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      The Covenant troops were silent. Not just silent, but deadly. A contingent of three Elites, fourteen Jackals, and thirty seven Grunts were armed to the teeth with plasma rifles, plasma pistols and grenades. Katornamee hummed a battle hymn as he surveyed his lesser counterparts. The Prophets had sent him as an Ossoona. He was one of the many spec-ops of his kind who were sent to battle to gather precious intel on the humans. Although his primary purpose was for stealth he was armed with a dozen plasma grenades, a plasma rifle, and an energy sword. He hummed a little louder, rotated the handle carefully, and went into a trance.

      Almost no sound emanated from the dull purple bluish interior of the boarding craft. If it weren't for the steady breathing of the Covenant within, one could hear a pin drop.

      The inside of the transport wasn't built with comfort in mind. Ronamee swore he could feel an aura of pride beaming off of the spec-ops Elite postioned behind him as if he himself were in his body. Even though he was a veteran warrior ROnamee's mind grew weary. He envied the spec-ops. They had a knack for killing too swiftly (which he knew was the reason that they held such positions), leaving almost no chance for promotion of Elites such as himself. This time I will garner the kills needed for my promotion. He thought to himself. It was this impulse that sent a burst of renewed vigor through his system.

      Noobolee was a rookie, the lowest ranking Elite on the vessel. He took it as a blessing to be in the presence of a spec-ops warrior. This was only his second operation and already he was in charge of a squad of Grunts. Surely the Prophets had blessed him. He soon envisioned himself in the spotless jet-black armor.

      There was a stir of surprise when everyone started to pitch forward. That meant that the boarding craft was slowing down. The Covenant warriors bristled with anticipation.

      In the black void of space numerous boarding craft sped towards the Pillar of Autumn. Bright blue streaks cut through the night as numerous Covenant capital ships fired their secondary weapons in an attempt to disable the human warship. Inside the boarding vessel sensors indicated that the current trajectory would lead to a docking point on the human ship that was seventeen levels from the top side. Lights started to flash and the craft rumbled as reverse thrusters slowed the transports rate of speed.

      Katornamee's voice boomed with authority. "Warriors activate shields and charge weapons."

      Jackals activated their handheld shields which popped on, displaced the air crackled with static electricity. Plasma pistols and plasma rifles filled the air with a high pitched whine as they were charged to full capacity. Needlers hummed to life as their glassine quills glowed a cool purple. Katornamee activated his active camouflage and seemed to be replaced by a mirage-like shimmer as he faded from normal view. The other Elites activated their personal shields. Sparks coursed the length of their bodies as their full body shielding came online. The hunt was about to begin.

      Katornamee finished his battle pep talk. "Fear not, for the Prophets have blessed this mission. Let it be known that paradise awaits those who transcend the physical."

      A lone Grunt visibly trembled. This mission was bound to be filled with danger which was something he wasn't accustomed to and didn't like. Inwardly he hated the laws and customs that the Covenant had established for his race. He thought of the countless numbers of his brethren who had taken the journey to paradise and let out a barely audible sigh.

      In space the surface of the Autumn seemed as if it had numerous purple ticks attached to it. Hard magnetic docking barbs protruded from the fins of the insect-like vessel. Each barb burrowed into the carrier's hull and achieved a lock. A circular airlock started to extend from the elongated nose of the craft. The edges warmed to a dull red, blossomed to a bright orange, and flashed to a blinding white. As the airlock made contact with the hull it streaked to an intense blue and etched its way into the cruiser. Layers of titanium-A armor melted away under the intense heat.

      Emergency beacons strobed and sirens wailed as the Pillar of Autumn went into lockdown mode. This meant that numerous blast doors within the cruiser would shut automatically. There were access panels, however, which could reopen the corresponding door if activated. A good amount of the Autumn's personnel knew these codes in case of emergency.

      Staff Sergeant Hawkins of fifth platoon was on full alert. The platoon had split up to better cover the evac area. Red team consisted of Alpha and Bravo team. Charlie team guarded select hatches and access points. Delta team was led by Hawkins. They were patrolling corridors on deck seventeen that led towards the evac area. It was critical that this area be secured so evacuees would have the time and clearance to abandon ship if necessary. Numerous hull breaches were detected and encounters of boarders were rampant throughout the ship. Distant sounds of combat could be heard by the expertly trained ear.

      Hawkins had ten Marines under his immediate command. Inadudible chatter interrupted his thought process. He gave his squad the signal to halt. The corridor ahead ended in a 90 degree corner. There were humongous cargo modules and storage lockers scattered about. Beyond laid a dimly lit maintenance hall. The deck jumped and everybody froze.

      A Marine looked puzzled and worried at the same time. "What the hell? Did some--"

      Hawkins cut him off. "Can it private, that's an order! Everyone take up positions behind the modules and lockers."

      The Marines all took defensive positions. Some had a look of concern on their faces. Some held their breath. One had a complete look of surprise and awe as he stared at the wall at the end of the maintenance hall in disbelief. "S-s-sir, I, uh--" He couldn't manage to finish his sentence and just pointed. Hawkins came over to where the Marine was postioned and looked at where his finger was pointed.

      A large section of wall started to distort and flutter. The smell of ionized metal permeated the air. Beads of molten metal ran down the wall like superheated tears. A small hole appeared in the center. The hole grew larger and the wall started to melt away. When the hole reached significant size a white mist blew from the empty space and the opening flash cooled. There was a distorted chime as a door slid open and Covenant warriors swarmed out.

      The staff sergeant quickly doubled back around the module. He pulled out a fiber optic probe, attached it to a handheld monitor, and snaked it around the corner. Through the grainy video feed he could make out the outline of at least fifteen Grunts. No problem. He thought. Movement in the background caught his eye. He doubled the magnification and increased the resolution and his heart almost stopped. There were fourteen Jackals with their handheld energy shields. Behind them were two Elite warriors. Hawkins felt a knot form in the bottom of his stomach as he realized that they were gravely outnumbered.

      A grunt clad in red armor sniffed the air, looked in the humans' general direction and gave a low, guttural warning bark. Noobolee gave the order for five Grunts to go investigate. The rest of the Covenant took up standard battle formation. Katornamee watched with curious eyes and decided to stay withthe battle group.

      A sense of finality filled Hawkins. As the Grunts drew closer to their position he knew there was no way to win. He silently swore for not having a rocket jockey or sniper in his company.

      Private Dietz read the emotions that played across the face of his CO and knew there was trouble. He unlimbered his assault rifle and checked the clip. It was full.

      Hawkins withdrew the fiber optic probe. After relaying the weapons free signal he drew an M9 HE-DP grenade. It would be sufficient enough to take out the advancing Grunts but the rest of the Covenant battle group would give chase or charge if they tried to run. He lobbed the grenade into the vicinity of the advancing Grunts. The grenade bounced and pinged off the wall. One Grunt gave a started yelp and tried to run to no avail. A flash of thunder and smoke erupted. Smoking chunks of alien flesh and bits of shrapnel were sent flying.

      The Covenant response was instantaneous. Ten more Grunts charged the human position thirsty for blood. Four Jackals started to advance shields at the ready while five more Grunts rallied behind them in a rough phalanx.

      The Marines stepped out of cover and fired on full automatic with their MA5B's. Hundreds of 7.62 mm armor piercing rounds put down the advancing Grunts. Bullets pinged off of the Jackal shields but did not stop thier advance. Knowing that retreat was futile lest they be shot in the back, they charged.

      One private swore as a plasma grenade stuck to his arm. The alien weapon pulsed a sickly blue-white, detonated, and sprayed the corridor with human blood and body parts. The force of the explosion knocked two oher Marines off of their feet. One caught an overcharged plasma pistol shot in mid-air and fell to the deck with a wet smack. The other Marine hit the floor with a thud, felt something snap, and ceased breathing.

      As for the other Marines, including Hawkins, a barrage of green and blue plasma bolts were the last thing they ever saw.

      Sergeant Johnson fell in step behind the last of the Marines to leave the vehicular bay. He mentally reviewed the plan. Fourteenth platoon were to rendezvous with the twenty-second tactical division of orbital drop shock troopers under the command of Major Silva. Together they would defend the cruiser's experimental power plant, which consisted of a unique network of fusion engines.

      There was an eerie silence in corridor seven on deck seventeen of the battered Halcyon class cruiser. It seemed as if the void of space itself were present in the empty hallways. Rhythymic muffled thuds punctured the silence as fourteenth platoon marched. Bright red warning lights strobed giving off the illusion that the marines were plunging in and out of darkness. The platoon came to a stop at the armory, took up basic formation and stood at full attention.

      A two foot thick titanium-A enforced door separated the Marines from the weapons on the other side. A single green flourescent keypad was the only means of entry. Sergeant Johnson briskly jogged to the front of the platoon and arrived at the armory doors. His fingers were a blur of motion as he keyed the access code. A mechanism thunked and then hummed within the door. There was a faintly audible hiss as the doors parted revealing the ordinance that lay ahead.

      In the front of the formation, Private Walker, in his eagerness to acquire a weapon in a combat zone made the mistake of moving before being given an order.

      Sergeant Johnson shot him a look that could have turned him to stone. Walker halted mid-stride and snapped back to attention. "Well, well, well." his gaze unforgivably locked onto Walker who visibly recoiled. "Welcome to the armory, men." Johnson turned his head towards the slew of weapons that lay inside. "The Covenant are about to check in for surgery and this platoon is just what the doctor ordered." Johnson looked back at the same private who instantly averted eye contact. "Step in and pick your tools wisely." He motioned for the platoon to step inside and did so himself.

      The armory was a ninety-five by eighty foot room. A long column sixty feet long and thirty feet across divided the room into two equal sections. It was packed with extra clips, ammo boxes, rocket magazines, and health packs. The walls were lined from beginning to end with frag grenades, M90 close assault shotguns, assault rifles, M6D pistols, sniper rifles, and M19 SSM man portable rocket launchers. All were assembled in neat formation in their respective places. There was enough firepower in here to blow those Covenant boarders into slipspace.

      Private Manuel Mendoza cast a look of self pity at Walker. Walker was a fresh recruit from Reach. The greenhorn had been drafted to the Pillar of Autumn's contingent of Marines only because of a personnel shortage. "Damn Walker, you really don't wanna get on sarge's bad side this early in your military career." Mendoza warned.

      "I just feel so uneasy. I mean I've never faced the Covenant in battle before..." He unlimbered his assualt rifle and shoved a fresh clip into its place with a satisfying clack. "And if the stories I've heard are true, then i wanna be completely ready for 'em" He smirked at Mendoza who shook his head.

      Johnson scowled as he overheard Walker's comment. He contemplated ordering the private to get down and give him five hundred pushups. The sarge smiled inside. During normal times that would have certainly been the appropriate punishment but this was not a normal time. He had a better idea. "Private Walker," he growled.

      Walker turned to face the sergeant and realized all too late that he should have kept his mouth shut. "Yes, sir?" he replied cautiously

      Johnson gave him a new order. "Since you're so eager to get some hands on with your patients I've got a very special assignment for ya." He stared at the private with unyielding beady eyes. "You will be the scout for Alpha team."

      Walker was surprised to get off so easily. He replied cheerfully, "Affirmative, sir."

      With that handled Johnson addressed the rest of the platoon. "Listen up platoon!"

      Everyone in the room gave him their undivided attention.

      "I want four groups of 9 men each," he projected his voice slightly to reach the whole room. "Fire team Bravo will be led by Mendoza, Charlie will follow Bisenti's lead," Johnson armed himself with an assault rifle and an M90 shotgun for up close encounters. "Delta team will cover our six and be under Jenkins. I will lead Alpha team." He paused and gave another set of orders. "Two men in each company will equip themselves with rocket launchers and pistols. Medics will carry a pistol, extra ammo for the platoon, and necessary battlefield equipment." He added another joke. "Well, I hope you're not waiting for the Covenant to hand their weapons to you. Acknkowledge that order and file out."

      The platoon replied in unison. "Yes, sir, sergeant!"

      Marines equipped themselves as ordered. Assault rifles were shouldered as were shotguns. Each noncom took an M6D pistol as thier sidearm. It was standard Navy issue; it fired 12.7 mm semi-armor piercing high-explosive ammo from twelve round clips. It was also equipped with a smart scope link with 2x optical zoom. The weapon was so versatile some had given it the nickname "old faithful". Only 3 medics were avaialable to the whole platoon and had been cross trained in miltary procedures. They were so vital that they were placed at the back of fire team Charlie.

      PFC Bisenti had been under Johnson's command for so long he almost considered him a father. He addressed his CO as he walked by. "Hey sarge, are we really gonna land on that 'hula hoop' thing?" he asked.

      "Hell if I know son..." His next reply was directed to the rest of the platoon. "Eyes and ears sharp men, I've got reports coming in of boarding parties on decks nine through thrity six. I want hand signals from now on, talk only if it's necessary."

      Each Marine in the platoon glanced at each other with a feeling of concern. There could be Covenant at any corner at any given time. Peril was ahead. The Marines marched out and the armory doors sealed behind them.

      The corridor came to an end at a 'T' shaped intersection. Up ahead on the wall was a sign. An arrow to the left read 'bulkhead C-14'. The arrow to the right read 'Navy Tech Mess Hall'. Sergeant Johnson nudged Private Walker in the ribs. After eye contact was established he pointed two fingers to Walker's eyes, pointed at the intersection, and made a back and forth gesture. This was the signal to scout the intersection.

      Walker crept up slowly and silently on the right side. The Marine's feet were like oil sliding over water. His heart actually skipped a couple of beats as he neared the corner. There was no telling what waited in the corridors ahead. As he reached the end he could see the left side clearly. Nothing was present. Sweat beaded down his forehead as he edged around the corner to observe the right side of the corridor. He met the same result as he swept the hallway with his assault rifle. Feeling a strange sense of accomplishment he exhaled quietly. He nodded positively to sarge which was the all clear signal.

      Johnson gave the notion to move out and the rest of the platoon followed. The corridor leading to thier objective was three hundred feet away. All fo a suddent analarm sounded and the blast doors at the end started to close. Adreanline filled the whole platoon as they abandoned stealth and broke into a dead run to their objective.

      Private Lee skipped ahead of Walker. The reason: he had less gear. It seemed as if the faster he ran the farther away the blast door seemed to be. He did the only logical thing in his mind which was to run faster. The walls now seemed to whiz by as Lee ran at top speed. The blast doors were about to close. He was a scant ten feet from the doors and knew he would be able to open the doors from the other side. Through some twisted change of fate he lost his footing, seven feet from the doors. He slipped and started sliding on the floors towards the closing blast doors. Realizing the danger he was in he started to futilessly scream.

      Walker was too far behind Lee to grab him and stop him from falling. He kept runnung but watched in horror as he realized the inevitable. Lee would get caught in the closing blast doors.

      Private Lee tried to grab the floor to stop himself from sliding with no luck. His armor caught on the blast door tracks and as he scrambled to get up ther was a sickening crunch as the doors crushed his chest armor and broke through his ribs and sternum. Lee coughed up blood and yelled, "I don't wanna d--" The was a terrible grinding sound and the doors snapped shut with a wet, bone crushing smack.

      The rest of Alpha team caught up including Sergeant Johnson. A few Marines almost threw up at the gory scene.

      "Goddamnit!!" yelled sarge. He shook his head a cast a sad look at the severed upper half of Private Lee's body. Viscous blood formed a puddle underneath the intestines that oozed out of the dead Marine's body. Johnson stepped over to the Marine, closed his eyelids, and retrieved his dogtags. Inwardly he was pissed at himself. Never before had an op under his command seen such an unlucky, non combat related casualty. "Jenkins,"

      Jenkins moved forward and averted his eyes. "Yes, sir."

      "Is there an alternate route to our objective?"

      Jenkins pulled a data pad from his pocket. The device held schematics of the Halcyon class cruiser and the postions of other Marines around the ship via their neural implants. Normally used in the battlefield it was necessary now that the Autumn was a combat zone. He replied. "Sir, no, sir. There isn't a direct route, nor is there an indirect route. Our only option is to go back to the vehicle bay or link up with the nearest platoon."

      "Well, where is the nearest platoon?" Johnson inquired

      Jenkins checked his data pad again. He pressed a few button and an exploded view of decks eleven thru seventeen came up. The nearest platoon was near the lifeboats on deck sixteen. "If we backtrack to the intersection we can go through the Navy Tech Mess Hall. Form there we need to navigate a service corridor and meet up with fifth platoon at the evac bay."

      There was no way to securely contact Silva without the chance of Covenant interception or giving away the platoon's position. Johnson favored the idea of stealth and gave a new order. "All right men, form up. Move towards the new objective." There was a sloght hint of disappointment in his voice.

      "Yes, sir." The platoon formed up and moved towards the mess hall.

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