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(Note: This was origninally designed as a weekly posted story, hence, the chapters are very short)

Chapter 1: The Battle of Reach

"GET OUT OF THERE!" Master Chief screamed into the com. James willed his hands to move faster. The explosives on the nose of the Pelican stubbornly moved.
"Almost, there" James breathed to himself. Fire from the incoming Elites impacted all around him, throwing up chunks of debris. Then James felt the dull thud of a needle penetrating his air tank. His thruster pack erupted into a whirlwind of escaping air that threw him violently into the station's hull, then into space. Stars clouded his vision as his head impacted the inside of his helmet. This is it, James thought. The suits moniters blinked amber as his pulse and blood pressure rose. Then years of training and experience kicked in. No, its not over. James reached for the manual release buttons on either side of his thruster harness and detached it. Even without the pack, James was still careening through space. The rapidly dwindling station rotated in and out of view as he tumbled through space.
James unslung his Assault Rifle. He was rapidly rotating head over heels and roughly to the right. He tentatively fired a shot straight up, parallel to his body. His rotation abruptly slowed. Another shot to his left and James was not rotating any longer, only flying through space at an astonishing speed. And the middle of space battle is not the best place to do so, James thought grimly to himself. The immediate problem taken care of, James turned his attention to his situation. Heading unknown, armor intact, weapons operational, 9 clips of AR ammo, minus 3 rounds, and a collection of other equipment. Now all he needed was...
A large contact on his motion detector and a collision/proximity warning jolted him out of his concentration. Craning his head to look, he sighted a nightmare on top of all possibility. He was headed straight towards a Covenant cruiser.

Chapter 2: Insertion.

James hurtled toward the Covenant Cruiser. At first he was worried about the anti-missle point-defense, but the ship was too occupied in battle to pay attention to one stray projectile. A blue-white beam flashed from it's single large turret, continuing beyond his range of view. James hit the magnification. This ship was in fact not a cruiser, but a much larger ship he had never seen before. That fact did nothing to comfort him though. His motion tracker shut down from the overload of movement all around him, and he felt the utmost sense of vulnerability. James examined the cruiser and his own trajectory. He was traveling too fast to completely clear the ship, but with several bursts from his rifle he could at least hit the ship at an angle, and hopefully bounce harmlessly off the ship's shields. Hopefully.
James fired his weapon. He rocketed to his left, once again rotating slowly. He braced for impact. 1 kilometer. 500 meters. More bursts from his weapon soundlessly vibrated through his arms. 230 meters. 100 meters. Suddenly his proximity warning blared again. Three rapid fire streaks of white shot past him on the right and impacted onto the nose of the cruiser. The shields brazed solid silver, then rippled as they nullified the force from the projectiles. Then a maelstorm of missiles tracing white smoke trails through space surrounded him, detonating on the ship's protective screen. 20 meters. James hit the hard hull plating of the ship and bounced away. Firing his weapon again, he hit the hull again. Hard. The suit's warning blared as his shields drained to one-quarter. But he now had a firm grip on the surface. Wedging himself between various arrays, James assessed his status once more. WHY am I going to get into this ship. Pushing uncertainty aside, he crawled toward a nearby crater formed by an impacting Archer missile. It wasn't deep, but it gave him an insertion point into the ship's interior.
James crawled inside. The Covenant shield closed behind him and the hiss of recompression filled his ears.
Gravity settled in the pit of his stomach as he hit the deck. Readying his weapon, James scanned the small, dark compartment filled with cargo containers. No immediate threats. He needed to work fast now, for he felt impending doom approaching.

Chapter 3: The Bridge

James leaned against the bulkhead and peered out of the door way. Although the room he was in had no lighting at all, the hallway beyond was brightly lit. Not a very ideal place to roam around in the midst of an enemy ship. James knew that whatever he was going to do on this ship would involve the bridge, or at least the Covenant equivalent of a bridge. That was his primary objective, for now, he surmised.
The clatter of alien feet down the hall startled him and he sank further into the darkness of the room. Low, off-purple lighting flooded the air, and James edged behind a large hexagonal container. A large, black Elite strode into the room, dragging a squirming Grunt along. The Elite threw the Grunt against the wall and growled something in his language. Translation software whispered in James' ear:
"You clumsy idiot. You are lucky Zuka Hamammee no longer serves aboard this ship."
And with that, the Elite pulled a plasma rifle out and fired into the Grunt's diminutive chest several times. The smell of scorched flesh filtered through the suit's air system into James' helmet. James slowly pulled his rifle out. With exaggerated slowness, he found the Elite in his sights. With luck, the Elite's shields would be down. He started to depress the trigger....
Then he hesitated. Black armor? If his memory serves him, James distinctly remembered colors being of some significance within the Covenant ranks and hierarchy. What quicker way to find the bridge? Silently thanking his own intuition, James waited until Black Suit left the room. Little did the Elite know, he had now picked up another shadow.

Chapter 4: Assault

Black suit continued down the corridor, with James in tail just outside of the Elite's motion tracker range. The Elite turned a corner, and James was about to turn it too, when he noticed that the sound of foot steps had stopped. Sneaking a look around the corner, James observed the Elite converse with an Elite guard. After a curt nod and a grunt of approval, Black Suit placed his alien palm against a device set into the wall and strode through massive gray blast doors into a circular room. The control room, James thought. The doors snapped shut, leaving James to think in the brightly lit hall. Surprisingly, the ship seemed deserted. No personel other than Elites had been sighted, James noticed. Pushing this out of his mind, he turned to the situation at hand. Unclipping a frag grenade, he hefted it as he thought. No, he decided, too loud. James would instead use the classic lure strategy. Perhaps he would use the grenade after all. James ducked into a niche in the wall and threw the grenade, pin intact, against the floor. A loud 'cling' echoed through the corridor. No doubt the Elite had heard it, and would come to investigate. James waited. Sure enough, alien footsteps approached. Instead of the red Elite though, a massive Hunter rounded the corner. James stifled an urge to curse. Where ever one hunter is, another is close by. James needed time to... A heavy clanging sound caught his attention. The doors were opening again. Seizing his chance, and saying a prayer, James dove out of his niche, slid behind the Hunter's back, and drew his 6 inch combat knife. The Hunter, caught by surprise, did not have time to react. James clambered up onto the creature's shoulders and slid the knife into the exposed neck. Before the Hunter's dying body had hit the floor, James scooped up the grenade, disengaged and ran through the door, tossing the grenade, minus the pin, at the feet of the startled elite. The explosion was muffled by the closing doors. James readied his weapon. The room was massive, perhaps 60 meters in circumference. Off-blue lighting streamed down from lights set into the ceiling at intervals, and monitors covered the wall. A raised platform dominated the middle of the control room, as did a few dozen assorted forms of Covenant. Strange engineers tending to tasks, a lone Hunter, several angry looking Elites, and numerous Grunts and Jackals. This was a fight James knew he could not win. Not in a direct assault, with the element of surprise gone. The Hunter roared and the Black elite he had seen earlier shouted orders. The translation whispered; "KILL THE INFIDEL!!"
James was in for the fight of his life.

Chapter 5: Showdown

The Hunter charged his plasma cannon and fired, as did his Covenant companions. James dove and rolled to his right behind a massive pillar. Incoming plasma fire ripped into the pillar. 1, 2, 3, James counted. NOW. James dove out again, just as the Hunter fired. The pillar collapsed, and clouds of dust rolled out from under it. Rolling with his momentum to one knee, James fired on full auto into a phalanx of incoming Grunts. Methane tanks sparked and blew, and tattered Grunts fell. The dust dispersed, leaving him once again exposed to incoming fire. James got up again. Plasma bolts impacted around him, scoring the foreign alloys. James side stepped quickly toward another pillar, firing as he went.
A blue-white plasma bolt impacted on his left thigh. He staggered. Another struck him square in the chest. James fell to the floor and rolled behind another pillar. A massive glob of plasma exploded behind him. Overpressure slammed into him and knocked his breath out. His number one priority was that Hunter. The suit's sirens blared, then subsided as the shield recharged. The rate of fire had lulled, but he needed to find better cover. The Hunter's weapon could make short work of whatever he hid behind. James quickly formulated a quick, but risky plan. He needed fire power. The 3 frag grenades he had were the heaviest fire power he had now. And he would make the best use of them. But he needed to get close. A Grunt slowly edged around the pillar, and another was close behind. Perfect. James snapped a straight kick into the second Grunt, cracking it's mask and sending it flying. He swept out the first Grunt's legs as he brought his foot back and grabbed it. After breaking it's back, he brought his plan into play. Holding the Grunt as a makeshift shield and readying his rifle, James stepped out from behind the pillar.
The remaining 5 Elites, 3 Jackals, and Hunter opened fire once more. The Hunter's shot went wide and destroyed a row of monitors behind him. The rest of the lesser kilowatt plasma bolts struck the Grunt, scorching flesh. James quickly ran toward the 3 Jackals whose shields were overlapping. He threw the Grunt at the Hunter and fired at the Elites. None of the Elites fell, but they did scramble for cover. The Hunter brought up his shield and the dead Grunt hit it like a stuffed animal. James threw all 3 grenades at the Hunter while still approaching the Jackal phalanx. The Jackals saw the half-ton Spartan approaching and scattered. James fired into their unshielded backs. They all fell. A thunderous trio of explosions reverberated through the floor. The Hunter and a nearby Elite were covered in a shower of shrapnel and disappeared in a cloud of blood and chunks of flesh. The greatest threat eliminated, James once again sought cover.
However, the nearest pillars were almost 17 meters away. He had made a serious error in his plan. The remaining Elites, including Black suit, opened fire. Gritting his teeth, James weaved through a devastating barrage of plasma fire toward the nearest pillar, firing his own weapon. He emptyed the rest of his clip into the closest Elite and watched it fall. A series of plasma bolts impacted and dissipated on his shield, once again triggering the suit's alarms. More plasma struck him as he quickly sidestepped. The shields popped and a bolt scorched his shoulder. James dove behind the pillar, but not before getting hit once more in the side. Health monitors blinked amber, then red on his HUD.
His breathing became ragged. Panic rose in his mind. What now, he thought. He could see no way to win...

Chapter 6: James's Fate

James struggled to his feet. He examined his injuries. The wound to his shoulder was deep. The suits automatic bio-foam injectors had activated, but he needed medical attention. James cleared out the intense pain and focused. Three Elites remained. The suit's shield refused to recharge, and his suit was compromised. Not looking good. James flexed his mechanical arm. He thought back to the battle at Sigma Octanus. No, he had been through more dire situations before, and he would survive this one he determined. A blind charge won't do him any good, so he thought. James absent-mindedly examined his rifle as he formulated another plan. To his horror, a plasma bolt had destroyed the rifle and rendered it useless. He kept it though and drew his side arm. The pistol was in working order. Not his best weapon, but better than nothing. A contact on his motion tracker drew near. He retrieved his optical probe and slid it around the massive pillar. An Elite clad in burnished blue armor cautiously approached, at the urging of the black suited elite. James replaced the probe, abruptly burst from cover, and closed the distance between him and the blue Elite. He swung the rifle at the Elites chest. The Elite tried to parry, but failed. He doubled over. A quick strike to the head and a kick to the abdomen, and the enemy's shields were down. James grabbed the stunned opponent and fired point black into the Elite's head. Brain matter spurted out of the back of the Elite's helmet. Keeping the dead elite in his grasp, he used it to approach the other two Elites. They held their fire. The red Elite primed a plasma grenade. James moved in slow motion as he reaimed the sidearm. The Elite prepared to throw.... And James fired. The shot missed by a hair. The Elite started to release the orb of destructive energy...
James fired again.
The projectile intercepted the grenade in the red Elite's grasp. It detonated in a cloud of blue plasma that flash vaporized the Elite, scattering smoldering remains across the deck. Black suit was thrown to the floor, shields sputtering, but still operational. James seized his chance. Discarding the blue Elite's carcass, he ran closer, wielding his rifle like a club. Black Suit rolled over and sprang to his feet, igniting a plasma sword. James abruptly halted. He knew the destructive power of that particular weapon, and he also knew to keep his distance. The Elite traced the sword back and forth and snarled curses in his guttural tongue.
James drew a bead on the Elite with his pistol. The Elite charged.
James fired.
The explosive rounds tore into the shielding around the Elites head. Not fast enough though. The Elite closed the distance in a few bounds and slashed viciously at a downward angle at him. James sidestepped and the blade skimmed his left shoulder. His suit's internal temperature spiked. James ducked and swept his left leg around in an attempt to trip the Elite. The Elite braced his footing and swung again. But he was off balance, and both contenders toppled. James rolled on top of the Elite and pinned it's arms to the floor. He head-butted him with an armored helmet and leveraged his weight to keep him pinned. The Elite growled and struggled to twist his wrist around to bring the sword to bear. The plasma blade hummed precariously close to the Spartan's head. James struggled to keep the arm in check. I can do it he thought. I. Need. To. Concentrate. Then fate took it's hand. A massive vibration coursed through the ship, throwing James off the Elite.

Black Suit swung...
White hot plasma flashed through the air and severed James's left arm. Pain took hold of his body. The detached arm fell to the floor. All sound seemed to fade away. James stared in shock at the stub leaking hydrostatic gel and blood. Bio-monitors on his HUD screamed in protest. Another movement caught his attention. The Elite lost his balance on the severed arm and fell to the floor. Acting on reaction, James moved his right arm and fired the pistol. He emptied the clip into the Elite's face. The Elite screamed and died, gurgling blood through the holes in what was left of his face. James stood wavering, dying but victorious.
Covenant engineers huddled in the corners as he stumbled up the ramp to the raised platform in the center of the command center. Unable to support his own weight, he sank to the floor in the middle of a collage of monitors. The one screen dominating the circular platform showed one image. A lone Longsword fighter flew toward the cruiser. He pondered this for a moment taking it in amidst growing pain. Why would a single pilot do that? Unless it was remote controlled. But why? Then it hit him. James dragged himself toward one of the few foreign buttons on the ship's consoles that he recognized. The Longsword drew near and landed on the hull. He had mere seconds before the nuke on the Longsword detonated. His fingers drew closer to the ship-to-ship communications button. He strained to reach it.
He had secured the bridge. He had single-handedly commandeered an intact Covenant ship, just as the Spartan II's newest mission dictated. He had to tell them. Had to. Had.... Grey nibbled at the edges of his vision, and he sank closer to the floor. His fingers curled into a fist and he collapsed. I've won, he thought. I've won. If only John was here to see this. If only...
A white inferno engulfed the ship, contained by its own shield. The shockwave rebounded and shattered the ship into microscopic fragments. The shield gave, and the ship disappeared, taking a hero with it. James the Spartan ceased to be.

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