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Chapter 22

1800 Hours, July 18, 2552 (Military Calendar) /
Sigma Octanus IV, grid nineteen by thirty-seven

Harland watched the Spartans move with startling precision and speed, moving around the camp at such velocity that he had trouble following them with his eyes. It had only been a few moments since the pelican drop ship landed with them in it, and he found himself gaping at them. Behind him lay Camp Alpha, demolished, billows of smoke drifting up into the now dark sky. Various vehicles lay at the side of the main road leading in, crumbled buildings littered the now dead ground. He peered over his shoulder at the bunker and saw a few Marines staring out of the doorway at the now motionless cyborgs.

The Master Chief stood in front of him spoke briefly to another who then turned and faced the others, pointed in different directions, made a few hand signals and then they were gone, disappearing into the smoke, leaving Harland and the Chief. The reflective visor turned to him and Harland felt his blood run cold. The Master Chief was huge, he stood at least two metres tall, and his armour looked surreal in the dim light.

"Are you in command here, Corporal?" Harland looked back over his shoulder for a second time, then swept the horizon quickly. Yeah, he was. Who else was there?

"I guess so...yes, sir." He swallowed against a lump in his throat. His knees were trembling and he could feel his face going paler. Pull yourself together, man he told himself. This was no way to act around one of the most dangerous and respectable members of the UNSC armed forces.

"As of 0900 Standard Military time, NavSpecWep is assuming control of this operation. All Marine personnel now report through our chain of command. Understand, Corporal?"

"Yes, sir."

"Now, Corporal, brief me on what happened here." All sorts of weird things ran through his mind. God where to start. He hunched down on the ground and started to draw rough maps of the area in the dirt, then began telling the chief how three squads of Marines had nearly been brutally wiped out on a so called 'milk run'. He told of how they came out of nowhere, how the Lieutenant was blown away by some mammoth of a creature, and how Firebase Bravo was completely decimated.

"And that's it, we ended up here." He looked at the Chief who stared down at the crude drawings for a moment. He gave a slight nod then looked at Harland.

"Get your wounded inside the Pelican, Corporal. We'll be dusting off soon. I want you to rotate by thirds on guard duty. The rest of your men should get some sleep. But make no mistake-if the Pelican gets fragged, we'll be staying on Sigma Octanus Four." The Corporal swallowed hard again, his stomach turning to ice.

"Understood, sir." Harland just about found the energy to stand, stretching his battle weary legs. He saluted the Master Chief then moved off to the bunker where his men awaited.

"What did they say, sir?" Walker piped up as Harland neared the structure, his eyes darted from him to somewhere distant over his shoulder. Fincher stood next to him, his rifle propped up on his shoulder. His face was grim, and what Harland was about to say would only make it worse.

"Get Cochran in the Pelican, we're guarding this post till they get back." He looked down at the ground and noticed his boots were covered in purple and red blood. It had been a long day, one he wished he'd never had.

"What?" a marine exclaimed. Harland looked up, he didn't know the man's name; he was one of the marines helping fight the fires back at the camp. "We're not getting out?"

"We are," Harland said, "We're just waiting for the Spartans to do their job." He looked at the faces of the marines in front of him. None looked too happy, but the appearance of the 'super-soldiers' had lightened their spirits a bit, given them hope. "Now help me get Cochran."

Harland and Fincher picked up the unconscious form of Cochran and lifted him over to the Pelican, followed by a dozen others. He told half to get rest, the other half to stay watch outside the ship. He sat Cochran down in one of the seats and bandaged him up some more. Fincher and Walker handed out extra ammunition and cigarettes to the others.

It had been a harrowing day, one he hoped would not be matched for the rest of his career. He looked out the Pelican and saw Fincher and Walker talking intensely with each other. It looked like Fincher was comforting the other private, after all Walker had nearly lost it altogether out there today. But he had come through, and for the better thank god. Harland was in good company. He lit a cigarette and sat back in one of the seats, checking on Cochran. The man lay very still, his breathing shallow and ragged. Harland didn't know if he'd make it and could only hope he lived through this.

He set his head back against the bulkhead, and despite his best efforts he found himself falling asleep.





The sky was a dark blue now, and a few ships were visible in the sky. Manny noticed that two of them appeared to be on fire, and another looked like it was about to fall into the planet's atmosphere it had come that close. The sea ahead of them was calm, and on the horizon Manny could see a faint glow that could only be a coastline. That or someone has started a really big bonfire he mused to himself. Harris was below the deck getting some sleep, it had been a tough day for both of them and they had been taking it in turns to rest every two hours or so.

No matter how hard he tried, Manny just couldn't get the image of his dead comrades lying next to him in burnt and charred pieces; an image he knew he'd have with him for the rest of his life, stored up with many more. He yawned and stretched his arms over his head, feeling the tension leak out of his system. The boat ride had been fairly uneventful, apart the scramble away from the Banshee attack. After thirty minutes Manny had pulled back on the throttle to half speed, noticing that the engine temperature had nearly reached critical levels. And the last thing they needed was a blow out. Harris had insisted that he go below and get some sleep, but Manny just found himself gazing up at the ceiling of the room he lay in, thinking about what had happened.

He had ran through all the possibilities of what might have happened to Sarah and the others, but found that the only conclusions he came to were ones he didn't even want to contemplate. His mind needed to be on what he was doing now, what had happened already, or what was to come if he made it off of this planet alive.

Over the faint sound of the waves lapping against the hull, he heard something behind. He turned quickly to see nothing but blackness behind him. He winced, trying to discern the noise but could only see the black sky, and the even blacker ocean around them.

He turned back to the controls and blinked away a wave of fatigue that washed over him. But the noise seemed to grow, only slightly at first, but then it became loud enough that he was sure he wasn't imagining it.

He turned around again and squinted, and could have sworn he saw four shapes hovering above the waves, shadows against the horizon. But as he stared at the objects, they faded from his vision, and he had to look away and then look back again.

There. There was definitely something. Four black shapes, seemingly invisible. And as they grew larger in his vision, dread filled his bones as the droning roar of Banshee flyers filled his ears.

"Harris!" he bellowed, "We got company!" He drew his pistol, slapped a fresh clip into the receiver and aimed up at the black objects. A moment later Harris was beside him, the Jackhammer launcher slung on his shoulder. Manny pointed to where the Banshees were coming from and Harris hefted the launcher up into position and took aim.

"Don't shoot until you know you've got a shot." Manny didn't need to tell him. A moment passed until the shapes were no longer black objects but the outlines of four, purple-bodied Banshees, coming straight for them.

A flare from one of their noses emitted a green ball of hellish fire, and it was all Harris needed to know they were near enough. A deafening roar exploded next to Manny as Harris depressed the trigger. A rocket streamed out to meet the Banshees, and seemed to pass though the green plasma bolt that was coming towards them. The rocket impacted on the nearest Banshee, turning it into a ball of fire, and dropping it into the ocean. In the same instant, the green plasma ball smashed into the ocean just behind the stern of the boat, producing a shockwave that rocked the boat and producing a huge cloud of smoke as the searing heat was cooled in an instant by the freezing water.

One of the Banshees veered left and started to come around from the side, spitting out blue plasma at them. Manny and Harris dove for cover as several of the shots turned the floor where they had been standing into pulp. As it overshot the boat, Harris launched another rocket into the air, catching the Banshee on its rear and sending it spiralling into the water.

That left two. They had fallen back from where the first one had been hit, circling a few hundred metres from the boat. Manny got to his feet and jumped down from the top-deck and ducked behind one of the fishing chairs that were bolted to the back of the vessel. He knew it would do little to protect him from a plasma assault, but his hope was that they hadn't seen him do it.

Up on the top-deck, Harris pulled out the empty rocket module, discarded it and slapped home the spare one he had brought up with him. He pulled down the sheathing and locked it into position then joined Manny down on the deck.

One of the Banshees broke off and started to come towards them. The second one seemed to shoot straight up and disappeared into the dark. Manny aimed down the sight at the incoming craft, and when he thought it was close enough, fired off a round. He saw a spark as the bullet hit the hull, and it was all Harris needed to know it was time again. The rocket launcher jerked Harris back from where he was crouched. The projectile flew dead centre with the Banshee, and Manny shied away from the expected explosion. But at the last second, the Banshee spun away, dropping impossibly low to the ocean.

Harris cursed at himself, but before Manny had time to tell him it wasn't his fault, blue plasma bolts rained down from above them, impacting on the deck. Manny jerked his head up and saw the Banshee that had flown off coming straight at them, spitting deadly balls of fire at them. The pair dove through the port door and into the lounging area, watching the deck almost disintegrate from the onslaught.

"Shit, where'd that come from?!" Harris exclaimed. Manny shrugged and made his way up onto the top-deck. Both Banshees were nowhere to be seen. His head swivelled from side to side as he tried to find them. Harris had moved back out to the stern, his Rocket launcher back on his shoulder. Manny spun on his heels as a noise grew loudly in his ears, but it wasn't coming form behind, in front or to his left or right. He looked up and saw both Banshees practically on top of him.

Before he had time to react though, a huge ball of flame erupted over his head and he was blown off of his feet. He landed heavily on the stern where Harris was, and glanced up to see the launcher in Harris' hands smoking and one of the Banshees descending into the ocean in pieces. Manny's chest and head burned but he didn't have time to think about that now and pushed the pain aside. He jumped up and pulled out his pistol, and then fired off a whole clip into the remaining Banshee. It swooped low as the bullets ricocheted off of it, pulling up at the last minute and narrowly missing the top-deck.

Before Manny could get another clip into his pistol, Harris brought up his SMG and sprayed the bottom of the craft as it loomed overhead, and once again, his vision was filled with bright light as the Banshee exploded. The remains dipped into the sea, splashing water over the side of the boat, soaking Manny's boots and legs. They stood in stunned silence for a moment before Harris dropped his weapon and fell to the deck. And that was when Manny saw it; a plasma bolt had hit Harris square in the chest. Blood streaked his uniform and Manny noticed the man's blackened neck and torso.

Manny dropped to his knees, shouting out. He grabbed Harris' head and held it up, staring into his eyes. But the life had gone from them. He felt how eerily warm the body was from the extreme heat that had engulfed it. "No!" he bellowed in the night. "No! You can't die! Harris! Wake up you son of a bitch!" he cradled the larger man's head in his hands, and felt tears stream down his face. This can't be happening. Not another. But it was too late, Harris, like Greggs, Grace, and all those before him, was gone from this world.

He slumped and let the limp body go. A sudden wave of nausea and pain washed over him and he felt his head spin, but before he could figure out what was wrong unconsciousness took hold of him. The last thing he saw as he fell back on the deck was the huge plasma burn on his chest...





He awoke with a start, as if from a bad dream. Harland looked at his watch; it had been two hours since he last checked. God had he been out for that long? Fincher walked up the ramp and came to a halt, resting his rifle on the chair next to him.

"How you holdin' up sir?" Fincher said, his voice calm.

"Yeah, fine." He yawned, cupping a hand over his mouth. "Have we heard from anyone else in our platoon? Harris? McCoy? Davids?"

"Afraid not, sir. There's nothing on the com apart from static, but there's something else, sir."

"What?" Harland felt the fatigue drain away from him.

"You might wanna come see for yourself, Corporal." Fincher replied with a smile. Harland sat up. If it was bad Fincher wouldn't be smiling. He leapt to his feet and marched down the ramp of the Pelican and was faced with a large group of civilians.

"Jeeze, they did it!" he uttered. The civilians looked shocked but pleased to be here. He looked around but couldn't see a single Spartan. Where the hell were they? "Fincher, where are the Spartans?" he looked to the private who gave a smirk.

"Be damned if I know!" Fincher walked down the ramp and came to a stand still by Walker. They searched the horizon but found no trace of the soldiers.

"Well, didn't you see them bring in the civies?" Harland said

"Well, yeah," Walker replied. He looked like a ghost to Harland. When they were hit by the Covenant Walker had froze up, so much so that Harland didn't even know if Walker was going to pull through. Lucky he did, otherwise the day could have got much worse. "They came in with them, then took off back into the woods!"

"Right, get the civilians into the drop ship." Harland ordered. "When they get back we'll be leaving and I don't want to be hanging around!" and with that the marines came alive, shooing the people onto the ship, packing up supplies, getting ready for dust-off. Ten minutes later and all was quiet again. Harland called all the marines back to the drop ship. Now all they had to do was wait.

"How the hell did they do it?" Fincher said. "How'd they get over twenty civilians out of a city crawling with Covenant and not lose a single one?"

"How do you know they did that?" Harland replied

"The civies were talking about it when they got here." Fincher said "They said there was an army there, enough Covenant to take out two or three cities in a day, and I mean large cities."

Before Harland could answer, a cry came from one of the marines. He turned quickly and saw a soldier pointing to the woods. Plumes of blue smoke rose from the foliage and into the dark sky. As it did so, a handful of Spartans emerged from the underbrush. One of them was carrying another over its shoulder, and as they neared the Pelican Harland saw that the arm of the Spartan being carried was gone from the elbow down. I thought those guys were invincible! Harland thought to himself. All of a sudden the bush came alive and more Spartans came into the clearing. One of them took the wounded soldier and started towards the drop ship. The Spartans moved with incredible speed. Watching them was mesmerising.

Harland noticed that one of the Spartans that emerged from the clearing was the Master Chief. He approached the imposing figure, stopped and saluted him. "Sir? How did you do it? Those civilians said you got them out of the city - past an army of Covenant, sir, how?"

The Chief tilted his helmeted head to one side. "It was our mission, Corporal," came the rough voice. Harland stared into the golden visor, then looked around him as the other Spartans ran past.

"Yes, sir." Harland took a step back from the Master Chief. He turned back to the Pelican and walked over to the ramp. His men were already inside, waiting for the last few people to board. Harland mounted the ramp and took a seat next to Cochran. The private had come round, his face pale and his eyes dull. But Harland could see strength behind them.

"Did we do it? Are...are we getting out of here?" his voice was weak and he coughed after the last words.

"Yes, soldier, we're out." Harland breathed a sigh of relief. "We're out..."

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