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Hunter ch. 1: Evans
Date: 29 December 2004, 12:05 AM

(Authors note; this is a character set up. I expect to use this character a lot, so I intend to clearly define him.)

Last of my kin, last of my blood. In the UNSC I am called Evans, although that is not my real name. When the covenant glassed my home, they killed all of my family, except for me. I am the only one to leave the planet since our family first came there, because my blood boiled hotter than the others in my family. And in my family, if you could not hold yourself in check constantly, someone would die.
       We have been trained as warriors for as far back as any could remember, and are dangerous for it. In this age of space-flight and precision firearms, few would consider edged steel a viable weapon. I have trained with it all my life.
       I first joined the Core for a reason my fellow soldiers would not believe, before I stopped answering when they asked. I have been trained to be a blademaster, so is it not natural I should want to lay my hands upon one of the Covenant energy blades? Strange reasoning to others, but most of my life has revolved around a blade, so it is entirely logical to me.
       The other strange trait of our family is what others would consider our dual nature. Though we embrace anachronistic weaponry, we also are masters of modern technology, at least those branches we are concerned with. We have long been fascinated with any upgrade provided to armor that we could, and my armor is the product of generations of work.
       All members of my family had armor suits of similar origin to mine, although drastically disimilar design. The common traits of our family armor in recent generations are twofold; first that they cover full body when we wear the full suit, and secondly that they are ideally suited to our combat neccessity and style. My father who was an archer and endurance runner, wore light scale mail of a titanium alloy. It was durable, and would stop regular slug bullets, while offering little restriction to movement and remaining a manageable weight.
       My own armor was somewhat more complex in manufacture. It would be classified as light plate-mail, and is formed of overlapping titanium plates, varying in size with their location. This part of the crafting was fairly simple, the complex part came later, when I announced my intention to join the UNSC.
       On my 17th birthday, I announced my intention to join the UNSC on my 18th birthday. My father looked accross the roast on the dinner table, and said, "You're armor's gonna need some work, and your sharpshooting." He must have known, and approved. If he hadn't, he would have done everything possible to keep me on planet. He did push me harder in my studies though. I didn't see how metallurgy, A.I. algorithms and photon/wave manipulation would be important as a soldier grunt, but the topics had held my interest. It had always fascinated me how metal was forged, and for some reason I had it in my head that studying AI's would help me understand the human mind.
       So on my eighteenth birthday I arrived at the UNSC recruiting office wearing a full suit of quartz coated Titanium plate mail, with my helmet under my arm, and my sword, now edged with synthetic diamond, in its sheath on my belt.
       Needless to say, I got quite a reaction. I think they told the drill seargant at boot camp to be particularly hard on me. It took a while to get used to not being allowed to yell back, but their idea of endurance training seemed laughable after what my father had but me through. The fact that I seemed to find their endurance training laughable is probably why I ended up in the ODST's. I volunteered straight out of boot camp, figuring, what the hey, it's the best chance at combat I've got. Closer to the front lines I am, the better my chances of finding an energy blade.
       I did not realize how dull it was being a weapon at rest. I was assigned to the In Amber Cladwhich was pretty much permanently parked in orbit of earth. I spent most of my time either training with sword or for endurance, or continuing my studies. I did not gain much additional knowledge of Metallurgy, but I did learn a great deal about AI's. The ship's AI also seemed bored with its task of running what was pretty much a giant parked car, and had no problem with conversing regularly, and even let me have a look at her data arrays a couple times. Her name was Amy, and her chosen avatar was a blond woman clad in an emerald green robe, with a deep green cloak.
       From the time I shipped aboard the In Amber clad I pretty much slept, ate, excercised, spoke with Amy, and then slept again. It was mind numbingly dull. Finally, a break in the rythm came when a ship returned by roundabout way from Halo, and brought some booty with it. Most the other Marines were abubble with rumors of what had happened at Halo, and the Spartan who had apparently blown it up. To believe the rumors, the Spartan had been woken from Cryo just in time to kill half a thousand or so Covenant boarders on the Pillar of Autumn, then saved every marine and crewmember who had bailed out from it. Following this, he single handedly stormed a landed covenant cruiser, leaving piles of barely recongnizable covenant corpses along his path. He retrieved Captain Keyes, then promptly went off to locate Halo's control center, kill another jillion covenant troops around it, and find the Flood. The flood, according to rumor, were uglier than my mother, stronger than my underarm odor, and about as pleasant as a marines socks after ten days wear. Of course, the Spartan ripped them apart with his bare hands, Rescued Keyes again, but Keyes was either dead, turned into flood, or turned out to be a prophet in disguise. Either way, the Spartan blew up the ring, either by talking some AI called the guilty fart to death, or blowing the POA's engines, or farting while a grunt was having a smoke behind him.
       Whatever had happened, what really captured my interest was that some Active Camoflouge modules had been captured, and I hadn't been able to do any photon/wave experimentation in a while. I applied for leave to Cairo station, where they were going to be undergoing their first set of experiments. As I hadn't taken a leave since I joined, I got precedence and was on Cairo station when the boredom of life broke.
       A covenant fleet decided to swing through the neighbourhood, and crash the party.

end of chapter. (Yes, I KNOW there is no action so far, but I started writing this at 3 AM, and don't have the remaining mental acuity to switch gears to combat mode. I'll write the fighting in the morning.)

Hunter Ch. 2; Blooded.
Date: 29 December 2004, 11:30 PM

(if you haven't read the previous chapter, you aren't going to understand Evans hardly at all. It won't take you more than 10 minutes, so I'd reccommend you do that first. FYI, in case you don't know, continuous means without break. I use the word later.)

I ran into a slight hitch getting dressed for my leave. While on leave, I was not supposed to wear my uniform, but I had little else with me, except my armor. I was probably going to get a lot of strange looks, but I really didn't care. I reported to the hangar bay at 0800, clad in my plate mail, with my sidearm holstered on my right hip, just behind my sword.
       I did indeed get a few strange looks. It was interesting though, that more regular marines spoke to me while I wasn't wearing my ODST emblem, one of them in particular. As I was looking out the front viewport, a deep voice behind me sounded;
"Are you sure your in the right century"?
I turned around, and saw a marine corporal in full dress uniform, with sidearm. He was about 6', and was of stocky build. Deep brown eyes rode in a fair skinned face, with a shock of red hair above the whole ensemble.
"Sir"? I asked somewhat hesitantly.
"Whats with the plate-mail and sword? And judging by your siring me, you're a marine, so what are you doing out of uniform"?
"I'm on leave sir."
"Ah. Well no siring me then." This caught my curiousity. Most NCO's I had run in would have you sir them if you met ten feet underwater without scuba gear.
"So what are you doing here then, Corporal"?
"Corporal Peters, John Peters. And what I'm doing is playing escort to the good captain," he thumbed at Commander Keyes sitting in dress uniform further back in the transport, "To the station and back. Who are you"?
"I'm Private Evans." I replied.
"What brings you to the Cairo Private?? Malta's the one with the Theatre, and Athens is the one with the low G gym. Unless you find all the plants particularly interesting... Oh, of course, your here to see the legendary Master Chief."
"Not really sir. I hear that there were some Active camoflouge modules amongst the loot brought back with the POA and Reach survivors, and I have something of a hobby with Photon/Wave mechanics. I'm hoping to get a look at them."
Corporal Peterson looked at me strangely. I suppose it was strange seeing someone who looked like he belonged in the 11th century expressing interest in the way light was refracted and bent. "I doubt you'll be able to get your hands on one of them, but they might let you watch if you ask nice."
"I'll keep that in mind sir."
       The ship began to decelerate for docking, and I moved towards the exit hatch. With a loud clank, the station grabbed the transport, and the hatch shortly opened. I moved off towards the lower levels, where the labs were, but I saw that most were moving towards where the Master Chief was apparently going to show up for further decoration. I had looked at the public part of his file once, and it seemed he had enough decorations to absorb a plasma torpedo. I chuckled to myself, maybe thats why he was so hard to kill.
       As I arrived on the lower levels, I looked around for staffed labs, guessing that the photon/wave team would be the only one with anything new to be working on. I only found one staffed lab, but they didn't seem to actully be doing anything. I surveyed the lab through the glass window, all the technicians and other white coats seemed to be bored out of their skulls, like the rest of us. However, the equipment was correct for experiments with light, so I knocked on the door. The door said "photon mechanics" Duh. Read the sign on the door idiot.
       One of the white coats walked to the door, and opened it. He looked me up and down. As said before, I was wearing full plate mail, covering every inch of my skin except for my head, with a sword and a pistol on my hip, and my helmet under my arm. "You lost son"?
I pointed at the sign on the door. "Unless this belongs on another door, no, I'm not."
The scientist looked me up and down again, clearly thinking I was confused. "So what are you here for then"?
"I have something of a hobby with Photon/wave mechanics, and heard this was where the captured active camo modules were to be tested."
Now the techie just looked confused. "Well, you might as well come in, we really can't do anything much until the Spartan comes down." He said.
"Why not"?
"The modules only work with surfaces that already refract light, and are continuous. That's why he's been able to use them before, Spartans armor is designed to refract and absorb plasma fire, which also serves the purpose of a carrier for the active camo."
I smiled. The quartz coating my armor would do the trick nicely, and it was continous.
"My armor might serve." I said
"Whats it consist of"? Asked one of the other techies, as I walked in.
"Better than 99% pure titanium, the remaining is nickel trace, the ore we extracted it from was also nickel streaked. The coating is quartz, three milimeters thick. We applied it when I announced my decision to join the Core."
"So you're a marine"? The second techie asked.
"Yes, I'm with the ODST's. My names Evans."
      The five techies in the room gathered around, and gave me their names. The one who had answered the door was Carter, a tall, thin guy, with steady blue eyes. The tech who had asked about my armor was Yung, he had oriental features, and an energetic air, like he could never be at rest. Both of them specialized in metallurgy and conductivity, Yung also in electronics, and a half dozen other things. Next came Johnson and Spalding, both short, blond haired, blue eyed, and looking born to their pocket protectors. The last was Erikson, who looked like a Viking. He was muscular, with light blond hair, a bushy beard, and tall. If you'd given him an axe and put a snarl on his face, the civilians would be hiding the woman and children. All three of these specialized in Photon wave mechanics and light refraction. They checked my file to see if I was an eligible guinea pig, and it turned out that since I was an ODST I was certified for testing experimental equipment. I was required to thumb a "test user" agreement stating I wouldn't sue the core if the "combat experimants" went badly and caused me harm, and that I would not talk about the test equipment with anyone not engaged in said testing, or of less than Commander rank.
       Over the next two hours, they explained what they knew so far of the active camo modules. Apparently they distributed some sort of energy flow through refraction matrices that translated light through the matrix. They had no idea how it knew where to release the light again, or what kind of energy it was, although labs earthside were working on it. They were here for product testing, and as the Master Chief wasn't available, I would do. Yung asked for my helmet while the others began installed the module along the beltline of my armor. Johnson explained where to press for activation, where to press for deactivation, and how badly I did NOT want to have the thing active under various conditions, including an EMP wave, nuclear radiation and other things that I would probably already be dead for. Apparently, the thing would be able to maintain the field from anywhere from 25 seconds to two days, depending on how compatible my armor was with the system. Once the field completely decayed it would stop trying to generate and self-recharge, and would not reactivate till fully charged. If I deactivated it before the field completely decayed, I would still have to wait for full charge. Recharge time would be roughly equivalent to the time it took to drain. Also, if I found a pyramidal glass case with a blue energy ball in it, I could use it to function as a full charge, if I touched any surface of my armor to the case.
       At the end of two hours, Yung brought me back my helmet, with an idiot grin on his face. He gestured for me to don it. I did so, and to my surprise, a HUD popped up. Yung explained;
"I installed a comm unit along the jawline, voice activated. Set the frequency with this." He held up a small remote with a keypad and numerical display, and then put it on my belt. "The main thing is that I added a display that will roughly show how much charge remains in the camo module, although it will have to calibrate itself the first time you activate it, so it won't show anything the first time you run the system. Being the hardware happy tech nut I am, I added a couple other gimmicks, primarily a small but very high capacity hard drive which can store pretty much anything that fits, I suspect you'll use it mostly for vids, which you can throw up on the HUD, or recording comm traffic..." He broke trailed.
      An alarm sounded, the one used when hostile starships were approaching. We all bolted to the labs exterior window, which look out into space above earth. Blue flashes popped in and out of view, although what was jumping in was not visible from this distance.
"Say 'magnify'" Young said.
"Magnify." my view on the visor jumped forward, and I could make out a small fleet of bluish Covenant ships.
"How bad is it"? Spalding asked.
"I see twelve ships. Looks like ten cruisers and a pair of assault carriers."
The techies let out a collective breath. "I installed a small lense and digital camera construct directly above the helmet's visor. It should give about 16x magnification. You can record the data onto the hard drive."
I cursed under my breath, interrupting Yung's monologue.
"The ships are coming this way. And fast. How do I turn of the magnification"?
"Say 'zoom out'" Yung said absently, staring out of the multiplex window, at the ships which were now becoming visible to unaided eyes. Before I deactivated the magnification, I saw many smaller ships break off.
"They're sending bording craft this way. Are any of you armed"?
Surprisingly enough, it was Spalding and Johnson who produced a pair of M6E's, although the others were totally unarmed.
"What are you supposed to do in case of attack"?
Erikson spoke up for the first time since giving me his name. "Take the elevators to the mid level, and go to security station two."
"I'll escort you." The techies had not objection.
I unholstered my pistol, loaded, it, and we set out for the elevators.
      The Loudspeakers blared about where boarding craft were docking, accompanied to slight vibrations in the deck as elsewhere on the station Covenant craft grappled the station. We reached the elevator just as the speaker announced a craft latching on the science level, and found a major hitch. The elevator was locked down. Yung immediately moved to the control panel and swore.
"One button control panel, basically a call button. I could open up the panel and put a call through even though it's deactivated, but the elevator won't respond, during lock down it is physically clamped on the command deck."
"Could you command the clamps to unlock"? Carter asked.
"With ten minutes at the junction box, which is also on the command deck." Replied Yung.
"Are there marines stationed on this level"? I asked.
Erikson spoke agian, in his deep rumbling voice.
"There's a nuke squad assigned to drop an EMP in the labs if it looks like we're going to loose the level to Covenant."
"Marine Core directives require me to report to the nearest squad in a combat situation. They also require me to keep civilians under as good protection as possible when they cannot be evacuated." I recited, and non of the scientists seemed to object to this either. "So where will this squad be"?
"I don't know." Said Erikson.
"Here," said Yung, and picked up the remote he had placed on my belt earlier and punched a few buttons. I began to pick up voices in the new headset in my helmet. "That should get you onto the local combat frequency. The HUD should display when you get a lock on the frequency. Indeed, my visor displayed in glowing red letters in the bottom left corner 'frequency locked'.
"This is Private Evans on level A-4, by the elevator, with five noncombatants, looking for the nearest fire team."
"This is Seargant Perezz. What is your sitrep and unit info Private"?
"I am wearing non-standard armor, armed with an M6E, and escorting a lab team, five total, two also armed with M6E's. My unit is stationed aboard the In Amber clad, I came here on leave."
"We are stationed outside the chemical lab, escort the civvies down here. Lockdown all blast doors along the way, Covenant are going to be on this level soon, and we don't want them flanking us if we need to retreat to the elevator."
      Five minutes later, I was just this side of my first fire-fight. Perezz had five marines holding a T-junction by one of the legs, two with SMG's, and himself and another with Battle Rifles. The last had a Shotgun. The men with the short range weapons were stationed behind a pair of fire shields, Perezz placed himself, the other battl rifle wielder and I behind an overturned steel table about ten yards down the hall from the other marines. The techies watched our rear in case the covenant broke through one of the blast doors. Perezz had ordered silence until a fight began.
       Harsh voices sounded from around the corner of the junction, at first fain, but growing more distinct. An elite was telling his grunts to move up, and the jackals to stop running ahead of the grunts. I tensed, and gripped my M6 with both hands, sighting on a point just off the corner of the junction.
       Suddenly, a Grunt head popped around the corner. I reflexively fired, and missed. The private with the Shotgun fired a shot as well, and it is hard to miss at that range, especially with a shotgun. I realized that I was breathing quickly, and I consciously controlled my breathing. Silence resounded for a moment, and Sgt. Perezz asked,
"First fight"?
"First with the Covies."
A pair of Jackals ran out into the open, and presented their shields to us. Grunts crowded into the corridor, and a storm of plasma fire erupted in our direction. For a moment I halfway ducked, then started as Battle Rifles sounded almost on top of me. I rose to firing position again, and sighted on a grunt that was out of the Jackals shield cover. I pulled the trigger twice, the first bullet dinging the grunts chest armor, the second going through it's neck. I started to line up on a second grunt, but it collapsed in a hail of SMG fire.
"GRENADE!" Yelled one of the marines, and I saw a grunt lob a grenade at the table covering us. We leapt back, but the grenade failed to clear the tables edge. I thought us safe, but a moment later the Grenade detonated, and the table suddenly leapt at us. I reflexively dropped under the giant projectile, and Perezz was still on the ground from his earlier dive, but the other marine was caught in the chest, and knocked down the corridor.
       Perezz saw where I was staring, and yelled at me to keep firing. Turning around, I rose smoothly to a crouch, and entered what my father referred to as "the zone". I locked my eyes onto one target, fired until it fell, and then moved to the other. The only concern other than target nuetralization was which targets were targeting me. Feeling somehow unattached, I watched as half the grunts were mown down, and another of the marines succumbed to plasma fire from one of the jackals, taking an overcharged bolt through the chest. Then Perezz threw a grenade, which landed dead center between the jackals.
       It detonated, ripping the jackals to shreds, and killing most the rest of the grunts. The remaining marine with an SMG hosed down the rest of the grunts, but for some reason I didn't seem to be able to hear any of the shots, only see them. Something didn't seem right. I bumped the remote on my belt as I grabbed a fresh clip for my pistol, and a record icon appeared in the top left of my helmet's visor. As my hearing faded back in, I heard Perezz yelling at one of the marines as he strode towards their position.
"Any left Cortez"?
The marine with the shotgun was peering around the corner.
"No sir."
Thats what was wrong. I had heard Elite voices before the fight began.
       A huge blast sounded behind me, and I whirled, to see huge fragments of half melted door smack against the wall opposite a new gaping hole in one of the blast doors. I saw Erikson yell something at the other techies as he grabbed the inert form of the wounded marine, and drag him behind the half melted remnants of the table I had used as cover before. The other techies stumbled behind it as well.
       Two Blue clad elites stormed through the gaping hole in the wall, wheeling towards the noise on their right. They spewed plasma fire willy nilly at the techies, taking Yung in the left shoulder just as he reached cover. Johnson and Spalding popped up, spraying pistol fire at the elites, most shots dinging against the wall, but a few impacting their shields.
Instinct kicked in. I dropped my pistol, and unsheathed my sword. The nearer elite whirled towards the noise of metal ringing, just in time to catch my sword stroke accross his chest. His shields absorbed the blow, but weakened. A pistel shot from one of the techies wiped his shields the rest of the way out, and I drove my sword upwards through the gap in the center of his armor, blade buried to the hilt. Looking down on me, the elite screamed disbelief at the sword jutting from his chest, but the cry trailed off as blood poured from his mouth, and his eyes darkened. A corpse slid to the ground, and I pulled my sword free, as the other elite turned towards me. The Techies dropped back behind cover to reload, and for a moment I stood alone against the second elite.
       He lunged at me, trying to hit me in the helmet with the butt of his plasma rifle, but I sidestepped. I flicked my blade at his extended arm, but it struck energy shielding. Remembering that Elites were far stronger than humans, I stepped back as he swung a balled fist at me. I laid a lightening quick series of slashes accross his chest, encountering his shields every time. He stepped back and fired his plasma rifle at me. Three shots scored accross my chest plate, my armor absorbing them, but the kinetic force nocked me off my feet.
       Roaring triumph, the elite ran up to me, and, planted a foot on my chest, pinned me to the deck and kicked my sword from my hand.
"I want to see the fear in your eyes, human." he growled. Contemptuously, he flicked off my helmet with his free hand, and leaned down till our faces were inches apart. He growled into my face, a deep rumbling noise, and his mandibles twitched as he inhaled my scent. I growled right back. He recoiled slightly in surprise, pulling his head back. Immediately, a burst of fire sounded, and the elite was knocked off me as a trio of bullets thudded against his shields, finishing them. I rolled into a crouch, and launched myself at him, snarling. I knocked him to his back, and repeatedly pounded my mailed fist into his nose. His eyes crossed, and then closed, and I saw purple blood spatter the deck.
       Feeling a hand on my shoulder, I leapt back to my feet, and spun around, fist raised. It was Seargant Perezz. I lowered my fist, and realized my chest was heaving as I breathed. Slowing my breathing, I heard dripping noises, and looked down to see purple blood coating my gauntlet.

End chapter.
Sorry about how long it took to finish the set up, but I hadn't realized more characters were going to be entering. This was my first time writing a fire-fight, so please tell me how it turned out.

Hunter Ch. 3; Grudge Match.
Date: 30 December 2004, 3:12 PM

Authors note: If you've been waiting for the hard core action, wait no longer. This starts about five minutes after the last section ends, when Evans has been sent to scout a clear way to the airlocks on the science level.

Evans:

Hm. Three Grunts and a jackal, . I would probably have ignored them, but they were desecrating the corpses of a pair of marines. I didn't like that.
       There was only one problem, being that they were about 20 meters down an open corridor from me, with no intervening cover. Racking my brain for options, My eyes set upon the active camo module on the belt of my armor. Pressing the activate button, I watched as my arm faded gradually from view, ending up with an effect much like looking through a curving glass window.
      I stalked down the corridor, sword drawn. Taking a deep breath, I calmed myself, and entered the combat balance. Sword arm tensed, blade horizontal in front of me, the rest of my muscles were loose, and I glided in towards the first jackal.


Idu Ashanee:

      Curse this station. My first time commanding a squad, and I get stuck on one of these cramped human space stations, hunting Marines. The level was all but cleared, and For'anee's squad should be clearing up the one squad of marines that had been sighted. So now I was simply riding herd on my squad as the grunts and jackals trashed the human labs. I joined the SpecOps for this? We had found two marines, and they had been shot from behind before they realized they were under attack. I yearned for a challenge.
       I looked at the jackals standing outside the lab my grunts were trashing. At least they would be happier now they had had the opportunity to mutilate something. The Demon had been sighted on the station, and all I got to try my teeth on was some egg-addled marines! Pfagh! I looked at the Jackals again, their orange shields glowing brightly in the darkened corridor.
       With no more warning then a flicker of movement, and the sound of flesh tearing, one of the Jackals heads dropped off.
I smiled, my mandibles curling downwards.
       With no more warning, the second Jackals head also was removed.
"Fire on the door," I bellowed to my grunts. Being veterans, and having what little discipline was possible amongst the puny creatures, they immediately complied. Guessing by the angles required to fire around the jackals shields, I guessed there would be two squads of marines, coming from opposite ends of the corridor. Thank the gods that this lab had no interior window.
       A bolt of plasma suddenly struck something in the doorway, and for a moment a human form faded partially into view, clad in grey armor with a metal blade in its left hand. I raised my carbine to fire on it, but it faded from view again. What was a human doing with active camoflouge?
      I sprayed the area it had been in with fire, but my shots just dinged off of the wall and tables. A grunt gurgled, and I turned to it in time to see it fall to the deck, blood leaking from its throat.
"Fire"! I yelled, following my own order, and plasma, needles, and Carbine slugs peppered the area around the grunt, a few speeding its death.
Another grunt collapsed, then a second, and a third. The last two of my grunts hosed the entire area around their fallen comrades with plasma, and a trio of shots found the human, fading him back into view for a moment, but he ducked behind a table before I could hit him.
"To me", I yelled at the grunts, and they hobbled to me as quickly as they could. I turned everywhich way, scanning the lab for signs of movement. Nothing. Something clanked to the floor behind me, and the grunts screamed, firing wildly towards the noise. I turned just in time to see the second grunt fall, and the humans Active Camo fail. I raised my carbine to fire, and he tucked into a roll towards me. I tracked him as he rose, sword forward, and got one shot off before his sword skewered my carbine. My one shot knocked its helmet off, and it off balance
Cursed creature.
       I took advantage of the moment my one shot had gained me, and drew my energy sword. He was a worthy adversary, and his death would bring me great honor. I growled happily, giving the creature a feral grin. It grinned back, and dropped to a combat poise, sword held in a level crossgaurd. What did it think it was, an Arbiter? I would slice this overconfident human to ribbons and feast on his flesh! I lashed out, a powerful overarm blow to slice him from shoulder to hip. It's sword flicked up, and deflected my blade.
       Deflected? His blade was mere metal! How did it stop my plasma blade? I stared at the creatures blade, and saw that it was edged with crystal! That had to be the reason. taking advantage of my distraction, the human slashed across my chest. My shields absorbed the blow of course, but their energy level decreased more than should have been possible from a humans blow. I thrust at his chest, but he parried downwards quickly, and my sword cut into the deck.
       The foul creature laid another pair of blows across my chest before I could bring my own blade up to block the third. My own smile had dissappeared, but the humans had merely grown.
      I roared, and pulled a powerful blow accross towards its midsection, but it fell into a backwards roll, and popped up just out of striking distance, sword held in an angled gaurd over its chest. It smiled again, and whirled back in, forcing me into a high block against his high overarm slash.
"So do you have a name"? it asked as it carried the blow through to a low slash, which I also blocked. Jabbing at his chest, I replied.
"I am Idu Ashanee." It smiled again, as it sidestepped my jab, and nicked my shields again. I growled angrily, and tried to take off his head with a sidearm blow. He deflected it, and turned the parry into a short but strong hack at my arm, which brought my shields down to a quarter strength.
      Roaring, I grabbed my sword with my second hand, and tried to split him down the middle with a thundering overarm blow. I hit nothing but air and deckplate, driving my blade deep into the steel. Kneeling for leverage, I pulled it back out.
      In that instant of opportunity, Evans slashed my chest, carried the blow around to slash my back, then my chest again. My shields failed, and Evans grinned as he brought the butt of his sword down on the crown of my helmet. The stars I saw through the viewport suddenly leapt at me, and then the void of space enveloped me.

End chapter.

(In case you didn't notice I am far more fond of writing swordfights than gunfights. This has to do with practice, as I have mostly doing fantasy fiction lately. Hopefully I'll be able to enjoy gunfights more, and thus write them better, with more experience.)

Hunter Ch. 4; Present Tense
Date: 16 January 2005, 4:02 PM

      I groaned. All that freaking fighting in New Mombassa, and then we just hop right back on out. I wasn't sure what was more aggravating, that we didn't get a break after the fighting, or that the city would now be trashed as thoroughly as if someone had nuked it. Pacing along the corridor of the In Amber Clad towards my berth, I rolled my head around to work the kinks out of my neck. Sighing, I entered the marine quarters I shared with my squad.
       I worked off my ODST issue armor, and changed into a jumpsuit. Inspecting my armor, I noted that the leg and arm pieces were undamaged, but the chest plate was a bit beat up. Of course, the ding in my helmet was the reason my neck was sore in the first place. Belting on my sidearm, I checked it's mag, and then went in search of a tech to patch my armor.
      Walking towards the engineering deck, where the tech's were quartered, I passed by the brig, which had a pair of marines stationed at the door with Shotguns.
"Who's in the can"? I asked.
"Didn't ya hear? Some ODST nut took down a spec ops elite with a sword." The older looking of the two said.
"How does that make him a nut"? I asked, "Is anyone less a nut for doing it with a gun"?
"Look kid," the Marine said, "You look like you've just been through your first fight, down in New Mombassa, right"? I nodded, and he continued before I could clarify, "Believe me kid, after winning your first fight, it might seem like all Covies are pushovers, but spec-ops, they're just nasty. They are the toughest of the lot, and they come with active camo and energy swords. Not fun customers."
"So what does all this have to do with who's in the can"? I asked, somewhat annoyed.
"The elite's in there."
      I glanced down at the plasma scoring on my helmet. Hm. I didn't realize I'd left the bum alive.
"What was that son"? The marine said, and I realized I had been muttering my thoughts aloud.
"We allowed to see him"?
"Only techies, or someone sent by Captain Keyes are allowed in."
"No one else"?
"Well, Private Evans, the one who brought it down is allowed in, since the Elite won't speak to anyone but 'the one who bested him.'"
"That's me." The Marine snorted and pointed to the pad by the door. I thumbed it, and it took my thumbprint, blood-type, viral immunities, and DNA. The door opened, the marines jaw dropped, and I stepped into the brig, smiling.
       There were only three cells, and Idu Ashanee was in the one to the left, very thoroughly restrained, I could barely see his chest under all the chain.

      I heard the clanking noises associated with the door to my prison opening, and I looked up. There was not much else I could move than my head, as my torso was very thoroughly chained to the walls, suspending my in the middle of the puny cell the humans had put me in. My feet were clamped to the ground, and trying to move my legs put painful pressure on them. Pulled out level to the ground, my arms were stretched almost to the limit in order to keep them immobile, their chains reaching straight to steel loops protruding from the wall. In effect, my feet were on the floor, but none of my weight rested on them. The position was just uncomfortable enough to never be out of my mind, which was more aggravating than if it was outright painful.
       Why did the gods not grant me death in battle?
A face appeared at the cage-like door to my cell.
"Hello." Evans said.
I growled.
Looking thoughtful, Evans continued speaking.
"I suppose that being stuck like that all night would leave me irritable as well."
Was the creature simply here to mock me?
"I'd be guessing you didn't sleep well. The prison mess any good"?
"It was foul. I suspect your superiors tried to drug me." I growled at him.
"Not much better than what we get on the regular mess. How's it compare to what you get back home"?
Evans stuck his arms inside the bars and leaned against them, his tone continuing in that maddeningly casual manner on ridiculously commonplace topics.
"The food at home is befitting a warrior." I spat at Evans with as much venom as I could.
"You know, it's been said that you can tell how strong an army is by how bad its food is."
I snorted in laughter.
"I haven't met a soldier yet who didn't laugh at that." Evans grinned.
      Why was I laughing at this humans joke? Did this human never shut up? "Why are you here human? Have you come to mock me"?
"Just curious." Evans said still grinning.
"Your curiosity is what got your treacherous race it's well deserved fate."
If that did not take the smile off his face, nothing would. And it did, but the grim look that took its place I liked even less.
"Your kind burned my world. Your kind incinerated my home, my family, and everything in this life that I valued. You are lucky I do not kill you now." His voice sank to dangerous lows, which seemed to mean the same thing in their culture as ours.
"What gives you the right to threaten me after your precious Covenant.," he spat, spittle landing just short of my foot "Destroyed my world"?
Heresy! "Your destruction is the will of the gods!" I roared at Evans, struggling desperately to clamp my mandibles around the loathsome creatures face, impossible across the distance and through my bonds.
"And who tells you the will of your heathen gods"? Evans said, voice in lethally low tones, murder in his eyes.
"The Prophets! Thus has it been since the founding of the Covenant, and so shall it be till the Great Journey begins!"
"Why do you suppose the prophets want us dead pagan? Not because they have received some divine message from their false gods, because they fear us."
The outrage! How dare this human... I spluttered, to angry for words.
"You can't deny it. Look where you are now! What chance would your precious Covenant have stood if we had had another hundred years to build our strength? Our ships would be over your home-world, instead of yours over ours." He paused breathing deeply, and the tension draining from his face, and then continued. "I know not what God intends for your race, but I know that ours is not fated to destruction at your hand."
The door to this prison opened again, and Evans turned to away from me.

      Not getting anywhere? Of course I hadn't been getting anywhere, This was an Elite, not a grunt! Like they had been accomplishing anything themselves! I stalked down to the engineering level, where the tech's from the station were cloistering themselves in the only workshop the In Amber Clad had.
      Bah. I shouldn't have let the elite get under my skin. He wasn't threatening anyone from the brig, and I didn't accomplish anything by getting him angry. Bah. I entered the workshop, and was surprised to see the techs working on my armor. Carter was pouring something on the plasma burns on the chest-plate, and Yung was fiddling with my helmet again. Erikson looked up when I came in, and a muscle in his jaw flexed when he saw me.
       "You saved our lives yesterday." Erikson said, his voice deep and purposeful, "We'll not forget that." The muscle in his jaw twitched again, and he turned to his work table again. I stepped around him, glancing my sword on the table, before I was beset by Yung.
      "Ah, the blade master." Yung said in a normal voice, took a deep breath, and began the blitz. "Ok, so we've been going over your armor, nice stuff by the way, especially considering it was hand forged, anyways, so, as soon as the nuts in the infirmary let me loose, I came down to do some more work on your helmet. 'Course I found Carter and Erikson already working on your armor and sword. We wore the grindstone a good bit before we realized that blade was Tungsten-Carbide, and the synthetic Diamond edging really did a number on the grindstone. So anyways, Erikson found some small heat diffusion flaws in the synthetic diamond, probably from when it came in contact with the plasma blade. By the way, how did you know that Diamond would be able to refract the containment field on the plasma blade? Anyways, he used a laser welder to heat the blade till he could chip the synthetic diamond off, and he's pulling one of his little miracles on it now. Carter here heated and reshaped the plasma melt on your breastplate, and he's doubling the thickness of the quartz laminate, nice stuff. Before you probably could've taken two hits from a plasma rifle to any one point on the suit, now it'll take three, maybe four, although you'll probably get a partial breach on four if it doesn't totally fail. Anyways, I've done some further wiring on your helmet, I think you'll enjoy the results, and once I integrate it with a few mods to be done on your base armor structure... well, I'll let you find out for yourself."
"Do you even need to breathe"? I asked.
"Oh, I mastered a unique method of talking while breathing in long ago. Very useful at meetings and presentations when you need to get a point across all at once."
I raised my eyebrow at him, and then looked at his arm.
"Doesn't the cast slow you down"?
"Oh a bit," Yung said with a strange smile, "But not enough to stop me."
"So when will my armor be ready to go"?
"No idea." Yung smiled again. "What's with the ODST helmet? I thought you were off duty."
"I am, I need to find someone to patch this." I gestured to the plasma scoring on the back of the helmet. "I'm still required to wear standard ODST gear on missions, you guys saw the only time I've worn my armor since I got to Basic."
"Where did you get this stuff in the first place? The only thing of similar quality was from when I was working on MJOLNIR for the SPARTAN program."
"Family."
"Where the heck did they get it from? They high in UNSC command"?
"Nope. Me and my father made it."
"Where do you come from"?
"Onteron."
Yung's eyes widened and he looked away. I thought back to he transmission I had received from my Grandfather...
"Son, the Covenant have hit the system. We don't think they'll glass the planet, what with the origins of the family farm, but they've sent around a thousand landing craft, and there's only two thousand marines on planet. Your father's already laying escape and evasion, but you know the UNSC isn't going to send any reinforcements once the Covenant control the system, and with that many troops..." Grampa sighed and closed his eyes, looking tired "We'll try to keep everyone alive, but you know how hot tempers run in this family. God bless you Evans, it looks like your going to be the last of us." And then the transmission had ended, and in my heart the cold fire ignited that had frozen me over.
My eyes refocused on Yung, who was staring at me worriedly, and I turned to the door.

End Chapter.

Hunter Ch. 5; Gravemind's Chariot
Date: 26 January 2005, 12:03 PM

A Sharp jolt awakened me.
"Man, he has got to be the shortest Elite I have EVER seen. And I've seen a lot of Elites."
"Yeah. None of them are quite so impressive without the armor, but him? If I didn't know better, I'd say he was as harmless as a stuffed animal."
"You'd think he might at least struggle a bit."
"You kidding? He's been doped up enough to keep a Spartan down."
"Yeah, but somehow I expect more from the grays then we got from the reds. Suppose he's just to small to be fierce."
"That Evans though man, he's something else."
"Seriously, he actually sounded like he thought he was better off with a sword!"
"Didja see the look on his face when he left the room? Cold as ice, but I bet he coulda burnt something just by staring at it!"
"Either that or frozen it."
      I realized that the sounds I was hearing weren't just part of my fevered dreams, and the jostling sensation was as real as the noise. I opened my eyes, and snapped them shut again immediately light searing my eyes. I was flat on my back, laid across some sort of wheeled tray, and it jostled me about against my bonds. Cursed humans, could they not even build a decent hover gurney? Every movement pained the tracery of veins that ran through my body, especially in my lower knees. Whatever drug they had tried on me this time had had painful side effects.
      Listened closely, I heard the sounds I had come to associate with my cell, and I was unceremoniously dumped into it. I groaned.
"Shouldn't we chain him up"?
"Are you kidding? The blighter can't even move, there wouldn't be any point."
      I tried to move, and curse it, it was true! My strength was totally sapped, and my best efforts resulted in only feeble movements amongst my legs.
The Marines who had been transporting me laughed at me, and walked off, locking my cell shut first.. I pulled in a deep breath, preparing make an attempt at standing. A deep scent caught my nostrils.
Flood!

      My eyes snapped open, and I was awake and rolling to the floor from my bunk immediately. Something had jostled me awake, and my bunk was built right into the bulkhead. I quickly surveyed the ODST quarters, seeing no one, and nothing. Closing my eyes, I heard nothing other than the faint whirring of the ships air recyclers. But what was that smell?
       Watching the Master Chief fight had been interesting to say the least, unfortunately though, the knee joints on my armor had fused from protracted plasma pistol fire, and I'd had to leave before he got around to killing Regret. I opened my locker and looked at the half melted mess that was my ODST armor. I had blisters on my shoulder corresponding to the mess that was left of my left pauldron, and I could remember the heat on my chest the trio of plasma blasts had given me when they struck across my chest-plate. That Elite hadn't gotten the opportunity to pull out its sword.
      Reaching into the boot next to my bunk, and pulled out the mostly cylindrical object. I'd pulled it out for him. I considered the hilt of the plasma sword. It was the whole reason I'd joined the Corps in the first place, and now I held it in my hand. I just wish I knew how to activate the blasted thing.
      Pulling on a jumpsuit and my boots, I slipped the plasma sword into my pocket, left my cabin for the mess hall. When I got there, I immediately looked at the duty roster, which showed no assignments, considering we were at combat alert beta. What was the bump that woke me up then? Looking over the roster again, I saw that my entire unit was listed as off-ship.
What?
      Seeing a Sergeant at mess, I walked quickly over to him.
"A question sir"? I asked him.
He turned towards me, and it was Corporal Peters. Or rather, Sergeant Peters now.
"Sure. Evans, isn't it"?
"Yes sir."
"I'm off duty, so no siring me. Anyways, what's your question."
"Well, my unit seems to be elsewhere, I'd be guessing in combat, and I'm not sure why I'm not with them."
"Hm. I'm surprised no one's told you yet."
"Told me what"?
"Well, turns out that one of those techs has some strings he can pull. They got you assigned to bodyguard them, and a promotion to Corporal. Although to be honest, after the tricks you pulled on the Cairo, Corporal was probably a given."
"So when were they gonna get around to giving me my second stripe"?
"Look at your jumpsuit."
      I looked down at the shoulder of my jumpsuit, and saw that there were, in fact, two stripes there, and the name on it now read Corporal Evans, rather than PFC.
"What happened on the Cairo anyways? Rumor has it you captured a gold Elite after killing his Hunter bodyguards, and made rivers of grunt blood in the process. All, of course, without firing a shot."
"He was a spec ops elite sir, no hunters, and I used my sidearm for the first engagement."
"So was it twenty elites and a hundred some grunts and jackals?"
"Hardly, more like ten grunts, two jackals, and three elites, although two of the elites and grunts I had help from Marines and the techies with."
"I'm impressed Evans, I honestly thought you were going to play some prank in that armor first time I saw you." He smiled.
"So where's my unit sir"?
"Oh, they're accompanying Sergeant Johnson and Commander Keyes on some retrieval mission." He said, and shrugged, obviously thinking it would be no difficult task. What was it I had come here for in the first place?
"Oh, and sir," he raised an eyebrow, "Peters, do you know what made the ship jostle a bit ten minutes or so ago"?
"Nope. But we're parked underground right now, so it's probably just some chunk of rock hitting the upper hull." I sniffed the air.
"I also noticed a smell, you have any idea what it is"?
"Not really, probably just the kitchens latest attempt at meatloaf. Smells a bit like rotting flesh to me." Hm...
"Well, thanks for your time Peters, I think I'll go try to find the techs."
I left the mess hall, and proceeded to the engineering deck. Strangely enough, I saw Erikson as soon as I reached the deck, and he immediately strode straight up to me.
Staring intensely at me, and veins neck bulging in his neck, he leaned down and whispered in my ear.
"Ask the Elite what the smell is." He straightened up, and stared into space over my shoulder. "Your armor will be in the armory station nearest the brig, forget the ODST stuff, now that we've finished with yours, you won't need it any more." He strode off towards the workshop, leaving me somewhat confused.
      I moved straight back up the ladder with some alacrity, Erikson's taught face etched into my memory. Striding quickly to the brig, I ignored the guards, thumbed the door, and strode to Ashanee's cell. Strangely, I didn't see him at first. Then I looked to the floor of the cell.
      His hands grasping the bars, he was struggling to pull his hooved feet underneath him. Breath rasping in his long throat, his arms trembled, and he pulled himself up and forwards, planting his feet beneath him. His head was bowed, coming down to my eye level, he stared me straight in the face, a hard desperation in his eyes.
"Why are you standing when you need rest"? I asked him.
"I will die on my feet." He said, voice rasping in his strangely dry throat.
"What is the smell"? I asked him, my already taut nerves tightening to spun steel.
He smiled faintly, mandibles curving into a eerily familiar gesture.
"The flood come. Pray to your gods human, for you will soon wish you were dead, your body and mind enslaved."
      Flood. Whatever they were, Idu expected to die, and Erikson knew and feared them. I looked at Idu's shivering form, probably held erect by sheer force of will. No hunter should die defenseless in a cage. I pulled the plasma sword from my jumpsuit pocket. Idu tensed, almost falling over from the effort.
"Take this." I handed it to him through the bars. "Fight well, and remember, it is on my honor that you do not kill those I am sworn to defend."
I left, and headed for the armory.

      What was this human? I stared at the blade he had handed me. Kyntahin Arishamee, the inscription read, an honor guard of the Hierarch Regret. I would not have believed a normal human could kill an honor guard before I met this Evans. Coupled with the Demon's presence on this ship, I could only conclude that Regret was dead. Leaning heavily against the bars of the cage, I activated the blade, and swept it through the locks on the door, and then the hinges.
      As the door slammed to the floor, alarms sounded, setting a splitting pain in my skull. I staggered towards the door, my parched throat rasping with my heavy breath. Beside the door rested a large canister suspended on three legs. Grabbing it for support, I heard fluid slosh inside as it was jostled. Could it be?
      lifting the blade slowly, I gently poked a hole into the side of the canister. Steam hissed through. Pulling back the blade, I saw water gush forth from the hole. Lunging my neck forwards, I clamped my mandibles around the cylinder, and sucked water as quickly as I could. Life coursed through my body, purging the weakness the human drug had left, and I felt my strength rise within me. I did not stop until the water would not come anymore.
       Raising myself straight up, I stretched my muscles, feeling the strength inherent to my limbs. Twisting my neck around, and flexing my mandibles, I tensed myself for combat, and turned towards the air vent, as flood tendrils protruded through the gate.

      I settled my helmet over my head, and it fit my face perfectly, as it always had. Something about the rest of my armor felt somewhat different, but the helmet was the same. Or mostly so. A HUD popped up, displaying atmosphere content, nearby movement, seismic disturbances in the deck plate, atmospheric pressure, heat levels, pathogen count in the atmosphere, and G count. That was new.
       I rolled my head around, working my neck, and set myself for combat. Entering into the Hunters balance, I tensed my muscles lightly, lowered my center of balance, mentally filtered what I heard, and clasped the hilt of my sword. The door to the armory opened as I strode towards it, and living dead confronted me.
       Instantly I drew my sword into a high horizontal guard, and sized up what confronted me. It had definetly been a Covenant elite at one point, but now more resembled a fleshy balloon, filled with entrails, and partially punctured at several points around the torso. What should have been the neck was now mostly spinal column coated with yellowish brown gobs of flesh, and strange tendrils emerged from the torso. It's legs seemed mostly unaffected by whatever cruel transformation had overtaken it, but one of its arms had sprouted whip-like tentacles, which looked anything but harmless.
       It swung the tentacles at me, and I blocked with my sword, cleaving the tentacles from the mutated arm. Spinning, I sliced it in half across the waist, the halves meatily dropping to the floor. Torso still thrashing, it did not die, and indeed still tried to strike me with its tentacle-stubs. I impaled the torso at the base of the tendrils protruding from it's chest, and something popped.
       The monstrosity fell still.

      I punctured the last of the parasites, and growled in satisfaction. Strands of exploded flood-flesh were strewn about the brig, but not a single tendril had penetrated me. Turning to the doorway, I hacked a suitable hole into it, and jumped through. A pair of corpses lay outside what I had left of the door, parasites worming their way into the dead humans torsos. I punctured the parasites first, and then severed the spinal columns of the would-be hosts.
       A strange rasping sounded behind me, and I whirled to face it, blade out. A long tendril of flood-flesh had extended towards me, coming from beyond sight down the corridor. I charged forwards, and hacked it off mid-length of what I could see of it. It quickly retracted from sight, but did not seem to be dead, or even seriously injured. I looked down at the segment I had rent from what had gone, and saw it was over three times my body length! Only one flood form could have enough mass to survive such a wounding. A command form.
      Four tentacles lashed into sight, coming from all three corridors that I could see, and thrashed around, searching for me. I could cut any one of them, but if they were all grounded in the same command form, the others would immediately know where I was. Surveying the area, I quickly came to a decision. Dropping to a crouch, I cut through the deck-plates, and dropped through the hole.
       I fell into a hangar bay, and the fall was much farther than I expected. However, I had trained on Sangheil, and the gravity here was considerably lower. I absorbed the impact in my legs, relishing my returned strength anew. I rose from my crouch, blade at the ready, and quickly surveyed the hangar. A Banshee stood near the hangar doors, but swarms of flood parasites roamed the bay floor, and several double-fists of combat forms were facing me directly. Perhaps my journey would begin today.
       Suddenly, a huge explosion tore one of the large doorways into the hangar open, shrapnel cutting down several combat forms, and human weapons spat hatred at the cursed flood.

      I lead the close assault squad into the Hangar, dancing amongst the grotesque flood creatures, severing the bases of their spines, or hewing the parasites from their captured hosts. The seven men following me used their SMG's and Shotguns to deadly effect on the parasites and ambulatory corpses, clearing a wide swath through them towards the Pelicans docked at the far end of the bay. The techs, pilots, and engineers we had with us ran in right behind us, spraying pistol fire wildly at the parasites that tried to flank us, and Peters squad followed.
       Fifteen marines moved with Peters, about half equipped with battle-rifles, the rest packing sniper rifles or rocket launchers. Under their escort came twenty some crewers, loaded down with ammunition and rations, six carrying three wounded men between them, and one helping another marine limp along, SMG still in his left hand, most the fingers on his right hand missing.
"SMG's on the little buggers, Shotguns on the walkers." I yelled, and my men realigned their fire as the walkers charged.
"Snipers, hold your fire and ready grenades. BR's coordinate fire on the Walkers, Rockets, watch the doors." Yelled Peters.
      I ran ahead of my men, confident in their accuracy to clear the foes around me, and not strike me. A hail of bullets tore into the parasites, quickly exterminating any within accurate range. Volleys of shotgun fire cleared the walkers charging the center and right flank of my improvised battle line. As for the left flank...
       I sliced the already decayed midsection from what had once been a marine, ducked under a tentacle blow, and skewered a parasite in its fleshy nest. Tearing my blade from the former elites falling torso, I spun, hacking a headless human walkers torso in half diagonally, and twisted the blow into an uppercut that opened an ex-elites chest up. I could see the parasite imbedded in the poor creatures chest, it's tentacles wrapped around the elites spinal column. One of the tentacles twitched, and a tentacled arm swung towards my head. Reflex kicked in, and I hewed the limb off, and it flew away through the air. I violently stabbed the parasite, hopefully ending the elites tortured remnant of a life.
       An explosion sounded behind me, and I saw smoke issuing both from the corridor we had entered the bay through and one of the rocket launchers tubes. I quickly surveyed the hangar bay, floor, walls, and ceiling were clear of Flood. A group of walkers rushed the door we had entered through, and the same rocket launcher fired again. The explosion tore the walkers apart, but I saw the shadows of more around the corner.
"SMG's, secure the Pelicans, Shotguns, cover their backs. Erikson, get your group into those Pelicans!" I yelled.
"BR's, move with Evans people, keep your eyes on the doors, even the ones that are locked., Snipers, get the crewers and wounded to the Pelicans. Rockets, keep that corridor covered." Peters shouted, staying with the rocket wielders, his eyes jumping between all the possible entry points to the bay.
       Small SMG bursts sounded from the Four pelicans my men had entered, and four "clear" shouts sounded. The pilots ran to their cockpits, and the engines on the pelicans began to thrum. Just as the first group of crewers entered one of the pelicans, two things happened. First, a trio of tentacles burst from the single open corridor in the bay, and secondly, heavy ringing thumps sounded against the two closed doors. Rockets shredded the tentacles, before they could reach the men who launched them. Secondly, one of the captured Banshee's in the bay powered up, and took off. None of our men had been close enough to activate it.
       Suddenly, a tentacle shot down from a hole in the roof of the hangar bay, and grabbed one of the rocket wielders. Yelling at the other rocketeers to keep firing at the open door, Peters smoothly spun into a crouch, and fired a burst into the tentacle. It severed the thick tentacle, and man and limb fell ten feet to the floor. A sickening crunch announced the marine's leg breaking, but the man screwed his face up instead of crying out.
       A second door beside me buckled, beginning to bend inwards, and I turned to the emerging threat. Ordering my squad to get the rest of the crewers into the Pelicans, I saw Erikson haul the wounded marine, who still had a death grip on his rocket launcher, over his shoulder, and cart him off to the Pelicans. Then the door completely caved, and the Flood were upon me. A sudden thump spun me around, and I realized a pistol shell had dinged off my shoulder plate. These flood had guns. I drew a throwing knife.
       I hurled it violently into the parasite controlling a former marine that had fired at me, and bisected another walker with a backhand blow from my sword. Twisting my blade through a circle for momentum, I hacked the top half of a walkers torso off, and ducked a tentacle slash. A trio of grenades detonated nearby, and Flood detritus splattered my armor. Not pausing, I pulled a long blow through one walkers legs, another's torso, and a thirds head, swinging through a full three sixty degree turn, but as quickly as I had cut them down, more had taken their place. I unsheathed my second blade.

      I twisted the Banshee around to watch Evans last stand. Or what I thought would be. The other humans had almost all boarded their landing craft, and it looked like the last were staying just to watch him die. Somehow Evans had a second blade in his right hand, and I could hardly see him through the maelstrom of gore he was creating. Pieces of Flood combat forms littered the hangar deck, and parasites swarmed the corpses. Only grenade and weapon volleys from the marines kept the parasites from Evans, but the combat forms closed the distance to quickly for the marines to put down. The tail gunners for the human craft were trying to keep back the flood charging the small ships, but Flood were gradually closing with them, over their own ravaged bodies.
       For a moment, the cloud of flood entrails and gas dispersed enough for me to see the faceplate of Evans closed helmet briefly sweep past my way, and suddenly the ranking marine was shouting orders. Almost a dozen grenades landed in a tight formation three lengths from the fray that marked Evans position, and erupted in smoke, fire and shrapnel. The drop ships lifted off with the last of the marines, and I saw Evans leap from a crouch into the cloud of smoke the grenades had left. I did not seem him leave it.
       The bay doors opened to allow the human craft exit, and my craft was jostled abruptly by a harsh impact. Rising quickly from the deck of the human ship, I made my exit. I looked back on the human ship as I left, and saw a huge mass slowly writhing into the other hanger bay. As I was jostled by another impact on the Banshee, I boosted my speed and activated the Banshee's navigational computer.
       High charity was here! Forerunner be praised! I quickly set a course for the capital, and boosted the Banshee to the best speed it offered.

Hunter/Hunted Ch.6, In the House.
Date: 25 April 2005, 10:11 PM

       I do not think I slept at all, but most the journey passed as a haze, so I cannot be sure. I had no idea how they had managed to add the strength assistance to my armor, but it seemed to be a gelatinous layer that responded to the miniscule electric impulses that traversed my nerves. Fortunately, it could be manually overridden and set, so I set it to lock my grip. Strangely, when I set this command, it said "beginning calibration" on the HUD. Between that and the heating that I did not even vaguely understand how functioned, I know I would never have survived that journey without the techies modifications. But for my faith, I'd never have had the strength to attempt the trip. I nearly froze to death as it was. My armor, which had fit like a glove before Yung and the techies had been at it, now fit like a second skin, and was vacuum sealed.

       High Charity! I had once before walked the cities hallowed halls, to receive my command from Honor himself, and I greatly anticipated seeing my oath-master again. The Banshee's comm system was highly erratic, functional, but all encryption was shot, and reception was awful. Fortunately, an Unggoy was able to receive my transmission, and directed me to a landing bay. Oddly, he had been unable to find me docking space until I mentioned my name, and my lineage carried no great weight in High Charity.
       I touched the Banshee down in the directed docking bay, strangely enough it was on one of the lowest levels of High Charity, a warrior in the Special Ops branch carried more prestige than landing amongst the oxygen processors. Climbing out of the Banshee, I looked for the Engineers that should be manning the bay, and rolled my neck from side to side, working out the cramps from two periods in a Banshee cockpit. A stench reached my nostrils.
       Jiralhanae. I raised my gaze, finding a quartet of Brutes with their accursed grenade launchers stepping out of shadows around the large, and painfully empty docking bay. A low rumble of their animalistic laughter came to my ears, and they pointed their weapons at me. Activating my energy blade, I set myself into a ready stance, preparing to die from massed fire.
       A creak sounded from the Banshee, and two of the brutes looked over my shoulders to it. With shields, that would have been the moment in which I struck. But I was both unarmored and unshielded, and any rush would be met with a one shot death, my foes were ten spans away.
      "You smell of human, Sangheil," one who I immediately marked as their leader said, "I'm surprised a real Covenant warrior hasn't already killed you."
       I growled at the insult, and bared the teeth in my mandibles at him.
Suddenly, the Brute to the far left gurgled, and fell to the ground. All of us stared at it's fallen form, as blood pooled around its mangled throat, and it's weapon suddenly was swept through the air at their leader.
       This time I did charge, and skewered the nearest brute through the chest. Whipping it's spasming body around to shield me from the others, I disengaged my blade from it's chest. The collapsed body was jerked out of my grasp as it flew to pieces, and I felt a small piece of Shrapnel imbed itself in my belly. Roaring, I leapt over the bloody scraps that remained of the Brute's corpse, and flung my blade into the captains head.
      Where it joined a blade already protruding from his face.
Clasping my perforated gut with one hand, I fell to a three point stance with my other hand, and watched as Evans slowly faded into view, trying to jerk his blade from the dying captains neck, but the captain had grasped it with his dying strength. At last he pulled it lose, and turned to face me.
       And collapsed as a backhand blow from the fourth brute smacked into the back of his armored head.
"As for you," The remaining Brute said, "I've got a present straight from Truth." He paced towards me.
       The last in a series of surprises, the Brute's head slipped of it's shoulder as a red-clad Sanghiel came in to my fading view. Clad in an honor guards uniform except for the helmet, the Sanghiel turned towards the bay's personal door, and made the gesture for all clear.
       Honor, the Prophet I served, strode into the room, surrounded by helmet-less honor guard and grey clad elites with their accompanying grunts. I heard phantoms approaching the bay doors, and saw the emblem of the Brilliant Truth, the command ship that Honor personally commanded emblazoned beneath their cockpits. Struggling against the pain arcing through my abdomen, I rose to my feet.
      "Sir." I bowed stiffly to Honor.
Honor smiled. "Somehow Idu, I'm not surprised that of all the warriors Regret brought along with his foolishness, you would be the one to survive." His face turned grim. "I only hope his idiocy has not brought our doom upon us all."
       I heard a dripping noise, and looked down to see my blood speckling the deck-plate. "Sorry sir" I gasped, and blackness rose to consume me.

Idu fell to the deck, his eyes closing as he over exhausted and bled himself into unconsciousness. Sanghieli rarely studied anatomy, even their own, and just did not seem to understand that their bodies had limits.
"Kurin, Anto, get him aboard one of the phantoms and launch for the Truth immediately. We shall follow shortly. Take the grunts with you."
       I watched them load Idu's relatively small form into the phantom, making their usual jokes about how he would be dead many times if he were a large enough target to hit properly. There was a strange smell in the air, which I did not recognize, almost overridden by the Jiralhanae stench. I turned to my second in command.
       "Teryn, what is that smell"?
Teryn Contanee sniffed the air experimentally, and then abruptly raised his carbine.
"Human, Sir."
       Upon the instant that he spoke, my entire guard snapped into combat stances, well trained eyes surveying the air dock. Taut as I have only ever seen elites, they silently and efficiently began to survey the dock. One of the dead brutes, the one with the mangled head, began to roll over. A grunt sounded from behind its large, inert form, and an armored human rose somewhat unsteadily to it's feet. One hand held the back of it's helmet, the other a metal blade, the like of which Covenant had not used in several Ages.
       Almost every weapon in the bay was trained on this lone, practically unarmed human. It shook it's head, and looked around, surveying the entire bay, every member of my squad, and myself. It paid particular attention to me. Dropping into a combat stance, blade pointed straight at Teryn, the largest elite in the room, it spoke.
"Who's first"?

      I felt a slight tremor of wind upon the tips of my mandibles, and then water against the surface of my gills. I opened my eyes, to see the medical bay of the Brilliant Truth. I sat up, pulling my neck out of the oxygenated pool it had been resting in, and breathing deeply through my lungs alone. Judging by how fresh my gills felt, I had been in this state for at least several periods. My abdomen was sore, and I saw that it was wrapped with pressure bandages.
       Great, they'd probably had to patch my stomach and intestines again, another week of bloody excrement to look forward to. Gingerly, I rose from the recuperation table, and stood. The door to the medical bay opened, and Kurin'Theramee entered. He looked at me, and laughed.
      "Anto and I made a bet with some of the rookies as to how long before you were up. I said five periods, Anto said six. The rookies said nine, ten and eleven." His mandibles twitched, and I managed a pained grimace. "Bobl won again, didn't he?"
      Kurin grunted, and I smiled.
"Four periods. How does that Grunt always know?"
My smile broadened, but I didn't answer the question.
"What happened after I passed out? My memory is a bit hazy, but I thought I saw the human there." I gingerly began walking to the door, and Kurin looked at me curiously.
       "You've encountered this human before?"
"Yes. He was actually there then?"
We passed out of the medical bay, and Kurin indicated we should head towards the brig.
"Indeed. He was rather impressive. After Honor had us haul you aboard, we watched from Theryn's combat camera. Honor smelt the human's stench, although he didn't recognize it; Theryn did when he mentioned it, and the human popped out from under a dead brute."
      "Did it still have it's blade?"
Thurin looked at me strangely again.
"Like I said, I've encountered this human before."
"With a sword?" Thurin said incredulously.
"I've never seen Evans fight with anything else."
"You jest."
"He fought the flood."
Kurin stopped dead, and stared at me, unbelieving.
"Have you seen him fight yet?" I asked.
"No."
"Then I'll leave explaining until you have, you would not believe otherwise."
      Kurin snorted, "I doubt I'll get the chance." We arrived at the correct door, and stepped into the larger ships brig, on the upper level of course. This brig had two levels, the upper the guardroom, the lower had the cells. The upper deck had energy shields in case the prisoners tried to climb up, but there were always at least two Elites stationed with Carbines on the upper deck, making it extremely unlikely. Now however, there were half a dozen elites aside from ourselves, including Theryn. Honor was leaning caually against the railing, looking down into the brig. A double fist of Jackals occupied the cells below.
      "Sir" I said, saluting Honor, then Theryn.
"Ah, Idu," Said Honor, "Wherever did you come up with this human?"
       I considered for a moment, and then spoke; "Sir, I encountered him first on one of the Human orbital stations over the Ark."
"Orbital stations?" Honor replied,
      "Yes sir, the Humans have over two hundred of them."
"How then did Regret penetrate the planets atmosphere?"
      I snorted, "Through no merit of his own sir, his entire fleet was ultimately destroyed, but first our force commander, Hyren Korlass, devised a stratagem that allowed Regret's personal craft to enter the atmosphere and land troops in one of the human cities." Honor gestured for me to continue. "He sent all our boarding craft and fighters out ahead of the fleet, targeting a single group of the human defense stations, and we planted bombs on all three. I know that two of the three were destroyed, and he apparently was able to slip his own ship through the gap, although at the cost of every single other ship in his fleet. The Humans seemed exceptionally protective of the Ark."
      On the lower deck, the external access door opened, and a pair of red-clad Elites entered, dragging a rigid Evans between them. It was obvious that they were barely restraining him. His sword had obviously already been taken, and his helmet had also been removed. Red blood dripped from the back of his head, but the intensity that shone in his eyes was unmatched.
      "You said apparently Regret was able to slip through, you were not present to observe the event?" Honor said, startling my concentration from the injured human.
      "Yes sir, I was unconscious at the time."
"Unconscious? How did this come to pass?"
       Evans was thrown forward by the Elites, who immediately drew energy swords, and then backed from the room. Evans whirled towards the Elites as soon as he gained his footing, and warily watched. The instant the door closed behind the Elites, the cells the Jackals were contained in slid open, and Evans had a new problem to deal with. "I suspect you will see how it came to pass shortly, sir. Why have you left him his armor?"
      For a moment, Honor turned his unfathomable gaze to me, and considered something, most probably my words, and then looked back to the arena below. "With the exception of his helmet, we have been unable to strip his armor. It seems to have adhered to him. After he dies, we shall have to study it in autopsy."
       I did not expect there to be an autopsy on Evans anytime soon. I looked below again.
       Initially, the Jackals had been in shock over the fact they were suddenly free, but this lasted only a few moments before they realized that a human lay in front of them, and apparently unarmed. The quickest amongst them charged forward, screeching it's harsh battle cry as it almost instantly closed the short distance. Evans' head instantly locked onto the approaching threat, and he turned to face it. As the Jackal lunged the last distance, Evans neatly sidestepped, reached out, and snapped it's neck. It's inert form slid across the arena floor, and thumped into the bulkhead beneath us.
       The seven remaining Jackals watched the corpse intently, and then turned their attention to Evans, the feral intelligence alight in their cold eyes. Whistling softly amongst themselves, they circled forwards, enclosing Evans in a tight, rapidly shrinking, circle. I wondered in passing how the rest of them would die.
       A Sharp trill sounded, and the three Jackals behind Evans suddenly lunged forwards, claws stretching towards his unarmored head. Already leaping, his head snapped around, and as his leap cleared the wave of Jackals, his feet snagged one of the Jackals small, aquiline heads. He'd obviously originally intended a full back-flip, but the Jackal considerably slowed his momentum, and so he abbreviated his backwards motion to half complete his flip, planted his hands, and arced his legs downward rapidly behind him, slamming the Jackals head into the deck, leaving naught more than a bloody mess.
       Neither he nor the other Jackals paused a moment. Rushing as one, the Jackals screeched and tore towards Evans, spreading to a battle line, intent on not allowing him to slip past or over them again. Evans pivoted on the deck, from prone to back down, gathered his legs beneath him, and then thrust up and backwards, slamming his armored back into the face and chest of one of the Jackals, then bearing it to the ground beneath his weight.
       A thought struck me.
"You took both his blades?" I said, glancing towards Honor and Theryn for a moment.
Theryn looked at me, "Both?"
       Already knowing what I would see, I looked back to the arena below, and quickly as I could, moved towards Honor, knowing what would have to come soon.
       Evans second blade had appeared from somewhere, and already four of the five remaining Jackals were in pieces, and as I watched, the last was hawn in half. It was only two of my paces to Honor, but I leapt the last. Without breaking his combat rhythm, Evans hurled his blade end over end at Honor, and I arrived barely in time to bat it aside. I felt the sutures in my gut pull, and with a slight tearing, I began to bleed again.
       Immediately, Theryn stepped between Honor and the human, and the Honor Guard around him were but a moment behind, as the sentries pulled out their energy blades, and leapt below to face Evans.

Hunter/Hunted Ch.7: Who are you? And while we're at it, who am I?
Date: 24 January 2006, 11:31 pm

      "Idu, who is this human? He fights like one of the accursed demons, but he has neither the stature nor the armor by which we recognize the demons." Honors', deep grave voice sounded, as his brows furrowed while he focused on the view of Evans displayed on the monitors of his private quarters. Evans had just regained consciousness, eyes gaining that intense alertness I had never seen them without, despite being surrounded by bruises and welts. He hung by his wrists from a pair of energy manacles, elevated enough that his single set of knees only just reached the floor of his cell. Purple illumination from the security field across the cells entrance granted him an ominous cast, on top of his already predatorial air.
      "I know little enough excellency, I have only encountered him four times. The first time, I was leading a boarding party on one of the humans orbital weapons platforms protecting the ark. Evans was equipped with active camouflage, and his first blade. He destroyed my entire squad, two Kig-Yar, seven Grunts, and defeated me in single combat afterwards, first destroying my carbine, and then besting me when I drew my plasma sword." Honor raised an eyebrow, and looked at me, then back to Evans, considering.
      "If I had not seen him fight against the Kig-Yar in the detention center, I would hardly have believed it possible for a single human to have defeated a warrior such as you, especially at a disadvantage."
      "Indeed excellency, my own overconfidence was my own undoing. In my mind, I had dismissed any human other than the demon as a threat, and Evans not only acknowledged me as a threat from the start, but from the way he fought, he also accepted his own limitations. He never attempted to block one of my blows, he knew I am vastly stronger, and when on attack he used swift, precise blows, rather than crude and powerful blows. He analyzed me, and was able to conclude how I would fight, simply by how I drew my sword."
      "A formidable opponent." Honor said gravely, and motioned me to continue with my retelling.
"The second time I encountered him, I was almost completely incapacitated by a painful and draining human chemical they had used in interrogation attempts."
      "Attempts?" Honor said, half absently, watching as Evans tested his bonds, bracing his entire body before pulling against them, and then straining against them with every sinew in his body.
      "Unsuccessful excellency, the drug made my tongue disturbingly loose, but I countered by deliberately misunderstanding their questions about troop deployments and such. They now know a great deal about the course of the game of Ja'te'nai I played against the headmaster of the academy in my first cycle of attencdance there."
      "If I recall correctly, you defeated him rather handily." Honors deep voice was amused.
"Yes, excellency, at the time I had no reputation, and underestimating a Sangheili who is not only a cadet, but also diminutive, comes easily to those who already think too much of themselves."
      Honor snorted derisively, which called to mind the time a Jiralhanae had attempted to assasinate Honor in his bed, and left the room in several body bags. As I recalled, its pelt still hung in his chambers on Sanghiel.
      "I was in a cell on a human vessel, In Amber Clad, attempting to overcome the effects of the human chemical, when I smelled the Parasite. Shortly after, Evans came to the door of my cell, and asked me what the odor was. When I told him that his ship was being invaded by the Parasite, he did not even flinch. Of course, he did not comprehend the nature of the Parasite, but he understood that I believed his ship would be shortly overrun. But he did not leave me to die. Somewhere, he had acquired an energy blade, I know it was not mine, for the human scientists had confiscated it, but he gave me the one he did have. With it, I was able to break free of my cell, and quenched my thirst at a nearby canister filled with water. Fortuitously, the water seemed to cleanse my system of the debilitating chemical, and I found myself completely combat able, for an unarmored Sanghieli."
      Honors' voice carried a note of surprise, "I have never before heard of a human displaying such honor. Was he not afraid you would turn on him and his or the other humans?"
      "Indeed, excellency, he told me that it was on his honor that I not attack, by his words, 'those I am bound to protect.'"
I waited, carefully preventing myself from reacting in any way other than meeting Honors' level gaze.
      "You know, Idu Ashanee, what this means about your honor?" His voice was grave, a voice that demanded truth, a voice that commanded that would have an answer, a voice that told you why Honor held the loyalty and oaths of more Sanghieli than any prophet since Solitude.
"Yes excellency."
      "And you are willing to not attack another human until such time that he realeases you from this bond?"
"Honor demands it." I gazed straight back into those challenging eyes, not backing down for an instant.
       Honors' short face suddenly quirked spasmodically into a smile. "I would expect nothing less from you Idu. I never told you, but if Teryn had not returned from the war with the Jiralhanae, I would have named you my new champion."
       I blinked, and then hastily regathered my mandibles from their limp sag. "You honor me, excellency."
"No more than you deserve Idu, I have had my eye on you since the day that the head of the academy on Sanghiel was removed for incompetence. Apparently, he was shown up by a green gilled recruit, and then lost his temper when Truth came for an inspection. Last I heard, he was guarding the Kig-Yar monastary on Donlus."

      I grinned; Donlus was as far from the front lines as you could get, without leaving known space. Plus, Kig-Yar monastaries smell horrible. "Anyways excellency, during my departure from the human vessel, I encountered part of a flood command form, but was still able to reach the landing bay. There, due to the humans own escape effort, I was able to reclaim a banshee they had stolen, and I climbed out of reach of the flood, waiting for the humans to open the bay doors for their own escape attempt. The humans entered the bay in three groups, a vanguard and rearguard of marines, and in between crewers, pilots, and technicians carrying equipment and ammunition. Evans led the vanguard, carrying only his sword for armament. I must confess some amazement, excellency, when he engaged the flood in close combat unshielded. Even greater was my amazement, when his skill proved superior to their vast numbers. However, he became so embroiled in combat, that he could not break away when all the other humans were aboard their dropships, and only their supporting fire kept the infection forms from overwhelming him. I did not realize it at the time, but when Evans observed my banshee considerably closer than the human dropships, he took advantage of a powerful volley of grenades the other marines gave to board my banshee, and he clung to it all the way to High Charity. Once there, he tore through half the ambush the Jiralhanae laid for me. You and Teryn arrived to see the outcome of that engagement, and you have seen more of him since than I have, excellency."
       Honor continued to gaze at the screen for some time, watching as Evans smeared blood from his head wound on to his left shoulder, then examined it, smelled it, and tasted it, nodding to himself in satisfaction.
      "So who is he?"

      "He's probably one of the greatest warriors alive, Seargant" Yung said, looking at me levelly, his bank of incomprehensible electronics softly illuminating the left side of his face in contrast to the near pitch black of the rest of the cave we had holed up in.
      "That doesn't really answer my question," I replied, not bothering to keep the irritation from my voice, "He fought those things to a stand still with nothing more than a pair of swords, told me he had an alternate exit, and then disappeared into that cloud of smoke. If there had been any chance we could have looked for his remains and not die in the process, I would have ordered it. A man like that has to come from somewhere. Especially if he is still alive somehow, as you claim he is."
      "The where was a backwater outer colony world called Predation, it was glassed about nine months ago, his entire extended family was killed in the orbital battle."
      "How did they all get assigned to their homeworld?"
"They didn't," Young replied, glancing at one of his displays briefly, then tapping in something before continuing. "Evans is the only one of them ever to enlist in the UNSC. They used their own craft to attack the small covenant fleet, fighter sized ships they manufactured themselves. The covenant fighters did absolutely nothing to stop them, and the fifty seven of them boarded three of the five cruisers. Shortly afterwards, all three self-destructed, crippling a fourth one in the process. In the meantime, the inhabitants of Predation were almost all able to evacuate, almost all of them making it off before the fifth managed to glass the planet."
      "If they were such formidable fighters, why didn't they join the UNSC?"
      "ONI. When the Spartan II program was kicking off, ONI tried to kidnap Evans cousin. Somehow, I'm not sure quite how, two of them survived the mission, getting away with the girl. The other eight died pretty nastily. Anyways, half the clan went hunting to get her back after that, and a lot of ONI agents died after nasty interrogations, or were fitted with cloned digits and eyes. Two months later, when they finally caught up with the pair who had survived the abduction mission, they summarily executed them, then sent their heads to ONI headquarters, which no-one is even suppossed to know where is, and at the same time the heads arrived, five of them slipped in, killing twelve security guards, and slipped out again with the documents on where she was buried, and everyone that was involved in the setup for the abduction. She'd tried to escape when the transport landed on Reach, and some idiot shot her before she even got out of the spaceport. They were not happy, and every operative on that list was dead as soon as they could reach the planet they lived on. Finally, they delivered a death threat to Ackerson himself, if he messed with their clan again, before they all headed back to Predation. Ackerson has been waiting for a chance to grab one of them ever since."
      "Who are these people?"
"Were Peters, Evans, or rather Ethan Hunter as his real name is, is the last of the Hunter clan. The Hunters were die-hard survivalists, their training is comparable to the Spartans, and the only engagement anyone in their clan is ever known to have lost was the aforementioned one in which they failed to take out the fifth cruiser over predation. And they can trace the history of their clan back before the industrial revolution in the 1800's. Ethan Hunter is a blademaster, sharpshooter, expert pilot, could pass for holding a masters in Metallurgy, photon/wave mechanics, and artificial sentience. He was fit enough to try the Spartan obstacle course when he arrived at boot camp, and a week after arriving, he did, hacking the security cameras, and clocking the sentry patrols so that no one knew about it, except Cortana, Halsey, and I. You too now, of course. He'd probably appreciate it if you didn't let it slip. Anyways, he scored within 10% of the lowest times the Spartans made, not bad considering that they had strength and neurological enhancements, power armor with shields and nightvision, and he had his wits and about 100 meters of rope. The Spartans started training for war at age six; he started at birth. By tradition, his clan lays in the hand of each newborn child a knife, at the same time as they return the child to the mother." Yung stopped, looking back to his monitors.
      "How do you know all this?" I asked.
"Oh that's easy, I used to be in ONI section three."
      "used to be? Why, and how did you leave?"
"Because of me, and by means of me." A deep voice sounded behind me, and I nearly leapt out of my skin. Eriksson stepped around me, and while I regained my composure, he walked up to Yung's bank of monitors, and spoke again. "How is he doing?"
      "Pretty good," Yung replied, "He's stopped bleeding, and is conscious again. He seems to be in a holding cell, and held in place by some kind of energy bonds."
      "And the modifications?" Eriksson continued.
"The surface mapper still hasn't finished, but the lifespan on the active camo will be about fifteen hours now, it should be finished in another six hours or so. The strength augmentation is still calibrating, his reflexes are extremely well tuned, so the membrane will only function when he manually activates it. The nueral pathing is just too complex for the system to map out until he gets some REM sleep and the activity recedes. The health monitors are functional for everything except his head and neck, but we already knew his helmet ahd been removed. He's got some bruises, but his armor has protected against everything else."
      "And the permanent aug package?"
Yung grimaced before responding this time, "Nothing yet, he's just to controlled."
      Eriksson's voice was heavy with lethal import. "Lets hope for his sake that he manages to get angry soon."
       I finally recovered enough, and was frustrated enough with not knowing what was going on, that I broke in. "Why!" I yelled, "Why do you want him to get angry? How did you cram all that stuff you were talking about into his armor? What do you mean that Eriksson was the why and the how for you leaving ONI? What is going on here?"
      "Calm down Seargant," Eriksson said, "We've done nothing to harm him. In fact, what we've done is pretty much his only chance at survival right now."
      I controlled my voice, but barely. "What. Did. You. Do. To. My. Marine."
Yung replied, cutting the reply I saw on Erikssons face before it could escape his lips. "I left ONI when I found out what Ackerson had done, and intended to do. You see, I was logged onto the section three network when the Hunters broke in, and I saw the hacks they used. Of course, I tried to stop them, but for the first time ever, someone out hacked me. They were able to crack into files I had never known existed, and while they were in, I grabbed some copies myself. A lot of the projects Ackerson had initiated disgusted me, but there wasn't much I could do about almost all of them. However, I did keep an eye on the Spartan program after that, and tried to crack into the Hunters grid. Their grid was even more secure than Halsey's though, they live over a thousand clicks from any other human habitation, and run everything on land-lines. Nothing I could do remotely. Halsey kept me out as well, but by which intrusion attempts she, and her AI's blocked, I was able to track where the Spartans were. Which lead me to Eriksson here. You probably know that only three Spartans were ever reported MIA, well, one of them did die, and the people who put 'MIA' on his file, thought Eriksson was dead too."
       Eriksson grunted, and muttered something I couldn't pick up.
"In reality, Acherson kidnapped Eriksson right off the battle-field, after a squad of Elites mangled his armor. They kept him at section three headquarters, and I developed plans to break him out, without revealing myself. But then there were complications; Acherson identified Evans as a Hunter. I broke Eriksson out half an hour after Acherson identified Evans, and took advantage of the distraction I made to get Evans into the ODST's, then played hide-and-go-seek in cyberspace for six months, keeping Ackerson from finding Evans again. However, when the In Amber Clad left Earth's orbit, I lost my connections to all human comnets, and Ackersons AI's are going to find us. If we ever get back, Ackerson will have a team checking DNA and description on every human that returns from this ringworld. So, the other techies and I did everything we could to prepare Evans for his return to Earth."
      "What does 'everything you could' mean?"
Eriksson grunted again, and Yungs composure slipped for the first time, worry appearing on his face, and he sighed. "We put all the tech toys we thought could possibly be of any use to him, health monitors, self-diagnostics, a slot for an AI, infrared and nightvision, we boosted the comm in there, gave him a hud, installed an Active Camouflage unit, upgraded the crap out of the quartz shell, he'll be much more resistant to plasma fire now, grew a psuedomuscle sheath on the interior of it, and slaved it to an extremely sensitive net of neural sensors, once he gets some real sleep, it will finish mapping out his neural pathways, and act like an extra set of muscles for him." Yung stopped, and sighed deeply, closing his eyes for a moment, and then continued. "Finally, we coated the innermost layer with a bioagent, that when his biochemistry changes to a compatible form, will be absorbed into his bloodstream. Rage will make the neccessary minute changes to the chemical balance in his body. It's something that Halsey was working on before she was suppossed to flee Reach, and with a little help from studies of one Seargant Avery Johnson's blood, I have been able to finish it."
      "What does it do?" I asked, keeping careful control of my tone, and eyeing Eriksson's tensed jaw, and bunched muscles.
      Eriksson responded, his voice fierce, and eyes gleaming, cutting Yung off. "Exactly what it did to the Spartans. Sixty percent chance it kills him, if it doesn't, His muscle strength will increase by over eight hundred percent, his reflexes by better than four hundred percent, give him near perfect memory retention, and strengthen his bones over time, he'll be VERY hungry for minerals in the coming months, to be just as strong as mine. ONI wanted him for their version of the Spartan program, well, he'll be a Spartan, but HE will choose who he's going to be working for. Every Spartan so far has been SOMEONE's pawn, well, Evans enlistment runs out in one week. Then there will be a Spartan who is NO ONE's pawn, who was never trained for blind loyalty to the UNSC. If Ackerson knew, he'd probably wet himself.

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