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Fan Fiction

Starjacked by Dispraiser

Starjacked Part 1
Date: 3 January 2003, 2:33 am

      STELLULATE 42             LUNAR 4 ETA – 4 DAYS 7 HOURS 17 MINUTES
                  “Awwwww!!   Come on!  You can’t win so many times in a row!  It’s not possible!” he threw his hand of cards on the table. 

                  Chuckling, the other man, who had the smug grin of victory on his face, had some fifty aces up his sleeve, his victory.  Suddenly the metal door exploded inwards, two men in ski masks raising sub machine guns and swiveling around the room.  The victorious man fell backwards in his chair, a result of his feet which were on the table.  Raising their arms before the actual command had been issued, the poker table had soon surrendered.  The smug pirates raised their arms in victory, rather than in loss as the table of men had.


      STELLULATE 42             LUNAR 4 ETA – 4 DAYS 7 HOURS 16 MINUTES
                  A gunshot echoed through the hallway, I tensed.  I had heard that noise too much.  Rolling over in my cot I looked out of the tiny window.  Still nothing was visible but the vast, starry expanse of space and the glow of the two stars of the Lunar 4 system.  In the far corner of my limited vision I think I saw the corner of one of Lunar 4’s moons, however we were hardly close enough to be hit with a guidance course change that may be responsible for the noise.  It had to be a gunshot.  I rolled out of the cot and slid open my drawer grabbing my colt revolver.  A modern antique, the revolver was created with the base design of an ancient revolver though it sported a highly renovated design.  I used my thumb to force out the bullet chambers and loaded each with a hollow pointed 9mm bullet into each of the six chambers.  Flipping the gun to the right in a sharp, acute movement the chamber flopped back into the main body of the gun.  Putting the gun under the right side of my vest I leaned out into the hallway.  Years of service in the Marine Corps had taught me to be ready for anything, and for all I knew, this was a Covenant invasion of the ship.
      I saw movement down the hallway, someone dressed in black stepping out of a door.  It wasn’t one of the crew, and he carried a compact submachine gun.  He spun around and grabbed someone, dragging them into the hallway.  The person was bound with a thin plastic cord stumbled into the hallway, pushing back a little against the man who was dragging him.  I recognized the face; it was the face of a smug cheater.  No one had ever pinned him but everyone suspected that he won every match of anything by cheating.  It was also the face of Red Smarks, a fat man who had claimed pacifism to dodge being recruited.  His minor resistance, which was probably just his weight, was rewarded with a swift kick to the shins from his captor.  He was quickly dragged down the hallway towards me.  Ducking back into my room I quickly looked for a way to hide, chances are they were searching the whole ship.
      Walking over to the wall, where I had a small shelf with my pet rat in it, a substitute for the dog I had always wanted, and dropped some food pellets into its cage.   I didn’t want to leave him starving while I hid.   I silently ran to the cot and checked the vent underneath it.  It was too small for me to fit in, so disappointed I turned away and moved towards the closet.  I checked inside.  It was mostly empty, laundry day had been just yesterday, and most of our clothes were gone.  Feeling inside the closet I found a slot, the laundry mobilator as it was formally called, nothing more than a simple tube.  Quickly lifting a leg into it and then pulling the rest of my body upwards, sliding down the shaft.  The whir of my body falling soon ended as I hit the floor below and rolled to a stop.  I peered up through the duct as my room was suddenly entered b an armed man.  He hit the wall, seeing that I was nowhere to be found after searching to near to empty room.  Walking out relatively calmly he quickly lost his composure, hitting Smarks from what I could tell by the disgruntled plead.  I turned from the duct and began to move out into the laundry room.  Colt in hand, aiming up at the ceiling as I slid my back along the wall I quickly spun around the corner and into the laundry room.  Slowly and carefully checking the room I assured myself that it was cleared.  Stepping into the room I was beginning to calm down and slow my heart rate, the adrenaline in my system beginning to fade.
      Thinking rationally, I began to try to decide who, or what took control of our ship.  They carried a human form, and tenancies, but I still hadn’t seen one’s face.  They were probably human though, no Covenant would have missed my escape, they were too smart for that.  Years of serving in the Marine Corps had taught me that as well.  Who were they?  They had tenancies that were not pirate either, if it were to be a pirate boarding party or ship’s crew would have been killed immediately.  It had to be some pirate type mission though, because no other group would have interest in our ship.  Maybe it was just some random capture of bad luck, perhaps we only flew to close to a pirate frigate or something.
      Unsure of exactly what was happening, I decided it best to ask questions later.  The Stellulate was under hostile control, and it was my job to liberate it, not to think about what was happening.  Years of service in the Marine Corps also taught me that, also.   The engines rumbled as our ship flew closer to it’s target and further from hope.


      STELLULATE 42            LUNAR 4 ETA – 4 DAYS 7 HOURS 15 MINUTES
      I spun into the next hallway, it too was clear.  Walking along the grated floor created an unwanted, loud noise, however the attackers numbers seemed small being that the largest patrol I had seen was only two men, both armed with Submachine guns.  From what I gathered they were not your run of the mill hijackers.  They hadn’t raided any rooms or storage compartments, and it seemed that they had alternative meaning for coming aboard the ship.  Stepping into the next hallway I headed for the armory.  A standard room now on the crafts of the frontier worlds, I grabbed the lock and lifted it slightly.  I spun the lock to 12.  The armory was a small room, about the size of a public bathroom stall, and hardly had enough room for me.  The grey walls extended to the generic metal ceilings of the star craft.  I spun the combination lock the opposite way, past 0 and to the number 28.  Once I had entered the armory, I planned to grab some Kevlar, to protect myself should I be shot at.  I planned to take the ship back. By force if, or rather when needed.  Spinning the combination to the final number, 0, I turned the handle and pulled to reveal an interior decorated with random pistols and some light body armor, mainly just enough to keep a low powered gun from wounding you.  I set my Colt on the top shelf, which was slightly above my vision, and grabbed another similar gun, a suppressed 9mm Berretta.  Cocking the gun after sliding a magazine of ammunition into it I slid the gun into the inner chest pocket of the Kevlar armor.  Unbuckling the armor next I slid it over my head and extended an arm through each of the openings.  Again buckling the Kevlar I began to close the thick armory door.  Upon its relatively noisy sealing I lifted the handle, which locked the three bolt type locks within.
      Sliding a hand into my vest to feel the gun I stepped into the hallway I began to walk further when suddenly I began to feel lighter.  Suddenly a blaring alarm was set, alerting me that the gravity systems of the ship were being damaged.  Again I began to feel lighter as I floated into the next hallway, my steps out of synch near to compromising my stealth, a result of the lowered gravity.  I was only used to walking in a designated gravity level myself, and as a result was not easily adapting to the near to zero G conditions.  Tripping around the corner I spotted another patrol, who had begun to vomit as a result of the decreasing gravity.  Before he realized I was there however, if he realized that I was there, I was gone, grabbing onto the railing of the hideous hallway to propel myself forwards.  The gravity was at zero G’s before I could finish floating down the hallway. I watched as crates of tools and other materials began to float, wrenches randomly dotting the hallways airspace as well as other assorted things floating from the maintenance cabinet nearby. Floating down the hallway at the same speed as before however I kicked off of another wall and drifted around a corner into the dorsal hallway of the ship.
      Extending for a few hundred yards to my left was the forward part of the ship, and to my right the eighty or so feet that was the back of the large vessel.  Drifting to a ladder I grabbed the first of the rungs.  Flipping upside-down and pulling on the rung I launched myself down the ladder to the next floor.  Spinning to use my feet as a natural decelerator I landed on the next floor. Carefully sweeping the hallway for enemies with my pistol I assured that I was alone.  The ship was too empty, there was no activity anywhere, I was sure that this was no orthodox pirate operation, too few people. It was the pirates style to use incredible force to overcome ships, not small numbers and the destruction of the gravity generators.  After assuring myself the hallway was clear I pulled my weightless body forwards, floating towards the cargo hold.  I wanted to prove to myself that it was pirates that took this ship over, or that it was something else.  Floating up to the reinforced steel door, and looking through the small round window I surveyed the room.  I saw a few of the usual shipping crates, one that was particularly shallow and tall, and three armed men along with four more that were tied up on the floor.  A few were unconscious, but one was awake from what I could see.  They all had bloody faces, scrapes cuts and bruises in random places.  Again, more evidence that this was not a pirate starjacking, or all of these men would be dead, executed with a headshot or a slit throat.
      Quickly shifting away from the door once my surveillance of the room was completed I drifted up to the ceiling of the tall hallway and pulled on the grate covering that covered the vent.  It was a large ventilation unit, so I easily floated inside after suspending the grate in the air.  Pulling myself up I moved towards the cargo hold and began to listen  in on the terrorists conversation.
      “Nah, this is enough, we’ll be saved for sure!” one of them said.  He was taller, and carried the standard Submachine gun that I saw most with.  He carried a heavier build than the others, though he was not fat either, just a large man, and stood nearest to the prisoners in the large cargo hold.
      “You think? The word says that we have to surpass all opposition, and this will hardly stop the project.  We have to cause more permanent damage.”  Said a shorter woman, with a higher pitched voice and blonde hair that extended out of the ski mask she wore in a well groomed ponytail.  I was growing more confused though by this seemingly meaningless conversation. Maybe they were talking in some kind of code.
      “Right Kelly, we have to put a permanent stop to this evil.  We can’t allow the unholy to complete their project.  Besides, this raid was easy, I’m sure our second will be just as easy.” Said a third man, who had his ski mask off.  His thick black hair and bold eyebrows gave him an Italian appearance though his moustache was custom to Lunar 4.  The conversation was making a little more sense, they were some religious zealots, maybe from a cult that believes we brought the Covenant to us as a result of our sins, space travel.  But they were in space too, so they clearly had another vendetta unless they were the unholy seeking redemption from their sins, space travel.
      “I don’t think that we can stop this project, we are of few numbers.  I mean, we are going against the whole UNSC government, and it’s military.  What can one person do, or even eight?” said the large man.  I was hoping the eight he referred to were the numbers of his crew.
      “One person? That is often the difference between victory and failure.  Look at Alexander the Great, Napoleon, Abraham Lincoln, George W Bush (Authors note: I love my country…), they all motivated tremendous, world altering events with nothing but words and courage.  Their leadership helped rid the world of evil, as our purging will.  The others will see our acts and follow!” said Kelly.  She was clearly well educated; I didn’t know who half those people were.  I was pretty resolute in my realization that these were religious zealots by the way they continued to refer to themselves as equals to such historic giants.
      “You…  You are all… insane…  you have no right to…  kill us for a false god…” one of the men who was tied said.
      “SHUTUP!!! YOU ARE AMONG THE FALLEN!!! YOUR LIFE FAILS TO MATTER IN THE FACE OF OUR GOD, THE ONLY TRUE GOD!  PREPARE TO JOIN YOUR FRIEND IN HELL!!!” yelled Kelly.  She raised her rifle and began to aim for the aggressing man. The large man then grabber her arm.
      “Kelly, you are only allowed to kill to progress our cause, remember?  He is no threat, let his rhetoric continue while we search for salvation.  He will be among the fallen when the time comes for our ascension.” His words seemed to work, Kelly lowered her rifle and began to calm down.  This confirmed my belief that these were religious zealots, their dedication and resolve to achieve ascension seemed to be rampant and uncontrollably desirable.
      “You are right. Roguriez,” she spoke to the large man with that statement, so I assumed his name was Roguriez, or a nickname, “Have you moved the crates of sin yet?”
      “No, but Kelly.” She turned to Roguriez as he paused, almost in delegation, “Rough him up a little.  Show him to mess with the might of god.”  Happily, Kelly turned away heading towards the aggressing man, grabbing a wooden stake off the nearby crate.    I was done here.  More of this crap and I would become brain-dead, as they were.  Suddenly something caught my eye.
      I saw the nervous, third man, the Italian looking man, as he pulled a small, palm sized computer out of his pocket, our flight recorder, and began to attempt to activate it. He bore a frustrated appearance, so I could only assume that the flight recorder was confusing him. Fumbling with a few more buttons he violently shook the device.  I was hoping that they hadn’t yet figured out that I existed, but if they were to search, they would surely find me being that they ship was not nearly as large as most cargo vessels, and a search party of eight at unorthodox search patterns could spot me easily, and with the arms they carried against even the most amateur of pirates, or zealots as the case may very well be would spot me with ease.  Shaking the machine again the angered man tried, almost futilely, to get it to work.
      A scream came from a crewmate, who had just been clubbed in the gut by a swift chop from a slice of wood by Kelly, who was now lying on the ground as best he could with his arms strapped to a pole.  This was more of a demonstration to the others of my crew than him being that all three saw, or at least heard, as the person behind him could not see him, the punishment their captors had inflicted upon him.  From this distance I couldn’t identify who was being beaten, but the distinctly fat appearance brought me to believe it was Red again, who now appeared to be new to the whole, docile hostage doesn’t get the shit beaten out of him concept.
      I reached down to grab a set of field binoculars, accidentally smacking my elbow into the wall of the duct.  A large noise reverberated through the room.  Kelly ceased her beating, and Roguriez released the crate he was dragging, allowing it to float freely.  The Italian appearing man had no change in his actions, he was not as alert as the others.  I sat very still, hoping that they would ignore the noise, but received no such luck.  An absolute silence filled the room as they scanned the area for anything that would make that noise.  A burst of adrenaline flooded my veins as I began to search for an easy way out, and to explain this without giving away my position.  I slowly began to slither out of the duct, as quietly as I could, however I could almost sense that they were hearing my movements. Abruptly stopping, I nervously watched as they continued to survey the room.
      They all looked confused as to where I was, so I again began to wriggle my way out of the vent. Suddenly Roguriez snapped his gun up and fired a few shots off at my vent.  Some gunfire rattled the outside of my vent, and I shuddered, quickly turning away and attempting to crawl out of the vent.  Some more gunfire ricochet down the vent as I reached the end and pushed down, knocking the vent, which was still suspended in the hallway out of the way.  Drifting to the floor I quickly darted down the hallway, bouncing from wall to wall and pulling myself with the railing.  Behind me some gunfire smashed out the glass window in the door, Roguriez, and now Kelly too both jetting back to the other side of the cargo bay, a result of the gunfire’s forwards thrust, every reaction has an equal, and opposite reaction, them getting pushed backwards as much as the bullets forward.  Shouts carrying expletives and random zeal-full statements chased me down the hallway, along with the occasional gunfire as I followed my previous path down to the ladder.  Quickly pushing off the ground with my legs I flipped up to the top deck and hit into the top of the dorsal hallway.  The pain however was quickly vanquished by my knowledge that it could be much worse, and I could be carrying a few chunks of lead in my chest. Scrambling to kick off the wall behind me I flung my body down the hallway before kicking diagonally off another wall to continue down the dorsal structure of the Stellulate. Quickly ducking off to the side of the hallway I attempted to hide.  Sitting behind one of the metal poles that reinforced the hallway I waited, hoping that they would pass by me.  No such luck came however as some gunfire ricochet off the wall near to me. A now well prepared Roguriez was braced on the wall and fired without the effects of recoil.  I continued another twenty feet down the hallway before having to bounce off of another wall.  As I hit the wall and pushed off of it a bullet hit my right arm, streaming a vortex of blood behind it, which slowed in space.  I was propelled by the bullet further, and gained some speed, the pain not yet registering in my brain.  My crimson red blood floated in the air in tiny orbs, drifting casually as some more gunfire echoed down the hallway. The searing pain blinded me for a second, as I saw the gaping wound in my upper right arm and screamed in pain, Roguriez screaming in victory.  Luckily, my primary firing hand was my left, so I whipped out my berretta, and spinning around fired a trio of bullets down the hallway at Roguriez.  I was propelled backwards much faster now, and hit my head on the wall as my gunfire hit the wall near Roguriez.  I couldn’t tell, but it appeared that I shot him in the side or he ran out of ammo, but either way he turned tail, and slid down the ladder, yelling random curses and claims of my ungodliness.
      I rubbed my head and scrambled to get a bearing on how I floated, Kelly was still in pursuit from what I knew.  Bouncing off the wall and grabbing a railing I pulled myself down the dorsal structure, hearing no gunfire.  Kelly had clearly lost interest in killing me for some reason.  My vision was becoming a little blurry, a result of the blood loss and blow to the head as I tried to get to the hospice. Drifting, almost still as if I were dead, I floated to the middle of the vessel, and lowered my body down the ladder with my left arm.  Stopping at the next floor, though it was hardly needed, my strength sapped by the wound resulting in low speed, and continued to the infirmary. Dragging my increasingly limp body down the hallway I slipped into the infirmary, not so cautious as to even check for anyone inside before I entered fully.  Random sharp objects, scalpels, needles, and other things floated limply, and a few scraped my face and arms as I progressed in my search for medical supplies such as bandages, or things that would at least put the pain to rest.  Finding a numbing agent quickly I grabbed the injector.  Lowering my wounded arm from it’s position, curled at my chest, I inserted the needle into my flesh, and after injecting it felt instant numbness surge through my arm, and within a few second my whole body.  Searching for some medical strips to actually cure the wound I opened a drawer quickly, the whole cabinet actually lifting up off the ground.  I checked the drawer and found some gauze bandages; quickly unrolling some as I began to suddenly feel cold.  Shivering I took the bandage and wrapped it quickly around the wound, spinning it to form a thick set of seven or so layers, to prevent the blood from bleeding out of the wound any more.   I then drifted into a corner and passed out from the blood loss.


      STELLULATE 42            LUNAR 4 ETA – 4 DAYS 0 HOURS 48 MINUTES
      I awoke a while later, I couldn’t tell how much later, my watch (Authors note: God knows why….) wasn’t working in zero G.  I then slowly began to remember all my troubles, the first few moments of senility granted by the waking process quickly fading away.  I looked at my arm, where the gauze was soaked slightly in blood.  My head had a swelling bruise on it from what I could tell, and I hadn’t been captured, so I must have only been out for a little while.  Pushing a cabinet out of the way, which had drifted in front of me, I launched myself through the room.  So much for stealth…  I pulled the berretta out of my body armor and slid the magazine out of it. Floating in the center of the room I grabbed a few more bullets to fully reload the magazine, and loaded each shot into the clip before sliding it back into the weapon.  I cocked the gun, sliding another bullet into the chamber of the gun and prepared it to kill.  I pushed myself forwards out the door, and into the hallway.  I knew what the UNSC would say that my next task was, to go to the bridge, and to send a distress call so that the ship would be picked up by a cruiser, since we were in the Lunar 4 area probably a Legacy, and they would sink our ship, literally.  If not they would send in a sweep team and everyone aboard would die anyway.  But otherwise these terrorists would live, so I decided to go to the bridge. Checking the hallway I drifted out, satisfied that it was clear.  Kicking off the door frame towards the ladder, I pulled myself up to the dorsal structure of the ship, and carefully swept the long hallway for any patrols. I spotted one, about ten feet away from my position.  It was a man that I had not seen before he was a tall, lanky man and had blonde hair.  I couldn’t see his face, only his back, but a neck strap assured me he toted a rifle.  I needed his gun, and killing him, I decided, would be no problem, but I didn’t want to take on his friends too, so I had to kill him silently.  I floated out into the hallway near to where he stood, silently floating closer to him.  Some orbs of blood from my wound still floated in the air nearby. I pushed nearer to him as he began to rotate around.  I quickly caught him in a headlock as he yelled “What the hell!?!”  I quickly quieted him by pressing my berretta against his head and kicked off the wall to drag him back to the ladder.
      “Drop the gun.” I said quietly, “I am Jack Anderson, and I have a few questions.  Now I want to make one thing clear, you do anything I don’t like, and I will make sure that your head is along that wall.  And maybe that one too, so do what I like, and tell me why you are here and what you want with us.” I said coldly to him. He gave a weak nod of agreement, and broke the strap that held his rifle and letting it float in the hallway.
      “We are here to eliminate evil at its origin.” He said.  More zealot blather.
      “I meant why are you here, not for more of this rhetorical crap.” I said back to him, replying to the moronic speech I knew was coming otherwise.
      “What do you mean, this is the only way, to destroy evil?” he said.  He was seriously brainwashed…
      “Okay, we’ll try this again,” I pressed the gun against the side of his head, “Why hunt me and my crew, how did we become evil?  Is it because we are in space?  Well I got news moron, you’re in space too.” I said.  Maybe taking this to a little more illiterate level would untie this idiots tongue.
      “We are combating you creating people, only the works of a god can do that, no person should ever do anything of such a nature.” He replied.
      “Whoa, whoa, whoa! When did we start making people! We’re just a damn transport ship! We carry the stuff, we get paid, the end, I don’t want to offend your religion of something!” I expressed at him, with a silent fit of yelling. “But you support them.  You killed a defender of justice, Roguriez.”
      “I killed him? Nice shot aren’t I?”
      “A great shot, you hit him in the heart, but as an aggressor of the evil, you are unfit to live.”
      “Um… Aggressor?  Who shot first?  You guys.  You came aboard, no invitation, killed one of my crew, I assume, and took the rest prisoner, beating one.  At least one.”
      “I told you, you supported evil with this cargo.”
      “I still don’t get it.  HOW!?!” I shouted, still silent, however.
      “Do you know of something your government is working on?  Something special, something secret to help win the war?” he said. I was fed up with these speeches, however this seemed to be the only one going anywhere so far, “It is called a Spartan, it is a clone.  And guess what you are carrying.”
      “Let me guess, a Spartan?”
      “No.  You aren’t.”
      “Then why did you capture our ship idiots?  We aren’t your enemy, I don’t even know what a Spartan is!” I yelled, still silent I might note.
      “You have something that makes a Spartan from strongman into super soldier.   An aid mightier than the very rifle, and coveted so, the armor for which they will wear to combat the Covenant, which they clearly need, so it is our goal to hinder them by taking it.”
      “This is…. Riveting.” I said.
      “Yes, so will you aid us?  Gods are the only ones that can create people, not machines!  Help to hinder their cause!” I stared at him for a second before starting to laugh hysterically.
      “You expect me to believe that?  Clones?  Moron, that’s the stuff of sci-fi, it has been banned for something like 600 years!” I laughed some more, clearly offending him.  He had just marked me as his enemy.  I heard some movement in the distance.  I could tell he did too judging by a sudden increase in his movement.  I readied the Berretta, my laughing may have attracted their attention.  I poked the side of his head with the gun, and again whispered, “Tell them you are okay.   Do it.” I pressed the gun against his head another time, “or else.”
      He hesitated, “KELLY, HE’S OVER!!!” his sentence ended suddenly, a loud pop taking it’s place. My blood was no longer the only one spilled in this hallway.  Snatching his rifle, which was still floating in the hallway I fired a few shots down the dorsal hallway, déjà vu.  I ducked around the corner as a few more bullets whipped by me, they were getting to be better shots in zero g.  I grabbed the dead man and flipped his half-decapitated body into the hallway.  Jumping out behind it I grabbed his arm and fired five shots down the hallway. They returned fire, two of the shots hitting their comrade and propelling me further down the hallway.  I fired three more shots down the hallway, the tracer fire arching towards the ladder, which had the blood of Roguriez’s exit wound behind it.   I had a downward angle though, and hit off the floor at high speeds. Grabbing my shoulder, which had hit the floor and releasing the body I bounced off the floor and continued down the last leg of the hallway.  Jumping to the ladder that led to the command sector of the Stellulate I quickly pulled myself down the ladder and aimed my gun down the hallway. Someone floated around the corner, jerking their body at the sight of me, a hostile.
      “Don’t shoot!” I shot.  Four shots hit him in the chest, he died instantly.  I grabbed his gun and ammunition and dropped my berretta, leaving it floating in the air.  I jumped around the corner to the door leading to the absolute tip of our ship, the bridge.  As I floated near to the door it opened automatically, revealing the inside of the tiny bridge.  Noting more than a glass encased sphere with a seat on it, it was a small bridge, but an adequate one.  The man who was sitting in it, another zealot spun around, “What the-” I shot him as well, hitting him in the chest with three shots.
      Floating into the room I pushed his body out of the chair and sat down instead in his place. Wiping some blood off of the radar panel I reached down for the communication radio, stopping my hand just inches from it.  A sweep team.  Did I really want one?  They have the bad habit, as do I of shooting first and asking questions later. I mean, I was doing ok, one wound and four enemies down, I was doing great.  I could take care of them myself.  I pulled out my Swiss Army knife, and cut the cable that controlled the communications system.  As a last ditch effort, they might call one in.  Checking the ETA, which was four days, I left the room.  Chances are they were attempting to regroup, probably attempting to take over the cargo hold, it was they’re best place to gather, and their objective as well, so hopefully I had the whole ship to roam without being spotted, and I could literally lay siege to them.  They were trying to take something, maybe some gold or credits, but not armor like that dummy had told me.  But whatever it was, they have a reason for deactivating the gravity, so I want to fix it, as soon as possible.  It will at least slow them, and right now it was to a condition of Guerilla warfare, so the best I could do was to stall them and utilize a series of hit and run attacks.

Starjacked Part 2
Date: 5 January 2003, 5:52 am

      I floated into the gravity generator room, and was surprised at the roar of the engine. It hummed louder than even the ships, and was probably consuming more power. I could survive without gravity, and we could probably chalk up the saved power to add onto our profit… But now wasn’t the time for that, I cocked the gun and drifted into the center of the room to the controls. I pressed the power button, no results. Checking beneath the control panel I found the pathogen, a clipped power cable. I really was dealing with amateurs here. I grabbed the rubber key cover (the nerds down at engine room just had to have them… Thank you nerds…) used to keep dust out of the keyboard. Grabbing the two halves of the wire, I waved one in the air. It left a glowing streak of electricity. Cool… I connected the two wires and watched as all the display screens and monitors activated. I left the two wires and stepped to the console unite beside the gigantic cylinder, which contained everything needed to create the gravity that a decent sized planet produces. I hit a few buttons on the screen and drew up another more complex screen. I looked up and down the screen. There was some text printed too little for me to even read. I stared for a second, trying to read it and eventually decided to just randomly hit buttons. I got lucky, and the gravity quickly activated. I fell to the floor hitting my chin on the keyboard unit. It snapped off and dangled by a few cords, but it would do. Stood back up and checked my chin. It wasn’t broken, but it was bleeding. Wiping the blood from the open wound I readied my rifle. If the gravity was as crucial to their operation as I thought it was, they would be here soon. I took a small claymore type weapon that I had grabbed from one of the soldiers I had killed, and stuck it underneath the keyboard. It was set to a proximity circuit, so if anyone dared to attempt to reactivate it, they would be blasted along with the gravity generator. Stepping out the door I carefully checked the hallway before progressing. I was glad to have gravity back, it was nice to be able to shoot a gun and not fly backwards as a result.
      Stepping cautiously around the corner I was suddenly alerted by a noise. Stopping my motion completely I readied the rifle and peered around the corner. It was another tight cramped hallway, as many on the ship were, and was not longer than ten feet to the other door, which led to a hallway leading parallel to mine along the belly of the ship. Suddenly I heard it again, another squeak. I slowly turned around the corner and stepped into the next hallway. Pressing my back against the wall I slowly progressed closer to the other hallway. I aimed my gun for about the height that someone’s chest would be at and spun around the corner, ready to kill them. There was nothing there at all. I looked up and down the hallway confused and suddenly saw movement at my feet. It was my pet rat, sitting at my feet; he probably floated out of his cage and down all these hallways when the gravity was out. I knelt over and lifted him up, after slinging the gun around my neck of course. I raised him up to a level where we were eye to eye. “Hey Peneke. Yer gonna be a hero today.”
      I nervously checked my watch. I t should have happened by now, what was taking him so long? Despite that I didn’t know what the real time was, it was great to have a watch to keep track of time. I had set the time release for eight minutes, I was pretty sure I had. Suddenly I heard a loud pop off in the distance that sounded like gunfire. It was happening. One of the zealots ran over the vent I was hiding in to investigate, and in the distance I could hear disgruntled shouts that it was coming from Kelly’s sector, and that I had caught her. I couldn’t believe how well this was working. I sat and watched my watch, another six seconds and another loud bang will ring out. I listened as it popped. One more in thirty more seconds and I would come out of the vent. Suddenly I heard a distant scream, “You shot me!” I was confused after hearing this. Another scream, but one that was of shock, not pain, “Sorry, I didn’t know it was you!” I now understood. It was a little friendly fire accident, someone accidentally shot their friend! I chuckled as another pop rang out. I slid the cover off the vent and popped my eyes p out of the vent. No one was visible, perfect. Pulling myself out of the vent I stepped into the hallway and ran noisily towards the cargo hold. Pressing my back against the sturdy door I twisted the circular handle a half dozen times and pushed the door open sharply. Again I saw four prisoners, a few crates and the large vent which I had watched them from before. A few rifles were lain out on a table in the center of the room that I recognized as our poker table. I ran up to the prisoners to free them. The one facing me, who was previously hunched over raised his head. He weakly stared at me.
      “Anderson? You were the one that got away? They kept talking about you. I can’t believe it was you!” he said. All things considering he had bountiful energy. I slipped the Swiss army knife out of my boot and flipped it open.
      “What? You don’t remember? I was a Marine for ten years before I was decommissioned. I have plenty of experience in this kind of crap. Go get a gun, you’re coming with me.” I said.
      “Look out!” he shouted suddenly. I spun around as a chair cracked over the back of my head.
      STELLULATE 42            LUNAR 4 ETA – 5 HOURS 22 MINUTES
      “Oh my god.” I woke up. A splitting headache coursed through my skull as I rolled over and vomited on the floor. A puddle of my blood lie where I had previously had my head resting, probably a pretty large cut. The blood puddle was dry, the wound probably had already clotted, which was good, it was probably aided by my hair. I quickly glanced at my watch. I had been unconscious for three days and eighteen hours now. The dark room was small, probably a storage closet of some sort. He had longer blonde hair, but not even halfway to shoulder length. He wore the standard green jacket of most his crew, and wore baggy green and tan army pants. Despite the very militaristic clothes, he looked untrained, and if he was here to torture me, he would do a bad job. He was scrawny, and had skinny arms. He was probably better suited for typing than killing. I got lucky, or their numbers were to thin for them to spare anyone else. He sharpened a knife as he saw me awaken. What is it that they hoped to get from me?
      “So, got anything you would like to tell me before we begin?” he said, stopping his sharpening, probably to cut me once to scare me in hopes that I would talk.
      “Yeah, I do. My name, is Jack Anderson. My rank, is civilian, and you can have my serial barcode if you want, but I doubt you will need it. If you did, you would have already taken it. I won’t be telling you any more, so do your worst.” I was hoping to catch him off guard, and maybe scare him into letting me live. Unless he knew what he was doing, I will probably live. He stood up and paced over to me. He grabbed me and threw me into a chair with surprising strength, and tie me to it. I wondered why they had waited.
      “Are you sure there is nothing that you can tell me? I think you know more.” He said with a snake like tone. He was a good actor if nothing else.
      “I don’t even know what you want me to tell you! I mean, what do you want! I am just an average shipping employee! What do you want, I have a kid, his name John, and a wife, who is dead now, my favorite color is green, I am a blood type O, what the hell more do you need to know!” I had lost my cool.
      “I want to know where the Spartan 3 training facility! Tell me where it is!”
      “I don’t know where it is! But are those Spartans for real?” I asked
      “Yes, they are, the abominations of society, and the potential destroyer of mankind! They live somewhere on Lunar 4! Tell me where you were going with this ship, tell me where they are!”
      “So what are you all called? The ‘Terrorists against Spartans organization’?”
      “No. We are called the Neo Covenant.”
      I laughed. “Neo Covenant!?! Real original! Let me see, didn’t we use that name somewhere… Oh yeah, the horrible aliens that are killing us! I almost--”
      He hit me in the face drawing a tiny bit of blood. I spat at him. “No, we are a merger of three independent factions with similar goals. A covenant.”
      “Then why does Kelly get to boss you all around? You should be the one giving the orders around here.” And now I would play with his loyalties.
      “Nice try Jack.”
      “Oh, a first name basis… Well at least you don’t refer to me as ‘the fallen’.” I put on a fake scary voice for when I said the fallen… It was fun to make fun of his religion…
      “You are among the fallen as well.”
      “Well, so much for that… But listen, who made Kelly the leader?”
      A short pause. “Well, she did.”
      “Did you want her to be the leader?”
      “Who would you have picked?”
      “I would have chosen me.” I secretly praised this moment. It was now personal for him to despise Kelly, maybe I could get him to turn on her.
      “Well, who said you weren’t the leader?”
      Another short pause. “Kelly did.”
      “Let me ask you this, is your faction a minority in this group?”
      “No, we have greater numbers than any of the other factions, we had four members.”
      “Well, that means that you should get to have the leader be among your faction. Well, that is if Kelly is not from your faction.”
      “She is not. She is the only one of her faction.”
      “See, she is the minority. You should be the leader.” I was having lots of fun now…
      “I know what you are trying to do Jack. It won’t work. I am one hundred percent loyal to Kelly, or whoever leads a campaign against the Spartans.”
      “What if I told you that I was leading a campaign against them?”
      “You are?”
      “Well, yeah, of course. No one like clones.” I lied through my teeth. He would never know. Most of his crew was completely brain dead, and trusted anyone, even me, the one who had killed half of their members.
      “I can’t believe it. Wait a second, is this a trick?”
      I couldn’t lie, I had to get his trust, my cover would be blown eventually anyway. “Well, I can’t lie to you, no, but I am not for them. I don’t go and support them! At least I don’t mean to.”
      “So then you won’t mind telling me where you were going.”
      “Well, I was going to the starport.”
      “The starport!” he hit the wall near to my head, “Do you think that the UNSC would put a top secret base at a spaceport!”
      “I don’t know, but check the flight log, it would tell you! We are going to the starport!”
      “We tried to do that. We did, but we couldn’t decode it. Now tell me, why would you encode something that you could give up so easily. You are lying.”
      “Dammit, we are going to the starport, look, do you want me to decode it?”
      “No, I want you to tell me, where are you taking this cargo!”
      “The starport!” he slashed my leg with the knife. Some blood seeped upwards from the cut.
      “You try my patience! Well, I want you to tell me something else. Why--”
      “Why are you here? We don’t have what you want. Will you just leave now?” I said, maybe peace was the way to go.
      “We can’t leave! We are here to stop the Spartans, and we will.”
      “How do you even know you aren’t opening a crate of candy or something? Have you seen a Spartan here?”
      “We haven’t seen a Spartan, we were not hoping to. We saw, however, their armor.”
      “So why not just blow that out the airlock and leave?”
      “Because of something you did.”
      “What did I do? How did I hurt you?”
      “You reactivated the gravity generators. We have one of our guys going down to fix it now though, you see, we cannot move the crate until that is complete, it is too heavy.”
      “All eight of you couldn’t get it out? Or rather, all four of you?”
      “It weighs 16 tons. (Authors note: 32 armors… Hmmm… TAKING TRITUS CAMEO!!!)”
      “Oh. So, how much longer till your buddy fixes up the generator?”
      “Well, the only guy who knows how to fix it got shot. He woke up about the same time you did, and he should have it--” Suddenly a distant explosion echoed through the hallways as suddenly the gravity disappeared. Seizing the opportunity I kicked my feet, which were tied together off the floor, pain coursing through my body from the cut. I flew backwards into my captor, the chair hitting him in the stomach. I twisted my body causing the chair to spin, one of the legs hitting him in the face and splintering off into the wall. I saw some orbs of blood float by. I flipped my chest forward and spun around, kicking off his chest. I flew at the wall, as he mirrored my movement. I hit the wall and the chair shattered on impact, freeing me from it, though my legs and arms were still bound. He recoiled in shock, but quickly grabbed the splintered leg of the chair. I pulled my legs up to slip them over the rope which bound my arms. He hit off the wall and flung at me as soon as he could and clubbed me with the leg of the chair. I hit the wall hard again, and used it to kick him in the stomach again. He floated backwards towards his wall holding his stomach.
      I grabbed onto a nearby shelf and hurled it at him. The metal creation hit him in the arm though he easily batted it off to the side. It’s contents however showered him in debris. He flapped his arms, slapping cardboard boxes and random other objects out of his path. I pulled on my binding, though it was to no avail, they had done a good job. He grabbed an apple, which was floating as part of the shelves contents nearby him and threw it at me. It hit me in the back, though it caused me relatively no damage. I saw a sharp piece of the chair nearby. I moved towards it as he grabbed another piece of food, a pineapple and threw it at me. It hit me in the side, and caused some pain, though it was nothing compared to he pain in my leg. I pushed the piece of the chair into the corner of the room. Wedging it against the wall I pressed the rope binding my arms against it. Suddenly springing into action, he jumped behind me and got me into a headlock. I continued to try to break the binds on my wrists as He pulled back on my neck. The fraying rope finally snapped, and I quickly threw my arms back, pushing off the wall as well and flipped behind him. Suddenly attempting to rotate, he had no traction. I kicked him in the back, sending both of us careening against opposite walls. He dropped the leg of the chair, and I watched as it began to float out to the center of the room. Realizing he had dropped it he pushed off of the wall, but he was too slow. I had already grabbed it, and we rammed each other as we passed. He rolled to a stop near the wall and searched for a weapon, finding his fairly quickly, his knife. He snatched it out of the air and waved it at me. I readied for his attack, preparing the leg of the chair. He sprung at me, and as he came near I struck him over the head with the leg of the chair, splintering it, the many shards floating in space. He, however, continued toward me with an unaltered resolve. He thrust the knife at me, though because of our drifting from the leg of the chair colliding with his head, I had drifted to the right and him to the left, so he missed, hitting off the metal wall. After the knife, followed his face, also hitting the wall at a high speed.
      My legs, which were bound, inconvenienced my motion, so while he was temporarily stunned I reached for them trying to unravel them. He was too fast though, and quickly recovered, springing at me again. I was defenseless, and attempted to maneuver out of the way. He was able to jab the knife into the extreme left of the abdomen, and his face which again followed, rammed my gunshot wound. I yelped in pain as old wounds were reawakened. He grinned as he ripped the knife to my left and pulled it out of my side. I peered down at the wound, and through the orbs of blood I could clearly see that it was a large wound, bigger than my gunshot wound from before. He pinned me against the wall, but I grabbed a small shard of the leg of the chair, no longer than two inches and stabbed it into his eye. Screaming he released me, as well as his knife, floating backwards while swatting wildly trying to make the pain go away. I did that for him, stabbing his neck and dragging the knife back into his brain stem, severing his life as well as most of his neck. Crimson spheres of blood floated in the room, filling it like the universe is of stars. I grabbed his face and his shirt and ripped off his shirt, rolling it up into a ball. I ripped off the arms of the shirt to use on my leg and stuck the body of it gingerly over my wound. I took a deep breath as I prepared to apply pressure. Pressing on the shirt over the wound, I searched for something to hold it down with, finding his shoelaces. Pulling off one of his boots I ripped the shoelace from it, and began to wrap it around myself to hold my homemade gauze in place. I grabbed one of the arms of his shirt and wrapped it around my leg wound, tying it into place. Slipping the other over the rest of the cut I tied it as well. I spun his body, searching for a rifle, though I figured that he didn’t have one. His leader, Kelly was too smart to do something like that. If I were to piss him off, he might shoot me, and they wanted my knowledge, not my dead body. I grabbed his knife, which was coated in a mixture of or blood and wiped it off on the leg of his pants. That wasn’t too bad of an interrogation…
      STELLULATE 42            LUNAR 4 ETA – 4 HOURS 42 MINUTES
      I drifted to a familiar door in the cargo bay area, the one where I had first spotted the ‘Neo Covenant’. What a crappy name. I floated to the small round window to see two stressed people. One I identified as Kelly, and the other was the Italian man who I had seen earlier. If he had a name that I had known at one time, I had forgotten it now though. Kelly sat trying to pry open the tall crate. They were trying to open it rather than to throw it out into space, which confused me. If they pulled it open, then how would they put it into the airlock chute to blast into space? I pushed off the floor and into my familiar duct. There were bullet holes inside it, something new since my last visit, but nothing I couldn’t deal with. Kelly pulled on the crowbar again, and the box lurched forward. The Italian man spun around watching all the doors for me to enter, rifle in hand. Kelly pulled on the crowbar once more, and the box popped open. A pressure seal cracked as it opened, causing it to hiss acutely. The interior of the box was chilled, ice fragments coating the walls. Inside was a rack of thirty two green armors.

Starjacked Part 3
Date: 8 January 2003, 12:29 am

      I looked at them in awe, each must have been eight feet tall. A golden visor crossed over each ones face, along with a tiny black thing jutting out of the top of the helmets. Beneath the helmets lie some suits, camouflaged in color. Drab green, tan and brown the suits carried different builds. One was heavier than the rest, and housed many extra components. Another seemed armed for aerial purposes, carrying stubs of wings and what appeared to be a jetpack, though from my angle I couldn’t tell. Another one was hardly more than a paper thin armor, and had many vision enhancing attachments. It had a long rifle in hand, clearly a sharp shooter model. I was shocked, surprised that this crew was actually carrying the thing that was the armor for these ‘Spartans’. Other models dotted the long crate, which rotated idly. I watched as Kelly silently surveyed the crate, amazed at the contents. I don’t think even she truly believed in the Spartan project, that is until the hiss of depressurization revealed there to be another truth. She turned to the Italian man, excited. “With this Marco, guess what I can do.”
      “We can hinder the Spartan 3 project on Lunar 4!” he stated with excessive zeal, as if he had been waiting to answer that question for his whole life. I was sick of hearing this statement.
      “Something like that. We can have Lunar 4. Do you know what these do?”
      “They help the evil clones?” it sounded more like a question than anything else.
      “No, they make you faster, smarter, stronger, everything. It can make anyone into a super soldier. Someone like me, or you. I could take the Spartan facility on my own with one of these.” She said. Was she going to steal one?
      “Well, I suppose taking one would also hinder their cause. But Kelly, if you get in that thing it’ll rip you apart. Why not just blast it out the airlock?”
      “Well, they all have an AI computer within them, and if we blast it out the airlock, we will kill them. And killing is wrong, right?” Kelly was trying to get one, I was wondering if this was the only reason she had tagged along on this little religious expedition. I wondered if she was just playing these idiots and wasn’t even a zealot at all.
      “You’re right, we have to steal them and properly decommission the suits. Let’s fly this ship to HQ and we can--”
      “Can what? Try to be the good guys? Shut these all down? No, I want one of these! It would help our cause, to have them all loaded up and ready on our docking ship. I have prepared for this moment for the past five years… And you won’t stand in my way. I will have one of these armors, and you will either help me, or leave in a body bag.” She waved a rifle at him. “I have endured so much for this moment. I trained myself so hard, I wanted to be a Spartan, but nothing would get them to even acknowledge to me that they existed. Now I will become a Spartan!”
      “No, now you will become dead. That armor will rip you to pieces.”
      “Besides training, I have gotten many surgeries. I have greater strength in my bones than even what I believe is a Spartan 1. We found it’s body some time ago, and copied what technology we could.”
      “Still, isn’t that wrong all in itself? I mean, aren’t we campaigning against those very things?”
      “Come on, we deserve it. Just get in one. You know what? You get a tech demo. Go wake up the prisoners while I suit up. Tell them that you are working against us, and that you are going to free them all to give them one last chance to escape. Give each a rifle. Then I want you to get the hell out of there. I will get em all, just watch me.” I gasped, those were my friends, and she was willing to expend their live as if they were guinea pigs or rats. Speaking of rats, Peneke drifted in front of the vent, squirming, confused by his lack of weight. On his back however remained the set of blaster caps I had tied onto him. He drifted out of my vision quickly. I watched as the Italian man, Marco moved to the prisoners. Kelly pressed the center off the jetpack suit and watched satisfied as it opened to reveal a slimy inside. Due to the lack of gravity, the slime stayed suspended, so Kelly turned around and pushed into the suit. She slid her arms into the sides of the suit. Instantly the front of the suit slammed shut. The suit was too large for Kelly, and I was still banking on that she couldn’t use it and I would be safe. Suddenly every piece of the suit compacted itself. Some of the goo floated out of the suit as it appeared to crush Kelly. But instead it shrunk to her size. She fired the thrusters and flew out of the room, heading out the side opposite me. Marco cut free one of the four prisoners. I pushed myself out of the vent, stopping myself silently at the floor behind Marco.
      “And so here’s the deal. I am an agent for the UNSC, and I am here to help you. I’m gonna cut you free and give you all guns, but one of my crewmates is still out there, so be care--” his neck suddenly snapped, my arm the probably cause. Holding his heck for a second more I checked his pulse, dead. I pushed the body aside. The crewmate who he was talking to, a woman named Samantha stared up at me.
      “Why did you just kill him! He was an agent!”
      “No, he wasn’t,” I cut the rope holding her, “he was an enemy. He was freeing you to use as cannon fodder.” I cut Red’s binds, “You see, they had these things, I don’t know if they are Spartans or just their suits, but they make them stronger, and you were test subjects.”
      “Bull shit.” Read muttered, rubbing his sore wrists.
      “You don’t believe me?” I grabbed Marco’s body and threw it at the crate. It spun around after he impacted it to reveal the armors. “Now do you believe me?”
      “That was supposed to be a crate of EVA suits. They lied to us.” Samantha said.
      “Alright, now we are going to go and try to take their craft, so go get a rifle as soon as possible after I cut you free. We stick together, and we will make it out.” I cut free Jim, the third prisoner.

      Samantha waved the gun around, “I’ve never touched one before, how does it work?” I cut free the fourth prisoner and pushed over to help her.
      “Well, first you turn off the safety,” I grabbed a gun and flipped off the safety to the rifle. “Then you just point and click. But don’t waste ammunition. It’s not the ammo that’s so important though, we just don’t want to draw the Spartan near.
      Red grabbed a gun, “I’m on my own, one of you will fire a gun, no doubt get me killed, what port is their ship docked at?”
      “Starboard. Have fun.” I lied to him.

      “Aright, Jim, you have military history, right?” I asked.
      “3 years active duty.”
      “So you know how these work.”
      He nodded, “and you, Nick, right?”
      Weakley, he floated to the table. He had cuts on his face, and was badly dehydrated from what I could tell. “Yeah, I’m Nick.”
      “You weren’t in the military, right?”
      “Right, I don’t have any history with them.”
      “Ok, can you work a--” he flipped up one of the larger rifles and popped out the chamber quickly checking it. Slapping it back in he raised the rifle and checked the scope.
      “Hunting trips.” I nodded.
      “Alright, I’ll take point--” I said.
      Samantha replied, “What’s that?”
      “Oh. Right, sorry. I’ll be the front guy. You all follow me, right? And Jim, you’re a veteran, cover our six.”
      Jim nodded. A distant scream sounded, “NO!!! KEEP BACK!!!” I heard three gunshots and three pings of bullets impacting metal. Suddenly the screams stopped.
      “We’d better hurry.” I said.

      STELLULATE 42            LUNAR 4 ETA – 4 HOURS 22 MINUTES
      We moved swiftly through the hallways, careful to make very little noise. We had made it to the side of the ship and were now moving towards the front. Along the sides of our vessel were three docks, and they had to be in one of them. We drifted down the dark hallway. One of the lights was out, so we passed through a shadow. I stepped out, followed by two people. Samantha and Jim. Nick had vanished, no clues as to where he went, though we all had the gut feeling. Samantha broke down in tears, knowing what had just happened. “What’s wrong?” I asked inconveniently. I knew that she was sad over his death, but why?
      “Because,” she sniffled, “He was my boyfriend.” She continued weeping.
      “I had no idea. Sorry, if it means anything, but we have to go before it gets another one of us.”
      “We can’t leave him behind! We have to find him!” she yelled.
      “Calm down, we can’t save him, he’s gone.”
      “No! He can’t be!”
      “He is. Sorry, but we have to go unless you would like to join him.”
      She hit me, “you army types! I thought your motto was to never leave a man behind!”
      “This is probably an exception, he must be dead.”
      “We don’t know that!”
      “Here, we have to go, come on! You know what, grab on. Jim, you too.”
      “Me?” he hesitated, “Alright, but you can’t tell anyone.”
      “What?” I fired a shot down the hallway propelling us forward.
      “Oh, I see, it wasn’t what I expected.”
      “And what did you expect?”
      “Um… That we would have to carry you like a sultan…”
      “Right…” I fired another shot don the hallway and stopped as we arrived at the second dock. Outside the airlock I could see a ship docked, a tiny one. I pushed off the wall and hit the airlock control button. Both doors hissed open, the craft now exposed. Samantha and Jim drifted inside. I stepped inside the airlock and stuck a hand inside their craft. I pressed a familiar red button, disengage.
      “What are you doing!?!”
      “I finish what I start,” I grinned, “and I never leave a man behind.” The two layers of doors, their airlock door and mine snapped shut. Jim looked at me solemnly, and saluted as their ship launched into the distance of space. I raised the machine gun. I leaned around the corner checking the hallway for anything. No sign of anyone. I quickly bounced down to the third gate and turned to the left, inwards to the center of the ship. In a storage closet there was a set of lockers, each containing an EVA jetpack spacesuit. I quickly slid the suit on and used some of the thruster fuel to propel myself into the main hallway again. I was greeted with pain. A hand extended from seemingly nowhere and grabbed my throat. A body drifted out of the darkness though it was masked with the green layers of armor, signature of the Spartans.

      “Quite a specimen, aren’t we?” she asked.
      I gave a weak nod, the strangle hold she had impressive.
      “Intelligent.” I weakly nodded, “Strong” again I nodded “Resourceful” again I wiggled, the best I could do for a nod. “You have many great traits. You killed all of my crew. How did you do it? Are you a Spartan?”
      She released the chokehold a little, “Ma’am, I am no Spartan.” She resumed her grip as I choked out, “I am a hero.” I raised my rifle and pointed it underneath her armpit. “And I always win.” I fired off one shot. The bullet whirred down the hallway and to the window no more than twenty feet away. It impacted the window and deflected down the hallway. The window had a small area spider-webbed. A cracking noise arose as the window slowly became more fragile. She however did not see this.

      “You missed me!” she laughed. She released her chokehold on me, throwing my body down the hallway. I pointed behind her, smug with victory. She spun around and saw the glass, which was about to shatter. She turned around to face me. I waved weakly and clipped on my helmet. Suddenly the glass hit it’s breaking point, and exploded into the vacuum of space. Air hissed outwards, sucking up Kelly and hurling her out into space. After pressure was lost in this room, I had three seconds to get out the next before the blast doors sealed. This area would not be safe at our reentry. The friction from the atmosphere would melt this room. I fired off my remaining 57 rounds down the hallway and shot around the corner. I hit my head on the wall pretty hard, though the pain was not a factor, the thick padding saving my skull. However, I saw a fine line run down the Helmet. I had little time left. I hit the EVA pack’s thruster button and launched myself around the corner. One second remaining till the room was depressurized. I hit the second button of the custom EVA unit, which activated another thruster and propelled me down the hallway towards the blast door. Suddenly the wind stopped, the room was depressurized. I saw the line on my protective glass split down a little more. However with no wind resistance my speed accelerated infinitely. I flew down the rest of the hallway as fast as a bullet and flew into the next safe room. The blast door slammed shut behind me, almost crushing my feet. I rolled to a stop in the room, hitting off two walls. My right arm hung loosely, broken in at least on place, and I could feel that a few of my ribs had snapped. The helmets glass suddenly split open, sliding off and exposing me to the thin atmosphere of the room, which was being pressurized. I passed out from the thin air and collapsed in a heap.

      I awoke in a room with a bright white light glaring down at me. Closing my eyes to mere slits I rolled over onto my left side. A doctor, or rather surgeon stared down at me. “Welcome home” he said. I rolled onto my back and yelled “YES!!!” followed by an assortment of bodacious victory cries!
      “There, there he is!” a reporter shouted upon my exiting the building. The horde of media reporters charged at me encircling me completely. “Mr. Anderson, what happened to the Stellulate 42?” “Sir, are rumors that the Covenant boarded your ship true?” “Anderson! Are you the only survivor?” Shouts followed me away as men in black suits pushed the crowd away from me.
      “Sir, something went wrong, a MJOLNIR Mark II was intercepted. Should we call off the projects(Authors note: Plural…)?”
      The elect stared at the TV for a second, watching the news report. A female news anchor spoke, “This just in. It appears as though the Stellulate 42, a civilian freighter was boarded by pirates. The survivors numbers are unknown. Only one survivors has been seen so far, a man by the name Jack Anderson, a Marine Corps veteran who was rushed into an LFC plane shortly after his arrival. The Stellulate itself was quickly hidden as well though it appeared to have heavy damage to the hull. As of now, most of what we have heard is from reliable sources, however no one of the UNSC or Stellulate has commented on this event though there is much speculation. It is currently unknown what cargo, if any was taken…”
      “Let’s keep it that way…”
      “Does that mean another kill to chalk up for the project?”
      “Possibly. In due time Major, in due time. Launch the scapegoat project. Feed it to the media as if it were a leak.”
      “Yes sir.”