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*A story set in the midst of the Human/Covenant War

October 17, 2552 (Military Calendar)
Agamemnon Star System, Beckwith Alpha Moon
Maxim-Tech Corporation Research Colony, Residential District


Handheld energy shields glowed in the night like so many fireflies. There were forty-five individual glows, thereby indicating forty-five creatures holding shields. They were patrolling through the dark streets in a coordinated fashion, moving in groups of four or five. Although the streets and the buildings surrounding them were of human design, they now seemed devoid of human life. Instead, creatures wielding energy shields and other forms of alien weaponry were moving through the area. Humans commonly referred to these particular alien warriors as Jackals, but one alien warrior amongst them stood taller than the rest. The shimmering gold armor covering its body made it seem like some sort of unearthly knight. The sword-like energy blade that extended from the alien's arm further enhanced that image. The light emanating from the weapon glowed brighter and exuded more menace than the shields held by the smaller warriors. This particular warrior was not a Jackal. It was from a caste of Covenant warriors known to humans as the Elites, and it was the leader of this patrol.
The Elite felt a sense of triumph. It believed that the human resistance on this moon would soon be completely annihilated. It was grateful that it had been given this opportunity to personally destroy the human animals up close, with its own hands. After all, this was the purest and most satisfying form of combat. For some reason, this human installation had been important enough to capture intact. There were even certain humans here that were to be taken alive. If this moon had just been another insignificant breeding ground for human settlers, then the Covenant ships would simply have obliterated the surface and moved on. The majority of this war was being fought between spaceships. Only sometimes did it involve face-to-face ground confrontations with the human warrior caste. The Elite did not know what specifically made this human moon colony so important, but it knew that this was a place of human research and technology. There was probably a great deal of valuable information here. The Elite felt a slight twinge of regret for the fact that there was not much fighting left to do. The puny human force defending the settlement had not put up much of a fight. The Elites were proud warriors, and they found little satisfaction in such easy victories. But the patrol leader quickly pushed these thoughts aside. It knew that a true warrior should not dwell on such reckless desires. Individual glory was secondary to fulfilling the greater goals of the Covenant. The Elite reminded itself that the settlement was still not completely captured. Perhaps the battle was not yet over. Nevertheless, there were clearly no human warriors left in the area they were patrolling. And in all likelihood, there would not be anymore heavy fighting on this moon. Or so the Elite thought…

There was a fifteen story dormitory building not far from the Covenant unit's position. Until quite recently it had housed a large number of the research station's junior researchers. All of the upper floor apartments had windows that provided a great panoramic view of the colony's residential and downtown districts, as well as the adjacent hills and terrain filled with the tall grass and dense foliage characteristic of Beckwith Alpha's landscape. The Covenant unit had no way of knowing that there were two human Marines observing from the window of an inconspicuous fourteenth floor apartment. The Covenant forces had no reason to search through every room of every building, or so they thought. All human survivors from the colony had long since abandoned their homes and retreated into the colony's underground installations. The majority of the human colonists had already been killed. What the Covenant did not know was that several teams of human commandos had arrived undetected on Beckwith Alpha two nights ago. They were now spread out among different areas of the colony conducting deep reconnaissance for a large UNSC task force that was on its way. The task force, composed of starships and fighter squadrons as well as ground forces, was poised to launch swiftly into the star system and counterattack the Covenant assault on Beckwith Alpha. But they needed as much ground intelligence as they could possibly get before committing to the attack. The commando squads had each landed on the moon colony in long-range stealth shuttles. The shuttles' small size and stealth technology made it possible for skilled pilots to maneuver them in undetected. In all, four eight-man teams had been inserted. Each team was operating independently in different areas of responsibility, and so there was no contact between teams. But each team was making scheduled reports directly back to the task force commanders. The teams were designated by different comm. call signs: HAWKEYE, KHARMA, BRAWLER, and TURTLE. The two men spying from the fourteenth floor of the dormitory were from Team BRAWLER. Master Gunnery Sergeant Royce Belford was observing the platoon of Jackals through the scope of his S2-AM sniper rifle. While he scanned the threat, Sergeant Joseph Lee relayed information back to 1st Lieutenant Ernesto Alvarez. Alvarez was the team leader, and he was hiding in the hills outside the Residential District along with the other members of Brawler.
Lee noticed a few Covenant Banshees flying overhead. He opened his comm. link to make another report to Alvarez. "Brawler Six, I've just sighted two more Banshees. I estimate a total of five to seven Banshees patrolling the vicinity. Over."
"Roger that, Scout 2," came Alvarez's response.
Lee spoke again, "Six, foot patrol is moving swiftly and will soon be out of contact. There doesn't seem to be anything else worth looking at here. What are your orders? Over."
The team leader responded after several seconds of silence. "What's the verdict on the Banshee situation? Over."
"They've got a wide area to cover, and they don't look like they're flying too close to the ground. Evasion should not be a problem. Over."
"Okay Scout 2. Start moving as soon as the Jackal patrol's gone. Just watch out for those flyers. Six, out." Alvarez broke the connection.
Belford nodded at Lee, and they both backed away from the window and began preparing to move out. They would now carefully make their way out of the Residential District and link back up with their team at their next checkpoint. As Lee used a remote to turn off the sensor mines that they had placed in the 14th floor halls and the stairway, Belford slung his sniper rifle and pulled out his other weapon, a silenced submachine gun. Lee quickly toggled modes on his optics visor to double check that it was working correctly. He then strapped his gear on and checked his weapon. He was carrying an MA110, a modified version of the MA5B assault rifle with a seven shot smart rocket launcher attached to the lower end.
Belford grinned at him, the large scar on the right side of his face contorting as he did so. "I'm glad its time to move," he laughed. "My feet were starting to fall asleep. We got about six hours 'til first light. Not much time to waste. We've got places to go, so let's haul some ass."
"After you boss," Lee replied. Belford took point since he was the more experienced scout between the two.
Under the cover of darkness, the two crept silently out of the building and carefully made their way through the alleys and streets. They moved strategically; one man covering as the other advanced. They would occasionally stop and find cover when it was necessary to hide from Banshees passing overhead. Meanwhile the rest of the team had already started moving towards their rendezvous. They carefully made their way from the grassy hills into the forest. They reached their destination an hour later. It was in the area of a station that led down into the underground research facility. All intelligence thus far indicated that human survivors had fled underground, sealing themselves in the narrow corridors deep below the surface. Team Brawler's next task was to recon Covenant activity at this entrance to the subterranean complex. Lee and Belford arrived at the checkpoint a little over half an hour after the other six men did.
Soon after, the entire team stalked quietly through the forest towards their objective. They eventually established their position on a ridge overlooking the station and began observing the area with their night optics and scanners. Sure enough, the area was swarming with hostile forces. Covenant ground vehicles and Wraiths were scattered around the perimeter of the station. Dropships were parked at a landing zone that the Covies had set up. Grunts were milling about the area in a manner that did not seem very purposeful or alert. The entire area showed battle damage, and the exterior of the station was smoking or burnt in different areas. Sgt. Lee pointed out what looked like human gun positions and bunkers that had been knocked out sometime ago. Sergeants Andy Fillmore and Dave Martin spotted Shade gun emplacements spread about, but few of them were being actively manned.
Lt. Alvarez licked his lips as he took in what he saw. The other men noticed that he usually did that when he was thinking. He spoke softly to Belford, who was by his side. "Royce, there was definitely a fight here. Looks like the colonial security detail tried to hold this entrance. Poor bastards never had a chance."
"Yes sir," Belford replied. "Poor bastards…but fuckin' brave ones, every one of them. They knew this was their last stand. I'm betting they were sacrificed to give those who went underground more time to barricade themselves in tighter."
"Dammit," Alvarez exclaimed. "If only the task force had gotten here sooner!"
Belford shook his head grimly. "Can't save everyone, sir. You know that. The bodies are gonna pile up a lot higher before this goddamn war ends. No way around it."
"Gunny, I just hope that we have people left to rescue at all," Alvarez sighed.
Belford felt a bit of sympathy for his commander. He had come to like and respect Alvarez since the Lieutenant had come to the SORD unit. He was an honorable and competent officer, and he cared deeply about saving lives and doing his job right. That however, was his problem. He cared too much, and Belford was old and wise enough to know that those sorts of feelings would tear a man's soul apart in this profession. As good as Alvarez was, he was still a bit young and naive. He was one of those idealistic crusaders who graduated from college and joined the Marines thinking that he'd have the power to protect freedom and stop evil in its tracks. His intentions were good, but his youth and privileged upbringing kept him from fully understanding some of the harsh realities of life. Nevertheless, Belford respected him. He was not materialistic, morally bankrupt, or selfish, as were most people from his background that Belford had encountered. Alvarez had one thing in common with him other than the fact that they were both in the most elite unit in the Marines. That one thing was that Alvarez was one of the good guys. Belford always appreciated that rare quality in people. One major reason why he had wanted to become a SORD member in the first place was that he wanted to work with people who shared his values. Most of the operators in the Special Operations Reconnaissance Detachment were strong, capable men who genuinely wanted to do something for the greater good. And all of them did their jobs with a silent, uncompromising professionalism that could never be fully established in the lower echelons of the military. Belford's personal motto was: If you're gonna be a Marine and risk getting your ass shot off in the combat zone, you might as well do it with the best Marines in the Corps watching your back. Belford felt that as Alvarez learned more and gained more experience, he would definitely become a very influential officer in the military.

Alvarez analyzed the situation further. "The Covies don't look too alert down there. Hell, they aren't even really manning their Shades."
"They think there's no real threat to their presence up here. So they don't see any reason to be too careful," Lee offered.
Alvarez nodded. "Exactly, Sergeant. What this means is that the colony's resistance on the surface has been pretty much wiped out…at least in our sector." He looked at his watch. "Well, looks like we have something to report to the bosses."


Marine Colonel Vut Kavitchai returned a guard's salute as he walked towards the command bridge of the battle cruiser Tecumseh. Kavitchai was the commander of the Special Operations Reconnaissance Detachment, the Marine Corps' top tier special ops unit. The entire unit was divided into eight squadrons of about sixty to seventy men each. D-squadron and A-squadron had been sent out with the Beckwith Alpha task force. Kavitchai's men already on Beckwith Alpha had just made their scheduled report, and so he was on his way to update the task force commander, Admiral Dyke. Earlier, the Admiral had seemed preoccupied with an intelligence report that had been transmitted to him. It had something to do with the Spartans, or perhaps a particular Spartan. Whatever it was, it seemed quite serious. Kavitchai did not expect to be informed as to what it was all about until the higher ups wanted him to know. But it made him curious, and it would definitely have made the men under him curious. SORD had been considered the most high-level special ops force that the UNSC had, until the arrival of the Spartan project. Most SORD members had come from the best, brightest, and most experienced of elite Marine units such as Reconnaissance, ODST, and a few non-Marine units such as the United Army's Special Purpose Group. The SORD operators initially felt a bit of apprehension towards the Spartan project. For professional soldiers, the idea of being replaced by genetically manipulated and augmented cyborgs did not sit well. It was as if the Spartans were meant to make normal human commando units obsolete. Nevertheless, the members of SORD had to acknowledge professional respect for the Spartans. As good as SORD was, their human limitations simply made it impossible for them to be capable of what the Spartans had pulled off in the past. One thing that disturbed those in the SORD community was just how mysterious the Spartan project was. Not much could happen in the world of military black ops without someone…anyone in SORD hearing about it. Yet no one in the community had a clue as to how candidates for the Spartan project were selected, or what exact forms of training and augmentation those candidates went through to be turned into armored superfreaks. One thing that was clear was that the candidates were not being taken from elite military units such as SORD. No one had any answers to the question of where exactly these Spartans came from. But since the Spartans had recently gone down with Reach, it became a moot point. Whoever and whatever they were, the Spartans were gone. Now the critical responsibility of high-risk special ops fell back onto the shoulders of the SORD boys. To hear the Spartans mentioned again made Kavitchai wonder what it could possibly mean. But he set these thoughts aside as he entered the bridge. He found the Admiral waiting for him.
Admiral Dyke nodded at him grimly. "Colonel, what news do your boys on the ground have to report?"
"Sir, all of my teams are just about done with their sweep. We've had no compromises or engagements, so the enemy is still completely unaware of their presence. Evidence suggests that any substantial colony resistance on the moon's surface has been defeated, but the Covenant still does not have control of the vast underground complex. None of my teams have been able to make any sort of contact with friendlies, so the exact nature of the situation is still unknown. Teams Kharma and Hawkeye have put markers on several more targets for surgical bombing. The main entry points into the underground complex have been scouted, and there are concentrated enemy forces in each of those areas. Team Brawler is scouting the primary entry station and they have confirmed enemy presence in the sector to be less than battalion strength…with substantial mechanized and armored support. I've copied all of the latest recon data onto your file."
"Thank you Colonel," replied Dyke. "Your boys are doing an excellent job down there. SORD's contribution to my mission shall not be forgotten."
Kavitchai knew what that actually meant. Translation: Keep doing things my way and I'll be sure to sing praises of your great leadership ability and initiative to the right people, thereby helping you to further advance your military career. The old Marine was an ambitious man, and was never blind when opportunity presented itself…but he was not like the admiral. Dyke was intelligent and capable enough, but too many high ranking officers such as him had gotten where they were by putting politics and opportunism ahead of simply doing their jobs right. It made Kavitchai sick. By his old fashioned code of ethics, a commander's ultimate loyalty should be to the mission and to his men. As far as he was concerned, the military needed men like himself to be more ambitious. Unlike many others, Kavitchai's ambition did not stem purely from opportunism. Kavitchai truly felt that he could make a positive difference if he advanced to the military's high power.
He wasn't sure how to respond to Dyke so he simply replied, "I won't get too far ahead of myself, Admiral. The battle hasn't even started yet."
Dyke gazed out the bridge's viewing port with a distant look in his eyes and a slight smile forming on his lips. "No Colonel, but we will start it soon…and we will end it! We're still running dark now, but soon we'll be so close that the Covenant will have to notice. But before they can do anything about it, we're going to overwhelm them so hard and fast that their ships above Beckwith Alpha will be caught with their pants down! We have advanced generation ship A.I. constructs that have analyzed all existing battle data to take advantage of the Covenant ships' known weaknesses. Kavitchai, I know you're a ground-pounder, so take my word for it when I say that my battle group has the power and strategy necessary to win a decisive victory against the Covenant warships in the Agamemnon system. We have the advantage in numbers, and on top of that, we have the element of surprise. As for the battle on the moon itself, I leave that to you Marines."

Soon the alert was sounded throughout the entire battle group. Crewmen on all ships rushed to their stations. Longsword fighter squadron pilots suited up and headed quickly down to the launch bays. Marines strapped their armor on, loaded their weapons, and prepped their support vehicles and dropships. Like one large snake, the UNSC battle group had stealthily approached its prey. The snake had successfully closed in, and was now coiled. It was simply waiting for the right moment to strike.


Part 2

October 18, 2552 (Military Calendar)
Surface of Beckwith Alpha Moon, undesignated ridge
ground patrol [call sign: BRAWLER] OP (observation post)

Ninety-seven minutes had passed since Alvarez had received confirmation from Colonel Kavitchai that the battle group had entered the system and was engaging Covenant ships. The heightened activity of the Covenant forces surrounding the perimeter of the research station indicated that they knew what was going on as well. The station had to be taken back from the Covenant intact. With control of the station, the UNSC task force would have the most strategic point available to insert troops throughout the underground installation. The main entryway was wide enough to sustain a deployment in force, and it branched out directly into all main sectors of the installation. Since the UNSC forces could not afford to obliterate the station and the surrounding area with massive bombing, it would have to be seized by an infantry assault. When the assault force arrived, their gunships and light bombers would strafe the Covenant positions repeatedly. Once enemy forces were sufficiently weakened, the Pelican dropships would quickly touch down and unload Marines who would blitz the remnants of the Covenant force. It was a simple airborne raid and insertion. This particular tactic dated all the way back to human military actions of the latter twentieth century. No matter how far technology advanced, in some ways the basic principles of ground warfare never seemed to change much.
Team Brawler was preparing to covertly position snipers on the ridge to sharp shoot from long range. Gunny Belford and Sgt Fillmore were equipped with top of the line sniper rifles. Both men were snipers by trade. The rest of the group would deploy farther forward in two teams. Fillmore would coordinate with red team and Belford would coordinate with gold. The two teams would spot targets for their snipers, and ambush any enemies that might try advancing up the ridge towards their position. Hopefully there would be infantry Marines on the ground that could support the small group of commandos by the time that happened.
Soon, thunderous booms sounded from the sky. It was the sound of UNSC ships entering the atmosphere. Alvarez turned to his men. "That's our cue, gentlemen. It's show time. Let's move out and get into position!"
"Those wankers…it's about bloody time they got here," said Fillmore as he stuffed the last piece of a candy bar into his mouth. Then he gingerly wiped his hands and picked up his sniper rifle. "Let's earn some combat pay, shall we?"

Not long after the men of Team Brawler had stealthily crept into their positions, Alvarez got a call on his satcom. The face on the mini-screen was hard and chiseled, and the voice was sharp and authoritative. "Brawler Six, this is Viking One-Niner. Come in, over!"
Alvarez responded immediately. "Viking One-Niner, this is Brawler Six. I read you five by five, over."
"Brawler Six, be advised that the cavalry is en route. ETA, momentarily. Over."
"Understood, Viking One-Niner. Be advised, my team is positioned on the ridge due west from the objective, over."
"Roger, Brawler Six. The ridge due west…got it. Just sit tight and enjoy the show, over."
Alvarez smiled. "Negative, Viking. We're going to help you guys out and get some for ourselves, over."
"Fair enough, Brawler Six. We could use every little bit of help. See you when we hit the ground. Viking One-Niner out."

Shortly thereafter, the SORD operators began hearing the roar of incoming aircraft. The sound grew louder and louder as the assault force codenamed Viking closed in on its objective. By this time, the Covenant forces were frantically getting ready to defend against the impending assault. Covenant troops dug into their positions and manned their Shade emplacements. Others jumped into any vehicle with anti-aircraft capability. Large anti-aircraft plasma cannons that had been set around the perimeter began moving about on their turrets, scanning for aerial targets. Squads of Elites rushed to their Banshees and soared into the sky like a flock of predatory birds. They had barely taken to the sky when a number of them were suddenly engulfed by a swarm of mini-wasp guided missiles. The small and maneuverable UNSC gunships that had fired the missiles immediately engaged the remaining Banshees in a fierce aerial dogfight. The other gunships, along with the Pelican dropships dipped closer to the ground for a strafing run. Light bombers dropped their payloads, instantly destroying clusters of tanks and the landing zone full of dropships. The ground shuddered as they erupted in brilliant fireballs, showcasing the deadly accuracy of UNSC smart bombs. The thunderous fire of Vulcan cannons cut across the ground like razorblades, slicing droves of Grunts and Jackals to pieces. The destructive tidal wave of firepower crashed across the area back and forth, as the UNSC assault ships strafed their objective again and again. A UNSC gunship disintegrated in midair as it was hit by a powerful blast from a plasma cannon. A trail of smoke sprung from the tail of a Pelican when it was hit by a well-positioned Shade gunner. Luckily, the damage was not critical.
Belford saw the Pelican get hit from his position high up on the ridge. He zoomed in his S2-AM scope and scanned the area where the fire had come from. Soon, his eyes locked onto his intended target: it was a Shade emplacement positioned on one of the research station's second level balconies, and it was manned by a single Grunt. Belford watched the Grunt through his scope as it sprayed the sky with plasma fire, oblivious to the deadly sniper sited in on it. He zoomed in further and made calculations to adjust his shot. He took a few slow, measured breaths, steadying his aim. He fell into a calm, yet concentrated trance. For a brief moment, his entire world would be this one shot. It was almost blissful. He let his finger rest gently on the trigger. It began squeezing down very delicately…the powerful rifle sounded out like a cannon and the recoil jolted against him abruptly. The Grunt was hammered off the Shade in a spray of its own blood and bone fragments. The ecstasy of a successful kill surged through Belford's body for a brief moment.
He heard his own voice speak coldly into his comm. "Target down."

Banshees tumbled from the clouds as cannons and missiles turned them into burning hunks of metal. Two UNSC gunships soon went down as well, when a wing of Banshees swarmed them like ravenous piranhas.
An urgent voice sounded over the Viking command frequency. "Viking Lead, scanners are picking up several Covenant fighter/bombers bearing in our direction! ETA is two minutes! We're going to need fighter support ASAP, over!!"
"Roger," the Viking commander replied calmly. "I'll chop a team of Longswords to intercept immediately, over."

There were a number of parked Banshees scattered about the far southwest side of the perimeter. Members of the SORD team spotted a group of Elites bounding out from within the research station, heading towards the Banshees. Sgt Lee's voice rang over the team's comm. channel. "Gold-One, we got a squad of Elites making a run for the Banshees at the southwest side of the Covies' perimeter."
"Got it," replied Belford.
Alvarez was with red team. Goddammit, he thought to himself. I called those Banshees in to Viking. Why haven't any of our ships taken them out? Don't these idiots realize that the safest way to take out enemy air units is to hit them before they get airborne? There was no use dwelling on it. He keyed his comm. "Red-Two, did you receive that last transmission?"
"Affirmative," came Fillmore's voice. "I have eyes on multiple targets."
Alvarez spoke again, "Belford, Fillmore…do NOT let those Banshees fly, over!"
The two sniper rifles echoed from far up the ridge before Alvarez had even finished his sentence. He was able to watch through the scope of his battle rifle. Unfortunately the battle rifle was not made for long range sniping, and he was out of range for a good shot. He saw two Elites fall, quickly followed by a third. The remaining Elites seemed to scream with determined rage as they realized that they were running a gauntlet of death. One Elite stumbled back as it took a 14.5mm armor-piercing sabot round in the shoulder…it then went down when a second round punched through its chest. The other Elites had now crossed more than half the distance to the Banshees. A shot missed, but the next two didn't. The shots stopped for a moment as Belford reloaded and Fillmore repositioned himself to get a better angle. Then one, two, three more targets went down. Only three Elites remained. Their eyes seemed to be scanning the upper ridge as they ran. As Lee watched, he had to admire their resolve. If the Elites had let their fear control their reactions, they'd probably be looking away in terror. But instead, they were trying to pinpoint the location from where the enemy sharpshooters were firing. The slowest of the three was falling behind. It suddenly jumped in mid stride at a ninety-degree angle and rolled towards the cover of a tree line, apparently deciding to give up on the Banshees. But the remaining two were too fast and too determined. They would make it to the Banshees in a matter of moments. The snipers no longer had a shot.
Lee had a sudden and urgent realization. "Shit! If those two get off the ground they might try to go straight for our snipers!" Before the other two men with him could respond to what he had said, he snatched the rocket launcher from Sgt Martin's kit and jumped up from their position. He then barreled down the ridge like a madman. Once he was within range, he skidded to a halt at a rocky outcropping. He then calmly knelt back on one knee, positioned the launcher on his shoulder, and took careful aim. As the Elites were climbing into their Banshees, one erupted in a fireball as a rocket slammed right into it, dead center. The two Banshees had not been close enough together to take out with a single shot. So Lee repositioned himself for a second shot. The remaining Banshee stirred to life as it rose into its initial hover. It rose several feet off the ground and began climbing in an upward slope. Lee's second rocket grazed the Banshee and exploded. The side of the Banshee that was grazed disintegrated. The remaining half spun off and skipped across the ground like a burnt rock.
Lee lowered the launcher and took a deep breath. "I'll see you fuckers in oblivion," he whispered triumphantly. He heard his teammates cheer over the comm.
"Excellent work, Joey," came Alvarez's voice. "That was seriously beautiful!"

Not long after the SORD team had dealt with the Elites who had tried to get airborne, the Pelican dropships began touching down around the perimeter. Infantry Marines stormed out of the dropships, guns blazing. From his position, Alvarez observed the infantry assault with approval. He noted the infantry unit's speed and coordination, and admired the zeal and tenacity he saw in the men. Strong infantry was the backbone of ground warfare, and Alvarez took pride in the fact that the Marines' reputation for training the best infantry of any human military was well deserved. The Marines had touched down on the outskirts of the perimeter, and they were now all steadily closing in and tightening their grip on the area. Alvarez watched several Jackals retreat frantically from their position and jump into a bunker, desperately seeking shelter from the storm of bullets raining down on them. A squad of Marines closed in on their position aggressively. They laid down a suppressing fire as two of their men ran up close to the bunker and tossed in some fragmentation grenades. The two then ran back to cover as the bunker erupted with a blast, surely leaving the Jackals inside a mangled mess.
As Marines ran past the burning hulk of a Covenant tank, a single Elite suddenly jumped out of the wreckage, letting out a suicidal war cry. The alien pounced on the closest Marine before the young private had time to react. The Elite towered over the human and lifted him up with one powerful arm, clubbing him viciously with the butt of its plasma rifle. The Marine's neck snapped like a twig, and the strong alien tossed his body aside like a rag doll. The Elite then swiftly raised its plasma rifle and let loose a wild spray of energy bolts. One Marine screamed in agony as plasma seared his arm and the side of his body. Another dropped dead in an instant as several shots caught him from behind and burned straight through the back of his head.
"Watch your fields of fire!" a squad leader yelled as he and his men trained their rifles on the Elite. The alien warrior attempted to raise its weapon again and charge at them, but the barrage of automatic rifle fire pushed it back. Its energy shield shimmered as it strained under the force of the bullets. It flickered and died after a moment, allowing the rifle fire to tear the Elite's body to pieces. The Elite let out a final painful roar as its bloody innards sprayed in different directions. What remained of its body fell lifelessly to the dirt.
Soon, the last remnants of the Covenant force retreated desperately into the research station. The Marines let them go for the moment. Their first order of business was to secure a perimeter surrounding the station. Longsword fighters now soared above, keeping the airspace clear. The Marines quickly began setting up positions around the perimeter and mopping up the area they had just taken. The sounds of battle died down to sporadic gunfire, and the occasional exploding of grenades as Marines fragged bunkers. More UNSC ships began arriving shortly, some dropping off tanks and warthogs. Engineers came in their own dropships and immediately began building a new landing zone for UNSC ships. From the ridge, SORD Team Brawler saw a command shuttle touching down. Alvarez gestured for his men to move down the ridge and join the newly arrived UNSC forces.
Lee fell into step with Belford, slapping the older man on the back. "Might as well crash the party, eh?"
"Might as well," the Master Gunnery Sergeant replied. "They'll probably have another dirty job for us real soon." He lit a cigar and flashed Lee his trademark sadistic grin.

To be continued...

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