ actual names.

“They had… hooves, 4 of them. Some had horns on their heads, some had wings and some had neither. They carried swords and spears, and donned golden protective covering; the ruler, she was more powerful than the rest. She was the one who incarcerated us,” the elite said plainly.

“Hold it there, let me get this straight,” Jericho responded, “we were beaten down and confined by a bunch of small horses, who wore golden armor and carried swords and spears.”

“Yes,” the elite responded.

“Tell me, how am I supposed to believe that?” Jericho asked. He was starting to think this Elite was downright crazy. 

The Elite responded as if she were a young child. “You must believe me, human! If you do not want to die in this hole, then you must!”

Jericho stayed silent. The only thing he could remember was an inexperienced 19 year old Marine just out of high school.





“Hey!” the young Marine yelled, holding Jericho back in cover as he was about to move from his position, “what are you doing?! You’re gonna get shot!”

The Spartan watched as Ocaen switched his position, shooting a jackal with his battle rifle.

“We’re not being shot at yet!” Jericho shouted back over the gunfire.

“How can you tell?” he asked back.

“A hiss means it’s close. A sizzle means it’s--” suddenly several bolts of plasma hit the top of their barrier.

“Get back down, get back down!”





At least Jericho could remember something, even if it was just a small piece of the firefight.

“Think harder Spartan. Try to remember all that has happened before this moment,” the Elite said.

Her words clicked in Jericho’s head. “Spartan? How do you know what I am?” he asked.

“That was what your compatriot called you: ‘Spartan’. She called you that as you carried on your objective. Saving the lives of your own kind? It is more honorable compared to what the Covenant has done,” the Elite said, looking at the ground. 'She?' The Elite had to be talking about Skylar.

“Fine, I’ll believe you for now; I’ll help you get out of those shackles,” Jericho said, “but how do I know I can trust you? Give me a reason to believe you won't kill me once you’re freed.”

“Because I see now that ever since you have convinced your allies to spare my life, you’ve grown to be my friend during this short time, human. Do you not remember any of it?” she asked, looking back up at him. Jericho shook his head. “Then it was the work of the ‘horses’ as you call them. They are the reason you are having trouble remembering what happened in the last few hours.” 

I really hope I’m imagining this, Jericho thought, it’s like it -- she -- doesn’t know my what my purpose is. His purpose was to be an expendable supersoldier and a killing machine; nothing more, nothing less. Who knew an alien, an Elite nonetheless, would consider him to be her friend? He couldn’t even remember how he earned the label “friend” from it. The only other being in his life he considered “friend” was Skylar and for all he knew, she could be dead.

If and when the two of them got out of that prison cell and back to the UNSC, they would never allow Jericho to be friends with this Elite.

After thinking for a short time, Jericho nodded and helped pull the chains down from the ceiling above the Elite. With their combined strength, they easily tugged down the first chain down with breaking a sweat. This time, it actually broke instead of taking down the entire brick with it. After the first chain was broken, Jericho helped the Elite with the second chain. Immediately, she stood up. The minor was about a foot and a half taller than he was and shorter than most other Elites.

There was something about the word “friend” that compelled him want to help her; it was as if wherever they were made Jericho want to fill in that void of loneliness that he had felt so suddenly. Something about this place made Jericho feel human again, instead of how most Spartans acted: quiet, introverted, antisocial or socially awkward. 

He didn’t like it; but then again, he wasn’t exactly the most social child before he enlisted in the program. Still, Jericho felt different from the others in the sense that he hardly talked to anyone at all when it wasn’t needed.  Maybe that’s why the Elite found an interest in the Spartan; because he reminded her of herself.

Jericho gripped the second chain with both hands and got into a pulling stance. “How do you even know I’m the one you call ‘friend’? With this armor, we all practically look the same.”

The Elite gripped the chain as well with both of her tetradactyl hands above Jericho’s. “The marking made by a sword on your helmet, the human number ‘252’ engraved on your armor, the blood, the way you stand, the way you smell.” 

The way I smell?

Jericho sighed. “3, 2, 1, pull!” he counted down. With that, the chain which gave out soon after they pulled down on it. As soon as the Elite was free from her shackles, she stood in front of Jericho. 

“Thank you,” she said. Jericho nodded. He didn't know Elites had manners.

Jericho pulled the energy sword hilt off of his thigh with a click and held it out to the Elite. 

“I found this on the ground,” he lied.

As the Elite reached for the hilt, Jericho pulled his hand closer to him. He couldn’t take any chances. He wasn’t sure wasn’t sure if letting her free was the best option. For all he knew, she was trying lower his guard down until she got the chance to strike him down. Though it was unlikely for an Elite, it was a possibility. 

“I can trust you, but not with a weapon just yet. Friend.” Jericho responded. 

“Human, if I were planning on hurting you, I would have already done the task,” she said. The Elite had a point. Sangheili tactics in a situation like this would be much different from what a normal human adult would be thinking. That was the problem; Jericho hadn't lived long enough outside his military life to experience true betrayal and not some made up scenario. With the injuries he sustained, he was essentially risking his life.

“Alright,” Jericho said as he tossed the hilt over to the Elite who caught it swiftly. 

“Let me cut those bindings off, Spartan. They seem to be an annoyance to you.”

“That’s because they are,” Jericho responded, setting the lantern on the ground. The Elite activated the energy sword which unsurprisingly lit the whole cell with the plasma light it emitted. She walked up to Jericho who held his right arm in front of him as she held the sword up. As if she wanted to show that she meant no harm, she grabbed his forearm very gently. As she did so, the Spartan tensed up. He could die in that very moment.

The Elite slid the blade across the metallic binding around Jericho’s wrist; the chain fell with a thump. They did the same with his other wrist.

Jericho stretched his arms freely. They felt considerably lighter. “Thanks,” he said walking to the steel door.

“It was my pleasure, human,” she said holding the sword in her hands. Just looking at her, Jericho got the impression she was somehow had the knowledge swordsmanship.

“Now come on. Put that sword to good use; use it against those rods,” he said, turning around and pointing toward the door.

The Elite nodded her head and walked towards the cell door. “Make the hole big enough for me to climb through,” Jericho said, “once I'm through, I’ll open it from the outside.”

“And how will I know that you will not leave me in here?” she asked.

Jericho grabbed the lantern and set it down near his feet. At that moment, Jericho realized how Skylar’s words made him feel. “I never leave anyone of my own behind. Dead or alive.” 

“Then I will start,” she responded.

The Elite held up the sword up between the metal rods and tried to cut through the first one. All Jericho could hear was the sword clash against the bar, but nothing being cut down. Jericho sighed. The only one who could use the sword was her.

The Elite looked back at Jericho and exhaled. “It won’t break. The material it is made of is indestructible.”

Jericho picked up the lantern and held it near the metallic rods, which seemed to be made of steel. The sword was supposed to cut through the steel. He was doubtful that they had shields on them. Suddenly, the Spartan heard indistinct talking a few meters away from their cell.

“Hey, put that thing away!” Jericho said in a hushed voice as she tried to cut through the other bars, “get down. In the shadows. If they’re here for us, let me do the talking, ” Immediately, she nodded and followed his commands. The minor crouched down on the opposite side of the room where Jericho stood.

“...casualties Lieutenant?” the voice said as it got nearer to their cell.

“Twenty-seven dead, 4 substantially injured, ma’am,” the next voice said in a much deeper tone, “the assassins need to pay for their crimes against Equestria. I suggest we hold them as prisoners-of-war until we determine when they're executed.”

Prisoners of war? Assassins? Where the hell were they? Those terms were known only by humans and aliens who could speak English.

“No, an execution will not be necessary, at least not yet. I want you and the rest of the Guard, Solar and Lunar, to increase the number of troops posted in every town. Including Ponyville,” the female said again, “war will break out in the near future, and I have a feeling the ‘Elements’ will not be able to prevent it. This is not just one powerful being; it is an entire nation.” Was this some kind of joke? They used both modern day military terminology and used terms that died out hundreds of years before the 26th century. 

The sound of hooves stepping one at a time stopped in front of their cell door.

“Do not hide in the shadows, assassins,” the female voice said, “I’ve defeated you both once; I know you’re tactics.”

The Spartan and Elite stayed put in their positions, remaining silent. He hoped she didn’t suspect the Elite’s stolen energy sword. The Spartan tried activating his active camo unit, which unfortunately didn’t work as expected.

Instantly, a very bright ball of light entered the room, like a miniature sun. “There is no use in hiding. You will never get out of here as long as this door is closed.”

As soon as the bright light revealed both of their locations, Jericho stood up, knowing that the light would remove all of the shadows in the cell he could hide in. He walked to the cell door who was then followed by the Elite. The Spartan observed his captors; the taller figure was some kind of unicorn with wings. She was taller than Jericho by a foot or two, wore a golden crown and some kind of large golden peytral around her neck. The most distinct feature about her was the cerulean, turquoise, blue and heliotrope colors on her mane which had a very natural flowing motion to it. For a moment, Jericho believed that magic actually existed.  

The one who stood next to her looked like a male and was much shorter. He sported golden armor and wore a helmet that looked like a lot like a Greek Corinthian helmet; the color of its crest was red.  

“Identify yourself. Are you the leader?” Jericho asked, looking at the presumed ruler. She looked both confused and surprised by that question.

“Your words don’t make--”

“Guard, stand down,” the taller one said, looking down next to her, “what do you mean? Everypony knows who I am.”

Jericho crossed his arms. Did she just say everypony? Now he wanted this to be some kind of twisted dream.

“No, because that’s not why my comrade,” Jericho paused and looked back at the Elite, “and I are here. Neither of us knows who you are or why you imprisoned us.”

“They’re lying,” the “pony” in armor said, thinking that he Jericho couldn’t hear him, “that mind reading spell shouldn’t have erased his memories.”

“Well, it should have worked with these two,” the leader said in a quieted voice, “I've used all of the energy I could. The only things I've found in the blue one were feelings of death and destruction, and I've found nothing in the green one at all. Their minds are very clouded. Not even my sister can enter their dreams. ”

Jericho had no idea what they were talking about. “I’m starting to get the impression that we’re not in Victoria anymore,” he whispered to the Elite.

“I do not remember the battler too well other than the fact that we were outnumbered,” she said back to him.

“Look at the small griffin on him,” the guard said, “it’s obvious they’re working for them.” 

Jericho looked down at his pauldron and remembered Smith giving him the vinyl decal of the griffin; these ponies seemed to dislike griffins.

“For now, you will stay here and think about the death you two have caused among the Guard,” the princess said, “I will determine what to do with you two. Lieutenant, I want two guards posted here 24/7. They're tricky and murderous creatures.  

"Yes, ma'am," he said and made way for the exit.

"I don’t wish for any more fighting against the griffins. Equestria is a land of peace; not war. I have a feeling they will be useful assets to us.”

“Then you will set us free?” the Elite asked. 

“After a failed attempt at an assassination against the princess and killing 27 of my brothers,” the Lieutenant said, “you will never get out of here.” 

The Elite stepped next to Jericho and sneered… or at least that’s what the Spartan thought she did. “Fool. You know nothing of brotherhood.”

“Excuse me? I’m sorry, but--”

“Lieutenant!” the leader interrupted, “I won’t tell you again: stand down, or I’ll bring in another to take your place in this. I understand this is your first time experiencing war,  but do not let them get into your head.”

“Yes, ma’am,” the Lieutenant responded.

“So what, you gonna execute us afterwards?” the Spartan asked, knowing that was probably how they did things.

Neither of the two creatures answered him and looked at each other for a moment before looking back. That meant they were going to be executed. Eventually.

“Depending on the situation at hoof, we shall see. Twenty-seven murders at one time are hard to forgive,” the leader said and motioned to walk away with her guard into the darkness; the ball of light slowly faded away from the cell until the room became barely lit.

“Wait!” Jericho said as she stopped in her tracks and looked back, “so you erased both of our memories from the last few hours. Fine. But at least tell us your name.”

The leader looked back and hesitated for a moment. Jericho waited for her response. Her first mistake would be to tell him her name. The way she looked, the way she acted, Jericho knew she held some kind of great importance to what he planned to do in the near future. With the addition of his ally, it would be even easier.

“I am Princess Celestia, proud co-ruler of Equestria.”
> Nothing But Trees
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

5 Hours before "Griffin" Confinement, Princess Celestia

“Princess, princess!” said one of Celestia’s Royal Guard, running through the throne room. That didn’t sound good.

“Status report on the ‘dispute?’” she asked as she sat up straight on her throne once the reached her. Celestia struggled to keep her eyes open. Where was Luna when she needed her? Celestia had been awake for about 20 hours and it was way past her bedtime .

Once the stallion guard stopped in front of the princess, he bowed his head down and lifted it back up. “The creatures! They've slaughtered 20 of my men!"

That couldn't be possible, they were just two animals; they weren't even as big as manticores! 

Celestia kept a calm posture. "And where are they now, officer?"

"Th-they escaped, into the rooftops," the guard looked down, "I-I'm sorry, Princess. They were too powerful for us. First there were 3 of us, then 7, then 20, all going at them. All of them dead, u-under my command.  Th-there was blood everywhere, I’ve never seen so much--"

"I will forgive you," Celestia interrupted, "describe the beasts' appearances to me." There was a chance that said beasts weren’t mindless and predatory, but intelligent. She didn’t blame somepony such as this stallion with the amount of death he’d seen. With the exception of the Changeling invasion, in which nopony actually died, most of the Royal Guard and Army hadn’t actually experienced the horrors of battle or death.

"One of them was bigger than the other. It was blue, about your height, and had these four mandibles on its face," he said, "a-and the smaller one, it was green and didn’t even have a face, it carried a knife and shot two pellets with some kind of projectile launcher. It had a symbol of a griffin on it. It killed most of my stallions... i-it was like the shadow of death itself--"

Celestia’s ears perked up at the name griffin. "Griffin?" she interrupted, "are you sure of it? The Griffin Empire is a nation not to be trifled with. That is why I have signed a peace treaty with them 500 years ago."

The guard hesitated, then spoke. "Yes princess, I-I’m sure of it. The griffin was the most recognizable feature about it. One of my men reported to have seen a group of unfriendly looking Griffins outside of town; said they looked like mercenaries."

This was the time to take action, griffin relation or not, Celestia had to find and stop them before things got worse. "Gather 11 of your best pegasi and tell them to wait for me here. I will inform the other princesses of the news."

"Yes, ma’am!" the officer guard said and was off.

What started as what Celestia thought was a small dispute to be handled by the Guard, turned into something worse.





Present Time, Twilight Sparkle
Twilight let out a yawn and rubbed her eyes with her hooves as she lay down comfortably in her bed. She looked at the clock that read 5:00 A.M. Finally, she had earned more than 5 hours of sleep after a week of staying up late every night and doing princess “duties”, which was mostly just paperwork. Spike had a habit of waking up around that time; something she could never understand how he did it.

She really didn’t feel like getting out of bed. The temperature had started to cool down in Ponyville soon after Autumn started. The Alicorn smiled. The memories of staying warm and snuggly in the library while reading books or something else of her liking made her feel great inside. 

Then the memories of her coronation flooded into Twilight’s head. Princesses didn’t get those kind of luxuries very often, and she sure as Tartarus didn’t get those luxuries either. Being royalty wasn’t the greatest thing for her in the world at that moment. Sure, she could fly with Fluttershy and Rainbow Dash and have military authority over the Royal Guard and have ponies bow down to her, but it just wasn’t the same as being Celestia’s personal protégé. In a sense, she liked it better when she didn’t get so much attention. 

With the new responsibilities she had, Twilight could hardly do anything fun with her friends anymore. And she was the princess of friendship. Some princess she was. Celestia probably turned her into an Alicorn just to make her feel better about all the accomplishments she’d done in the past years. It was as if Celestia gave her more work than what she already had.

Twilight sighed and looked up at the ceiling. At least I still have my friends, she thought. Friends. Instantly Twilight remembered what day it was: picnic day. All feelings of worries and doubts left Twilight’s mind. It would be like a small vacation with her friends from all the stress during the past few weeks. They were going to eat and play games and just talk. Nothing was going to stop it! It was going to be so much fu-.

“Twilight, Twilight!” Spike shouted as he burst into their living, making her jump. That got her out of bed.

“What is it?” Twilight asked, “please tell me you didn’t burn another one of my books to crisps.”

“What? No!” Spike exclaimed as he came forward as he held a scroll and trembled, “Princess Celestia sent me this around 12 o’clock this morning. You’re going to want to read it. It’s really serious business.”

Twilight grabbed the scroll drowsily from her assistant with her magic and unfolded it. The scroll probably contained some news about the dignitaries visiting for the ceremony in the following weeks. Twilight struggled to keep her eyes open.

Thoroughly and carefully, she read the scroll, eyes opening wide and slowly forming an expression of disbelief. She couldn’t believe it. Spike wasn’t lying. It was serious business. Very serious business.

“Griffins?! Twenty-seven guards dead?!” Twilight cried out as she continued to read Celestia’s letter, “Spike, why didn’t you wake me up when Celestia sent you this?”

“I-I didn’t want to wake you up!” Spike said, “it seemed like you needed the sleep. And I’ve literally just read the letter minutes ago, I didn’t know it’d be that important!”

Twilight ignored his reasoning and started to pace back and forth around the room past Spike. There hadn’t been a mass killing since… forever! If what Princess Celestia said was true, and the Griffin Empire was indeed attacking, then that meant possible war; something a place as peaceful as Equestria didn’t want or need. Especially during a time like that. 

Maybe she’d have to play some kind of important role. After all, Twilight was the princess of friendship; maybe she’d have to negotiate them? She wasn’t even sure about her duties anymore. And from what the letter said, there were two mysterious and lethal creatures who tried to assassinate Celestia. Apparently, they were in league with the Griffins and were on the loose somewhere in Canterlot. Griffins who were born in the Griffin Empire were much more different than Equestrian-born Griffins. Twilight couldn’t risk it. The number of the Royal Guards in Ponyville had to be increased case there were more of those creatures.

Twilight truly felt awful. How was she going to tell her friends that she had to cancel their picnic because of the situation? Something as big as that couldn't be ignored. Compared to picnics, war  was out of question if she had to choose what kind of event she would ignore.

"Twi, I have a feeling you’re gonna want to look at this," Spike said, looking out the window which was next to Twilight’s bed.

Twilight moved towards Spike, heartbeat rate starting to increase as she did so. "Please tell me it's a good thing."

"Oh… heh, I think it depends," Spike responded with a nervous chuckle.  

Once Twilight reached the window and looked out, she gasped. How did she not notice that?

Tons of Lunar and Solar Guards of the E.U.P marched from the train station to the front of her library and seemed to be going into a company formation. From the looks of it, they were forming 4 platoons; two of them seemed to be composed of Celestia’s Guard, and the other two were being formed by Luna’s Guard. Twilight knew here was no reason for the Princess Luna’s infantry and guard to be there, unless they planned on being there for a while. And with the addition of about half of a battalion of the Royal Guard being deployed to Ponyville, she knew things were about to get serious in the not-so distant future.

Unlike the Changeling attack that happened a few months prior to that day, Twilight predicted that Celestia would be deploying troops in most of the towns in Equestria to keep watch of the Griffins. She couldn’t imagine how many of the Royal Guard would be deployed to Manehattan. Twilight didn’t blame the princess; the Changeling invasion in Canterlot did cause her to create new forms of safeguards to make sure something like that would happen again. And honestly, Twilight didn’t think another invasion from another nation would happen so soon, that is if the Griffins were actually invading.

“Should I be worried about that?” Spike asked with a hint of nervousness in his voice.

What could she tell him? He was just a baby dragon; nopony, or dragon, didn’t need to know about the horrors of war, even if he was 13 years old in pony years. 

“Just… try not to think about,” Twilight finally looked responded after a few moments, “Celestia said she wasn’t 100% sure if the Griffins are actually attacking. This is probably just new protocol for the Guard. I’m sure everything will be fine and be sorted out.”

“I sure hope so,” Spike responded as he continued to look outside.

Twilight looked down again and saw a guard standing in front of the front door. His armor was silver and his helmet had on a red-colored compared to all of the other stallions standing at attention in the formation, who had blue or white colored crests instead. 

“That must be the commanding officer of the battalion,” Twilight said, “I’m gonna go downstairs and find out exactly why the Guard are here. It seems like he wants a word with me.” 

Spike answered with a nod. At least he knew when it was the time to be serious. Then again, he was starting to become mature for his age. Of course, there was the occasional joke here and there, but not as many as when the two came to Ponyville. 

Now that Twilight thought about it, the Griffins may have been the one thing that could take away the feeling of boredom from Spike. Sure, the sound of it was very wrong, but she could understand why the situation would make him feel lively. Not many exhilarating things happened, besides the refounding of the Crystal Empire. She even heard the crystal ponies built a statue of Spike! Twilight had to see that for herself in her free time.

Not wanting to feel the anxiety of walking down the stairs while trying to figure the officer’s reasoning about why the Royal Guard was in Ponyville, Twilight sighed and lit her horn up. Instantly, she teleported from her initial position to the front door. Teleporting, in her opinion, never got old.

Twilight hesitated to open the door as she figured out what she was going to say. Who knew she would go from writing friendship reports to commanding half of an entire battalion of the Royal Guard? She’d only just studied drill commands and basic leadership skills for about a week with her brother and two other officers of the Guard before she became bored with it. It wasn’t that she didn’t like it; the military just wasn’t for her. The only reason Twilight even studied it was because princes and princesses needed to be skilled in being military leaders.

The Alicorn breathed in sharply, then exhaled and opened the door. She was greeted by the cold morning breeze and

“Ma’am, Second Lieutenant Obsidian Shield of the 25th Regiment of the Protective Pony Platoons, reporting as ordered,” the officer said and saluted. 

“As ordered”? That must have meant he was in fact deployed by the Guard, or even Celestia and Luna themselves. A brief moment of awkward silence passed. “Ahem,” the Lieutenant said as he kept his salute up. It took Twilight 5 whole seconds to figure out what she was supposed to do. 

“Right. Sorry,” Twilight said, feeling embarrassed. Twilight stood at attention and held her hoof up as a salute until Obsidian put his hoof back down. This just made Twilight feel even more anxious than she already was.

“Oh right, umm… stand at ease?” Twilight asked. At the command of execution, the guard stood at ease, hooves not as tense as before, and looked at Twilight who did the same. At least she did something right that time.

“Are you in charge of these two…” Twilight paused and looked past Obsidian, “companies?”

“No, ma’am,” he responded, “I’m only second in command. I’ve only graduated from Officer Candidate School just recently. Captain Delphinium of the Lunar Guard should be here shortly.” 

That explained why he didn’t look much older than she was. Then again, Shining Armor did apply and graduate from Officer Candidate School as well.

Twilight scratched her left forearm. “I’ve received the letter Princess Celestia sent me. I’m so sorry for those dead stallions. Did you sort everything out? Are you here because Celestia and Luna want better protection?”

Lieutenant Obsidian thought for a few seconds before opening his mouth again. “We resolved the problem. From what I’ve been told, we’re holding them in Canterlot dungeon in the ‘containment’ cell until further notice.” Twilight sighed, feeling relieved that those two creatures were captured. Nothing could escape the containment cell.

“But,” Obsidian said as Twilight tensed up again, “we have reason to suspect that the Griffins or maybe even more of those animals will strike again very soon. All of us, including the Lunar Guard, are here on behalf of Princess Celestia’s request; I can assure you that we won’t fail you or the other Princesses if they do attack. That brings me to my next point: you, Princess Twilight, are needed in Canterlot immediately. The Captain says it’s very crucial you come alone.”

Twilight knew that she’d be needed in Canterlot sooner than she thought, but why alone? Her friends were the exact reason why she could even solve any friendship problems. That’s when Twilight realized, it was no “friendship problem”. It was war, and ponies were going to die unless she helped to stop it.

“Then I’m off for Canterlot. When you fall your men out, please make sure they take care of Ponyville and its residents,” Twilight responded and waited for his response, “please?”

“I...yes, ma’am. The residents of this town are in good hooves, I assure you,” Obsidian Shield responded. 

“Thank you, Lieutenant,” Twilight responded, feeling a bit relieved. She hoped he was right. If two creatures could kill 27 guards and mortally wound 4 more, she didn’t want to think about how many a group of them could hurt. She only hoped her friends didn’t get involved with them.

Swiftly, both ponies saluted each other. As Obsidian Shield performed an about face and walked back, Twilight shut the door. She made extra sure that both locks were locked. At least that was out of the way. Now for the next hard part: travelling to Canterlot to talk to two murderous creatures.

She hoped she could still retain the privacy of her own home; Twilight didn’t feel comfortable with a guard standing at attention inside a library, where nothing exciting happened, and doing nothing. She looked out the window at the many ranks the stallions formed, thinking of the pros and cons that she’d have with somepony guarding her home.

Spike suddenly laughed out, breaking the alicorn’s thought chain. “Nice goin’, Twilight.” 

“Thanks,” she responded, looking “...hey, can you do me a huge favor? You said you wanted to be useful: here’s your chance… my #1 assistant?”

“Of course, anything!” Spike exclaimed. It was nice to know the dragon was desperate for something to do. He seemed so down lately. If Spike was happy, she was happy.

“Great! I’m sure you’ve overheard the news from 2nd Lieutenant Obsidian Shield in the kitchen?”

Spike responded with a nod, throwing a single gem into his mouth. 

“I want you to gather the rest of the girls and bring them to Sugarcube Corner. Tell them about the recent news and make sure they’re aware of what’s happening,” Twilight said firmly, “oh! Also, make sure they don’t follow me. This is potential war, not a minor friendship problem. The Elements of Harmony can only do so much before they get hurt themselves. With the amount of stallions stationed here, they’ll know how serious this really is.”

Spike nodded again. “Got it, Twilight. You can always count on me.”

“Perfect. And Spike?” she asked, as he was about to walk back upstairs.

Twilight sighed, trying not to let a tear fall from her eye. “Tell them to continue the picnic without me. If anypony has to be stressed, it should be me. I’m a princess above all things.”

Spike hesitated for a moment, then nodded again. Slowly, he walked back up the stairs.

If anypony has to be killed, it should be me.

Matt-G210
“Hey, on your feet, Spartan,” a hushed and familiar voice said, waking Matt up. 

He could feel half of his body laying down in cold water, making the Spartan feel somewhat cold. Almost all of his visor was covered by dried mud, and could only see darkness with a few hints of light from the corners of his SPI helmet. The only functional part of his HUD was the entire left side which showed how many grenades he carried, which was none, and the left side of his targeting reticule. There were small cracks on the right side of his visor which interfered with his weapon gauge and health tracker.


Without even thinking, the 17-year old clenched his right fist and thrust it up with tremendous force towards where he thought the voice was standing, lifting up his torso. Immediately, Matt felt a hand catch his fist with a tight grip and with that happening, he instantly threw his left fist up. 

Matt had a feeling he punched his captor in the gut, making them stagger back a few feet. 

“Ugh...what the hell, Matt,” Skylar groaned and clutched her gut. 

Did he really hit her that hard enough to feel the punch through her armor? Matt jumped up on his feet and held his helmet at his side tightly. He felt the water floating in parts of his armor flow down from it. He looked around at his surroundings; was he in... a swamp? It was very dark and gloomy, the trees looked nothing like the ones he saw on Victoria, the water he was standing in was murky, and it smelled awful. He saw 4 of his Spartan comrades sitting and standing and looked as if they were checking their ammo and making sure each other were alright. One ODST looked either dead or unconscious.

“Shit, sorry,” Matt responded as he stood up from the water, “I was still in the ‘zone’. Are you alright?”

“Ha. Good job, Matt,” Ocaen chuckled, sitting against a tree a few feet away from him, “you hit a girl.”

Matt ignored Ocaen and walked toward her to see if she okay. He was pretty sure Skylar could handle a blow to the liver; it wasn’t like she hadn’t been hit there before by another augmented Spartan.

“Are you alr--” quickly, Skylar punched Matt’s face with her armored glove, making him tumble to the side on the ground and dropping his helmet. He held himself up with his hands and knees in the mud and exhaled heavily. Matt’s vision was blurry and his ears kept ringing as he fell to the ground. Even though he couldn’t see clearly at the moment, he knew everyone stopped whatever they were doing to look at the scene Skylar had started.

Slowly but surely, the Spartan’s vision was coming back to him. Gently, he felt the left side of his upper lip with his glove and put it in front of him. Matt’s eyes were filled with amusement as he stared at his glove; there was blood on it. Skylar indeed made a small split on his lip, which stung a lot after he found out it was even split. 

“That? That was for hitting a higher rank and for hitting another Spartan,” Skylar responded as she now stood in front of him, “now get up. We need to figure out what the hell happened to us.” 

He could hear her mumbling curses as she walked off as he continued to stare at the ground. He chose not to get back up and engage her in even more hand-to-hand combat, mainly because he didn’t want to challenge the sworn trust between all of the Spartans in Gamma. 

“They’re my family, we always hit each other,” Matt kept telling himself quietly. That made him feel better… or did families normally use physical force against each other to show dominance? He’d have to ask the ODST, assuming he wasn’t dead.

He looked back up at Skylar who seemed to be questioning Logan-G265 and Garrett-G111, two of the other younger Spartans from third squad, about their wounds and anything else about what had recently happened. At least they hadn’t stared too long. Honestly, Matt didn’t understand why they used their first names instead of their last names. It sounded more professional that way. 

The Spartan stayed in his stance to catch his breath when he found that another Spartan came up to him and held her hand out to him, still fully clad in her SPI armor. “C’mon,” she said, “don’t take that hit to heart. I think she’s just peeved we lost him.” Crewman Orion-G215. Even though was about 15 and a half years old, she accomplished much more during training than he did and had more control. He was surprised neither she or Skylar denied the chance to stay behind on Onyx and compete for top honors in Team Xiphos. He didn’t even think Team Xiphos made it to top honors after most of its members denied to compete.

“It’s fine, Orion. But,” Matt sighed, “we really lost him then, didn’t we?” 

Matt could start to remember exactly how Jericho met his fate, as he grabbed Orion’s hand. 





It was the evening when all UNSC personnel deployed in New Birmingham received a radio transmission from the UNSC Desert Heat, saying that their sensors picked up several Covenant hovering low above the city. The Covenant were most likely going to perform a low-range bombardment of the city. 

Matt and Jericho were the last two Spartans to board the D77-TC Pelican dropship which was tasked to recover the first, second, and third squads of Quebec Company’s 1st platoon. The two Spartans sat across from each other at the last two empty seats in front of the rear entrance as the Pelican started to lift off the ground. Already sitting in the “blood tray” were the remaining members of the 3 squads, which mostly composed of Spartans. Most of the ODSTs in the three squads had been killed while helping out multiple groups of civilians. It had truly been a rough day.

A Spartan from third squad was shot in the head and presumed “MIA” after the joint squads requested an immediate convoy after gathering a large group of people. Though none of the Spartans showed it, the ODSTs knew the loss hit them pretty hard. Watching someone die who Matt trained with for 9 and a half years wasn’t exactly the best experience. He’d have to get used to that soon.

Everyone looked outside at the buildings as their Pelican flew up from the buildings. Matt could barely see the outline of one the Covenant carriers just a few kilometers behind the Pelican, as well as fire and smoke coming from the taller buildings. There was complete silence, save for the humming of the Covenant ships, as each of the pelicans flew away from all the lives the 105th and Spartans couldn’t save. Quebec company alone helped evacuate about 1,500 people and there were about 20,000 people who were still in the city as the rest of the 800,000 left on their own.

Matt looked at down at the entrance to the Pelican and realized that there was no hatch or anything else to conceal the blood tray.

“Pilot,” an ODST asked in a loud voice over the electrical hum of their own dropship, “where’s the hatch?”

“Covies blew it off with fuel rod cannons, so you may wanna hold on to something,” the pilot of their Pelican said. Matt was going to say something, then sighed and remained silent as everyone else did. He was positive this mission was a fail; something he didn’t look forward to when telling other Spartans about his first deployment. 

Matt looked up at Jericho, who was looking outside as he clasped his shotgun in his hands. His SPI armor was covered in Covenant blood, and the energy sword slice on his helmet made by a cocky elite before it was shot down and killed. It had to be from all that unnecessary close-quarter-combat he’d been doing ever since he offered to clear out a building. Jericho’s knife seemed to be his most prized possession, and it was only issued to him weeks prior to the deployment order.

The female Elite sitting next to him, who Matt didn’t quite trust yet, seemed to have zoned out while looking at Jericho. She looked as if she wanted to say something but couldn’t quite get it out.

“Jay,” Matt said as Jericho looked back at him, “nice job down there.”

“Thanks,” Jericho responded plainly, “you too, I guess.” 

“Hey, look,” Garrett pointed at 3 battle cruisers as the Pelicans reached 500 feet.

Matt grasped his MA5B Assault Rifle tighter in his arms in frustration as he looked at the bottom of the Covenant ship which started to emit a purple light. He was about to get a front seat view of the beginning of a mass genocide. This was something not even a Spartan could watch without feeling the least bit disturbed. 

Matt found the Human-Covenant war comparable to The Book of Deuteronomy of the Christian Bible, as Gamma’s academic program briefly touched on the topic. Like the ancient Israelites, the Covenant were destroying everyone and everything, including their cities. Because what? Humans were unworthy of their religion and were actually worth the Covenant’s time to attempt to eradicate for over 25 years? Or was there a bigger reason behind these glassings? Matt didn’t get religion, neither did he like it. And now aliens were still kicking humanity’s combined ass because of the bullshit the prophets believe in. Perfect.

“They’re glassin’, that’s for sure,” Ocaen said, standing up to get a better view. He walked over briskly to the rear of the Pelican and held onto a handle bar as he looked outside. “This brings back a lot of bad memories,” Ocaen said, breaking the silence of the group once again.

“We shouldn’t be running,” said Private Webb from third squad, “not like Reach.”

“Hey,” Garrett said, “we’re not running. We’re leaving to live another day.” 

Jericho stood up next to Ocaen and watched as they flew farther away from Chandler Plaza, then looked to the other Pelican dropships to make sure they were alright. The Spartan took his armored rucksack off and attached his tactical shotgun behind to his back, which made a magnetic sound followed by a slap after doing so. He gave the rucksack to Logan, who then rummaged  through the inside of rucksack for water.

Immediately, a narrow beam of plasma that was as red as blood shot down from the ship’s energy projector. Matt could see a skyscraper be demolished by the plasma beam, slowly turning it to dust. It was the loudest thing he had ever heard. He could even hear the combined sound of civilian’s screaming and cries down below. It was amazing to see how quickly the the destruction of a single city went.

“Don’t feel too bad, Spartans. At least we got out ali-” Sergeant Miller said, being interrupted.

“Break-break. Control to Pelican teams: callsign Royal Stallion and callsign Broodmare, over.”

Skylar chuckled. “What’s with the horse related names?”

“Royal Stallion One, OK, over.” 

“Royal Stallion Two, OK, over.”

“Royal Stallion Three, OK, over.”

Each of the Royal Stallion and Broodmare teams continued to say their callsign, to no avail. It didn’t seem like control could hear their frequency.

The speaker sighed and continued. “Are you receiving this transmission, over? Acknowledge that we are detecting a Covenant slipspace rupture. Desert Heat claims that this carrier will be making a slipspace jump due to an emergency, but we don’t doubt the fact that it may be an accident. The thing is, we don’t know what will happen to the other cruiser’s power cores as they glass the city. If you don’t make it back home fast enough past the blast radius of the rupture, you’ve all done well. Brace… brace for impact.  Control out.” Matt didn’t like the tone of the speaker’s voice. It sounded a lot like a ‘farewell forever, we’re leaving you behind since we can’t stay here for too much longer’.  

“Accidental slipspace rupture?” Orion asked, “during a low-range bombardment? Imagine how much hell that’d bring to New Birmingham.”

“This is the perfect time to test the question ‘what happens when an enormous EMP blast from a slipspace rupture occurs at the same time a Covenant cruiser shoots out a powerful burst of plasma energy with the power equivalent to several nuclear bombs?’” Matt responded.

“Matt,” Orion said bluntly, “there won’t be anyone who’d care when that carrier jumps.”

“Well actually, I’m curious to see what happens. You don’t see something like this occur very often,” Private Jackson chimed in. Matt remembered that ODSTs were ‘normal’ humans, and ‘normal’ humans in the military joked about a lot about death and apparently. Was it some kind of coping method? 

“Not helping, Marine,” Orion said back.

“Sorry,” he responded silently.

“Hey, we don’t know if our birds’ are gonna get hit or not,” Jericho finally spoke, “Vaya, your race were the ones who designed the newest models of Covenant carriers. Do you know how large the blast radius of an EMP event from a slipspace rupture would be?”

The Elite lit up at her name, as if she we were already willing to help the fight against the Covenant. “E-M...P?” she asked in an unknowing manner.

Jericho sighed. “Electromagnetic pulse. It’s a type electromagnetic burst that causes electrical equipment to lose power which then damages th--”

Suddenly, Matt could see a very bright and bluish hole form up in front of one of the cruisers, which seemed to contain nothing but the void upon looking inside of it. That must have been the ship making a jump. Ocaen quickly walked back to his seat as Jericho turned back around to see what everyone else suddenly looked at. For some reason he didn’t sit back down and instead stayed standing, watching in amazement...or at least, that’s what Matt thought he did. He couldn’t really tell what Jericho’s facial expression looked like.

Like a bullet, the carrier shot into the depths of subspace, leaving a spherical shape of the electromagnetic pulse as soon as it was nowhere to be seen. A loud rumble could be heard as the blast moved past a cruisers that was in the middle of glassing. Surprisingly enough, the plasma energy projector of the ship was still turned on even though it slowly fell down toward the city.

Matt’s eyes grew wide with surprise and anxiousness. The sphere of EMP was moving faster and growing larger by the second. There was no doubt the EMP would shut down all of the Pelican dropships as well. The only thing the Spartan could think of was close to his eyes and to keep a steady breath . They were already between 900-1000 feet in the air; he tried not to imagine what a fall like that would be like. There had been too much falling that day, and one at that height would be Matt’s last fall.

Matt opened his eyes again and saw that the huge pulse had already engulfed 4 other Pelicans who had already lost power; one Pelican crashed into the other while the other two were spinning uncontrollably to the ground. The Spartan’s heart beated faster. The pulse was just mere meters away from touching their own Pelican. What surprised Matt the most was that no one, including himself, screamed or said a word as, if they already accepted their fate.

A nearby explosion from a skyscraper caused Jericho to quickly cover his visor with one of his arms, then put it back down. Matt couldn’t think of any reason as to why he didn’t sit back down. 

Something about this pulse was different compared to how his Spartan instructors described a slipspace rupture; could it have been from the 3 other Covenant cruisers glassing at once? Matt watched as the pulse came closer to their Pelican until it basically swallowed them whole and spit them out. The blood tray lit up as the Vaya’s shields started to flicker until they were completely gone and for some odd reason, the Elite’s shields didn’t recharge. Matt assumed it was due to Elite minor shields being weak.

“We just lost power,” Logan said. He wasn’t lying; the hum of their dropship had definitely stopped, and was replaced with the sound of continuous beeping and a flashing red light.

“Everyone, hang on!” one of the pilots screamed over the radio. Matt heard a miniature explosion from one of the engines on the Pelican, causing it to fall and whirl around as the two pilots tried to get it to work again. He could hear the air whistling around his ears as they continued to fall.

He watched as Jericho kept a tight grip on the handle bar. But alas, not even a Spartan could defy physics. At first, Matt thought the spinning of the Pelican was too much for the Jericho and he let go. He was wrong. With his enhanced strength, Jericho had actually managed to pull the steel handlebar off of the side of the Pelican, causing him to fly up and hit the ceiling. To Matt’s relief, Jericho quickly grabbed onto a rocket launcher hanging nearby. He flailed around helplessly as everyone watched but couldn’t do anything. 

The young Spartan let out a loud grunt as he held on for his dear life. Matt probably would have made a grab for one of his limbs himself... if he could reach him. If he let go of his own handlebar, he would surely fall out of the Pelican before his comrade did. Finally, he let go of his assault rifle, which flew toward the front of the Pelican.

That was when the Elite did the unexpected: she grabbed Jericho’s hand. Hesitantly, Jericho let go of the rocket launcher as Vaya stood up from her seat to pull him in. Matt was surprised she could even stand on her own. 

Jericho would have been saved, had it not been for the increasing speed of the Pelican’s rotation toward the ground with the addition of his assault rifle sliding down from the anterior of the dropship; as Vaya stepped back, she stomped onto the rifle, causing her to lose balance and fall. She crashed into Matt while still holding the other Spartan’s hand. He tried to turn his head but couldn’t due to the air resistance.

“Shit!” Jericho shouted as his voice faded away. Just like that, both he and Vaya were gone as they had both fallen out. It happened so fast that Matt didn’t even acknowledge they had just lost another Spartan until seconds later. He didn’t want to believe what he just witnessed.

“Oh fuck!” someone shouted.

Faster and faster, the Pelican kept rotating downward until the only thing Matt could see was black. He swallowed hard before feeling the impact of the Pelican hitting the top of a building, followed by the sound of an explosion.





Orion pulled Matt back up onto his feet, making a squishy sound on the mud as he set his. He started to scrape the mud off of his armor.

“We did, unfortunately,” Orion responded, “it’s a shame. I didn’t get to talk to Jericho too much in Xiphos. Then again, no one else in the team really talked to each other.”

“Xiphos? As in, he was in Team Xiphos? Why didn’t I ever hear about that?” That surprised Matt. Team Xiphos was one of the best teams formed by some of the best Spartans in Gamma just a year before almost all of the teams disbanded to receive their separate deployment orders. 

Orion looked down for a moment. “I can remember that Lieutenant Commander switched Jericho with Holly in Team Katana. Anything else beyond that is foggy at the moment.” Matt nodded, and coughed. His throat was getting drier by the minute.

“The ‘Nazi’ was a damn good fighter if I’ve ever seen one,” Ocaen suddenly said. He picked up Matt’s SPI helmet and handed it back to him. “Is it just me or are these things like sniper magnets?”

Matt nodded, and leaned down to dip his visor in the murky water to help rub the mud off. “You have a valid point there.” He scrubbed his visor hard, letting the cold water clear the mud off until the golden color could be seen again. “That’s the exact reason Dan got shot. His head was too visible.” The two other Spartans stayed quiet, hearing the frustration in Matt’s voice.

The helmet was the only thing that set SPI armor off in Matt’s opinion; they made easier targets for the Covenant to shoot at. At least their active camouflage systems made up for it. He didn’t even think the Spartan IIs had that type of technology built into their armor systems. 

“That lip of yours,” Orion said, turning around and unsheathing her combat knife to carve into a tree, “how bad does it hurt?”

“It looked like she gave it to you pretty hard,” Ocaen said, looking at rather big drop of blood falling from Matt’s lip.

Matt sighed, as if he didn’t want to answer the question; he quickly inspected himself and his split lip in his visor before spinning it around and putting the SPI helmet over his head. “I’m fine. Besides, I definitely deserved that. I haven’t exactly been the best Spartan in Gamma.``”

Ocaen looked confused. “What do you mean? You act like everyone else in Gamma: taciturn antisocial assh--”

“You’re Ocaen, right?” he interrupted, looking straight at him through his visor.

“The one and only,” Ocaen responded, taking off his helmet to reveal his face; it had specks of soot on it. He then put his helmet back on which, for the most part, looked undamaged, if not untouched. He probably sat near the front when Royal Stallion One crashed the Pelican.

Matt patted Ocaen’s shoulder and motioned them to walk over to Skylar and the two other Spartans who were standing around the ODST, who was still either unconscious or dead. They seemed to be standing in an opening between the Orion quickly noticed the sound of their footsteps  and followed closely behind them, sheathing her knife near her collarbone.

“And you’re a Crewman, right? E-3?” Matt asked.

“Yes. Why?

“You’re talking to Crewman Apprentice Matt-210. I got demoted from Petty Officer Third Class some time ago,” Matt said, with a tone telling the younger Spartan that he was ashamed to say it, “Why? Because I nearly killed one of our own when he shot an insult to me for being a farmer. I’m surprised they didn’t discharge me dishonorably. ”

Ocaen chuckled. “So you’re the ‘Spartan-210’ everyone was talking about in team-building month, huh?” 

“Yes well, I’ve changed since then,” Matt responded, “most of us did after a few years. They even had me speak to one of the psychiatrists after that incident. You know, I met Jericho while waiting for the psychiatrist after the augmentations. Said it was his last visit. I’d expect someone like him to be there.”

“I bet so,” Ocaen responded, “when we were in the martial arts phase, he told me he’d talked to the psychiatrists every month.”

That caught Matt’s attention. “You don’t think he had some kind of big personality disorder, do you?” he asked.

“If he did,” Ocaen said, “there’s no telling now. He did have frequent sociopathic tendencies… like all of us. But that’s not the point. Whatever reason he needed to see a psychiatrist has long been treated since then.” 

Matt stayed silent, thinking about how Jericho’s personality tied in with his skills. If he were a sociopath even before he’d been recruited into the program, how great of a fighter would he be if he were still living? Then again he’d be mistaking that with psychopathy, and that Spartan didn’t show any signs of having violent social behaviour. He came to the conclusion that Jericho acted like most of the other Spartans.

“Hey, I’ve never met a farmer,” Ocaen said, trying to change the topic, “what was it like on the ranch?” It seemed he just wanted to talk to pass the time. That was fine with Matt; it was nice to have a conversation for once after 9 years, and it helped fill in the awkward silence that was usually there between the Spartans.

“There’s not much I can talk about,” Matt said, “we lived on an orchard farm for apples. I usually just stood at the side and watched Dad do the work in the apple acres. Nothin’ much else. He said I couldn’t do anything until I was old enough. But, I do remember him giving me a pony; her name was Amber. It was the hardest thing to leave her behi--”

Orion suddenly laughed hard behind them, causing the two other Spartans to stop and look back at her as if she were an ODST. Matt probably hadn’t heard anyone in Gamma laugh like that in… forever. Now that he realized it, all of those preschoolers and gradeschoolers started off as depressed children when they first became candidates; they grew to be quiet and antisocial from Not a single joke or anything funny had been told for 9 years. Until that moment, apparently. Her laugh was probably the most beautiful thing he’d ever heard. It made him feel… happy about himself. For a moment, he forgot about Dan being shot in the head and Jericho and Vaya falling to their deaths. 

Matt smiled, noticing that she was starting to tear up even though she had her SPI helmet on. “What? Was it something I said?” 

“I’m sorry, it’s just,” she coughed once she stopped laughing, “I can just imagine you right now, riding on a little pony with your armor and the MA5B and whatnot. You’d look really stupid.”

Ocaen laughed a bit as well. That’s when Matt realized that all of that was strange, as if wherever they were was the reason why they felt like that. Was the “pony” thing really that funny, or was it something else? Weren’t swamps supposed to make people feel scared or depressed or tired?

“I’d probably crush the poor thing. And I’m not even wearing MJOLNIR,” Matt said as they continued to walk forward again through the damp ground. He stared at the ground while taking the next few steps. “Amber was pretty small.”

“That begs the question,” Ocaen said, “why’d your dad give you a pony?”

“He said it was the right size for me,” Matt responded, “seemed about right. A horse would be too big.”

“Right,” Orion responded in her normal voice as they stopped at the group of the three Spartans. They stopped talking and looked at Matt, Orion, and Ocaen. He couldn’t tell if their faces were faces of anger, amusement, depression, happiness, or apathy.

“What was that all about?” Logan asked, taking his slightly damaged SPI helmet off and holding it at his side. His usual pale skin was dirtied up from the battle.

“Nothing too important,” Ocaen responded with a tone as if the whole thing never happened.

“Tell us,” Skylar said, “ maybe it was something you found, or--”

“Matt here was telling us about his old life on an apple orchard, before project SPARTAN. His dad gave him a pony to ride on... Petty Officer,” Orion said.

Skylar looked toward Matt, as if she were trying not to laugh. “You had a pony?” Matt slowly nodded, not understanding why having a pony was worthy of a laugh.

“Interesting,” Skylar responded. He was honestly expected her to scold him or pummel him (which he prepared himself for) or do something to him he wouldn’t like. At least she got over him punching her in the gut.

“Anyway, we’ve got a predicament here: we have no idea where we are or how we got here. Sky?” Logan looked at her, which was probably her cue to start explaining fast.

“Right,” she said, “in a nutshell, I don’t think we’re on Victoria anymore.”

“How can you tell?” Orion asked, as the 6 Spartans began to form a small circle around the ODST. Matt rested his shoulder on one of the trees.

“I’ve studied a lot about Victoria,” she continued, “especially Blue Team’s task to penetrate an Insurrectionist camp, which is why the whole planet is UNSC controlled now. The point is, however, that Victoria’s geography doesn’t match the location we’re in. There haven’t been recordings of any swamps or marshes on the planet after a reconnaissance mission was completed 11 years ago. The nature report of the planet said ‘Trees, trees, and nothing else but trees. The only water source other than the sea is a single river, but nothing else. The whole planet seems to be devoid of any creeks, streams, other rivers, swamps, marshes, ponds, or lakes.’ Take a good look at where we are.”

“A bog,” Matt said. Her explanation was actually plausible, as he read the nature report himself. It explicitly talked about the types and amount of trees found on Victoria. 

If Skylar was right and they weren’t on Victoria anymore, there had to be as to why they were in a swampy forest in the first place. Maybe the combination of the slipspace rupture and the glassing somehow teleported the Spartans? Was that even possible. Both the electromagnetic pulse of the rupture and the plasma shooting down from the battle cruisers had the power of a several nuclear explosions. Combining the power of all 4 ships would have made an explosion as big a hydrogen bomb, if not an atomic bomb. Shouldn’t that have simply killed them all? Or maybe the Covenant captured them and unintentionally drop them into wherever they were? It couldn’t be as simple as that.

Or maybe I’m dead? Is this what hell is like? A gloomy field of endless trees?

“Our primary goal right now,” Skylar said, breaking the silence, “is to find the UNSC and get back to civilization. Wherever that would be. Contacting the UNSC is out of questions; all of our communication equipment got destroyed in the crash, or so I think.”

“And Jericho and Vaya?” Ocaen asked, “now that I think of, what happened to the three other ODSTs?”

Skylar cringed at the name “Jericho”. He could understand why she did that. Assuming that he was her only friend, she must have felt alone. Even though they didn’t talk to each other too much, they seemed to stick together during the toughest times in training. 

“Here, I’ve recorded a list of who’s here and who’s missing. I’ll read it off. Take your helmets off so I can identify you,” Logan said, taking out a miniature notepad from the rucksack that Jericho had temporarily given him, which was now on his back. Everyone, with the exception of the ODST, took their SPI helmets off in unison, which made an audible sound. The Spartan started to read everyone’s names off of his list, looking at each person as he said their names. 

“All present: Crewman Apprentice Matt-G210, Crewman Ocaen-G207, Crewman Garrett-G111, Crewman Orion-G215, Petty Officer Third Class Skylar-G316, myself, and Private Webb, who we have sleeping right here. Check under his cover to be sure.” Every person put their helmets back on as Logan said each of their names.

Gently, Ocaen crouched down and pulled Webb’s helmet up a small amount. Surely enough, it was Private Webb with his eyes closed, still unconscious. It looked like he had a scar or big scratch on his face from a Jackal.

Ocaen let go of the ODST’s helmet again, covering his face, and inspected the rest of the Marine’s gear. “ Bloodtype: AB, standard BDU, rank of Private. It’s him, alright.”

Matt felt ashamed. It wasn’t easy being the oldest out of the other Spartans, but the lowest rank. At least Webb was there, even if Private was only a Marine and Army rank.

Logan inhaled deeply, as if he were going the next part of his list in one breath. “Our casualties: Gunnery Sergeant Miller, first squad, status: KIA. Sergeant Kunitada, third squad, status: KIA. Gunnery Sergeant Chen, second squad, status: KIA. Private First Class Smith, first squad, status: KIA. Private Jackson, first squad, status: MIA. Lance Corporal Lee, second squad, status MIA. Private Fox, second squad, status: MIA. Private Ryan, third squad, status: KIA. Corporal Boyd, third squad, status: KIA. Crewman Apprentice Dan-G086, third squad, status: KIA (or MIA, if you all prefer). Petty Officer Third Class Jericho-G252, first squad, status: KIA (also MIA, if you all prefer). And Vaya ‘Sraom, female Elite minor, originally to be taken into UNSC interrogation for treason against the Covenant, status: MIA,” Logan exhaled, “damn.” He must have been pleased that he had listed everyone from all the three squads and remembered the Elite’s name. 

Matt didn’t realize how many ODSTs were actually gone: a lot. It was supposed to be a simple evacuation mission; with Spartans, anyone would expect a small amount of casualties. He wondered what the brass would say to the rest of them if and when they got back. Even before the slipspace rupture, 7 people were killed. On the other hand however, the brass would have thought the slipspace rupture would have killed all them already.

Surprise, Naval Intelligence. We’re alive, Matt thought to himself, smirking.

The Spartan thought back to the ODSTs of the 105th Shock Troops Division. A lot of them were… annoying at times, but they were truly good men at heart. He hoped their families wouldn’t have a hard time coping with their deaths, assuming they still had families. Matt stopped caring about his old family long before the augmentations had taken place. 

He couldn’t imagine what his life would be like if he weren’t a Spartan. His purpose was to fight and protect humanity, even if they lost a lot of men that day.

“What’s stopping us from moving out of here now?” Matt asked, looking over to where Garrett had spotted drier land. 

Skylar pulled out a magnum, holding it by the grip, and pointed it toward the ground. “You see, this is the only long ranged weapon we have out of the seven of us, and there’s a whole world out there of who-knows-what. Plus, I’ve been hearing a lot of strange sounds, including the sound of malicious roaring. You can see why that’s a problem in this godforsaken forest.”

Orion nodded. “I’ve been hearing those noises as well. This place gives me the creeps.”

“Logan and Garrett have detected hostile creatures moving around a lot, but haven’t gotten the chance to take a single one out yet,” Skylar said as Logan nodded, “I’ve done a bit of scouting around here. There’s something about this place that doesn’t seem right; there’s something unsettling about walking alone out here in the dark, and it isn’t because of the native fauna. Call me crazy, but there are times when I feel we’re being watched.”

Matt thought about what she said. It sounded crazy, but there wouldn’t be any reason for her to lose her mind or lie. “Covenant?” he asked.

“It’s a possibility, but the Covenant would have gotten to us earlier. It’s been an hour since we’ve woken up from the ‘crash’, which was about 5 hours ago,” Garrett said.

Matt nodded. He understood the fighting tactics of the Covenant. Spying wasn’t in the nature of Hunters, Brutes or Grunts. If it were Skirmishers, Elites, Jackals, or even a group of drones, they would have likely attacked long before Skylar woke him up.

“Here’s my proposal. Since we’re all awake,” Skylar said, looking at Matt, “we should move as a group mass formation, but not too close to each other. I’ll be carrying Webb.”

“Why don’t we move in an on-line squad movement? We have more visuals if everyone is side-to-side and up front,” Ocaen suggested, rubbing his chin.

“With no other ranged weapons, there wouldn’t be any point in moving like that, and we’d be more exposed out in the open. In a place like this, you don’t want to be seen; I’ve checked our active camo units: they’re all broken,” Skylar responded with a matter-of-factly tone, “a group maneuver would be safer in the sense that everyone has each other’s backs, and we’d be able to cover more ground if we keep a quick paced--”

“We understand, Petty Officer,” Logan intervened with her sentence.

Matt looked at the ODST lying in the circle between all of them as Skylar handed him the sidearm and 5 magazines, which he grabbed with ease after lifting himself off the tree. “Why me?” he asked plainly, putting the extra ammunition in small leather cases attached to his waist.

“Because I can trust you to get the job done,” she said, “you’re the best shot that’s here right now. Get your combat knife out, I recommend you use the Harries Technique: hold your knife in your left hand and nest your wrists together. Make sure the back of your hands are pressed firmly against each other and that your left forearm is at a 60 degree angle. Non augmented humans don’t use this method due to the fact that they aren’t strong enough to hold the gun steady without the recoil ruining their aim. We’re not like those people.”

Matt did as he was told and put his right wrist over his left, pointing the magnum toward a tree behind him. He held the knife with his left hand, making sure that the sharper side of it was parallel to the ground and ready for a quick stab when needed. After getting used to the new method, he lowered both weapons. It felt unusual to him, especially while using a combat knife as big as the one he carried. If Skylar said it, he might as well have tried it out. Jericho must have taught that to her, since neither he nor any of the other Spartans had never learned about it in CQC.

“Perfect. Everyone else, combat knives out and prepare to support Matt in case of a close quarters situation. We’ll be moving northeast from where we are now, taking breaks only when we absolutely need to. We’re bound to find something at some point. Hoo-ah?”

“Hoo-ah,” everyone responded with confidence in their voices. It felt like one of the training missions on Onyx, except it was real this time. There was no telling whether anyone would be killed or not, or whether they’d have any contact with hostile enemy forces. 

“Fall out, Spartans,” Skylar said. With that command each of the Spartans pulled their knives simultaneously out of their sheaths, whether they were located across their chest, collarbone, or forearm. The sound of the combat knives scraping across the inside of their sheaths at the same time was music to Matt’s ears. It gave him confidence that they’d find anything of use soon.

I wonder if this planet even has any other intelligent life forms, he thought. At best, they’d most likely find some kind of native mammal similar to those on Earth. Maybe even other survivors.

The Spartans grouped together as swiftly and quietly as possible, staying just a few feet away from each other. Matt walked to the front, turning the safety mechanism off and ready to lift his arms up to shoot. Skylar picked Private Webb up carefully with both of her arms, trying not to injure him if he had any broken bones, and threw him over her right shoulder. She showed no signs of any difficulty doing that process. She was a Spartan after all.

As soon as possible, the small group of Spartans started to moved forward at a fair walking pace. Each of them were battle-ready as they held their knives firmly and in a close quarter stance, prepared to attack anything that seemed like a threat to them. With their heightened senses, nothing should have gotten past their sights.

Cautiously, the team of Spartans stepped through the mud and dirty water, checking their surroundings. They made absolute certainty that they were secure, looking around for anything suspicious. Nobody had said a word as sounds of mud squishing and stepping through puddles under their armor were made. Matt focused on the trees that grew nearer to him until he completely past each one.

The nature report of Victoria also applied to this place as well. There was nothing but trees!

There was something weird about them though; something was dark about them. No matter. They were just trees and nothing more. They were similar to the trees on Onyx, except these ones made him feel different. They gave off a gloomy feeling even with the sudden emotion of exhilaration he felt when he first woke up. He felt stupid for thinking about it, but it was like the trees were evil, like something out of a fairytale. Anything “magical” and whatnot couldn’t exist due to science. Science was the reason he didn’t understand religion.

Then there were the sounds. All types of sounds Matt were audible in the throughout the trees, unlike the ones on Onyx. The forest ecosystem they were in let him know that everything around them was actually alive and sounded like they wanted to harm them. He wasn’t sure if he was supposed to feel intimidated or even more confident. 

Matt and the others pushed onward, weary of the trees and anything that could attack them. As best as he could, he tried to ignore the trees. He had never seen any trees that made him feel different. He hoped that it was only a psychological thing and nothing too eerie.

Bored of the situation, Matt thought back to how they lost Jericho while leading the group forward and still aware where they were. He remembered his final words and all the death happening around them. After a while he realized: there was a chance that the Spartan and Elite were still alive. He remembered the amazing stories about non augmented humans in the past centuries surviving falls thousands of feet above the ground and still survive. Sure, bones were fractured here and there, but that wasn’t the point. Better yet, they could have fallen onto one of the many buildings, decreasing the chances of them being killed. 

While some short falls may have been fatal, Jericho would have known exactly how to fall without using a parachute. And if they didn’t fall on top of a building, there was a possibility that the two had reached terminal velocity before touching the ground. At least one of them could have survived if they were still holding onto each other. 

Then Matt remembered the glassing and how the explosion would have still gotten both of them. 
Instantly, he stopped thinking about it. He couldn’t get his hopes up as much as he wished Jericho was there with them. Even if he or the Elite were alive, they probably wouldn’t be anywhere close to their location.

Matt kicked a rock with a lot of force, which turned into smaller bits as it hit a nearby tree. He smiled as he remembered he had the power to do that now. Thinking about doing suicide missions most ODSTs couldn’t complete made him feel at ease. Matt had to admit: he was proud of the 327 other Spartans who were most likely still alive. They were his family; his friends. He sincerely didn’t mind if Skylar split his lip or not.

For the most part, nothing was happening but endless walking. He saw shadows of small animals moving about and the odd sounds they made, but nothing out of the ordinary. That was no problem for Matt, of course. He had enough energy to go on for days in the condition he was in, and no one was currently dying. It was surprisingly more calm than he thought. Even if the Spartans were safe for the moment, he secretly wished for another fight soon. The feeling of being shot at was enough to make him feel satisfied with himself before shooting back at the enemy. He hoped at least one of the others felt the same way. 

Twenty minutes passed as the crew of Spartans continued their trek through the bog when Logan finally broke the silence as they entered a small opening. “Anyone thirsty? I’ve got water in the rucksack.”

“Affirmative,” Matt said, still looking forward, “standby for a moment.”

Skylar nodded as  Matt handed the sidearm to Orion, continuing to keep watch. “Solid copy. You alright?”

Matt put the knife back in his sheath and responded as Logan kneeled and pulled a large metallic water bottle out of the war-torn rucksack. “I’ll be fine. I haven’t had a drink since breakfast… which I believe was yesterday.”

Skylar commanded the rest of the crew to keep watch. “Alright. Don’t take too long.”

Logan walked a short distance to Matt and handed him the bottle, which he soon took hold of. “Take small sips. That bottle is our only source of clean water before Petty Officer makes us drink the stuff from the ground,” he said, lifting up his foot and looking at the small droplets of water and dirt falling down from his armor. That was fine with Matt; there wouldn’t be a problem as long as there was a way for them all to stay hydrated.

Matt lifted his helmet off of his head and set it on the ground. He unscrewed the cap and gently brought the bottle to his lips, slowly sipping. Small amounts of warm water flowed down his throat as he swallowed, making him feel much better. 

He winced from the inceptive pain of his split lip, but dealt with it soon after, not letting it get in the way of his thirst. He forgot entirely about the wound Skylar gave him until the moment he felt it again. His only hope was that none of his blood flowed into the bottle. Once he finished, he twisted the cap back on shortly after and gave the bottle back to Logan.

“Dad,” an adult voice suddenly said drowsily, preferably Webb, as he Skylar lay him down on a drier piece of land, “are you back from the store yet?” 

Garrett let out a laugh. “Somethin’ you wanna tell us, Marine?”

Webb responded with the sound of mumbling before going back to sleep. At least he was alive to support them later, even if his strength was inferior to the group of teenagers’ own augmented strength. Everyone spread out between the circle of trees.

“Hm,” Skylar said inquisitively, “I have a feeling his dad actually ‘went to the store’.”

Suddenly everyone, with the exception of Ocaen, started to moderately chuckle. “Is there something I’m not getting?” Ocaen asked, feeling confused and somewhat left out. He must have not heard of that old saying before.  

“It means his dad--,” immediately, Matt was interrupted by an intensely loud, girly, and high pitched scream in the far distance. Shortly after, everyone move closer to each and entered into separate CQC positions, backs facing each other. Each of them were ready to slice at anything that would try to kill them. Orion tossed the magnum back to Matt as he grabbed his helmet and put it back on, pulling his knife back out. He held his two weapons up, using the method Skylar had recently taught him and faced toward the direction they were initially heading in. 

Everyone else looked faced different directions, staying alert for any incoming hostiles. As soon as there were no signs of any hostile lifeforms, Orion spoke out.

“You guys heard that, right?” she asked. 

Logan responded, looking back as he continued to hold his combat knife and hand up in a close quarter stance. “We wouldn’t be in this position if we didn’t hear it.”

“It sounded like a civilian,” Ocaen said with a hushed voice, “no Marine or known Covie would make a sound like that. Where do you think it came from?”

“Over there,” Skylar said plainly, pointing forward, east of their original direction of movement. Everyone turned around swiftly to see where she pointed, which was mostly composed of trees close together and vines. Great.

Ocaen was right. Matt had never heard a scream as terrified as the one that just happened. It couldn’t be Covenant, since the voice sounded human, and it wasn’t a Marine, since their screams would sound more masculine. No. This scream sounded more feminine and civilian-like, as if it was for her life. If there really was a civilian in trouble, they had no choice help her. It was their job to protect humanity, as well as their moral obligation.

“Alright everyone. Single file, behind me,” Matt said as moved swiftly to the east, “we’re gonna haul ass towards the sound. We need to know exactly what the hell is going on here.”

“Agreed,” Skylar said, sheathing her knife, “Orion, Logan. Watch our six and make sure no one gets lost or left behind, including yourselves. Remember: ‘no man left behind, dead or alive’. As for the rest of you, proceed with caution.”

“Copy that,” they both said in unison before walking back behind Skylar.  

Matt sheathed his knife as everyone else moved into a line behind him, getting his magnum ready for battle. At least something new was happening. He was worried there wouldn’t be any action for a while. Fighting was in their nature, as if they were born to do it. 

“Everyone ready? Let’s move,” Matt said briskly. Immediately, the Spartans went into a jog behind Matt toward the direction Skylar pointed at which quickly became a full-on run through the assortment of trees. The agility tests were finally paying off as each person, save for Skylar,  followed the exact movements of Matt through the forest. He certain they followed his movements as he kept his eyes forward.

They quickly dodged the trees and vaulted over large roots and rocks; nothing too bad as Matt continued to lead the crew. Their movement was unbelievably quiet for how fast they were moving. He made sure to keep a slow enough pace so as to not make a sound more distinct than the ecosystem of the forest itself. The only actual sounds they made were the splashes their feet made in the puddles, which wasn’t too noticeable. 

The area was so heavily forested that if it weren’t for their quick reaction times, one of them would have ran into a tree. The good thing was that there weren’t any Marines to hold them back like the evacuation in New Birmingham. One of them were sure to have knocked themselves out at the rate the young Spartans were moving at. A lot of the infantry Marines that weren’t ODSTs were just a few years older than they were and would most likely fail! Matt was amazed at that fact. 

They grew up training for most of their life, as opposed to the Marines who only trained in a smaller amount of time. Then there were the commissioned officers, who had it worse. They didn’t even have to go through the hell of boot camp like both enlisted Marines and Spartans did.

Finally, after swiftly sprinting up and down a small hill, the line of Spartans exited the boggier part of the forest and into more solid land. It was nice to run on something other than mud and moist ground. Matt could have sworn they passed by a giant alligator or crocodile, but shrugged it off and kept going. It wouldn’t have noticed them anyway with how quietly they were moving. Even their SPI armor hid them from plain sight as it blended in very well with the ground and trees. The alligator or crocodile would have heard nothing more than a wind.

Running through the trees let memories of the training flow into Matt’s mind. It so similar to the training on Onyx to the point where he felt as if he were actually training for a moment. He felt as if he could go on for miles. With the augmentations, they could last a good while without even increasing the rate of their pulses. 

Slowly, bright sunlight began to appear in their eyes as the distance between the trees increased. Finally, they could run in peace with no obstacles blocking the way and increasing the chances of losing the source of the scream. Now that the trees were out of the way, Matt just had to worry about finding that exact source. That had to be easy, right? A human in normal clothing would have been very easy to spot out in the open a forest like that.

Onward Matt went until another huge clearing in the trees was visible in Matt’s eyes. Suddenly he realized it was no clearing as he grew closer; it was a trail! Matt stopped completely in his tracks after reaching the pathway. The path appeared to lead to two different directions: left and right. “Which way?!” he asked quietly to the Spartan was behind him.

“Left! Left!” Garrett’s voice said behind him, quickly and quietly. Matt hoped he was right.

“Solid copy,” Matt said, moving left and down the path where it became brighter, “watch both sides. We’re more prone to be attacked like this.” Orion and Logan stayed back a few meters away from them, making sure nothing could flank the rest of them if given the chance. They felt as if they’d been running for a while, which in reality they’ve been running for the last 5 minutes after their short break. 

Finally, Matt started to sprint fully down the dirt road. He had a visual on all kinds of organisms through the trees as he passed them. The Spartans, just a few feet away from each other, started to spread out onto the road with Ocaen on his left, Garrett on his right, and the three others who still ran behind them. At least they could keep up with him.

The forest didn’t look as dark and eerie as it was before, but still had the emotion it gave off. Matt truly didn’t care at the moment, still looking for any signs of human life. 

Suddenly, he spotted an equine-like creature sitting at the side of the road up ahead, panting as if it were tired. As far as he knew with the pony his dad gave, equines couldn’t pant. Maybe this was a new type of equine that wasn’t discovered yet. 

The equine had a pure white coat, unusually big eyes, a styled mane which was colored purple, some kind of marking on its upper back leg, and had horn on its head. Matt could already tell this creature was a female. For the most part it looked very weak, but he couldn’t be quick to judge. Perhaps it had the power to defeat them all. The thing that striked him the most was that this creature looked intelligent, given the saddlebags it carried, the makeup, and the mane. Why would a horse need to have makeup? The only reason Matt even started to notice its features was because it stood in the way of their path as they neared it. 

That formed the question: was this the source of the scream they all heard? It couldn’t have screamed like that, could it? Animals couldn’t even talk. It probably wouldn’t even understand him if he tried to talk to it.

As Matt became a few meters away from the equine, he stopped completely. He brought his hand up, signaling the other Spartans to stop in their tracks as well. He heard no signs of tiredness from them which was a sign that they still had enough energy to go on. After a few moments of inspecting the equine who hadn’t noticed them yet, Matt looked back at the others and signaled them to advance slowly, bringing his sidearm up.

Quietly, the Spartans followed behind Matt, getting ready for whatever was ahead of them. The appearance of the equine was amazing up close. She looked completely different from any horse he’d seen since it was small, but amazing nonetheless. Was it… a unicorn? Weren’t unicorns magical? No, that horn must have been there for a different reason. Magic was bullshit. 

Matt aimed the magnum at its head as he grew nearer to it, using what was left of the targeting reticule on his HUD. He didn’t put his finger on the trigger just yet, as seeing something like that dead was hard to imagine. The Covenant or any other human, Matt would be fine with killing. There was something about the equine that prevented him from feeling the need to kill it. 

I’m surprised it hasn’t noticed us yet, Matt thought, holding gun and getting closer to the “unicorn”.
Suddenly she looked straight at them and jumped and yelped in fear. Damn. He thought too soon. “Get away, you foul creatures!” she said, before turning around quickly and trying to escape them.

Matt was amazed. It was a non-Covenant alien who could speak English. They needed to report that to ONI as soon as possible. “Freeze!” Matt yelled, aiming the magnum at her, “turn around slowly. Identify yourself  and your intentions or I will open fire.”

The unicorn stopped, and turned around. She looked amazed and fearful that he could even talk. She then looked at the firearm, as if she were unimpressed about the situation. “Oh, I’m terribly sorry for about saying that, but I simply don’t have time for this. I must get back to Ponyville for the picnic with my friends,” she said with some kind of Transatlantic English accent, “please, I’m sure you have other things to do and chat with me, what, with you being… interesting looking creatures.” 

Apparently she didn’t know what a gun could do. Tough luck for her if the Covenant were to invade that particular planet.

“Am I dreaming, or is this actually happening?” Garrett whispered in a confused voice. The same emotion could be said for the other Spartans as well.

Matt sighed, continuing to aim his gun at her as she started to walk away. “I said freeze.”

As the unicorn started to trot away, finally catching her breath. “Permission to fire warning shots, Petty Officer,” Matt asked. 

“Granted,” Skylar said.

Matt nodded, and looked back at the unicorn. She was stupid to have ignored his commands and walk away. Instantly, he aimed the magnum at a bird flying over her and quickly squeezed the trigger. 

It was a nice shot in his opinion; he was sure he blew the bird’s brains out. Even if it was a mere bird, he had finally heard another gunshot. The thunderous sound the pistol made was loud enough to scare some birds out of the trees, as well as make a sound audible from a mile away. He almost forgot how loud a gun as small as the one he carried could be.

The unicorn shrieked and tripped after the bird’s corpse fell on her back, red blood smearing across her pristine white coat as if it were paint. She looked behind her and saw that bird was still on her back; she shrieked again.

“Get it off, get it off, get it off!” she squealed For a single horse, she sure screamed a lot and was now positive that she was the source of the screaming they all heard. The whole team gathered up behind Matt as he kept the magnum aimed at her while walking toward her. She struggled remove the animal from her back.

He heard each of his comrades sheath their knives, staring at how pathetic the unicorn looked. He had to admit: it looked more unusual than anything he’d ever seen. Matt wouldn’t blame them. This unicorn was the whole reason their time had been wasted. At least he got to shoot and kill something, even if a bird was very small.

“P-please don’t hurt me,” she said fearfully as Matt aimed the muzzle of the gun at her. Now she knew the Spartans meant business.

“We won’t,” Matt responded, “at least not yet. For now: identify yourself. Better yet, where are we?” 

The unicorn stayed silent, then spoke. “What are you?” she asked

If it were Matt’s choice, he wouldn’t kill the unicorn unless it posed as an actual threat. Almost everyone there had authority over him; he might have had to kill it anyway. Then again, she acted more human than any alien each of them had seen. Especially with her strong emotion of fear. Anyone with normal feelings would feel utterly afraid for their lives if they were out in a forest like that as their life was being threatened.

“Well she definitely isn’t Covenant,” Skylar said, laying Webb on the ground and stood next to Matt, “lower your weapon, Spartan. I have a strong feeling she isn’t a hostile.”

“Solid copy, Petty Officer,” Matt responded, lowering the sidearm and attaching it to his thigh. It was Skylar’s turn to do the talking. She was, after all, the highest rank if not their leader. She was one of the better Spartans in Gamma as far as he knew. 

He wondered what Skylar would do with the unicorn once it stopped. She seemed neutral about the situation, showing signs of neither happiness nor anger. Then again, he couldn’t tell her exact emotions with her helmet on. 

“Relax. Tell me: what exactly were you running away from? Where even are we?” Skylar asked calmly and inquisitively. She crouched down so that her eyes were level to the unicorn’s own eyes. It was as if she made the equine feel at ease. Skylar pulled the bird off of her back, showing that she and the rest of the Spartans wouldn’t harm her… or, that’s what Matt thought her intentions were.

A few seconds passed as the unicorn stared at her own reflection in Skylar’s visor. She looked scared and amazed at the same time. Matt didn’t blame the unicorn. The SPI armor did make everyone seem odd, especially with how short they were compared to the ODSTs. 

“T-twilight?” the unicorn asked, breaking the tranquility. Everyone was silent after that.