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Present Darkness, Prologue
Date: 14 November 2004, 5:58 AM

Present Darkness

Prologue

Forward to War

0400 hours, November 21, 2552 (Military Calendar)
UNSC Carrier Stanton Bay
In orbit above Planet Red Dawn (Codename), Theta 1440+90 System

The sound of footsteps echoed though the steel hall, breaking the silence and sending slight foreword to the two armed guards at the end of the corridor. This portion of the ship was unusually quiet, with no crewmembers or Marines moving through the maze of hallways that crisscrossed Deck C17 of the carrier. The silence was unsettling, but the nerves were already raw for everyone aboard the ship.
      Major Jody Foster consciously forced his hands to loosen their clenched form as he walked toward the doors at the end of the corridor. He walked steadily and kept his head up, despite the feeling in his gut that made him feel conspicuous for no apparent reason. He passed under the bright white lights as his vision narrowed to the senior ranking Marine guard at the double doors ahead of him.
      In a war where nothing resounded louder then the cries of the dying and the constant fear of death, nobody was at ease; especially with the situation they were in. Foster recognized both those facts of this war, but the turmoil went deeper with him. He had the unenviable job of, in all practical reality, sending young men to their deaths.
      United Nations Marine Corps, Intelligence, Tactical Interdiction Section; Foster held the least favorable position in his Battalion. While his duties were invaluable to the success of future missions, it was not something that seemed necessarily right. He was usually stuck between winning a campaign against the Covenant, and determining the fate of those Marines in his unit.
      He pointed to his identification badge clipped to his BDU fatigues, and the senior ranking guard opened the door, coming to attention and saluting as the Major walked past. Foster moved straight into the darkness of the GFCIC and onto the C3I section.
      The red operating lights of the Ground Forces Combat Information Center filled the space around him as the double doors closed. Screens and consoles emitted a wide array of lights as Navy and Marine personnel operated their own respective areas of the GFCIC. Large digital screens on the walls showed the tactical displays of the system and planet they were orbiting, and others showed different map layouts of the areas of interest on Red Dawn; the planet affectionately codenamed after being discovered. The large room was quietly busy with nearly thirty personnel operating the computers that fed information out to other ships and ground units.
      Foster quickly stepped up a stairwell leading to the Command, Control, Communications & Intelligence section that dominated the area overlooking the GFCIC from above. He looked about and found his person of interest: Second Regiment, Third Battalion Commander Lieutenant Colonel Theodore Nodern.
      The CO waved down Foster's salute and turned back to stare at the display showing the logistical and personnel status of his Battalion.
      Foster pushed the deep feeling in his gut aside and pulled out the manila folder from his clipboard. "Sir, we have located the Covenant supply line."
      Nodern scratched his day-old unshaven face and looked at the Major. "This isn't the same crap those Navy pukes were trying to feed me earlier?" The tone of the forty-four year-old Marine was flat and deep; the look in the seasoned officer's eyes portrayed an air of authority that no one would test.
      Foster shook his head, handing over the folder. "No, sir. This was taken directly from one of our own recon birds just under an hour ago. The craft was lost shortly after transmitting this information back to the forward air observer, which would safely allow me to conclude that this supply line is also heavy defended."
      The older man quickly read through the papers. "Always a good indicator that we've found what we're looking for." Nodern closed the folder and handed it back to his Intel Officer. "I don't have time for the creative writing assignment someone scratched up in ten minutes. Tell me what we're looking at."
      Foster grabbed the folder, then took control of one of the screens and quickly zeroed in a map. "The Covenant fuel supply line extends from the known mineral deposits eighty clicks northward on a roughly direct path towards a loading base where their transport ships take it up to the orbiting tanker ships, that then in turn exit the system in slip-space.
      "Now that we've secured the system, they're dispersing those materials so we can't strategically capture or destroy them, but regardless we can still track down these resources with some ground forces and make sure that the Covenant don't get a chance to ship them out of system later on. But let's not forget that they will be sending in ships to try and reclaim this system, so it's only a matter of time to get in there, destroy as much as we can, and get out."
      The Battalion CO nodded at Fosters assessment. They had caught the Covenant off guard, leaving them with complete space superiority, but they would be sending in ships to reclaim this system, and when that happened they would need to be done and gone.
      "The current time frame is anywhere from five to ten hours before we start having Covenant ships enter the system." Foster said, reciting the estimate done by the UNSC Fleet's Intel Officer.
      Nodern remained silent, contemplating what moves to make. They were already sending two Battalions of Marines to secure the mineral deposit zones, where the Covenant were extracting those resources from, and another two Battalions to deal with the Covenant Garrisons that dotted the nearby areas. It was his job to put his ODSTs right on top of the Covenant and track down the missing resources that had been scattered once they attacked the planet.
      And this all in turn boiled down to Major Foster's information about where to drop the Marines.
      The Lieutenant Colonel reached over and grabbed his Data Pad and BDU cover, then turned to his Executive Staff working nearby. "Get our Company Commander's online. Tell them to standby for drop coordinates." His Operations Officer quickly acknowledged the order and went to work.
      Foster took in a deep breath. He had found where to send this Battalion; he had found where they needed to go to get their job accomplished. But he still had the same feeling inside him. How many would die in the next few hours?
      He knew that trying to answer that question would be impossible. He looked at the screen at the names of all the people in this Battalion; spread across, organized in their units, filling the screen. Marines he would never know or meet.
      How many would die today from his own assessment?
      Foster turned to follow his CO out of the C3I section and down into the GFCIC. Only time could tell.

Present Darkness, Chapter One: Part I
Date: 18 November 2004, 4:34 AM

Chapter One

Fate?

0510 hours, November 21, 2552 (Military Calendar)
Drop Zone Mike X-Ray
Planet Red Dawn (Codename), Theta 1440+90 System

The numbing blackness was ironically a welcoming feeling. Not only was the world of a few seconds ago gone, along with all the horrors found in it, but it had a careless feel to it that provided a timely offset to the pain that was to come. While it was obviously known that this black world led to sustained pain after it lifted and the real world returned, the moments spend inside this darkness seemed to always be a better choice.
      The rumble and shouting of the real world began seeping through the invisible walls of this world where the only existence were that of memories. The screaming, the low rumbles that shook the ground, the persistent shooting; all of it began making its way through unconsciousness that was able to take all the pain away, all the fear.
      All the atrocities burned into the mind.
      While the distant memories flashed through this world at first, the more recent ones began dominating as the black began wearing out. The images of explosions were overlaid with the sounds of screaming, followed by the emotion of fear. The distant beating of the heart that was at first normal began speeding up, resounding louder and louder in this black world. The dull blackness began fading as the images passed, but the screaming was still getting louder.
      And the was fear getting stronger.
      Staff Sergeant Brendan Lynn opened his eyes. His vision began to clear from its blurry state, revealing a deep blue sky far above him. The surroundings began coming into his peripheral sight, and a figure above him began to sharpen. He knew he was staring back into the world he really existed in, despite the careless sense that called for him just to close his eyes and go back to the black world where nothing mattered, but the figure kneeling down over him wouldn't let him go, and this real world was finally becoming what it is. Reality.
      "...You're looking back at me so I know you're not dead yet."
      Lynn willed his hand to touch his forehead as the splitting pain washed over him. The inevitable aftermath never seemed to be really bad until you we're experiencing it; the darkness of the numbing world he just awoken from would not return now, and as his rational mind started to become clear, he wouldn't want to go back. The dangers of this reality could put him there permanently.
      The man above him looked up and brought his weapon to bear, firing several shots at an unseen foe out of his sight. The loud explosions of the rounds firing out of the muzzle cut into his throbbing head, bring his awareness level back up, and with that, the memories of a few minutes ago was well.
      Brendan tightened the grip of his right hand, and with satisfaction, felt the cold hard rifle grip in it. One thing he would never lose was the one instrument he was given to get his task accomplished, but also to stay alive. To lose this would no doubt be the end of what was already looking as a short life.
      He rolled onto his stomach, then rose to a knee, trying to ignore the throbbing pain in his head that seemed to cause every muscle in his body to ache. He brought his rifle up to his shoulder, as his training dictated, and tried to scan the area around him. He remembered the situation before an explosion sent him face first into the ground, and it wasn't good.
      Bad, he thought as he looked around, was an understatement. What had started as a silent drop into the rocky forest of this planet, turned quickly into a firefight that threw everything they hoped to accomplish out the window. Their complicated orders of less then thirty minutes ago were now meaningless; survival was the priority in every mind at this drop zone.
      "Lynn! Look alive!"
      His mind absorbed all this information much too slowly. His usual reaction and comprehension time was now a distant goal in wake of his dominating head pain. He knew that in this type of condition he wouldn't last a minute fighting against this well trained foe, but he had little choice to leave it. It was either buck up and fight, or prepare to join the thousands of others that had the same difficulties on the field of battle.
      Lynn dropped down onto his stomach and low crawled to a nearby rock. Enemy plasma fire crisscrossed overhead, and explosions rang out in what seemed like every direction. He looked over the large rock into the forest that sloped down to a valley. There were many points of movement
      "Enemy contact!" Lynn yelled, his own voice sounding muffled in his head. He was about to give a direction when the dawning realization of the malfunction of his Heads-Up Display washed over him. The green eyepiece that projected the information into his vision clearly read off damage codes. He reached up to his helmet and turned it off, then pushed the eyepiece off to the side, giving him full vision.
      Movement sparked to his left, and he quickly brought his rifle to bear, firing four shots into the target that was approaching from under fifty meters away. The small figure let out a scream for a split second before the methane tube extending from its mouth to back exploded.
      Plasma fire impacted the other side of the rock, forcing him to duck down. The heat was faintly felt through the rock as the Covenant zeroed in on his position after spotting the muzzle flashes. Lynn cursed loudly and looked behind him to the center of the drop zone.
      Aside from the scattered drop-capsules, the scene was nothing different. Bodies of his comrades lay on the ground, and explosion craters dotted the area. They had somehow dropped into a very bad location, and every ODST began receiving fire even before they hit the ground. Was he the last one left?
      "Bravo!" Lynn yelled out above the plasma fire.
      An explosion rang out just behind him, and fragments flew every direction. He turned around and leaned around the rock, spotting two Grunts making their way towards him through the sparse foliage. He fired several shots into the first, sending it back-first into the ground, while the second ran off behind some trees. Plasma fire erupted again at him from several areas in the forest, forcing him to cover again. He turned around and looked back at the drop zone; somebody had to have survived.
      "Bravo!" He yelled again.
      Muzzle flashes flashed from behind another rock into the forest, and an array of Covenant return fire pounded down on that position.
      "Two, pinned!"
      "Three, firing!"
      Lynn let out a breath of relief. His entire platoon of thirty-six members had dropped at this location, and he wasn't sure how many of them were still alive, but being Fire Team Bravo leader, he was directly responsible for his own team, of which at least two were alive.
      Private First Class Richard Johnson, third member of Fire Team Bravo, leaned out and fired from behind his rock twenty meters away. The Marine was all business, and rarely socialized when they weren't facing the Covenant, but in return was dead steady under fire. PFC Daniel Wilson reloaded his rifle next to Johnson, stumbling with the clip as plasma rounds shot overhead.
      Lynn nearly jumped when another figure crashed down next to him. He looked over at the man crouching behind the same rock as stray plasma shots sizzled through the air over them; it was Fire Team Alpha's gunner. Lynn looked at the subdued nametape: Westfield.
      "Where's your team?" Lynn asked to the shorter man. While he seemed smaller then most, Westfield looked apparently strong, and had no trouble hefting the large M271B Suppressive Fire Weapon, SFW, but more affectionately called a machine-gun.
      "No clue, Sergeant." His voice was steady, despite the hard breathing. "It's been almost five mikes since I saw the last one from my team."
      Their drop zone was not very large, and last he knew, the entire platoon had made it within the zone, which was only fifty meters in diameter. If they weren't responding over the radio or by verbal communication, they were probably lying face down in the dirt, moving on to a better place. Lynn looked back to where Johnson and Wilson were; they were taking heavy fire from the forest.
      "Get that two-seventy-one mounted and firing, I got your back." The other ODST nodded and went prone, extending the bipods connected to the end of the massive weapon. The weapon could fire either armor-piercing rounds or high-explosive, either way, though, it would tear through the forest like a knife.
      Lynn leaned back around the rock as the M271 exploded in a riot of noise as it fired rounds into the forest where the Covenant were firing from. He spotted a Jackal moving up on them, and put its exposed head in his sights. Two rounds ended the creature's miserable life, sending a spray of blood onto the foliage behind it.
      Another Jackal exposed itself from behind a tree, firing wildly at his position. Lynn resisted the urge to duck and sighted his rifle on that threat, letting three rounds send it back to the ground. Plasma rounds skimmed over his head, instantly heating up the air around him and scorching the top of his helmet. Two grunts ran across his field of view, and he fired several bursts at them, but they disappeared before he could confirm a hit. Plasma fire immediately shifted from Johnson and Wilson's location onto theirs, forcing him back into cover. Westfield turned and sent rounds back at the unseen enemies, ending the plasma fire.
      "There's got to be over fifty of them out there," Lynn said, noticing that more plasma fire rained down on them from a different location. "We either need to get some air support here, or take the fight to them."
      Westfield acknowledged his statement with a grunt, then held down the weapons recoil as he fired another long burst into the forest. "Who has the LRISC?"
      "Someone in Fire Team Charlie," Lynn responded, sighting a Grunt and firing several rounds at the creature as it tried to make it to the cover of another tree.
      "Charlie's all KIA. They were the first to go." The M271 fired off again.
      Lynn held his forehead as the continuous fire from the loud weapon brought back his daunting head pain. He tried to focus again on what needed to happen; it was that or concede to failure, and he couldn't let down any of his comrades still fighting to stay alive. "Is anyone else alive besides the four of us?"
      Westfield stopped firing and looked up at him, his face muddy and his eyes burning with adrenaline. "Your guess is as good as mine."
      The Covenant were good; they had tactics nailed down, and for some unknown reason, a high moral to kill them that was driven by their religion. They were dangerous, and required teamwork and intuitive adaptation to beat, but were they actually capable of ripping through a Marine, and not only Marine, but an ODST Platoon, in less then ten minutes?
      Or maybe they had dropped in the worst place imaginable.
      Lynn clenched his jaw as another Grunt fell victim to his fire. They were dealt a bad hand, but so far, it hadn't been bad enough to kill them all. The fight wasn't over yet, and they were still breathing, which meant that they would make this one living hell for the Covenant as long as they had ammunition.
      "Cover me, I'm making a run for the LRISC." Lynn said, slapping a new clip in his rifle.
      Westfield wiped his face and looked up at him. "Are you crazy? You'll get mowed down out there; there's no cover!"
      He had survived this long, maybe his luck would hold out. "Just keep them busy for me." He pulled the charging level on the rifle and took in one deep breathe.
      Westfield pulled the trigger and sent a volley of rounds into the forest as Lynn stood up into a crouch run. Plasma fire erupted from the forest and impacted around him as he moved inward towards the center of the drop zone, looking for the LRISC pack on the bodies laying in the rocky dirt. He kept moving, ducking behind what cover he could find, trying to stay one step ahead of the Covenant fire. There were no trees in the drop zone, for obvious reasons, and therefore, little cover either. The only thing that could give him adequate cover were the large rocks that dotted the area.
      The sounds of the M271 and the rifles from his own team responded to the Covenant fire, but he could still see and feel the warmth of the plasma impacting around him. Dirt flew up and the smell of heat filled the air. He frantically looked for the radio pack on the bodies he came across, while also trying to avoid that one fatal hit that could end it.
      "Loading!" Westfield called form behind.
      Lynn cursed as the only real weapon present capable of giving him some cover fire ceased to continue. Plasma fire erupted once again from the forest, all of it seemingly concentrated at him.
      He dove for cover behind a large rock, and slid to a muddy halt up against it, the plasma fire instantly warmed up the rock until it was too hot to touch. Lynn made himself the smallest target as possible and lay prone, shielding his eyes from the hot rocks and debris that flew around him. The fear of death was greatly overshadowed by the adrenaline pumping though him. He looked around, careful to keep his head down, as the Covenant kept their persistent will to kill on him.
      There. Lynn spotted the black box-like radio on the back of a body less then ten meters away. That radio was the only thing that could save them out of this situation; it was worth risking his life for.
      "Two-seventy-one, up!" The thunderous fire began again from somewhere behind him as Westfield began putting rounds on the Covenant positions in the forest surrounding them. The plasma fire dramatically dropped; this was his chance.
      Lynn jumped up and ran for the body, still feeling the plasma fire chasing him. He dove for the body and grabbed the radio mid-flight, ripping it off the Marine's back as he followed through with a roll. He got back to his feet and ran to another rock just meters away, zigzagging and shielding his face as plasma fire ripped up the ground around him. He dropped and rolled behind it, looking up into the sky and seeing plasma rounds fly over.
      This was it. In his hands was what may be the only savior of this situation, the only way out of a corner where the enemy controlled every way out. He flicked the on switch and watched it warm-up to life, then grabbed the handset and depressed the button.

Present Darkness, Chapter One: Part II
Date: 18 November 2004, 4:50 AM

0515 hours, November 21, 2552 (Military Calendar)
UNSC Carrier Stanton Bay
In orbit above Planet Red Dawn (Codename), Theta 1440+90 System

      The GFCIC was swarming with activity. However, Major Jody Foster knew well enough that it wasn't the type of activity that he wanted, or anyone else for that matter. He stood before a large screen depicting the Area of Operations of his Battalion of ODSTs, and with that, all their drop zones.
      Eight platoons were sent to land in the forest over the general area where those Covenant supplies were suspected to be, and the last four platoons were sent to secure a known Covenant base twenty kilometers northward. Those four platoons were the first on the ground, and reported heavy resistance at the Covenant base, as expected, but soon thereafter reported they had secured the base. He was feeling more confident about his drop locations after he heard of that success, but the word coming in from the other eight platoons had completely shattered whatever hope of overall success he had.
      Somehow, within fifteen minutes of all their simultaneous landings, these Platoons reported in heavy Covenant presence, and went of the air. Foster was confused about that, for the main reason that he picked those locations for the drops because they were seemingly out of the way, that is, not being anywhere near a known Covenant force. But that was not the case here. Somehow, he had probably managed to pick the most hostile area possible, since he had never seen eight platoons be taken out so fast.
      The current screen read the details of each platoon. Three of the platoons were listed completely as killed in action, another three we listed as missing in action, with no contact whatsoever from them, and the last two had reestablished contact. Current estimates of the causalities among those eight platoons was at 172 KIA.
      How could he have done this? He had thoroughly checked these locations, even used first hand Intel, and yet he had just recommended to his CO, the man in charge of these men, to send them to those specific locations. This was a total failure; they had apparently lost over sixty-percent of their ground force, and with it so soon into the operation, completing their tasks would be an inevitable loss.
      Foster turned around and looked at the chief communications officer. "What are we looking at?"
      The other Marine manning his station looked up, his face grim. "The two Platoons we are in contact with have apparently secured their own locations, with each about a fifty-percent strength. Both platoons have lost their COs, but the person in charge of each of them has so far said they can continue with the mission."
      Foster let his head drop. He sent these men to their deaths, and the ones that even survived are staying to fight. The courage and sense of duty these men had was beyond him; it proved just how much these elite troops would go through to fight.
      ODSTs. Willing to do this, and yet most high brass commanders failed to recognize their sacrifice. They weren't ordinary soldiers; they surpassed every standard set before them by the UNSC.
      Foster let out a long breath and looked up again. Lieutenant Colonel Nodern was walking over towards him.
      "This is the shit I have to send my men through." The older mans voice was flat, but Foster could detect deep anger within. "What are our options?"
      "Sir! We have an transmission over the net. It's from Second Platoon of Bravo Company." The comm. officer said. "It's from one of the KIA platoons."
      Foster and Nodern both motioned for him to patch it through to the on-deck speakers. Any sign of life down there was a good sign at this point.
      "...I say again, we are pinned down by heavy enemy fire. Coordinates are Alpha Five Seven Six--" Rife fire filled the static transmission, along with a deep explosion. Several rounds were fired off through the radio before the transmission ended in static.
      "Did we lose him?" Foster asked.
      The comm. officer held up a hand and pressed his headset closer to his ear. He then adjusted dials.
      The transmission came back through the static. "Repeating last transmission: Our location is Alpha Five Seven Six, Bravo Niner Niner One; Drop Zone Mike X-Ray. Request any support. Out."
      Foster looked over at his CO, who looked back with a hard gaze. "Give them whatever we got down there."

0520 hours, November 21, 2552 (Military Calendar)
Drop Zone Mike X-Ray
Planet Red Dawn (Codename), Theta 1440+90 System

      Lynn strapped the radio to his back, then popped up around the rock and fired several rounds at three Jackals now just beginning to enter the cleared area of the drop zone. The Covenant were getting closer and closer to them by the minute.
      "Anything over the radio?" Westfield yelled from across the drop zone, pausing his own firing to be heard.
      A good question, Lynn thought. It was broadcasted over the primary communications net, so somebody had to have heard it. If anyone did, it was probably the actual ships in space. "I didn't have time to hear anyone respond, but somebody, somewhere must have gotten it."
      The M271 began firing again as plasma fire shot across the empty drop zone. So far they were being successful in keeping the Covenant away and staying alive, but they were getting closer, and once they were on top of them they would have no where to run. He leaned back out and fired at the Jackals again, forcing them to move back into the forest.
      "Contact, eastward!" He heard Johnson yell from out of sight.
      Lynn turned and looked that direction, but didn't spot any Covenant. He scanned that entire side of the forest and didn't spot a single foe; not even plasma fire was coming from that direction. Then the whining sound of engines originated from that direction. Banshees?
      The large black Pelican roared over the tree-line and banked sharply over the field, the door gunner firing down upon the Covenant positions in the forest; shells dropping out the rear over the drop zone.
      "Friendly's in the air!" Westfield yelled out as the Pelican turned and banked back towards them. "Popping smoke!"
      Lynn watched as a grenade landed and bounced about in the middle of the drop-zone, and began pouring out green smoke. He aimed his rifle and fired at a small group of Grunts running aimlessly towards them, taking two of them down. Plasma fire seemed to settle down a lot as the Pelican did another pass over the forests, firing down. This was their ticket out.
      "Johnson, Wilson, Westfield: when they come back around for the smoke, head for it!" Lynn yelled out. He watched the ship turn and head right for the smoke, making a fast descent. "Move now!"
      The four Marines, all from their different locations, stood up and moved for the smoke as the Pelican settled into a hover and began descending over the smoke. The downwash send the smoke in all directions, giving them cover from what plasma fire remained.
      Lynn stopped at the open rear door and looked up at the gunner, who grinned back down at him. He motioned for him to get aboard as the other three ODSTs made it to the rear door of the Pelican.
      "I don't usually come onto people so fast, but, need a lift?" The door gunner let out a quick laugh while firing aimlessly into the smoke towards the forest tree-line.
      Lynn jumped up into the cabin, then turned and helped Westfield with his heavy M271. Johnson and Wilson aimed their rifles out the rear hatch, as if the Covenant were going to appear through the smoke, as the gunner gave a thumbs up and talked to the pilot through his headset. The Pelican began rising quickly as plasma fire began impacting the craft.
      The Covenant wasn't about to give up easily.
      The gunner held down his trigger and fired continuous rounds into the forest as the Pelican began accelerating away, plasma fire following the craft and continuing to burn through its armor.
      Wilson let his head hang back. "Oh my God, we made it. We made it-"
      The Pelican lurched forward and began vibrating heavily. The motion sent the crafts center of gravity out, which in turn sent all the occupants not strapped in to the floor.
      "Shit, they hit us real good." The gunner said, noticing thick black smoke billow from the left side of the craft as the Pelican climbed for altitude away from the drop zone. The Pelican began nosing up steeper, sending Lynn sliding towards the rear hatch.
      Westfield grabbed a hold of the safety harnesses and hung on as the angle increased. Johnson did the same, but Wilson began sliding over the steel deck floor of the cabin towards the hatch as well. Lynn reached out to grab something but everything passed his grasp as the Pelican continued to nose up.
      He looked up to see the rear open door come up quickly, and there was nothing to stop him from becoming an ODST without a parachute falling towards the ground. He reached out for anything, but there was nothing to grab.
      Lynn cursed loudly as the Pelican suddenly nosed down, stopping him nearly mid-air from falling out the rear hatch to sliding back into the Pelican. He grabbed a safety harness that swung out and grasped onto it as the Pelican began diving. The sense of weightlessness came over him, letting him know that the Pelican was diving towards the ground faster and faster.
      The gunner turned around to face the four Marines barely holding on as the Pelican yawed violently. "Our pilot has just instructed me to prepare for a crash-landing, take your seats and buckle up or jump out."
      Lynn looked across the cabin at Westfield and Wilson, who stared back with blank faces. They had seemingly survived one fate just to plunge into another. The clicking of harnesses resounded in the cabin as the Pelican leveled off a little, still descending towards the ground with black smoke tracing their path in the sky.
      Lynn leaned back and closed his eyes. He had never been aboard a Pelican during an emergency, and until this point in time, never thought he would. It seemed as if something didn't want him to get off this God-forsaken planet, but it would still give him the luck to stay alive. Fate, it seems, has something undone.
      "Brace for impact!"

Present Darkness, Chapter Two: Part I
Date: 28 November 2004, 1:34 AM

Chapter Two

The Secrets Lie Beneath

0535 hours, November 21, 2552 (Military Calendar)
6 Kilometers North of Drop Zone Mike X-Ray
Planet Red Dawn (Codename), Theta 1440+90 System

The smell of burning seeped through the air. The sound of shorted electrical circuits emitted slowly in the background; a faint siren weakly tried to convey its warning from a short distance away. The cool air began to slowly give way to the rising sun in the morning, wind pushed the trees gently back and forth as the high wispy clouds blended perfectly with the lightening blue sky. This place was not the hell everyone condemned it to in their minds, it was just a peaceful place plagued by war.
      Lynn squinted his eyes as the sun broke through some trees and flashed onto his face. The peaceful early morning sounds lied to him about the impending death that swarmed on the planet, and the relaxing sun that began heating the surface of this planet distracted his mind from the enemy that was hunting them.
      The peacefulness of this place belied a hidden danger that waited to consume them all.
      His eyes rolled open, and he began to focus on the situation around him. He was securely strapped into the seat of the Pelican, but he noticed that everything felt upside down. Lynn tasted the metallic sense in his mouth and naturally spat out, but the blood that exited from him flew up instead of down. Did this planet have some sort of reversing gravitational field? He tried to come up with an explanation for it as he reached slowly over to the buckle release button.
      His body ached with every movement, and his head throbbed from the abuse he had received after coming to this planet. He didn't know why blood had found its way into his mouth, but the taste didn't help him cope with the pain. The fact that gravity seemed to be backwards was also perplexing, but he couldn't think right now.
      Lynn pulled the release buckled on his harness and fell to the roof of the interior compartment. He cursed loudly and rubbed his head, staring at the floor of the Pelican above him. This perplexing state confused him, and looked up at three unconscious Marines strapped, their loose ends dangling towards him. He looked over at the rear gunner, who was hanging by a safety harness towards the roof as well.
      He struggled to his feet, holding his head and nearly falling over. He remembered them in the Pelican, getting hit by Covenant fire, and then crashing. He remembered being at the drop zone, but how long ago he couldn't tell; for all he knew he had been passed out for days.
      The bright sun shone into the compartment from the open rear hatch. Lynn stumbled toward it, trying to brace himself with the walls to keep from falling over. He passed by the dangling body of the gunner and looked out into the terrain before him. Gravity wasn't backwards.
      The Pelican was upside down.
      He let go of the compartment walls and walked out onto the soft ground, looking up at the tall trees that swayed in the wind. The sun broke through the openings and made the area alive with colors; the sight was beautiful and peaceful, with no hint that this land had ever been touched by war. Small fern-like planets dotted the rocky area and ran up the steep hill before him. He looked around and noticed that he was standing on the slope of a hill, sweeping down into a small rocky valley.
      The sound of a stream met his ears as he spotted it at the tight valley floor. Across the valley below him was another steep hill that rose into the sky, lightly covered with those tall trees. He couldn't see much of anything else, but the scene he could see was surreal; the quietness of this place helped soothe the pain the coursed through him.
      But reality was not lost for long. Lynn looked back at the over-turned Pelican, a small plume of smoke rising up and being dispersed by the wind. The damage to the craft was obvious, and its precarious position on this hill slope seemed unstable. He felt the feeling of oblivion, common, he knew, with head injuries. He tried to clear his mind and think about the situation they were in.
      Lynn's heart nearly jumped when he fully comprehended his memories. They were in a hostile area, infested with the Covenant that would be after them. He looked back inside the compartment of the Pelican at the unmoving bodies and moved off to re-enter the craft, still finding himself unstable and light headed.
      He grabbed the gunner who was dangling by his safety harness and shook him; the Marine didn't respond. He reached up and hit the release buckle, trying to catch the men as he fell onto him. They both fell to the floor, and Lynn pushed the body off of him, then pulled the gunner out into the sunlight. He shakily checked the mans pulse, it was there.
      He moved into the Pelican again and went up to Johnson and checked the pulse of the Marine. He repeated it for the other two unconscious ODSTs and found them all alive. He breathed a sigh of relief; they seemed alright. He walked towards the cockpit door, hearing the distorted sound of a malfunctioning siren behind it. He reached up and opened the handle of the upside-down door and forced it open.
      Inside he saw the shattered cockpit glass thrown everywhere. The controls and instruments were broken, and the interior of the cockpit had large fragments of the armored glass stuck to it. Lynn looked at the two bodies of the pilots, strapped in and hanging upside down. He took and step in, stepping on buttons of the upper console, and looked around at the motionless pilot.
      Lynn nearly jumped back in horror, seeing the pilots face ripped apart with those glass shards. Dark blood ran down the pilots face and dripped towards the roof of the cockpit. He turned around and found the copilot in the same state, noticing the blood pooling from these two men at his own feet. He turned and walked out of the cockpit, suppressing the urge to vomit. The images replayed through his mind as he felt the nausea sweep over him.
      It was all too much. The concussion in his head, the weariness of his body, the grotesque images that were burned into his mind; all of it came to the surface. Lynn leaned over and let the stomach acid and food from his last meal exit from his mouth and spew over the interior of the Pelican's compartment. He grabbed the side walls to keep from falling over as his head felt light again; he stumbled outwards into the sun and fell over onto his back.
      He stared up into the sky; the blue sky that continued to lighten in the early morning. His nerves were raw, but subdued by the nausea that kept him breathing harder then usual. Why was he still alive? Part of him just wanted to end the pain and sickness and flee this reality to another realm; somewhere that didn't have these same horrors, somewhere he could leave this hell.
      Lynn closed his eyes, and let that black world sweep back over him.


      The feeling of movement was obvious, and it broke him from this blackness. He heard the noises and grunts made from some alien being and could feel them moving around him. A deep noise, one he recognized as being from an Elite, emitted from nearby, and more movement could be sensed.
      Lynn's mind was working surprisingly clear now, for no apparent reason. He tried to picture the situation he was in and slowly reached for his M6C holstered on his right leg. He had no clue how many there were, but hopefully it would be less then twelve shots. He could feel the sense of adrenaline coming over him once again as he silently and slowly slid the Magnum pistol out and firmly grasped onto it. He knew he chances of success were small, but those carnivorous Jackals would be sifting over his body sooner then later, and taking some of those Covenant out while he could seemed like the better choice.
      He clicked off the weapons safety and opens his eyes.
      He stared up into the beady eyes of a Grunt, who looked back at him. There was a second of dawning comprehension on the small ugly alien as it realized this once dead human was now reaching up and grabbing him. Lynn sent the grip of his pistol square into the Grunts mask with all his might and heard the crack. Cold methane began seeping out as the Grunt jumped back and began squealing, grasping at its own face.
      Lynn rolled up and looked at the situation. Four Jackals roamed twenty meters ahead of him up the hill, their shields off. Five Grunts and a single Elite were walking around the Pelican, their weapons down. These Covenant weren't expecting any survivors.
      He brought up his pistol with his right hand and sighted on one of the Grunts down the hill towards the front of the Pelican, while simultaneously reaching onto his Load Bearing Vest and grabbed a fragmentation grenade, releasing the pin in one smooth motion. A single round entered the skull of the Grunt before even the Elite had time to react as a grenade landed at the feet of the Jackals up the hill. Lynn grabbed the pistol with both hands and fired off another round into a second Grunt as the explosion thundered behind him and up the hill.
      The second Grunt fell backwards as the Elite brought up its own Plasma rifle and the other three Grunts scattered in fear. Lynn stared down the sight of the Elite from twenty-meters away and fired off another round that hit the Elite square in the chest, knocking its aim off just as the tall alien fired. The plasma rounds shot just to his right and threw small rock fragments into the air, the heat very present. He rolled aside and got to his feet; trying to face a superior enemy while on his back was not a best idea. The Elite barely flinched from the second round of his M6C and fired off more at the ODST as he dove for cover, putting the rear of the Pelican between him and the Elite.
      Lynn wished he had his rifle, and looked around for anything else that might worked. The weapons of the ODSTs still strapped inside the Pelican would be too hard to get off in the time he had, which left him with the weapon in his hand. He moved inside the compartment and squeezed against the wall to remain out of sight as the Elite ran furiously around the corner, trying to find the human that just escaped.
      The Plasma rifle stuck out like a sore-thumb, and Lynn took the opportunity, he lunging out from inside the compartment and grabbing the weapon from the Elite. The larger alien, not expecting the attack, reacted by putting a well placed punch into Lynn's chest, but not before the Plasma Rifle left its grasp and fell to the ground. Lynn flew back several meters and landed on the rocky ground. He rolled it out and brought his pistol to bear, firing round after round into the Elite.
      The shield around the alien deflected every shot as the Elite walked toward him, seemingly laughing at his attempt to kill it. Lynn pulled the trigger again but found a dissatisfying click; he was out. The Elite took another big step and stopped above him, looking down with hatred that was visible even though Lynn had never seen such a fierce warrior so close.
      The fight was over, and both beings knew which was going to die. Lynn dropped his pistol and stared up at the Elite, who graciously took its time flexing back his arm for the last fatal blow. The last moment before his own death in time slowed to nearly a standstill as the Elite's mandibles opened wide; his short-lived life was ending how it did in his nightmares. But this time, he couldn't wake up.
      He closed his eyes and waited for the blow. Had time slowed down that much? His persistent waiting for his own death seemed longer then it should have been. His heart was racing as he opened his eyes and found no Elite above him; he quickly lifted his head up and saw the large body of the being laying back-first before him, a large exit wound from its neck squirting purple blood that began running down through the dirt.
      He rolled onto his feet and looked around. What had saved him? Movement caught his eye up the hill, and his saw two figures stand up. It was like they were bushes, a plant of some type. He narrowed his eyes and got a better view of the two beings standing forty meters up the hill, long black objects in their hands. Ghillie suits.
      One sniper scanned the area around him while the other made hand motions. Friendly's.
      Lynn almost shouted over at them, his heart-pounding from the near death experience. But something didn't seem right. The two snipers were extremely cautious, continually sweeping the area; and the hand-motions by the first sniper indicated for him to get low.
      He slowly, but deliberately, reloaded his M6C and looked around them. It was silent, nothing again but the wind swaying the trees back and forth. The sound of the distant river at the tight valley below him was no longer comforting; the eerie natural silence of things didn't seem peaceful anymore. He kept a close eye on the area around him as the two snipers skillfully made their way to him, their long rifles kept up and at the ready.
      The first sniper nodded to him, coming up closer then usual to speak. "My name is Staff Sergeant Raphael Keeton, ODST Force Recon. What's the situation here?"
      Lynn followed the other man's low tone of voice, and quietly told him of the last things he remembered. "We got evac'd from a hot drop zone, but, as you can see, we didn't get very far. Both pilots are dead, and the rest are still unconscious."
      "And you are?"
      Had he already forgotten basic introductions? "Staff Sergeant Brendan Lynn, ODST Second Platoon."
      The sniper nodded. "We've got to get your comrades up and going, then we got to move out. There's been some new complications."
      Lynn looked quizzically at the other man; his face darkened with green and black face paint. "Complications?"
      Keeton nodded, slinging his rifle and bringing out a M6C-SD pistol, its long silencer looking very intimidating.
      "We're not alone."

Present Darkness, Chapter Two: Part II
Date: 28 November 2004, 2:12 AM

0600 hours, November 21, 2552 (Military Calendar)
UNSC Carrier Stanton Bay
In orbit above Planet Red Dawn (Codename), Theta 1440+90 System

      The tactical display showing all the ground operations on the surface of Red Dawn was not alive with activity, completely contrary to the expectations of the Executive Staff prior to sending their troops to the planet. Instead of showing lively full green units engaging the Covenant and accomplishing their objectives, there was nothing but 'neutralized' platoons, dull green units indicating low-strength platoons, and a lot of red-colored enemy locations swarming the area.
      Foster stared at the display, trying to help devise a new strategy to get their mission accomplished. They were at a confirmed forty-percent strength, far below what normal standards were, and scattered across the Area of Operations. They had a lot of ground to cover with minimal resources, with a very tight time limit that was not negotiable under any circumstances. When the Covenant arrived in force to reclaim this system, they would either stay and fight to the death, or leave and follow through with their original hit-and-run plan.
      He turned around and looked back to where Lieutenant Colonel Nodern and is battle staff were working, trying to cut the corners and maximize the potential of the remaining troops on the surface. Foster felt directly responsible for this terrible failure in this first hour of the operations; that he was at fault for dropping these ODSTs in, what was so far, the worst location on the planet. Even the Regular Marines, who were tasked with securing the mining sites and known storage sites, were having a far less loss rate, something very uncommon in ground operations.
      He knew that in reality there was no way he could have known, with the short amount of time given to him to decide the drop zones, that they would be infested with those aliens. His superiors, while grim about their situation, told him that as well. But it didn't seem to change anything; the burden on his shoulders was feeling like the weight of failure.
      Foster turned to face a saluting Ensign. He returned the salute and grabbed the paper handed to him.
      "Navy reconnaissance birds have just reported this in."
      Foster looked through the papers handed to him: a page of text and four digital photographs. He looked back up at the Ensign and waved him off. "Thank you."
      The Navy officer turned and walked away.
      Foster moved into better lighting, as the deep red lights in the GFCIC didn't offer much. The time of the information was less then ten minutes old.

___________________________________________________________

            //INTEL//
            0552 NOV-21, 2552
___________________________________________________________

Foxtrot 588 Delta (Pilot: Lt. Cmdr. Jacob Darren)

INFORMATION AS FOLLOWS:

Information gathered by recon sensors have displayed a high amount of Covenant activity within the ODST drop zone AO. An estimated strength of three battalion's of troops are moving through the area.

Further flyby revealed hostile contact (fighting) scattered in the AO; however, these noticeable firefights do not involve Covenant and Marine forces. It is speculated that these contacts are between Covenant forces themselves, as for what reason is unknown. The recorded contacts are known to be throughout the entire AO, and the appearance of the main Covenant fighting is not with the Marines, but apparently with themselves or this other unidentified force that is indeed hostile to the Covenant. There has been limited reports of fighting from the Marines surface-side since this information was observed.

In addition to the observed fighting between the Covenant and this unknown force, infra-red sensors have reported several large heat emissions sources in systemic locations around the AO, leading to the conclusions that there are underground facilities that may be connected, with these observed hot-spots as the surface locations (i.e. possibly entry points).

FOR IMMEADIATE REVIEW BY MARINE INTEL

TRANSMISSION 503522-1440 TANGO

DISTRIBUTION: LIMITED
___________________________________________________________

            //END TEXT//
___________________________________________________________

      Foster raised his brow at this information. The Marines all reported extremely heavy resistance upon landing, the heavy causality rate testimony to that fact. And soon thereafter, reports of fighting did drop radically, allowing the remaining troops to regroup and regain a tactical advantage against the Covenant swarming the area.
      However, now this information comes to light; was there really another force hostile to the Covenant on this planet? Or was it the Covenant fighting themselves? The photographs and sensor reports didn't lie, there was heavy fighting going on through certain areas of the AO, and none of those locations had any Marine's present. What did that leave?
      The planet's surface, and more specifically the ODSTs AO, didn't have any return of this type when the initial recon craft flew over. There was no fighting, no heavy Covenant presence, nothing that would lead him to suspect that this area was infested with enemies. And with Longswords flying support missions overhead and their own ships scanning the area, no single Covenant drop ship could have sneaked in to drop off any troops.
      That meant that the initial speculation about there being underground facilities or tunnels must be true. How else could such a vast number of Covenant, and now apparently some of their enemies, pop up out of nowhere? The mystery behind this seemingly failed drop was coming around. He had been right about the drop zone being safe with the initial intelligence he received, but there was no way he could have foreseen this possibility with the limited resources he had reconnoitering the AO.
      Something else was going on here, something bigger. The Covenant were fully engaged with this threat, meaning that it had to be a bigger threat to them than the Marines. He had never seen this before; he had never seen the Covenant willfully turn their backs on humans to fight another enemy.
      This planet was not what they had initially thought. This was no simple resource-gathering operation by the Covenant. Something bigger resided on this planet, and his gut told him they would find out soon enough.
      "Sir," Foster said, walking over to Lt. Col. Nodern. "We have some new Intel. It seems as if we have a new factor in play on the surface."
      Nodern looked up, question etched on the weathered face.
      Foster set the stack of papers and pictures on the table, the resounding slapping-noise catching the entire battle staff's attention.
      "There's a new enemy."

0605 hours, November 21, 2552 (Military Calendar)
6 Kilometers North of Drop Zone Mike X-Ray
Planet Red Dawn (Codename), Theta 1440+90 System

      Westfield, Johnson and Wilson came around with little prodding. The two snipers and Lynn helped get each of them down from their awkward inverted positions inside the Pelican, then gave them a few moments to get their bearings. The door-gunner, his nametape reading off 'Delyn', nearly shot one of the snipers when he suddenly came around, bringing out his pistol in a disoriented defense.
      Bottom line, though, Lynn was just happy to have them all come around without major injury, and the added support from these two snipers gave them more resources to fight. Force Recon snipers were the best available, and that fact didn't go unknown among any of the ODSTs standing around the over-turned Pelican, still smoking slightly.
      Lynn retrieved his BR55 and checked its magazine. If those two snipers hadn't arrived when they did, his pistol wouldn't have done enough to save him from the Covenant; which gave him another painful reminder to not lose his rifle. The other Marines got their gear together, with Westfield hefting the M271B, and stood silently outside the Pelican, looking around cautiously after they heard what Keeton had said earlier.
      The second sniper, Lynn reading his nametape and rank insignia as 'Corporal Tanner', came back around from the front of the Pelican and nodded slightly to the group. He had only heard this sniper say three words the entire time, leading him to the conclusion that this men resembled his own PFC Johnson: quiet and professional.
      "Tell me what you've encountered so far," Keeton said, kicking the dead body of a Grunt.
      Lynn went through the memories of the last hour. He wasn't quite so sure what had happened either. "Heavy Covenant resistance at the drop zone, and we were the only survivors of my platoon. Overall analysis is that this mission has gone to hell."
      Keeton nodded in silent agreement.
      "And you? What have you two seen?" Delyn asked, staring blankly at the dead Grunt at the feet of the sniper.
      "We were the first of three teams on the surface; ground recon. We lost our team leader after a run-in with the Covenant, and our comm. specialist to...them." The sniper's tone was flat and devoid of emotion.
      "Them?" Question obvious in Delyn's voice.
      Keeton looked up from the dead body and into the gunner's eyes. "I don't know what the hell they are or where they came from, but the Covenant want them dead just as bad as they want us dead."
      Lynn shook his head in confusion. "Wait, there's more 'aliens' on this planet?"
      "Aliens? Hardly." The sniper holstered his pistol and brought out the long sniper rifle. "I don't know how to explain this, so I'll give it my best shot.
      "They're Covenant, at least they appear to be. More specifically they're Jackals, but they're not normal; something about them has changed. They don't wear any traditional Covenant armor or uniforms, they don't have shields, they don't have anything. But they are Covenant Jackals." Keeton looked around the group of Marines staring back at him. "It's in their eyes; something's not right about them."
      "That's it? They're rogue Jackals?" Westfield asked, his voice clearly portraying no concern
      Tanner, the second sniper, spoke up for the real first time. "No, that's not it. When you see them, you'll understand."
      The ODSTs remained silent. Under any other circumstances, none of them would have believed these two snipers. But it was evident they were not lying; they had in fact seen this Jackal enemy, and by the tone in their voices and the look in their eyes, it was not something to be taken lightly.
      Lynn looked at each of the Marines in the circle. These men were all tired, and most were dealing with injuries from any number of reason, including himself. However, their situation remained unchanged, even with this news from the snipers; they had to get their act back together and get their mission accomplished. He brought out his watch and looked at the time counter.
      01:27:38. They were approaching the ninety-minute mark.
      Keeton spoke up, reading Lynn's intentions. "I'll take point."
      Lynn nodded and got his bearings of the terrain. He picked a relatively easy path to traverse, then pointed in that direction, causing all the ODSTs to look. "We'll head that direction for one click, then get our exact location with the LRISC and find out if anyone's nearby. Clear?"
      The three Marines, two snipers, and Pelican gunner nodded.
      "Once we get far enough away from this crash-site, we'll have more room between us and whatever may be searching for us. There's Marines out there who could use a few more hands, so let's make sure we do whatever we can to get to them."
      There was a silent agreement among the others. Lynn wasn't sure what they were thinking, but he knew it was his time to step up to the plate and get them moving. His own feelings were probably the same as theirs anyways: fatigue, anxiousness, paranoia, but he knew their training for these types of situations would pull them through, along with a little luck. Besides, did they have any alternative?
      "Let's move."


      The forest, despite having a relatively thin spread of trees, seemed to close in on them. The sun, still rising higher into the sky, was not visible through the high branches that caught every beam of light. Down here on the ground, walking through the rocky ground and around bushes, it was darker then any of them would have liked.
      None complained, or even spoke, as they silently made their way along the slope of a hill that rose up above them and dropped down below them to that distant river. The tension was obvious, and the rifles were kept shouldered and scanning the area around them. While it seemed reasonable enough that they would be able to spot a threat, with the sparse vegetation, that fact didn't ease up the high-strung nerves of the Marines.
      Lynn found himself looking around anxiously with his rifle up, but he couldn't determine whether it was his training or the paranoia of being on this planet. It was weird to have thought that only minutes earlier he had viewed this place as a peaceful landscape, all of it relaxing and taking the edge off, and now he was weary of every shadow and possible hiding place. Why had that changed? Was it the horror story those snipers had told? Maybe it was his near death confrontation with the Elite. He couldn't decide what was making this change, how he could go from a firefight at the drop zone where nearly everyone of his friends and teammates died, to a somewhat serene crash-site, to a silent walk through what was now appearing as an ominous, deadly forest.
      Was he on the verge or cracking? He had heard the stories and even seen it first-hand when someone just breaks under the constant pressure and fear. When someone hit that point, there was no going back. Section Eight discharge was the only step after that, providing, of course, that you survived the battle under which you cracked. Neither thought appealed to him, but he couldn't shake the feeling. It was times like this where he felt like he didn't even know himself; that he was his own complete stranger.
      Lynn instinctively stopped and brought his shouldered rifle to point up the hill. The entire group stopped as well, their weapons steadily pointing up the hill. Lynn could hear his own heartbeat, his lungs filling with air, the blood rushing through his veins. He had heard something.
      There it was again. A high pitched scream emitting from somewhere up the hill. The sound was eerie and haunting, something he would have expected out of a horror movie. It seemed to pierce through the silent forest and echo around them, causing them all to reaming silent and motionless.
      He didn't even have to think about it: this was that enemy the snipers had told them about.
      "I got movement." Johnson whispered next to him. The other Marine was three meters behind him and had his rifle pointed up the hill.
      Lynn tried to locate what the other Marine had seen. The hill slope they were staring at seemed still.
      "I got movement!" Johnson said in a louder whisper.
      There. He spotted something darting behind the cover. It was fast and small, and he couldn't get a good look at it, but it was nonetheless a threat.
      The group stood silently, their weapons trained on the forest surrounding them. No one spoke as the high-pitched wailing filtered through the forest again. Lynn could feel the hair on his neck stand up and looked deliberately up the slope for that threat again. The fear in his stomach was rising; this threat was not normal. It was fast, faster then what he had seen the Covenant move.
      Crack.
      Lynn spun around and looked at the seemingly small creature in the air lunging towards him. Time seemed to stop as he stared into the creatures eyes; they were blood red. The black, skinny body of the creature ran down from its head, and its beak-like mouth was open, revealing a line of sharp, brown and blood stained teeth.
      Lynn seemed the react in slow motioned as the airborne enemy came at him. He felt his finger begin to press the trigger as the enemy closed the distance. What would be a one second moment in reality seemed like an hour as his eyes and those red eyes stayed locked on. He could feel the creatures deadly intentions, and could see the death in its eyes. This being was not normal; something was wrong with it.
      The creature was less than a meter away, in the air and coming at him. Lynn didn't decide whether or not this was going to be his last act, because regardless this creature would die. The hatred in those blood red eyes would see the hell that waited for it, by the hand of an ODST. The moment ended with his trigger depressing.

Present Darkness, Chapter Three: Part I
Date: 2 December 2004, 7:17 AM

Chapter Two

Revealed

0630 hours, November 21, 2552 (Military Calendar)
UNSC Carrier Stanton Bay
In orbit above Planet Red Dawn (Codename), Theta 1440+90 System

Lt. Col. Nodern stared at the digital photographs, trying to devise a plan that allowed them to take advantage of the situation. It was evident that this "new" enemy, an unknown force that found both his Marines and the Covenant as a threat, was for the most part keeping his own forces free of harassment from the Covenant. The Battalion CO knew that this was, in part, making up for their disastrous losses at every drop zone, but he needed to exploit this even more.
      Foster stood silently at the other end of the table, watching his Commanding Officer think about their current situation. Both officers had agreed that this new enemy was turning out to be more of a help then nuisance, but the simple daunting fact remained: what were they?
      So far, no ODSTs, at least those with communication, were able to relay any information whatsoever about this enemy that was keeping the Covenant occupied while they searched for those supply caches. This left everyone in the GFCIC in wonder about what was going on down there. Was it a new alien species? Or a Covenant sect rebellion? The possibilities were nearly endless, and the curiosity to figure it out seemed more important then completing their original mission.
      Four more hours, maximum, was the current allotted time before the entire UNSC fleet around Red Dawn would be ordered to leave the system. With word leaking through that the UNSC was in a terrible situation as a whole, no Admiral of any fleet was willing to subject his forces to a potential slaughter by the Covenant. That, in short, left Foster and his Battalion, along with the others on the surface, to double-time it to their objectives and destroy them.
      Foster sighed softly and picked up his mug of coffee, taking a deep swig that sent coffee down his throat; coffee that was too hot, burning his taste-buds to a dissatisfying pain. The coffee wasn't even good....
      "There's a transmission over the net," the chief communications officer said, grabbing both Foster's and Nodern's attention. "It's on the standard LRISC band."
      Nodern nodded for the comm. officer to patch it through; it's not like they were being flooded with reports from their troops on the ground.
      "...We are about seven clicks north of Drop Zone Mike X-Ray, and are about one click east of the Pelican crash site. We are requesting an update by any available forces on the current mission situation."
      The Battalion CO looked over at Foster. "What happened to those Marines at Drop Zone Mike X-Ray?" The Lieutenant Colonel apparently did not forget about that specific transmission from the same Marines over an hour ago.
      Foster quickly accessed the communication history for the LRISC-band of the last half-hour from an open computer console. He scrolled down through the transmissions they had received a located the ones of interest.
      "Last radio contact with them was about thirty mikes ago, when they were at the Drop Zone." Foster said, still looking at the screen. "A Pelican, Victor 314, reported locating survivors, performed a hot-extraction from the Zone, then shortly thereafter put out a mayday. The FAC reported receiving an Emergency Locating Transponder from Victor 314 about six clicks north of the Drop Zone, but FAC reported not enough resources for a SAR mission. No communication from the Pelican or any occupants have occurred until now."
      Nodern nodded, then looked at the comm. officer. "Bypass the FAC and go direct with these guys, and give me their situation report."
      The comm. officer nodded. "Papa Tango Two, this is Bravo Command, give me your SITREP."
      There was a minute of silence before the reply came, slightly distorted with static. "Bravo Command, we are one click east of our Pelican's crash-site, and consist of one Pelican crew survivor, four ODSTs including myself, and two Force Recon snipers we were able to link up with. We are currently not engaged, but the presence of multiple enemies is known around us..." the communication continued, but only speaking in the background could be heard. The voice came back in a quieter tone. "Bravo Command, we are currently surrounded by an unknown hostile force, we must discontinue communication."
      Nodern walked over a grabbed the microphone. "Say again, Papa Tango Two, what kind of hostile forces are you encountering?"
      There was broken silence, then the transmission came on mid-sentence. "...Encountering non-Covenant hostiles, I repeat, they are not normal Covenant forces..." Several shots were fired. Foster looked at his CO, who stared back; was this that enemy?
      "...Westfield, cover the north flank!" Thunderous machinegun fire resounded for several seconds. "Bravo Command, we are engaged with hostiles, will resume transmission when able." The line went dead.
      Nodern set the microphone back down. The concern was obvious on his face, and Foster shared the same feeling. Maybe these new hostilities weren't turning out to be an aid after all; maybe they were a real threat, not only to their mission, but to the Marines fighting on the surface as well.
      What was next?

0635 hours, November 21, 2552 (Military Calendar)
7 Kilometers North of Drop Zone Mike X-Ray
Planet Red Dawn (Codename), Theta 1440+90 System

      "Cease fire!"
      The sporadic muzzle flashes from the group of Marines came to a stop. Lynn looked around at their situation and didn't notice any movement; they had gotten them all. Those rogue Jackals turned out to be faster then any of them could have thought, darting from cover to cover, then lunging out into the air after getting close enough. Jackals were notorious for their senses, not for their physical ability, so in his reasoning, these were not just "rogue" Jackals that were breaking off from the Covenant. There was something different about them; for the split second, which really seemed like hours, where he looked at the creature eye to eye, he noticed the difference. While physically the creatures did not seem much different, something in their eyes gave away a secret.
      A secret he was going to find out.
      "Status?" Lynn called out, looking at all the Marines still scanning the area.
      "Johnson."
      "Westfield."
      "Wilson."
      A little late, the gunner caught on. "Delyn."
      Lynn waited for a few seconds, then looked over at the two snipers. "Are you two injured or unable to respond?"
      Keeton spoke up for the both of them. "No."
      "Then how about you respond with the rest of us next time," Lynn said, more harshly then he meant to. This was something he could not help; months of training and operating in an urban environment demanded him to constantly check on the status of his team.
      He remembered fighting on Zandra Omega, the second inner colony to be attacked by the Covenant. Evacuation was their primary goal, which meant being sent into the cities to retrieve all civilians who had survived the initial wave of the Covenant. The atrocities he witnessed there was something he would never forget or never speak of again, forever a dark, silent memory. However, despair and death was not the only thing he brought away with him from Zandra Omega, he had also learned the importance of keeping his team united and moving, and calling checks of each individual soldier after a fight fell directly under that.
      Normally, he would have offered an explanation to the snipers and the Pelican gunner, but the situation didn't allow for it. These were trained, professional soldiers who, if they really had any bearing of mind, would understand his point without argument. In his three years of enlistment, he had done the very same thing: catch on without question. He learned that first in Basic Training, where questions were reserved until after you had accomplished the task, and then later on the streets of Zandra Omega, where one wrong step would put you in the line of a snipers fire.
      The group brought their rifles to bear again as that high-pitched whaling noise echoed through the forest again. How many of these things were there? By his own count, they had killed at least twelve, and not easily either. While one or two shots usually did it, they were fast, and reacting to their sporadic movements was not easy.
      "We've got to get moving." Wilson said, not taking his eyes from the BR55's scope, scanning the slope above them.
      Lynn nodded; they could not stay in one spot long. He looked down the slope, towards the sound of the river. It seemed like a better choice then moving up the hill towards the sound of the wailing.
      "We'll head out down the slope, towards the river, then find our location again," Lynn said. The other Marines nodded in agreement. "Lets move..."
      "Wait," Corporal Tanner spoke up, looking through his sniper rifle's long scope. "There's something up the hill."
      Lynn, along with the rest, looked up the slope in the direction of the high-pitched screaming. He couldn't see anything; it looked just like the slope moving up until the vegetation stopped his line of sight.
      Lynn looked into his scope. "What do you see?"
      "It's a structure of some type, two-hundred-twenty meters."
      Lynn let his rifle drop. A structure? It was ironically in the same direction of the wailing; was this the source of those Jackals? He contemplated the situation. Moving away from this supposed structure would put more distance between them and whatever hostiles may be up there, but going to investigate it would answer the questions that every member of his group had. He began rationalizing; was moving away really any better?
      Putting his team at unnecessary risk was not on his agenda list, but finding the answer to this creature was. He sighed. Squad leadership was not diplomatic, meaning that the Squad Leader made the final call without question, but he knew that theory did not always apply. Sometimes simple feedback could make the right decision for you.
      "Well, what do you think? Go to it, or away?"
      The Marines looked over at him, all of them thinking about the situation they were in. Lynn knew that personal safety came first naturally for every human, and that would lead to them taking the route down the slope, but there was another large human factor that came into play that no one could deny. Curiosity.
      "Let's check it out," Johnson said.
      Wilson and Westfield nodded in agreement. Delyn followed suit a little reluctantly, and the two snipers gave slight nods. The poll was in.
      "Wilson, take point."


      The smell of flesh was strong as the Marines neared the top of the slope. Ahead of them was now clearly the structure that Tanner had spotted earlier, and it was in seemingly pristine condition. The dull gray walls were devoid of vegetation, and the structural look to it felt complex and modern. The structure was rectangular in shape, with a triangular object rising from its top; no doubt some sort of communication device.
      Lynn kept his rifle shouldered as he stepped over the rocky ground and up onto the top of the hill. Around the structure, there were no bushes or trees, only bare rocky dirt. The closer he got to the building, the stronger the smell was; it was the unmistakable smell of death. The source of the smell became visible as he rounded the corner: dead Covenant.
      "What the hell...?" Wilson said quietly, drifting off.
      Ahead of the ODSTs were several corpses of Grunts and a few Elites. The bodies looked rather recent, indicating their death was not long ago. The Covenant lay in their own pools of dried blood at the entrance to this structure, weapons still in their hands.
      Keeton and Tanner, followed by Delyn, came up silently from around the other side, and looked at the sight before them. The snipers remained emotionless, and Delyn looked mildly disgusted, keeping his M6C up and at the ready.
      "Not a good sign," Keeton said. "We're the only Marines in the vicinity."
      Lynn nodded, keeping his BR55 trained at the entrance to the structure, which was nothing more then a door; a door with a sizeable hole, with the breaking threads facing outwards. Whatever caused this hole came from inside the structure.
      Something had escaped.
      He walked cautiously up to the group of deceased Covenant and tried to look into the hole, but it was pitch-black on the other side. He looked down at the bodies; they all had thrashing cuts across them, with dried blood marks running from them. He theorized the situation: the Jackals had sharp beak-like mouths, but other then that, they didn't really have anything to cause these type of scars. And, as he recalled, each Jackal they had encountered so far was weaponless. There was more to come?

75 Minutes Earlier

      Derarnee' ran up the dark tunnel towards the light ahead. The Red Elite clenched its grip on his Plasma Rifle as the screeching wails echoed out from behind him. His mind was racing with the events of the last few moments, and one thing could be said for sure.
      They, the filth of this planet, needed to be stopped.
      He was the last one running up the nearly pitch-black tunnel. Ahead of him were several of his comrade Elites, in a full sprint to make it to the surface door twenty-meters ahead in time to seal it shut. He had three other Elites survive the initial outbreak under the surface, along with several Grunts who began running for the surface exit almost immediately after the breach. Most of his team had died in surprise at the outbreak, and the few survivors were now making their way without delay towards the surface, where the lock-down door could stop this outburst. Things had changed for the worse fast enough that he was not able get back in control of the situation.
      Derarnee' jumped and landed in a roll into the early morning light and quickly looked behind him. The small, pathetic Grunts that had begun running for the surface before he even ordered them to were all shakily waiting outside, their weapons trained loosely on the door. Fools, they are of no use to me. He was sure the same thoughts ran in the minds of his comrades who stood facing the open entrance door.
      "Get the door sealed!" He growled to a cowering Grunt nearest to the doors closing mechanism.
      The Grunt didn't even respond, it just stood their shakily.
      Derarnee' moved quickly for the mechanism and slammed his fist into it, causing an emergency closing of the thick, armored doors. They began sliding shut, much too slowly, as the eerie wailing began seeping up through the dark tunnel behind it. The Elites and cowering Grunts waited silently as the double doors met in the middle with a satisfying thud.
      He turned to his second-in-command, another Red Elite, who stood still, his weapon still trained on the door. "Contact the Field Commander, let him know we have a breach at entrance zero-four..."
      The thumping nose attracted his attention away. Derarnee' looked at the thick blast doors that had just sealed close, and began walking towards it. There it was again. Another deep banging noise resounded from behind the thick door. It was them; the unclean that had turned from his superiors' seemingly ingenious plan to their worse nightmare.
      Derarnee' took a step back from the door as a sizeable portion flexed outward, the thick metal bending from the massive force exerted on it by the threat on the other side. No creature he knew of could exert such incredible force, enough to begin bending such a thickness of door. The doors flexed out again, and the breaking was noticeable.
      Then again, he had never seen what the unclean were capable of.
      The portion of door flexed outward again, and a large black fist of the filth broke through, a deep growling noise being emitted from the newly formed hole. Another hit from the creature on the inside made the hole bigger.
      Derarnee' dropped his Plasma Rifle and brought out his inactivated energy-sword. He turned and faced the fearful Grunts and his commendable Elites. "We shall stand and fight, and hold our ground against the unclean. By our hands shall these creatures see death."
      The Red Elite turned back to the door and saw the hole grow yet again. Such filth should never have seen the light of day in the first place; he was determined to make sure they never lived under it.
      The energy-sword activated.

      Lynn looked up from the bloody body of a Red Elite he was standing over, then back at the hole in the door. The situation was evident enough for him; these creatures had escaped, and they were standing at the initial breach point. Did they dare go in? What lay beyond this door?
      The questions of their current circumstances was more then he wanted to handle. Part of him longed for the simplicity of things prior to landing on this planet; they had a straight forward mission, with a straight forward foe, with a clean and smooth extraction plan. He had enough experience to know nothing ever went as planned, but for things to be off by this much was beyond the odds. Loosing nearly every member in his Platoon, extracting from the Drop Zone and crashing, then finding out there's a new enemy hostile to both them and the Covenant...had this planet gone to hell?
      He didn't believe in coincidences, every action and reaction was there for a reason. For him to go as far as believing in fate was not something he could rationalize prior to coming to Red Dawn, but after seeing all this fall into play, it didn't seem that far off anymore.
      His parents were devote Catholics, and through his childhood he attended church respectfully along with his family. He believed in God, he believed in destiny, he believed what he had learned as a boy. After leaving for the Marine Corps, though, those beliefs slowly died as his priorities shifted to his duties. He had come across many chances to turn back to his beliefs, he had met many people along the way that pointed him in that direction, but it never really seemed to come back. Being only twenty-three, it still seemed as if his life was ahead of him, that there was much more to it then simply what he had experienced over the years. However, it seemed now that his prior beliefs were not entirely fake imaginations he had viewed them as.
      How much had he been through and survived? Too much to remember; too much he wanted to remember. Was there a higher purpose on this planet? Something he was meant to see or needed to do? The questions always came back to the same source, back to whether or not he truly believed in fate, or in destiny.
      Or in God.
      Lynn looked at the men standing around him. They had not made it this far to turn back, to turn their eyes away from this mystery that lay beyond this broken door. Whether or not they had their own beliefs or wished themselves to be their own "god," he knew where he stood, and knew that he needed to enter this door.
      He smirked at the irony: passing through a door. That old phrase seemed to occur in his life many times, except this time, it took both a physical and psychological meaning.
      "Anyone want to stay on the surface?" Was this question rhetorical?
      All were silent except for Delyn, who spoke up in the awkward silence. "We're going in there?"
      Lynn nodded. "Either you come, or you stay out here."
      The group seemed to express no emotion, but he could tell they were all contemplating the situation. By the looks on each of their faces, he knew all were going down with him. Each would have their own reason, but nonetheless their choice was the same.
      They we going to see what secrets this planet held.

Present Darkness, Chapter Three: Part II
Date: 2 December 2004, 7:47 AM

0645 hours, November 21, 2552 (Military Calendar)
Unknown Structure, 8 Kilometers North-Northeast of Drop Zone Mike X-Ray
Planet Red Dawn (Codename), Theta 1440+90 System

      Lynn thought the smell on the surface was bad, but down in this tunnel things smelled far worse. It wasn't a rotting smell, however, it was something else. Something that was beyond that point.
      He looked ahead, his rifle up and pointing forward to the downward sloping tunnel as they continued into the darkness. After finally getting the door to open, they turned on their rifle-mounted lights and began venturing into the depths of this underground path.
      The walls and floor were the same metal type as the exterior of the structure on the surface. There was no lighting or reflective materials along the tunnel, nothing that was meant to illuminate the path sloping deeper into the ground. The only thing that gave them a little comfort in this dark tunnel was the purple light at what appeared to be the bottom of the tunnel.
      No one spoke. The only thing that kept moving was their bodies and their lights that danced across the walls. Lynn lead the way silently, keeping his rifle at the ready, but he knew nothing was about to jump out and attack them. He had the uncanny ability to sense a hostile presence, despite the fact that fear resounded in his gut. He wasn't going to try and fool himself with every step down the tunnel that he was ready or even willing to face whatever was ahead; he was scared. But the need to see what was down here, possibly why he was still alive, overcame the fear that kept his heart beating harder than usual.
      Lynn slowed down a little as he began to make out what the purple light was ahead of him. The light was dim and faintly reflected off the metallic walls, but was stronger at the source, which was the floor. His light finally began to penetrate far enough for him to see that this was, in fact, the end of the downward sloping tunnel, and that the purple light ahead of him lead to a sizable hole in the floor.
      Keeton, brandishing his M6C-SD, moved up next to him. "A Covenant anti-gravity lift."
      Lynn nodded; it was the same thing he had seen come down from carriers and ships, except smaller; more like it was meant to handle nothing larger then a Warthog-size object. He walked up to the purple-filled hole and looked down it; it continued farther down then he could see. They had dropped at least forty meters underground, but apparently this Covenant installation was far deeper.
      He waited for everyone to get a good view before he spoke up. "You all ready?"
      The ODSTs, Force Recon snipers, and single Marine Pelican gunner nodded slightly, ready to use this device. None of them, for obvious reasons, had ever used a Covenant lift; the closest anyone had been was watching one work. They seemed efficient, reliable, and safe, but actually setting foot on it and using it was almost beyond what any off them were willing to do. Lynn noticed the reluctant looks on them all to be the first to step onto it, and stepped forward himself, looking down the hole one last time.
      He took the step out and suddenly felt weightless. His body was being suspended perfectly over this vertical shaft by this purple light that filled the air around him. The soft buzzing noise from the apparatus filled his hearing as he felt himself moving downward.
      Lynn didn't expect it to start working so fast and tried to get off, but he had already sunk below the tunnel floor and was now completely in this purple shaft, moving downward at some unknown speed. He looked down and finally saw a bottom coming up towards him, and fast. He estimated this would be fast enough to, if it didn't kill him, break his legs.
      Without feeling any change in velocity, he slowed to a soft landing, and suddenly the weightlessness lifted, and he was firmly on the bottom of this shaft. He instinctively brought his rifle up and scanned the area around him.
      He was in the middle of a large room, easily large enough to fit several Scorpion tanks. The ceiling was high above him, and the walls stretched out far in a rectangular shape. The lighting was white and purple, common with Covenant ships. Purple crates dotted the area, most overturned; objects that dotted the area were a mess, with their contents spilled out onto the floor. The previous, featureless tunnel above him was a world apart form this torn-up room under the surface. It looked as of someone either went too far with explosives or something had just torn up the room. The smell down here was the same as in the tunnel: bad.
      While most of the lights were functional on the ceiling, some were smashed out; some electrical lines running across the ceiling and walls were ripped and torn, sparking periodically. This entire room bore testimony to some furious beings that apparently either wanted to inflict damage everywhere or had no self-control. Lynn wondered which of those two assessments was right.
      He noticed two large exits on opposite ends of the room, each large enough for a vehicle of substantial size to pass through. They disappeared into darkness, leaving the feeling in this room somewhere between curiosity and utter fear; for all he knew, the answer to his questions lay within an arms reach, or a formidable foe.
      Lynn sent the barrel of his rifle into Johnson's face as the ODST lightly landed next to him. The other Marine took a step back as Lynn lowered the rifle, his eyes larger then usual. The rest of the group began coming down around him, and they all took in the surroundings of this torn-up room.
      "Fan out, stay awake." Lynn said silently.
      The Marines took cautious steps outward into the room, keeping their weapons up and scanning the area. The possibility of finding some of those creatures, or even some Covenant, seemed light, but Lynn knew that the culprits of this situation could not be far away.
      He side-stepped around an overturned crate and looked at the scene before him. Laying on the ground was a grotesque sight that caused him to feel the light nausea that came with these types of situations. Before him was a dead Elite, it's hands in a death grip about one of those creatures; a crazed Jackal. The Elite was back first, mangled in a pool of its own blood. The creature's beak-mouth was deeply thrust into the Elites head, the obvious fatal wound, and the Elites strong grasp was around the Jackal's neck was the apparent cause of death for the smaller, but ferocious, creature.
      Even these much feared Covenant warriors found themselves unable to defeat this enemy.

90 Minutes Earlier

      "Master, the beings have broken through our test chambers."
      The higher ranking Elite looked over at the Blue Elite standing before him. Norenee' had already received word that those creatures, considered a filth by each Elite in the facility, had begun overpowering their chambers and breaching through their security stations.
      His duty was straightforward: keep the underground lift-room secure from anyone with inadequate security clearance from proceeding from the turbo-lift into the testing and experimental chambers. And also, in the event of some terribly wrong failure, keep this filth from entering or going beyond his post. No one, not his superiors nor the skeptics, thought these beings would ever break out or that control over them would be lost. He grunted silently. What fool had allowed this breach of security to happen?
      The Red Elite looked towards one of the two main entrances to this room; he was confident his team could contain any threat that made it this far, and keep them from making their way to the surface, if they even held the intelligence to do so.
      Part of him was furious with the situation, not with the breach in security, but in the fact that these twisted experiments were going on with support from the Prophets. Why was there a need for this? His race of Elites was proving itself to be a conquering force against these humans without problem, yet these experiments were being done anyways. Granted, they were not perfect in putting an end to this scum that inhabited the universe, but what more did the Prophets need? They were accomplishing their tasks, so why start down this series of events that could lead to failure?
      We are reliable, Norenee' thought, moving toward his team gathering in the center of the large room. We are accomplishing and winning this cleansing of the humans, why tamper with our success? The tall Elite put aside those thoughts; he would secure this room without further thought of the nonsense that seemed to surround him.
      He directed his detail of Elites and Grunts to secure both entrances, and also the last remaining few, including himself, as the final guards around the turbo-lift itself in case any of the unclean slipped through.
      The next few moments were uneventful, to his pleasure. If the filth made its way this far, the other security teams were far too incompetent for military service. He was confident this breach would be contained quickly and effortlessly by his comrades in this underground facility; how hard could it be to fight this foe that they created?
      Norenee' watched in utter silence as several Grunts, none of which were under his command, came running into the room from one of the entrances, the small beings making headway past the stacks of crates for the turbo-lift. What were they up to? The Grunts stumbled onto the lift and began rising up the shaft, the Elites guarding the lift silently letting the fools go. Their time was more valuable then redirecting crazed, ineffective Grunts.
      The mood changed as four Elites came running into the room from the same entrance, making their way to the lift as well. Norenee' was not used to seeing Elites run in the corridors of this facility, which prompted him to find out what was going on.
      "Derarnee', my comrade, what is the situation?" Norenee' asked, recognizing the fellow Red Elite.
      Derarnee' paused, the others getting onto the lift and disappearing from view. "There has been a containment breach in all chambers; I must secure the surface door as protocol demands."
      Norenee' remained motionless, had the situation gotten that bad?
      Plasma fire broke out at each entrance almost simultaneously. He looked past the numerous crates to see his teams engaging the filth moving up on them from the hallways; so they had made it this far. Slight rage crept into his mind as the unclean became visible, attacking his troops. What fools had allowed these beings to be free?
      "Master, we are losing ground." Came the deep report from one of his Elites stationed at the first entrance.
      He growled orders to his comrades, and to the Grunts near him, to move out and help with the situation. How could this filth be winning against his trained troops?
      Norenee' looked over at his Red Elite comrade, standing tall and silent next to the turbo lift. "Secure the surface door, we shall buy you some time."
      Derarnee' nodded and stepped onto the lift, disappearing up the shaft.
      He looked back out to the entrances as the voice came through. "They are overtaking us, we must pull back!" This report infuriated Norenee'; how many of these beings could there even be?
      He set off from the bottom of the turbo-lift to help his comrades. Plasma fire continued long and hard, as well as yells of his Elites and squeals of the Grunts. So it had come down to him and his team, and they needed to stop these beings; keep this breach contained in the facility. If the situation worsened to that point, he would see to it that every last one of them met and painful death.
      The Red Elite felt the hit blindside him from behind, and skidded across the ground, losing grip of his Plasma Rifle. He recovered and jumped to his feet, staring at the enemy that had attacked him. His mind quickly tried to recognize the enemy, and he put his finger on it. Rage inside him began to build as the monster before him stared back. He had seen such a foe before, but never like this; never possessed. It was large, bigger then himself, and he could tell from its eyes that it was one of them; it was a filth plaguing this facility.
      The energy-sword came to life in his hands as he ran full force into the being, slicing its torso and sending black-red blood from the being onto the ground. The creature let out a loud, deep growl of pain and fell to the floor.
      That was not it, though. He turned to see more coming at him, smaller ones he recognized as Jackals and the larger beings. There were dozens upon dozens, more then he could count in the short split-second he had to think; he didn't even know there were this many beings at the facility.
      He looked about for his team, his comrades, but nothing caught his eye; only the unclean heading for him. Had his entire team been consumed by these monsters? Was he the last one left?
      He let his instincts takeover and ducked under the first small creature that flew at him; it was unusually fast. A large creature lunged forward at him, and he send his sword through the threat's skull, ending the beings miserable life. Another large being hit him hard, sending him flying backwards. He sprang back to his feet quickly, ready to keep fighting, but noticed his shield was down. These large beings were stronger then usual.
      A small Jackal attacked him, ripping the sword from his grasp. The sword partially cut the creature and then impaled it, deactivating as the dead Jackal and sword hit the ground. He tried to get his bearings from the attack, but there were too many enemies crowding in on him. How could it have come to this?
      He reached out and grabbed a Jackal mid-flight heading towards him, stopping it a mere finger-length from his own head. He tighten his squeeze on the creature and began suffocating it, staring into its blood-red eyes; in them hatred and death. These beings were hideous and had something in them that made them crazed.
      Berserkers.
      The Jackal let out a high-pitched squealing, one of its last dying acts. The Red Elite stared into the hate-filled eyes, and blinked as the Jackal made one more last act; sending its sharp beak directly at him.
      Death. Something the proud warrior never feared, but never wanted.

      "There's quite a few Covenant bodies, along with those creatures..."
      Lynn looked up from the bloody scene before him. By the looks of things, these Covenant were trying to keep these beings from reaching the surface, something they utterly failed to accomplish. If these creatures could defeat Elite warriors, how much of a chance did they stand?
      He brushed that thought aside. He was still alive, regardless.
      He turned around and saw the large body of another alien being, lying in a dark pool of blood a short distance away. He moved closer to get a better look; he had never seen such a figure before. It was large, having a thick, black coat of fur-like skin around its body. He didn't get a look of the being's head, choosing to turn away from the bloody mess and move on, but kept the figure noted in his mind. Jackals weren't the only creatures to come from this facility; there were bigger ones.
      Lynn walked over to where Wilson and Tanner stood, looking down upon several Grunts and dead rogue Jackals. The scene everywhere seemed to be bloody, and the sight was hard on everyone's eyes. These creatures were far from sanity, and their method of attack proved that they were not simple killing machines.
      They were crazed, possessed beings.
      He turned and walked cautiously to one of the entrances to the room, passing over bodies and walking though pools of blood from both the Covenant and these creatures. Lynn looked into the darkness at the faint light in the distance. What was this facility meant for? These creatures obviously originated from here, and it was Covenant operated; all the Covenant technology and systems proof of that. So what was the purpose of the Covenant harboring such a ruthless, crazed populous of these creatures? And why would they turn their own into these crazed beings?
      The questions seemed to eat away, building his curiosity, but also adding to the gut-wrenching fear. Such a twisted idea seemed very irrational to him, but then again, he was not the Covenant. The Covenant had other motives and "logic" for their actions. Why they did anything, he determined, he may never understand. But one thing was still clear.
      The answers lay in the pathway ahead.

Present Darkness, Chapter Four
Date: 6 December 2004, 7:13 AM

Chapter Four

Unknown Intentions

0640 hours, November 21, 2552 (Military Calendar)
UNSC Carrier Stanton Bay
In orbit above Planet Red Dawn (Codename), Theta 1440+90 System

"What we have is a Covenant rebellion, where we're seeing the complete chain of authority being intentionally disobeyed by Covenant sects that find the higher goals of their leadership incompetent, or not in their own best interest. What other alternative or explanation is there? As for the timing of this event, it would lead me to conclude that this is a mere coincidence with our operation here at Red Dawn, and that the Covenant rebellion has nothing to do with our presence here."
      Foster leaned back and nearly smirked at the Major Stephens, Deputy Commander of the Battalion, who conversed with Nodern and the rest his executive staff.
      "Look at the facts before us; reports of heavy intra-Covenant fighting from our recon teams, and there isn't even a squad of Marines present or near those locations. The added fact that our troops have reported discontinued contact with the Covenant shows that the Covenant is in fact undergoing some sort of radical change in the means of a higher threat; something far more important then 'humans' being on their planet. They want to subdue this rebellion before it spreads, and that means focusing entirely on that problem, not the Marines on the surface. Therefore, the analysis of this being a Covenant sect rebellion has to be the only possibility."
      Nodern absorbed the argument Stephens' was making. The facts did line up with his hypothesis, so he couldn't flat out deny the claim.
      He was dealing with information of extreme importance, probably more important then that of the operation they were currently running on the surface. What would this information mean, though? Of what importance could this be to him, or to his superiors, or to the UNSC?
      The obvious answer. The reason this information was far more important then anything at the moment was because if this was true, the Covenant as a whole could fall apart, giving them the upper hand to ward off this threat. It would be the turning point in where humanity was able to push back the once powerful hordes of these aliens and restore the status of humanity back to where it was prior to this war. Part of him did not believe his Deputy Commander, something like this just didn't happen, but he wanted to believe this; he wanted to see the tides change where they were no longer harassed and slaughtered by these beings that claimed a holy war against them.
      Nodern turned and looked at the other end of the table, past his staff to Major Foster. While Stephens was competent and useful, Nodern always turned to his Intel Officer for another opinion.
      "The smile you've been suppressing tells me you have another side," Nodern said, catching Foster off guard.
      That man is too good with people, Foster thought. "While the facts of the situation are compatible with that theory, from my view they point in an entirely different direction." Foster began; all eyes were now on him. "From what I've observed from Intel reports to actual transmissions from our troops surface-side, the idea of a Covenant sect rebellion doesn't stand up to the scrutiny.
      "The Covenant are not having a rebellion of ranks; that idea can be tossed out. Rather, what we are seeing is a new type of Covenant that is, for some unknown reason, finding the mainstream Covenant forces as threats as well as our troops. We have done full global recon, and it is safe to say that there are no other forces inhabiting this planet other then the Covenant, which in turn leads us to believe this new Covenant force must have been created by the Covenant themselves. I can't speculate as to where or why they have been produced, but the fact remains that they are now running their own course independent of the main Covenant authority."
      The Battalions Deputy Commander stood silently as Foster finished his rebuttal to the argument, and by the look on Nodern's face, he found more logic in Foster's reasoning than in his own DC.
      "So, where does that leave us?" His CO asked.
      Foster thought for a moment. "In terms of our mission: unchanged. In terms of our fight against the Covenant as a whole, well that is up to our superiors to decide. The best action we can take with this knowledge is to alert our commanders in the field, then to pass it up the Chain of Command. This new type of Covenant, even though finding the Covenant hostile as well, is still a threat to us; a threat with a much higher potential in the long run. I'm not sure how this may impede future operations, if these beings are present, but for the meantime we must view this as a unilateral hostile operation."
      "Have we ever encountered anything like this in the past?" Nodern asked.
      "Not to my recollection. However, if any UNSC forces have, it is certainly is under wraps, otherwise we would have heard about it."
      Foster let his own hypothesis sink in with the staff standing around the table. His assessment seemed to match all the facts and reports that they knew of, and certainly proved more realistic then a Covenant in-ranks rebellion. The odds of that were beyond slim, since their chain of command was highly disciplined and enforced, in addition to the fact that this was no simple war for them; this was their perception of good verses evil; where their regions beliefs dictated their will against humanity.
      He took a sip from his now cold coffee and turned around to face the main entrance door to the Ground Forces Combat Information Center. Two figures stood against the wall, their faces indistinguishable in the dark-red lighting of the GFCIC, but Foster could tell they were out of place. Among the busy and seemingly crowded operations and duties running in this center, their presence was known and somewhat unmistaken; to him, at least.
      Foster continued staring at them, taking another sip from his mug. They were within hearing distance, despite the noises of this command center, and had no doubt heard the conversation that had ended a minute earlier. For what possible reason were these two idle men standing in this restricted area, overhearing a conversation containing sensitive material?


      "They know."
      The two men stared back at the ODST Battalion staff that had just finished ruling out the situation on the planet. They both remained still as a single officer looked back at them, obviously suspicious of their presence.
      "We have the higher authority not to let this information get to anyone else."
      "Which leaves us where?"
      There was a short pause.
      "In the best interest of the UNSC, and to fulfill our current duties, make sure that these men do not pass this information on to anyone, regardless of the situation. Word of this among the Fleet Commander would mean a further inquiry to the events on the surface, and subsequently to the Covenant biological weapons, which is unacceptable per our terms."
      The men silently looked back at the Battalion staff as they closed from their briefing. Those staffers were getting ready to pass the information along, spreading the word about the Covenant and their new experiments; but allowing that would be in violation of their own orders.
      Word of this was not supposed to be surfaced until the proper time, when they would have an effective counter to the new Covenant enemy. Keeping this under wraps was their task, and it was the priorities of those "higher-ups" who controlled the black operations and secretive missions behind the scenes of this war. Their superiors deemed this information too sensitive for circulation through the UNSC chain of command, which meant that exposure to this Covenant force was to be kept secret until they deemed it time.
      No one expected that this would surface prematurely, and no one even thought about the same event occurring twice. The odds were extremely low, but the fact that they had now encountered this twice was proof to show that it was indeed a real threat, thus restating their entire objective of keeping this silent.
      The two men waited for the staff to disperse before turning and leaving the GFCIC; moving to start completing their duties.
      Silence the sources of this information.
      This was not their first time performing operations like this, and the two men were not fools at how to make this happen the right way; the right way leaving no traces or clues that could be followed back to them.
      Or back to the Office of Naval Intelligence.

0645 hours, November 21, 2552 (Military Calendar)
7 Kilometers North of Drop Zone Mike X-Ray
Planet Red Dawn (Codename), Theta 1440+90 System

      Lynn could detect the fear among the group as they moved into the darkness of the tunnel from the lift room. The aroma of this underground facility, combined with the images of just a few minutes ago, proved to be a demoralizing combination for them all. While the only noise they could be heard were that of themselves, the feeling of another presence here was unmistakable.
      And nobody could help but wonder what lurked in the rooms ahead.
      Was this really a good idea? The questions about whether or not they should have ventured down here began rerunning through his head. His basic survival instincts called for him to turn around, to go back up the lift and back into daylight, where the mysteries, and dangers, of this underground realm would be left behind.
      The very present fact that these beings had neutralized every Covenant thus far was another fact that ate away. To see Grunts dead from these crazed beings was one thing, but to see their leaders in the same condition was testimony to the ferocity these possessed-Covenant had.
      But despite it all, beyond the fear and sickness that lay in this Covenant facility, there was the will to see what was causing these beings into existence. He had heard many stories before of a relentless existence of beings that consumed flesh and inhabited their prey's bodies, but those seemed nothing more then tales from the locker-rooms; down here, however, they seemed far more present, far more possible,
      Far more real.
      Lynn kept his rifle shouldered and walked into the illumination of more purple light as they entered a second room from the dark tunnel. With Wilson and Johnson right behind him, he stepped into the room and swept the distance with his rifle, keeping a critical eye on every shadow.
      This room was similar to the last, minus a Covenant antigravity lift. It was filled with turned-over crates and spilled contents, and with many of the electrical systems broken and sparking. These beings had left nothing normal in their path.
      The sight of dead bodies scattered the area, of both the Covenant and creatures. The fight had well extended into this room, and the winner was evident, seeing the fact that the previous room had the same scene of dead Covenant. This room had four exits, including the one they had entered from, indicating they were approaching a more central location of this facility. They were working their way deeper into the enemy's lair.
      Lynn silently pointed to the first exit to their right, and the Marines of his group nodded. They moved for it, cautiously stepping over bodies, through blood trails, and around crates. The scenes of death were very similar to the last room, and with every body they came across, the dark feeling of this place rose. They weren't in any normal Covenant facility, or at any simple location; they were in a pit of wolves, where the offspring proved deadly to both the inhabitants.
      And to any visitors.


      The group slowed their pace as they came into the light of yet another room. This one, however, was different. Instead of a simple storage place filled with crates, it had a wide walkway running straight along with rows of small rooms on each side; the end being no less then three hundred meters away.
      Each room was closed off with thick bars.
      Lynn felt the chill sweep over him as he scanned the long hallway ahead of him. Running along each side were separate, relatively small rooms, each with thick, prison-like bars. The sight brought new fears to his mind as he gazed down the long corridor; what possible reason would the Covenant build rooms to contain and hold...
      ...Them?
      He looked at a single body lying before him; a dead, crazed Jackal. These were no doubt holding cells for those beings, and for obvious reasons, the Covenant feared these creatures as well. In addition to a standard force-field around each room, they had constructed thick black bars to keep these beings from escaping. Part of it was clear to him now: The Covenant knew these beings would kill, not only their common enemy, but themselves as well.
      The group took cautious steps into the hallway, absorbing the sight. Between every barred room a white light flashed, probably a breach warning indicator. At only a few rooms the force-fields were flickering on and off, malfunctioning, but at nearly every room in sight, shields were down and the thick bars were bent apart. Lynn looked in awe at the strength it must have taken to bend such large bars.
      His mind flashed back to the images of that large, black-coated creature in the lift room. It was larger then an Elite, and with the enhanced capabilities he had noticed from these beings, that large creature could have done this. What else could?
      The weapons from each man in the group came up as a shrill, high-pitched wail shot through the long room. It was loud, indicating the creature emitting it was close. Lynn looked down the long hallway, not able to see every room well at such a distance, but knew it must be in this large, prison hallway. They were getting closer to the heart of this secret.
      "Stay alert," Lynn whispered, motioning for everyone to begin moving down the long hallway.
      The Marines did not need to be reminded, and began moving down the long hallway cautiously, checking each individual room. Lynn did the same, and deduced that there had to be at least one hundred rooms on each side of this walkway. This large numbers of rooms indicated the Covenant had possessed a high number of these creatures, and this probably was not even the first of a dozen prison chambers like this.
      He took careful looks at the architecture of this place. The tight quarters if these prison-rooms clearly showed that the Covenant had no regard for the well being of these creatures. Each room was no more then two meters long and two meters high, and they didn't go back very far. In the center of each room were broken shackles; tie-downs for these possessed beings that were condemned to a small hell. He couldn't even begin to imagine what it would be like to be shoved inside one of these small rooms, chained to the walls, and left for what was probably weeks on end.
      Were these creatures intelligent? Able to discriminate against different situations, able communicate, think logically, be rational, or have emotions? From what he knew, they were Covenant species, altered through some process to become what they are now, crazed. But was there more to these creatures then what met the eye? Did these creatures have the ability to work together, and wage a war against their captors and to any other unknown force they came across?
      They had made it this far, fighting against the reputable Covenant on the surface. They had broken out of this bondage and fought their way pass their armed creators to the surface, all seemingly with precision and speed. This foe could be more then just a possessed group of beings.
      They could be a lot more.
      There it was; a single room with the force-field still functional, with the bars still intact. Lynn kept his distance from the room and strafed to get a better view of the insides. This was no doubt where those screams were originating from.
      He nearly jumped when the piercing nose shot out again. There it was, a crazed Jackal, weakly struggling against the shackles from inside the chamber. The being looked right back at him, its red eyes connecting with his own. There was anger, death, and threatening messages coming silently from those two eyes that seemed to pierce through him. This was how they contained the beings; in tiny prisons, chained down.
      "They keep these things alive," Wilson said, looking at the creature struggle again, trying to free itself. "For what purpose would these things be kept alive?"
      Lynn had wondered that as well, but the answer was evident. The Covenant, while their logic tainted and their ingenuity misled, continued to find more ways to kill, more ways to end the lives of their enemies. Even if it meant resorting to using their own as these ruthless, mindless attackers.
      "They're weapons," Lynn said softly. "These creatures are the Covenant's new attackers in which they plan to use against us."
      Keeton nodded, letting his silenced pistol slowly drop. "They're fast, quiet, and have no fear. They're the perfect instrument of battle to be used. All you have to do is let them loose."
      A very potent weapon, Lynn thought, taking a step closer to the occupied room. New, twisted ways of raging war was the sole purpose of this facility. What he was accustomed to, and probably the entire UNSC as a whole, was not the case here; this was basically a laboratory, where they developed this new sick method of turning their own into lifeless combatants for the sole purpose of defeating humanity. The reality of the situation sunk in as the realization washed over him; the Covenant were willing to go to these lengths just to beat us, thus proving the absolute willpower that these aliens had to kill.
      The UNSC, despite all the rumors that abounded from each ship to each planet, would never take the fight to such a degree as seen here. Humans would never be turned from respectable lives to crazed beings that would stop at nothing to taste blood, because this war was to preserve human life; this was not evident with the Covenant, however, where they would be willing do this to their own.
      Lynn looked away from the sight of the Jackal to the end of the long hallway. They had passed through the facility's entrance, passed the Covenant storage rooms, and had now seen the prison's built to hold these creatures. Only one thing remained for them to see.
      Where these beings came from.

Present Darkness, Chapter Five: Part I
Date: 20 December 2004, 7:37 AM

Chapter Five

The Fight Within

0700 hours, November 21, 2552 (Military Calendar)
UNSC Carrier Stanton Bay
In orbit above Planet Red Dawn (Codename), Theta 1440+90 System

Foster waited for the information to finish uploading to a data pad, then removed the device from the computer before him. They had made the speculation, put it to the test, and now verified that their, or rather his, idea of the Covenant using biologically enhanced beings on the surface was indeed true. And along with that thought, they also found that within that process, something had gone wrong that left those altered beings no longer under the Covenant control.
      Like he had stated earlier, Foster knew that this ultimately didn't change the operation on the surface. Those Marines were still tasked with taking out the Covenant supply caches, and so far that was going relativity close to planned. However, this information was important on a strategic scale, not tactically surface-side. Knowledge of this could drastically change the defensible strategies of the UNSC and also change when and where resources were placed. While at the moment this was utterly nothing more then interesting, in the long run it would prove to be far more important.
      "Sir, I have all the data." Foster said, walking up to Nodern in the GFCIC.
      His CO looked up at him. "There's been a change of plans. I have the feeling were going to need first hand intelligence of these intra-Covenant skirmishes; something more then just aerial photos and our own reasoning."
      Foster nodded, but remained in question about where this was going.
      Nodern grabbed his own data pad and beckoned for his staff to follow. "This won't fly very far with the information we have, we need more. There's no way my superiors will take any of this to heart if we can't show them more evidence. Therefore, I am tasking you with getting first hand information and documentation of this issue on the surface and bring it back to me before the end of this operation in..." There was a pause as the Battalion CO looked down at his watch. "...Just over three hours." Nodern paused again and saw the look on his Intel Officer's face. "This started with you, now I need you to finish it so we don't run into problems with my superiors in the near future."
      The Battalion CO leaned closer and talked softly. "Besides, you're the only one on my staff who could go down there and get the job done right."
      Foster nodded, seeing where this was going. The previous plan of him accompanying them to converse with the Fleet Commander was obviously no more; instead, he had to go to the surface of this planet. The realization that he was heading into a extremely hostile area hadn't quite hit him yet.
      "I'll make sure you have the right personnel in the armory," Nodern said. "Get down there, pick your team, suit up, and get the job done."
      Foster nodded.
      "And come back in one piece."
      His CO turned and walked out of the GFCIC with his staff.


      The armory was almost dead quiet; normally, this would be unusual, but with all their forces deployed, it was no surprise either. The comprehension finally hit Foster when we looked at the combat gear secured to the wall: Body armor, Load Bearing Vests, Radios, Grenades, Rifles, side arms. He had been in combat three times before, but those days were far behind him. Seeing the battlefield was now at a distance for him, something he was mixed about. Seeing men die in front of you was no joke, but staying off the field of battle, knowing there was someone out there who needed help, tore away at him as well.
      This time around, however, he was going in. From the reports he had heard from the Marines on the surface, the fighting was intense, but scattered. After the initial, nearly fatal drop for every Marine, the Covenant had turned away to face their own problem. It was ironic that he would be going down there to find these beings, while the rest on the surface would be trying to avoid them.
      Like every Marine, he was well versed in marksmanship and battlefield survival. Having been an ODST for nearly six years, he had seen some very tough insertions and fighting; which all left him with plenty of experience on the field, but his specialty was in Intelligence, not in carving up Covenant. While he still wore the famous patch across his BDUs, he had left that life to fight a new side of the war. Would it all come back?
      The doubt quickly faded as several men entered the armory. The right question to ask: was it ever lost?
      "Major Foster?"
      Foster turned and faced another Marine. The man was not an ODST, but looked squared-away from what he could tell. A slight nod answered the Marine's question.
      "My name is Second Lieutenant Luke Sherman, Second Marine Battalion. I have been ordered to accompany you on a mission surface-side, along with my team."
      At least Nodern did not expected him to go alone. "Very well, and your team is...?"
      The young Lieutenant looked behind him as several more Marines walked into the armory. "Myself, and a Squad of six from my unit."
      "Is that all?"
      The young officer nodded softly. "We're spread thin as it is, sir."
      Foster stood silent for a moment, then moved to grab some gear; this was far less then he expected, but anything was something. As for them being regular Marines...he dismissed the thought. They would need all the hands they could get, no matter what the experience level. From what he knew so far, these Marines may have never fired a weapon at the Covenant in their lives, which slightly discouraged his attitude towards this mission. But then again, he could be wrong; these could be very valuable troops on the field.
      He looked up as the Armory PA intercom came to life. "Major Jody Foster and team are to report to the Operations Deck, berth nineteen, in ten mikes for departure."
      Foster looked back at the seven Marines with him, none of whom at any combat gear or weapons. He grabbed a M6C and slid a magazine into it with a satisfying click as the announcement repeated again. This was all second nature to him, and any doubt that remained seemed to disappear as he handled the gear he used to don every day. His past would prove invaluable to him, his experience a factor that would pull them through. No mattered how bad it was down there, he was determined to get the information they needed; not because Nodern had ordered him to, not because this was going to help a few high-brass make up their minds, but because this would help the men who fought alongside him.
      This would help the UNSC.
      "Suit up, Marines."


      Nodern listened idly as his Operations Officer summed up their situation on the surface. Nothing had really changed over the last fifteen minutes, and the talking just seemed to drone on inside his head. It was, unfortunately, common for him to find disinterest in what his staff talked about while aboard a ship far above the real action.
      He belonged on the ground, with a rifle in his hands. Even though he knew that he had far better control over the situation from inside of the dark-red GFCIC, he felt far more effective fighting along side the men he led.
      When had all this changed? He remembered the days of being a platoon leader, then moving up to commanding a company; all of those times he was on the surface making things happen. Now he was usually condemned to a digitalized command post deep in the hull of a ship, thousands of miles away from the fight.
      He thoughts ran again as they turned a corner down another corridor, his Operations Officer still talking. Maybe he could get demoted? Something, anything, that would get him back to where he belonged would work. To see him send his men to battle and not lead them first hand had been a major shock for him the first time around. He hated every protocol that dictated his presence to stay on this ship, and he hated whoever had come up with such a senseless policy for their commanders.
      His thoughts gently drifted to another issue that haunted the back of his mind. While he cared for his troops, the memories of his family always seemed to wash back over him. He hadn't seen them in nearly a year, prompting his concern about personal safety to rise up periodically, especially when he allowed his mind to wander during these seemingly trivial briefings by his staff.
      He longed for the day when this war would be over, when he could put his duties on the shelf and just spend time with the people that meant most to him. He wanted the turmoil of fighting and losing battles to end, along with the nightmares that plagued him every waking chance.       He wanted to win and go home.
      The talking filtered back through him as they made it to the end of the corridor and began the turn to the turbo-lift. He reached up to scratch the back of his head as the long corridor leading to the lift came into view.
      Time stopped.
      The long gray hallway, lit by bright white lights on the ceiling above and reflecting it back off the beige walls was empty; devoid of any single crewmen. The numerous doors lining this particularly long section of the ship were closed; not a usual sound of men or women being heard as his eyes focused on the black figure before him.
      His mind began the slow process of recognizing it while he continued his walk forward, even though his steps were long and slow. He blinked again as the arm of the unknown man came up towards them, a long object pointing directly for him.
      His mind recognized the gesture, and his training reflexes took those interpreted signals and reacted, but Nodern knew that nothing he could do would stop this sequence of events from happening. No matter how fast he was, or could have been, he could not stop the long, silenced pistol of the figure in front of him from taking aim.
      As time held still, he recognized the man. The face he had seen before; this man had accompanied him, spoken with him, and even worked along side of him many times in the past. His heart jumped, not at the fact that the index finger of this man was hovering over the trigger of the weapon, but that this man would do this to him, and his staff. They were on the same side, fighting against the same common enemy. What possible reason would this man, someone who was once his acquaintance ally, lead him to murder?
      Deep down inside, Nodern knew why. He wouldn't let this happen without a fight, but he knew it was over. He knew this man, along with his companions, worked in ways that allowed them to have complete surprise and superiority in a situation; a situation they planned a devised.
      This whole walk from the command center to the turbo-lift was nothing more then a trap, nothing more then a plot devised by these men to stop his existence. Why? Nodern knew why. These instinctive questions that flooded over him could be answered without thinking.
      He knew too much.
      His right hand flinched and brought out his M6C sidearm, trying to force it up in time to stop his assailant from ending his own life. He felt the betrayal wash over him as he willed his weapon higher into the air, and he felt the anger of being played by his own comrades.
      His family would never see him again; he would never speak with them, never spend time with them, never go home and spend the rest of his life with the people he loved most. His life was ending before his eyes, and the hurt of never being able to raise his children tore into him; the pain of never seeing them grow up, never seeing them live the life he wished for.
      The life he fought for.
      Had this been some Covenant being, he would have gone down with a grin, but this wasn't their common enemy. This was far beyond that.
      The single round from the silenced pistol entered his skull, and the blackness of death took the man from the hell of war to the realm beyond.


      Foster turned and looked back before stepping into the Pelican compartment on the Operations Deck. He didn't know why; nothing could be heard or seen, nothing that would force him to stop and look back into the ship he was departing from.
      Nothing but a feeling.
      Something was wrong. He could feel the chill wash over him and stared back blankly into the massive deck that could house hundreds of troops. He broke his stare and looked down at the Loadmaster, who stared back in question. He turned and looked at the Marines, all geared up and ready, in the Pelican; they stared back, questions etched over their faces as well.
      It was just him. Nobody else seemed to feel the same chill that existed around him. He had long since learned not to ignore these feelings, these times when he could sense something, but there was no way he could put his finger on it; he just knew something wasn't right. Whether it was in regards to his mission to the surface, or something else on this ship, he may never know, but the feeling remained the same.
      Foster slowly turned and entered the Pelican, drawing looks from Lieutenant Sherman and his Squad. He took his seat silently and buckled the harness around him, still feeling the darkness.
      "Something wrong, sir?" The question from the Lieutenant caused him to flinch uncharacteristically.
      Foster looked up into the man's eyes. He wanted to tell them what he felt, he wanted to share the concern that flooded his mind; but he knew it would serve of no purpose to them, and of no help to himself. There was nothing he could do about what he felt at this time, nothing he could do to investigate what had caused it.
      "Negative, Lieutenant." The Major said.
      The Loadmaster closed the rear door and the craft came to life. They would be on the surface of this planet in less then fifteen minutes, facing an unknown enemy and trying to find a mysterious Covenant force that tore its own path through the forests of this planet. He had plenty to worry about, plenty to think about, but it still didn't change anything about the feeling in his gut.
      Regardless, he would soon find the source of this darkness. Of that he was sure.

Present Darkness, Chapter Five: Part II
Date: 20 December 2004, 8:26 AM

0720 hours, November 21, 2552 (Military Calendar)
7 Kilometers North of Drop Zone Mike X-Ray
Planet Red Dawn (Codename), Theta 1440+90 System

      The flashlights danced across the walls as they exited the prison chamber; the screams of the crazed Jackal still resounding through the hallways and rooms of this eerily quiet facility. This facility's purpose was by no means still a secret, but the horrors and revelation of the Covenant's goal with this underground lab was still hard to bear.
      None of the Marines cautiously sweeping through the dark tunnel were at peace with the evident outcome of coming down here and finding the answer. While it answered the question they started with on the surface after that first encounter, coming down here only brought many new ones.
      In the foremost of their minds was the fear of encountering these creatures under the same terms as the Covenant. Blood trails led to bodies, and bodies led to hordes of the dead crazed creatures and Covenant. The pain at looking at these images, burned into the minds forever, didn't help them cope with the possibilities of seeing a live creature coming at them. While it was always a good thing, prior to coming to this planet, to see dead Covenant, now the sight brought deeper fears that no one could shake.
      On what scale were the Covenant creating these beings? Could there be many more facilities like this scattered across the planet? Could there be laboratories and chambers like these on other Covenant worlds? The questions were endless, but any logical answer to them remained bad at best.
      The very fact that these beings were specially designed weapons of war didn't bring any rational conclusions either. It seemed wasteful to turn their own into crazed beings, and it seemed primitive and pagan-like. Were the Covenant nothing more than an insane collective of aliens that strived for more ways to kill? Was this so-called "religious" war nothing more then a ploy to cover the fact that maybe these aliens were simply bloodthirsty?
      Lynn hoped not. He hoped that his thinking was flawed or irrational, giving him a wrong answer; for if they were up against such a foe, they would have already lost.
      Lost the war...
      That thought broke above the rest. It seemed to resound in his ears and flash in his vision. The very demoralizing feeling that accompanied such an event washed over him, and the fears turned into reasons to quit. He had been through, literally, a living hell. He had seen too many people die, too many cities and planets fall to this onslaught.
      He stopped walking and let his rifle lower from its shouldered state, bringing his free hand up to rub his forehead. No, this was not the outcome, and it's no way to think of one. He could feel the stares of the others in the dark tunnel upon him as he closed his eyes. The fight is not over, and there is no way I am going to let these circumstances bring it down.
      He gripped his rifle and looked up, avoiding the silent stares from the other Marines. Constant fighting, no sleep, no food, sustained injuries...all of which were factors in his fight on the surface. From his urban fighting experience, he knew full and well that half the fight was physical, and the rest was in the mind. His effectiveness was purely determined by his mental state, and nothing else. This cannot get to me...
      Lynn pointed his rifle back down the tunnel and continued forward, nearing the purple and white lights of the next room. They had traveled down an unusually longer tunnel then the previous ones, and the room ahead looked larger then the storage rooms. Though the differences were plagued by one similarity.
      Bodies.
      He stopped a few feet short of the entrance and motioned for Johnson and Wilson to move up to the other side of the tunnel. The Marines orientated themselves so they would enter the room covering as much as possible. The feeling of danger was now stronger then ever.
      Lynn gave the forward motion and the group walked into the large room, rifles up and scanning. This room was much larger as first thought; it was easily twice as large as the storage rooms and the ceiling above them was testimony to the internal volume. His eyes quickly scanned his portion, and then he focused on the larger picture of it.
      Aside from the few crates and bodies that dotted the area, this room had numerous tie-downs; similar to those used in psychotic wards to contain and hold insane patients. The sight was extremely disturbing, with hundreds of these tie down, bed-like objects in organized, close quarter rows to his left and right. Large arm, body, and leg clamps were attached to each platform. But the disturbing part wasn't all the tie downs.
      It was the surgical tools suspended from the ceiling over each platform. Sharp, razor-like tools waited motionless above these tables, and the dark blood-stains were evident on both the surgical objects and the tables themselves. Lynn could feel the sickness inside him as he stared at the horrific sight before him. This was worse then he had ever expected.
      He turned to the rest, all of whom stared blankly at the sight before them. He could see the disgust and horror etched across each of their faces, and he figured the same look was on his own. Seeing the prison chamber was bad enough, but seeing this went far beyond that.
      This was where those creatures were created.
      And this was also where the outbreak must have started.

130 Minutes Earlier

      The sight disgusted Derarnee'.
      Before the Red Elite was the Surgical Chamber, where these beings were transformed into the crazed creatures that his superiors sought after. The sight was bloody and violent as he watched his comrades forcefully put these Jackals into the Alteration Pads, where they were strapped down.
      The screams from these creatures was disturbing, and the futile struggling after being strapped down nearly brought him to rage. These are good soldiers, capable of following orders and defeating our enemy. He watched as the jagged instruments used to enhance and inject these poisons into their bodies come to life, cutting into the Jackals. This was by no means necessary, and the logic behind this operation seemed wrong to him. What advantage could these beings have?
      Granted, with these enhancements they were faster and stronger, and the common fear and cowardice was gone, but to take away the life in these creatures and replace it with nothing but a will to kill seemed beyond what anyone should have considered. How they came up with this was only a question to him. Why they are doing this remained a mystery.
      Derarnee' walked the isle of Alteration Pads, passing by Jackals who were being injected. Blood pools had now formed from the constant operation of doing this, and the sight was not welcoming to anyone. The emotional demeanor of this facility was wrong, and it was proof that what they were doing was wrong. Nonetheless, it was his duty to ensure that this operation was conducted quickly and efficiently.
      The Red Elite turned at the sight of several large animals being forced into the room. He watched silently as the large, furry creatures were dragged onto Alteration Pads and strapped down, deep growls from them testimony of their resistance. These beings were incredibly strong as it is, and their foreseen strength by his superiors was supposedly immense. The idea was that with the Jackals' speed and these monsters enhanced strength, they would have a dual fighting force capable of anything.
      He watched in silence as the tools and injectors came down and began their work on the large creatures. It didn't take long for the process complete, but every second of it was painful for the recipient. The growls and screams filled the air around him in this room, and he hated it. He didn't want to be cooped up underground, listening to the pain of these beings who were on his own side. He wanted to be on the field, hearing the satisfying screams of the enemy; the humans that had inspired this sick operation.
      The process finished on the first set of hairy creatures, and like usual, the beings remained motionless as if they were dead. He had witnessed this procedure many times before, and recognized the post-stages. Soon these giants will awake, and we shall see the full extent of their power...
      It happened far faster then Derarnee' had expected, and the beasts rose from their slumber. He watched them look around, trying to figure out where they were. All recipients lost their memories, along with any character or personality they had. They were now nothing more then killers.
      The struggling began, another common phase, but he realized something was wrong. These beasts were actually beginning to bend their restraints. The outcome for these creatures was unknown, this being the first experiment, but it was thought they would be within practicality.
      Apparently not. Derarnee' instinctively brought out his Plasma Rifle as the large monster broke free of its tie-downs, the others following suit. This wasn't supposed to happen...they weren't supposed to be this strong.
      He took a step forward as the alarms and lights began going off in the room; the master-computer detecting the premature release of these creatures. The large beings' immediately found a target, and began their attack. They moved with such speed that the outcome of these enhancements was now obvious. They were fast, vicious, and stopped at nothing.
      "Give the orders to secure the breach doors!" Derarnee' ordered. An Elite ran for the lockdown panel.
      Derarnee' watched in horror as one of the beasts lunged at his comrade, tackling the Elite and sending it to the floor. The being then began its assault on his comrade, beating through the shields on one punch, then ripping into the Elite with its bare hands; followed by a prompt and bloody bite. Body fluids from the still alive Elite spurted everywhere, and its body began seizing as the monster tore into it, biting and clawing its way through.
      This was far beyond what they predicted. This was out of control.
      The body went limp, and the hairy creature immediately looked up at him, it's eyes red with hate and anger. The creature stood up and began to come at him, but not before the Field Master ended the beast's life with a quick slash of its energy sword.
      "Move, Derarnee', and secure the breach doors. Our centralized control has crashed for some unknown reason and we cannot do it by remote." The Gold Elite's deep voice was commanding and thick with a sense of duty. "I shall contain them here."
      Derarnee' nodded, and moved for the exit tunnel, seeing a group of Grunts precede him, their squeals nearly silent above the growls and screams of death in this room. He fired a long burst from his weapon as he ran, trying to aid in the fight as all hell broke loose.
      This was beyond anyone's control, and there was nothing they could do. His only hope to contain this sudden outbreak was to seal the surface Breach door and keep these beings from reaching the surface. If they did managed to escape, who knew what would happen.
      Who knew?

      Lynn walked cautiously over the bloody mess that was once a Gold Elite; a feared and potent warrior the he had never seen dead. He looked about the room, seeing the death and destruction. This was in fact where the outbreak occurred, and nothing the Covenant could have done would stop it.
      He watched as Delyn walked over to a nearby tie-down and inspected the surgical devices from up close. The gunner was fascinated by it, but the disgust in his face was readily evident.
      "So this is how they do it, they inject these creatures with some concoctions that turns them into crazed creatures."
      Lynn nodded, walking closer to the tables and looking them over. They probably did hundreds of these things a day, turning them from their previous state into this unreal type of creature. How this could even be considered, or how they could even derive a procedure of doing it, was beyond him. It was beyond them all.
      Weapons came up as a new sound emitted from the far exit tunnel; this one deeper and more ominous. Lynn noticed out of the corner of his eye as Delyn reacted to the sudden noise by bringing his weapon up, but hitting his hand on something.
      The sound ceased a second later, and the weapons cautiously lowered, all eyes still trained on the far exit tunnel. This place wasn't empty; there were still many more dangers existing in this underground Covenant facility.
      "You okay?" Westfield asked.
      Lynn turned to see Delyn holding his hand, the pistol dropped on the floor. The Marine gunner looked distraught and concerned, and held his hand as if wounded. He took some steps closer to see.
      "What the hell...?"
      Delyn looked up, horror in his eyes. His wound on the hand, which looked like a small cut, was quickly inflaming to dark red. It then began turning black.
      "Oh shit, oh shit..." The gunner began repeating over and over again, as the infection spread quickly, moving across his hand.
      "Wilson, med kit!" Lynn ordered, slinging his rifle and stepping to help Delyn. The gunner began to shudder in either shock or fear, he couldn't tell. The blackness engulfed his entire hand and moved up into his forearm. What was this?
      Wilson ran over and brought out some disinfectants. He quickly rubbed it on the wound, but watched with dissatisfaction as nothing changed. He continued to rub the wound, hoping that his continued effort would change the severity of this cut.
      Delyn let go of his hand and shoved them both back. "Get away from me..." The gunner's eyes were dilated and his movements were erratic. "Get away!"
      "Listen up, we're here to help you..." Lynn tried forcefully.
      "Get away!"
      The Marines took a cautious step back as seizures began. He growled in pain and fell to the floor, spitting up blood.
      "What the hell is going on?" Westfield said, much too loudly.
      The convulsions continued for minute; the Marines standing still, not knowing what to do. Whatever caused this was directly related to the room they were in, and the purpose of this room was already clear.
      "Oh shit," Lynn said silently. "He's been infected with whatever the Covenant uses to enhance these creatures."
      Keeton looked over at him and slowly raised his pistol. "What?"
      Lynn looked closely at Delyn as he became motionless. "He's one of them."
      Delyn's body came back to life, and the man looked back at them. The way he moved seemed different, and the way he stumbled to his feet further indicated the changes in his body. Lynn looked at him, in both fear and astonishment. Was he really becoming one of these crazed beings? The answer lay before him.
      Red eyes stared back at him.
      "Take a step back, Sergeant." Westfield cautioned, raising his large M271B, the barrel pointed at Delyn, who shakily stood before them.
      Lynn did so slowly, looking at the man. Delyn looked right back at him, but he could tell the presence of his comrade no longer existed in this new man. He was gone forever; he was dead.
      Lynn blinked as the body lunged forward at him. He didn't have his weapon raised and braced for the impact of the attack, but the event was overshadowed with a short, explosive burst from the nearby machine gun. He opened his eyes and saw the body of the former-Marine lying in front of him, blood running from the massive wounds of the M271.
      He took another step back and kept staring at the body. This place was far more dangerous then he thought.
      And it had claimed its first Marine.

0730 hours, November 21, 2552 (Military Calendar)
UNSC Carrier Stanton Bay
In orbit above Planet Red Dawn (Codename), Theta 1440+90 System

      The bodies of the Battalion Executive Staff lay dead before him, pools of blood beginning to form on the floor of this long corridor. The regret of having to do this was present, but it was far overshadowed by the duty that forced him to.
      The second man walked up from behind the group of dead bodies, brandishing his compact sub-machine gun. "We're still not done with this."
      The first man nodded, stowing his long silenced pistol. "One of them is missing: the Intelligence Officer."
      "Word has it he's on his way to the surface to further investigate our objects."
      The first man looked up from the bodies. "Then to the surface we go. Get the others together and geared up, we'll leave as soon as I can make transportation arrangements."

Present Darkness, Chapter Six: Part I
Date: 3 January 2005, 2:24 AM

Chapter Six

Friend or Foe?

0740 hours, November 21, 2552 (Military Calendar)
ODST AO, Hill 203 (Location of a known Surface Entrance)
Planet Red Dawn (Codename), Theta 1440+90 System

"Green light, sir, clear for drop!"
      Foster nodded and motioned for Lieutenant Sherman and the others to move up to the rear door, which was wide open, giving them a nice view of the small clearing below them.
      The Pelican was hovering above one of the many hill peaks that dotted the Area of Operations for the ODSTs. The rugged terrain looked the same for miles in every direction, with tight canyons overshadowed by high hill peaks, all covered with a light tree density and rocky earth. Below them was a hilltop, their intended drop zone, and with a grey structure. The Intelligence he had received back on the Stanton Bay showed several locations where suspected entrances to an underground facility were, and he picked one at random.
      If any location was good, it may as well be this one.
      He clenched his fists, feeling the black gloves stretch as he looked down the long rope to the clearing below. The downwash from the Pelican sent dirt and debris outward, making the area below full with dust that would obscure his sight. If he could have done it, he would have made this an HEV drop, but none of the Marines in his team were certified for such an entry.
      Being inserted by a large, easy to hit target did not seem very comforting, and in the back of his mind he thought of all the enemies below that were waiting for him to hit the earth. He knew, however, that ideal conditions were rare in combat, and he contently settled with the situation at hand. Hopefully he was wrong.
      He reached out and grabbed the rope, then wrapped his legs around it and began sliding down the ten-meter distance to the ground below. He was thankful for the goggles that protected his eyes from the flying debris as he continued sliding down, but longed for the full-face helmets that ODSTs were issued. Nonetheless, a little dirt never tasted bad...
      His feet hit the ground, and his first move was to bring out the BR55 and move to set up a perimeter. He tried to scan through the flying debris but couldn't see farther then fifteen meters ahead of him, but the good news was readily welcomed. There was no incoming fire.
      He turned to watch the rest of his team slide down the two ropes. The Marines quickly set up a perimeter and called in checks, and the two ropes fell from the Pelican above, landing harmless in the center of their security circle. The large craft then accelerated away, leaving them alone on this hilltop to fend for themselves.
      Foster could see their situation better as the haze settled, and once again took comfort in the fact that no enemies had seen their insertion. He had seen many bad insertions before, both out of a Pelican and by HEVs, and knew the dangers that accompanied them.
      The thought brought him around to how it must have been for the Helljumpers that inserted at the beginning of this operation. He knew that his call for the drop-zones wasn't the reason for the massive casualties figures, but his overall responsibility of the insertions left the deep feeling of guilt in his mind. The good news was that these Marines were still completing their objectives.
      Objectives. He shook those thoughts and focused on his own priorities. Ahead of him was some unknown structure, it's large doors closed, and it no doubt led to where he could find more of these beings that his commander sought after. He had not tested them in combat, so his expectations of how these beings reacted probably were not close to reality, but he had confidence that they could complete this goal and make it out alive.
      "Let's get this door open." Foster said over the comm. link.
      The Marines moved forward to the door and set up another perimeter. Sherman and Foster moved to the door's apparent controls, closely looking at them before trying to activate them to open the door.
      Foster nodded for Sherman to attach the electronic interface that they had brought along. Despite his many dealings with the Covenant, he was far from knowing how their controls worked, even if it was to just open a simple door.
      The interface pad analyzed the codes from the Covenant keypad and began the short process of translating their functions to terms that they could understand. Without this little device, they could be spending for more time just trying to get inside this facility.
      "Bingo," Sherman said as the device's small text display turned green. The Lieutenant quickly typed in a code that had been retrieved from the keypad and hit the 'enter' key, waiting for the device to interface with the keypad. The two men stared at the device for a minute as it continued to retry the given command, finally turning a dark red.
      "We can't open it, it's locked down by a higher security system."
      Foster grunted, turning back to the Marines around them. There's always Plan B. "Get the explosives, we'll go through this the hard way."
      The demolitions expert jumped to his feet, far more excited then Foster would have liked, and moved to place his charges around the large double doors. Tactically, this was not his first choice, nor was it the best, but time was of the essence. They would need to be extracted in no more then sixty minutes if they wanted to leave this planet with the rest.
      Foster walked far enough away from the door, as did the others, as the Marine ran a thin wire back with him. He was partly concerned about what might be waiting on the other side, or who would come running for their position after the explosion echoed through the valleys around them, but he options were limited. If he couldn't get through this door, the last thing he could do was call for the evac.
      The demolitions expert settled behind a sizeable rock and brought out the detonator. A slight grin spread across the young Marine's face as he flipped off the safety cover.
      "Fire in the hole!"


      "Quiet!"
      The Marines fell silent quickly as the distant thunder vibrated through the ground. The rifles were up and scanning, but they all knew that whatever had caused it was not nearby and no immediate threat. It never helped to be safe, though...
      Lynn looked back at the body of their comrade, lying in its own pool of blood caused by the massive wounds from the M271. After witnessing what even the slightest accident could do, they all began taking extra precautions even while simply walking around.
      They needed to get moving. The entire operation on the surface was going to be ending shortly, and if they were left on this planet, what they had discovered deep under this earth would remain a secret that would come back to hurt the UNSC, especially if they were caught off guard by this new biological threat. They needed to get out what they knew, and what they had seen.
      "On me," Lynn said, getting all the Marines' attention. "Let's move."


      The trip down the long dark tunnel was uneventful, but nerve racking. Foster had never been so anxious, and partly paranoid, in his life, and the looks on the Marines around him echoed his own thoughts. They were obviously on the right track, being scared to death always seemed to reassure him of that, but no part of him wanted to continue. He wanted to just turn around and get the hell out.
      Ahead of them, in the darkness that was barely broken by their rifle-mounted flashlights, the faint glow of purple resonated. While he couldn't see the end, Foster was sure this was it. They had descended at least fifty meters into the ground from the sloping tunnel, and anymore would have seemed impractical.
      When was anything alien ever practical? He kept his rifle up and followed closely to Lieutenant Sherman and their point man, the only sound was the constant breathing by the men around him, and the unusually fast heart beat in his head. He noticed that his actions were not what they used to be; too much time since his last combat operation?
      Or was there something down here truly frightening?
      "Juliet Delta Four Six..."
      The Squad Leader on point stopped and turned around at the squawk from the LRISC behind him. "What the hell? turn that thing off!" The whisper was louder then anyone would have appreciated, but the radio was already loud enough to give away their position to anyone with ears.
      The radio operator slung his rifle and stumbled for the switch in the darkness. Foster sighed and pointed his rifle light so the young Marine could see what he was doing. A classic rookie mistake, and one that could cost them all their lives had they been close to threats.
      "You son of a bitch," The Squad Leader said in a demeaning whisper. "You are going to get as all killed."
      "Enough!" Sherman said before Foster could, silencing the Marines. "We'd be dead already if that gave off our position. See what they have to say."
      The radio operator nodded in the darkness, reaching for the transmitter. Foster couldn't see the young man's face in the dark, but it was obvious the Marine was embarrassed from his mistake. These were the men he was given; they were in a highly threatening combat zone and he had boys fresh from basic. His chances weren't that good.
      "Red Eye One, Juliet Delta Four Six, go ahead." The whisper into the transmitter was probably barely recognizable by the men on the other end, but none of the Marines, including Foster, would want the radio operator to talk any louder.
      "Proceed back to your insertion zone, we have an alteration and you will be extracted as soon as possible. Evac is already underway."
      What the hell? Foster slung his rifle and grabbed the transmitter from the young Marine. They had just been dropped off, and hadn't even made it into this facility. Why were they being pulled out? He looked down at his watch; they still had at least an hour before the operation even began ending.
      "Red Eye One, say again, why are we being recalled?"
      "We have a direct order passed through the senior field commander. Apparently there's been some problems in the fleet and your team is being ordered to extract and discontinue the operation."
      Foster let his head hang. So his gut feeling before leaving the Stanton Bay was not a mere concern about his own life, or of those still aboard the carrier. Something had gone wrong up there, and it no doubt probably involved Lieutenant Colonel Nodern, since his commander would not have allowed this to happen if it was not important.
      "Roger that, Juliet Delta Four Six proceeding to extraction." Foster handed the transmitter back to the Marine.
      He motioned for them to begin moving back up the long, dark tunnel. He was concerned about the situation that caused this mission to be aborted. Nodern had sent them down here specifically to determine if their earlier hypothesis about the Covenant were true, and nothing he could think of would be enough for his CO to recall the endeavor on this planet.
      This must be worse then he could think of.


      Lynn squinted his eyes as he stepped out into the sun light. For the first time in his life, he had never been so relieved to be out in day light, but he knew why. He knew that the secrets and horrors of this underground facility had forever changed him, and that finding this new enemy would bring endless sleepless nights. Was it possible to recover? In their current situation, recovery from such a horror seemed irrelevant.
      Because they were still in it.
      They needed to get off this rock and relay their information to some authority that could effectively warn the rest. The minor communications they had prior to entering the facility didn't leave them with much, and the commanders leading this operation probably didn't even have an accurate fix on their own location. Regardless, their time to go had come.
      He pulled out the LRISC and activated it, hearing it hum to life. He looked around at the Marines; they were tired, and the long gaze in their eyes betrayed the atrocities they had witnessed. There wasn't much more he could take of this, and the men with him were in no better shape. It was now his job to get them off this combat zone.
      "This is Papa Tango Two to any receiver."
      Keeton and Johnson walked over slowly as the rest carefully kept an eye on their position atop the hill. The radio remained silent for a few seconds before coming to life, the slightly static transmission breaking through the silence.
      "Papa Tango Two, this is Red Eye One, go ahead."
      Lynn breathed a quick sigh. "We need an evac as soon as possible."
      "What's your current location?"
      Lynn looked over at Keeton. The sniper pulled out a small map and quickly found their location. "Hill 201."
      "Red Eye One, we are atop Hill 201."
      "Roger, standby."
      Lynn wiped his brow; the sweat from the quick run up the tunnel to the surface was not long, but tiring. While the adrenaline was running, and they were all motivated just to get out into daylight, it had nonetheless worn each of them out.
      He looked around. It was the same scene as when they had entered this facility. The bodies of Covenant lay around the entrance to the tunnel, and the tall trees swayed peacefully in the wind. He looked around at the nearby hills rising up from the sharp, deep canyons, and the high, white mountains along the distant horizon. The sky was fully blue now; the sun in its mid-morning position, and the wispy purple clouds high above them complimented the scene.
      But none of this serenity would ever erase the images in his mind. His only hope was that time would wash away those memories, but deep down he knew that time couldn't heal him of this plague, and that what he had lodged painfully in his mind would follow him for the rest of his life.
      "Papa Tango Two, we have another Squad being extracted from the nearby Hill 203. Move to that position now and you should be able to catch a ride out with them. That is your only option at this time."
      Lynn looked at Keeton, who nodded.
      "Wilco, Papa Tango Two out."
      The two Marines quickly looked at the map, then got their bearings. The terrain was very rugged, but not hard to traverse. Only the climbing those hills would slow them down, but they were trained, physically fit soldiers. They would manage.
      "It's not far at all, one kilometer bearing two-four-two. We should get there in fifteen mikes." Keeton said, stowing the map.
      Lynn nodded. Extraction was well within their grasp.

Present Darkness, Chapter Six: Part II
Date: 3 January 2005, 2:55 AM

0755 hours, November 21, 2552 (Military Calendar)
ODST AO, Hill 203 (Location of a known Surface Entrance)
Planet Red Dawn (Codename), Theta 1440+90 System

      "Something must have gotten pretty fowled up," Sherman said, looking cautiously around them. "I was under the impression, from my commander at least, that this quick check was possibly more important then the actual operation on the surface. He didn't know what it was, of course, but apparently what he had heard from his superiors indicated this to be a high-profile mission."
      Foster nodded at the Lieutenant's observation. Not until after they were already inbound had he told them what they were doing, for obvious security concerns. Nobody knew the potential in this mission more then he did, but Sherman and his Squad quickly recognized the seriousness of this search after hearing the short version of the events leading up to their insertion.
      Sherman had hit home. Something had to have gone horribly wrong for them to be extracted only minutes after being inserted. He didn't want to think about all the possibilities, but the feeling inside was strangely similar to the one he had aboard the Stanton Bay, and it was no encouragement to their predicament.
      "Hell, the Covenant are probably arriving in the system right now," the Squad Leader said from a few feet away, scanning the area with his rifle "That's why they're pulling us out."
      Foster nearly laughed at the man's comment; this Squad Leader seemed far too prideful and arrogant for his taste, and not someone he would have necessarily brought along on such a mission. He was used to working with some of the finest men in the UNSC prior to become an Intelligence Analysis. Of course, he had come across his fair share of dislikable people, but in the level of operation the ODSTs occupied, that kind of personality seemed to fit in. Here, this Squad Leader seemed nothing more then an idiot.
      "If the Covenant were in system, the Fleet would be long gone." Foster said, trying to keep his voice indifferent. "They wouldn't come back for us."
      The Marines fell silent at that comment, but Foster knew all of them took comfort in the fact that he was right, and the Covenant had not entered the system. It didn't shake the concern, though, about how the tables had turned and left them waiting for evac atop a hill in this forest.
      Consider yourself lucky, Foster thought. None of them had fired a shot since setting foot on this planet, which was a far better position to be in then the hundreds of dead Marines who never survived more then five minutes after landing in this war zone. He was glad his barrel was still cold, and that the only thing they had done was blow up a door. How much longer this would last, however, topped his list.
      Regardless, they were being picked up any moment now. They wouldn't have to worry about the Covenant, or this mysterious enemy, much longer.
      The Marines turned at the sound of the Pelican descending towards their position. Most broke into slight grins at the sight, which partly disgusted Foster; these men should be the last ones of this rock, not the ODSTs who were fighting through hell at this very moment.
      "Keep on your field of fire!" Sherman yelled above the downwash from the Pelican as it settled overhead. The Marines partly obeyed the order, but got excited again as two ropes dropped from the open rear hatch of the Pelican above.
      Foster put his goggles back down as debris and dirt flew outward. He looked up in question as figures began mounting the ropes. That was odd; during extraction operations, the Pelican settled down much lower so they could board directly.
      He took a step back as the first two men set foot on the ground. The feeling about them was different, Foster thought as the first began walking towards him. He could partly see it in the other man's eyes. Something didn't feel quite right about him, or what was going on around here.
      "Major Jody Foster?" The man yelled as more slid down the rope behind him from the Pelican overhead.
      "Yes, and you are?" Foster replied, keeping a firm grip on his rifle, but keeping it pointed safely at the ground.
      "My name is Anderson, from the Office of Naval Intelligence."
      Oh shit.
      Foster watched as ten others from the Pelican fan out around him and his Squad of Marines. He squinted as they took up rather offensive positions, covering all of the Marines in field of fires, but keeping their weapons down. He could feel the intention of these men, and he tensed.
      "What do you need?" Foster asked.
      The man turned as the Pelican overhead flew away, then turned back to face Foster. The dust began to settle as the silence washed over them all. "I need to know what you've seen here on this planet."
      Foster began contemplating his options. Anger rose up from deep inside him as he figured out he had no options. The way these ONI personnel positioned themselves were obvious signs of the direction this was going. He hated the fact that there was nothing he could do about it; none of these Marines would react to overcome such a situation, possibly only Lieutenant Sherman, but that left them far outnumbered. He was in the worst situation of his life.
      "Nothing, we were recalled before able to proceed with the mission." Foster said, hiding the anger from his voice.
      Anderson nodded, his face straight and his voice flat. "Tell me what you know about the circumstances of this planet."
      Foster looked him in the eye. This man was trying to feel him out. "The operation against the Covenant supply caches are supposedly going close to planned despite significant losses."
      The man stiffened, his voice turning very threatening. "Don't fool around with me, tell me what you know about the Covenant and their little problem."
      Foster wished he could pull his rifle up. He wanted to turn the tides of this situation, but it would mean instant death. "We know about the Covenant and their biological alterations."
      "There, was that so hard?" the man's voice was cold. "Next time, don't miss out on important meetings."
      Foster looked back in question, to Anderson's slight amusement.
      "Regardless, you will join your comrades in their 'meeting' shortly."
      Foster twitched uncharacteristically.
      "My duty in the Office of Naval Intelligence requires me to protect certain information for the greater good of the UNSC. I do not, nor does any of my team, find pleasure or satisfaction in our duties, but we must accomplish them to the full, and sometimes painful extent.
      "For years we have been securing and protecting the UNSC, and the general public, from knowing and encountering certain...what's the word?...aspects of the war. When we first encountered this dilemma with the Covenant and the biological enhancements, silencing the information was an easy one time event. But now, we have seen this twice, and yet again we come across the same situation."
      "Killing the soldiers who encounter this, or any threatening information, is your supposed 'solution'?" Foster asked pointedly.
      Anderson did not even flinch. "Solution? No. We do this for the greater good of the UNSC. While I understand it seems wrong now, in the long run my actions will make a difference in winning this war."
      Foster held his gaze into the other man's eyes. A small voice inside told him that he would not see the "greater good" in the long run.
      "I never do this," Anderson said. "I always make it quick without a conversation, but this time around I felt the need to tell you why we do this. Is it my own conscience? Possibly so. In my line of work, however, duty rides above my conscience."
      Foster didn't try to hide the anger in his voice this time. "You're no different then our enemies."
      Anderson remained motionless. "Fight fire with fire."
      Foster shouldered his rifle the same instance as the pistol in Anderson's hand came up. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw the ONI men raise their weapons upon the unprepared Marines standing atop this hill peak. The Marines responded late by trying to bring their own weapons up.
      The scene was terrifying as fire broke out. Foster blinked as a hot projectile entered his shoulder, and pulled down the trigger of his BR55. Pain shot through his body as he opened his eyes to see the man in front flinch from three rounds that grazed the man's upper shoulder, missing the neck by a mere inch.
      The screams of death were subdued by the firing as the Marines around him fell to the ground, blood spurting into the air as the rounds from these ONI men relentlessly tore into their bodies. Foster could hardly believe what was happening around him as the once calm, relaxed feeling before this Pelican arrived turned into this death trap that was taking the lives of his comrades. He focused back on Anderson and rolled to the ground as the pistol came back up again and fired.
      The pain was coursing through his veins, but the adrenaline was overpowering that feeling as he sent his leading leg around, kicking Anderson to the ground. He struggled to his feet and tackled the ONI man, losing grip of his rifle in the process.
      The shooting continued as Foster sent a hard blow into the mans forehead, but the advantageous position was quickly lost as Anderson kicked him off, sending him head over heels.
      Both men regained their bearings and got to their feet. Foster reacted and brought his M6C sidearm up just as Anderson settled his sights on him. The two men stared down each other's barrels as the fighting in the background ceased. Foster didn't take his eyes off the three point sight he was looking through as his finger lightly danced over the trigger.
      Neither man fired, but both knew who would surely die. The area around them was littered with seven Marine bodies, with only three ONI spooks lying motionless on the ground. They had won the firefight, and he was the only one left.
      "It's over for you, Foster." Anderson said coldly. "Regardless of which one of us survives, my orders will be fulfilled."
      Foster was breathing hard, and his wound was slowing sapping his strength. The two men kept their pistols aimed and ready to fire.
      "What I said before wasn't a lie," the ONI man said. "This is for the greater good of the UNSC. Think about the demoralizing problems this could create, think of the setbacks. You, me, my team; we're all worthless in the wake of this war. All we can do is fulfill our duties until our number runs up, then hope we had a nice life. Your duties are clear to you, and my duties are clear to me. This is what I must do."
      Foster shook his head and spit up a coppery taste from his mouth. "Every man counts in this war. To say everyone is expendable is to admit we've lost the war. What's the point in fighting to save humanity if no one is worth it?"
      Anderson remained silent for a moment, his comrades in a circle around them, their rifles trained on Foster. "Then maybe this war isn't worth fighting."
      Foster spat up blood again but kept his weapon expertly aimed at Anderson's forehead. "You sick bastard..."


      Lynn stepped up onto the clearing of Hill 203, his rifle shouldered and steady on one target. The scene before him was completely foreign to him, as seven men stood with their weapons pointed at one man. What the hell was going on?
      "Freeze!"
      He recognized the one man in the middle; the one they were pointing their weapons at. It was his Battalion's senior Intelligence Officer; Major Foster.
      The men in the circle quickly turned to face the newly appeared Squad of Marines that had come from nowhere.
      "Drop your weapons!" Westfield yelled, his large M271 boring down on the entire group of men before him.
      The ODSTs skillfully kept their weapons trained on each men present, and the other's aimed their weapons right back at them, except for Major Foster and another in the center; those two kept their pistols pointed at each other.
      "I will not say this again: Drop your weapons!" Lynn shouted.
      "Drop your weapons!" The single man in the center unknown to Lynn shouted, still keeping his pistol trained on Foster. "We are from the Office of Naval Intelligence and have encountered defectors."
      Lynn looked at Foster, who remained silent. The situation was very delicate, since they were even in numbers. Each man had one threat, who was pointing a weapon back at them.
      He looked around and noticed the bodies laying bloodied on the ground; two were twitching. Defectors? He had never met Foster personally, but he had been on the Battalion's Executive Staff for years, and never once had the man been questionable in his intentions or motives.
      This man was an ODST. Was he going to take some ONI man's word above a fellow soldier? Could that even be true, could Foster be a traitor? And what had he even done?
      "Final warning: Drop your weapons now!" Lynn yelled.
      He kept his rifle trained on his target and looked at Major Foster, who for the first time looked over at him. Lynn made eye contact with the officer. Was this man really at fault?
      One of the ONI men fired.
      "Fuckit!" Westfield yelled as Wilson screamed in pain as a single round entered the Marine's chest.
      The thunderous fire from the M271B exploded and tore through the man who had shot Wilson.


      Keeton softly, but quickly, pulled the trigger on his sniper rifle, the crosshairs centered at the forehead of his target. The rifle recoiled and the loud explosion erupted from the muzzle as a single, 14.5-millimeter round left the barrel and erased the man's head from existence.


      Johnson fired his BR55, his three round burst impacting his target in the chest. The target fell back, neutralized. He turned to a second just as the muzzle flash caught his eye. Three piercing objects tore into his leg.
      He fell to a knee and screamed in pain, firing another burst on the way. He looked down at the blood running form his leg, then back up as three more rounds caught him in the chest, sending him to the ground.


      Tanner felt the hot shard bite into his arm, and fired an instant later, sending a round into his target's leg, nearly blowing it off completely. He dropped his rifle as the pain overcame him and stumbled, trying to get oriented.
      He didn't even look at the wound before pulling out his M6C, forcing the weapon into the air and firing repeatedly at the target who was now on the ground, screaming in pain after receiving a round capable of dismantling a small vehicle.


      Lynn's first burst went low, but his second was on target, killing the man before he hit the ground with three 9.5-millimeter rounds to the head. The second came into view, and he quickly pivoted and put the man in his crosshairs.
      Three bursts hit the man before sending him to the ground; the finger depressing on the trigger and sending rounds harmlessly into the air as he fell to the ground, blood mists following him down.
      Lynn then looked to see Foster and the last standing target fire, their pistols' muzzle flashes lighting up their faces.


      Foster didn't blink at the flash from his M6C as Anderson fired at the same time. He did blink when a second bullet hit him, this time in a far more fragile spot.
      He fell back, hitting the ground and losing grip of his pistol. He couldn't tell where it had hit, but the pain consumed his body. The sight of blue sky above began to fade and narrow, and the pain began to subside quickly. In his experience, he knew what was happening.
      Shock.


      Lynn watched as both men fell. He kept his rifle shouldered and scanned the area, then looked over to see who was still standing.
      They were so close to getting out, all of them, alive. All they had to do was extract with this other team on the Pelican and get the hell of this planet. But their luck, or fate, wasn't as cooperative with their hopes. Before him lay over a dozen bodies, and none of the were Covenant.
      He had just participated in his first firefight against humans. His mind was still beginning to comprehend what had happened, but the outcome was clear. Never had he thought something like this would happen. Friendly fire accidents were one thing, but killing soldiers, people, humans was something no one ever dreamed about.
      They were in a war to save humanity. Fighting among it was seemingly impossible in the wake of such an enemy.
      "Stay down!" Westfield yelled as a body moved.
      Lynn looked around. Obviously, despite the barrage of bullets between them, not everyone was killed. "Keeton, check our guys!"
      The sniper nodded, already checking over the ODSTs from their Squad.
      Lynn ran over to Foster and knelt over the officer. Blood ran from the man's lower neck. He looked into the half open eyes, then back at the wound. It had passed over the body armor by only an inch.
      Foster reached up and grabbed Lynn, coughing up blood. The officer was not going to survive from his wounds, but there was still some strength coursing through this man's body. The eyes widened as the man looked up, blood running from the wound.
      Lynn stayed still as the man tried to speak. There was nothing he could do to save him.
      "Make sure," Foster said, coughing up more blood. "Make sure they know."
      Lynn grabbed the officer's hand and held it as the man began shaking. Foster squeezed his hand back hard, then it slowly began to go limp. The eyes stopped blinking and remained open, focused on nothing; the blood stopped rushing from the wound.
      He let go of the officer's hand, then swept across his face, closing the open eyes.

0800 hours, November 21, 2552 (Military Calendar)
UNSC Capitol Ship Chesapeake
In orbit above Planet Red Dawn (Codename), Theta 1440+90 System

      "Captain, it's time to call in the evacuation of our troops."
      Sean Warren nodded. "Very well then, pass the order to the Ground Forces Combat Information Center, and contact Admiral McCrea that we are beginning the extraction phase."
      His Executive Officer nodded and went to work, delegating out the tasks. Warren sat on the bridge of his cruiser, idly watching his crew, and AI, scan continuously for any sign of the Covenant entering the system. They were now at the thirty-minute mark, which meant they were be out of this system in a half-hour.
      By the accounts and predictions of his own Intelligence staff, this would give them enough time to leave the system, without a trace, before the Covenant could arrive to engage them or follow them. If this all went as planned, he would have a successful mission to report.
      Of course it wasn't the men who got the glory, the ones who actually completed the objectives, it was the highest ranking person in charge; McCrea. Warren didn't despise the man; in fact, he had a unusual amount of respect for him, but he didn't like him. While a good tactician that had won his fair share of battles, the man rubbed him the wrong way. Regardless, a successful operation, no matter who was in charge, was a good one.
      Warren turned to his XO. "And what became of Colonel Nodern and a briefing he had for us? I believe we are already overdue for that."
      Commander Scotts looked back at him and shook his head. "No clue, sir. I will have someone track him down as soon as possible. But reports are that his Pelican never left the Stanton Bay; perhaps there was a hold up there."
      Warren nodded. They would have time for briefings later. Right now they needed to extract.

Present Darkness, Chapter Seven: Part I
Date: 9 January 2005, 8:03 AM

Chapter Seven

Left Behind

0815 hours, November 21, 2552 (Military Calendar)
ODST AO, Hill 203 (Location of a known Surface Entrance)
Planet Red Dawn (Codename), Theta 1440+90 System

To see war. To see the death that entailed, the challenges, the memories of a past peace, the memories of a past life, the need for a new life; the emotions that would never go away. To see the men you fought alongside, the men you fought for, to see their bodies; none of whom would ever be remembered except only by those who served alongside them.
      To feel the anger inside, the aching thought of betrayal. To be hurt by more then mere mortal wounds, but by the actions of others. To explain the death of many to the waiting wives, children, family's; the pain of seeing their tears.
      To Return to the present, the life lived not by choice, but by duty. To Return to the Hell whose only advocate was the endless bodies that were added every minute. To Return to a life of fear, of constant strain, of constant paranoia that could render even the strongest nothing more then bodies among millions.
      To Return.


      Lynn forced his eyes off the bodies that lay at his feet. He couldn't concentrate, he couldn't brake through the haze in his mind that was filled with the images of his dead brothers in arms. His thoughts were consumed by the never ending line of memories that demanded his attention; memories that would not leave him.
      This wasn't some distant Platoon that had gotten sheered to bits by the Covenant. This wasn't some Squad of unknown faces being dismantled by their enemy. This was his team, the men he led into battle. The men he met along the way, the men that would have given their own life to save his own. He wasn't staring at the dead bodies of nameless Marines who gallantly gave their lives to the Cause; he was staring at his family.
      The only family he would ever know.
      Was there something he could have done? The thought of what could have been was no distant voice in his head. It was the only voice in his head. Could he have known? Of course. Providing the fact that this was war, he had no choice but to expect casualties. Was that fact going to change anything? His answer was no cover; it was no lie to the truth.
      No.
      Keeton walked over, the look in the man's eyes was haunting enough. This Force Recon sniper, a soldier who had endured months of training that most would hide from, a man who had seen his fair share of deaths, a man who had seen war many times; he was no pushover. The look in his eyes, however, portrayed a deeper side of the sniper. Not one that would leave and quit after losing his comrades, but someone that would make the enemy pay ten-fold.
      "Wilson is okay. We filled the wound with biofoam and it is holding up. He cannot walk in his current condition, though, and if he ever wants to walk again we need to get him to a medic as soon as possible."
      Lynn nodded, remaining silent.
      "Tanner's fine as well," Keeton continued. "The bullet was in and out; clean. He can still hold his own..." The sniper's voice trailed off as he looked down at the body before them.
      Private First Class Richard Johnson lay motionless before them. The Marine had lost the fight when three armor piercing rounds tore through the body armor, ending the man's life. He had died quickly, Lynn told himself, he hadn't suffered. This soldier had served flawlessly under him, and on more then one occasion saved his own life. Why him? Why wasn't it me...?
      "You can't choose who lives or dies," Keeton said, reading Lynn's eyes.
      Lynn stepped back and closed his eyes. "Fate? Bullshit odds? Some fucking ONI handler who feels like firing a gun? This wasn't the Covenant; this wasn't some alien who would strike it lucky. This was one of us. This was someone fighting the same enemy, for the same reasons. Nothing was accidental about this, and nothing he did merited being murdered."
      It was true. Nothing was worth spending a life for some distant man's perception of duty. They were fighting one enemy, and the direction was clear to all. War between colonies and renegade forces was long gone. It was now everything they had against the Covenant, and to see it come down to this, on the surface of some planet known only to the men who fought here...it wasn't right.
      "Sergeant, we need to get out of here. For a fact they're starting the evacuation process of every Marine on the surface, and they are not going to wait for us."
      Lynn nodded, thankful he had something to do; something to get this out of his mind. "I'm going to call in the evac, get everyone together and ready."

0820 hours, November 21, 2552 (Military Calendar)
UNSC Capitol Ship Chesapeake
In orbit above Planet Red Dawn (Codename), Theta 1440+90 System

      "Last wave of extraction Pelicans have just been launched, we should be fully ready to depart from the system in no more then thirty minutes." Commander Scotts' report was greatly welcomed by that of the bridge crew, along by Warren. "And Captain, I have some word for you. In private."
      Warren nodded and left his seat on the bridge of the Chesapeake. He was very proud to command such a fine ship. One of the few built Cruisers of its type, the Chesapeake sported three Magnetic Accelerator Cannons and five Squadron's of Longswords. The ship was regarded by many as the second most powerful in the fleet; its only setback being of an older design. Nonetheless, it could still inflict substantial damage on any Covenant ship unwise enough to stray within the MAC's deadly range.
      Having served for over thirty years in the UNSC, getting such a fine command was no easy task. He was fortunate enough to start his Naval career as a commissioned officer; receiving his Master's Degree from the UNSC Naval Academy with top honors. While his specialty major was in Political Science, with an emphasis on the multiple Governments and organizations that dotted the Human "empire", he was more then a mere current-events junkie.
      Despite minor setbacks throughout his life among the large, gray ships, he was recognized early for his achievements. The Delta Symphia Rebellion, consisting of many suicidal people willing to fight them, was where his real origin was. Commanding his small Corvette fast-attack ship, he had single handedly saved the main fleet from certain death after intercepting, what has been to date, the largest nuclear bomb on the black market.
      Honors from that feat quickly moved him up the Chain of Command, and years later, with discovery and subsequent war with the Covenant, his promotions were accelerated. The war had cost the UNSC many of its finest commanders, and positions opened up far more quickly then normal. His rise through commanding ships of various sizes led him to the ship he stood on today.
      Warren and Scotts stepped into his on-duty office; a small, but nice, compartment offering him peace and quiet during the busy operations on the bridge. The Executive Officer seemed preoccupied beyond normal; Scotts was well versed and able to command a ship of his own, but Warren would not allow it. Not yet at least. Having such a valuable XO proved more important then anything he could think of, especially during the operations they had been through.
      "We have received word, by a secure channel of course, that Lieutenant Colonel Nodern, commander of Second Regiment, Third Battalion Orbital Drop Shock Troopers, was killed aboard the Stanton Bay within the last hour."
      Warren nearly coughed up the cold coffee in his mouth. "What?"
      Scotts raised his hands. "I have no clue."
      Warren set the mug down, careful to place it on a coaster. "By 'killed' you mean...?"
      "Murdered."
      The Captain sat down roughly on the padded couch adjacent to his desk and chair. There were always accidents, during both wartime and training, aboard these ships, but murder was a very uncommon, if nonexistent, problem that he had heard of.
      "And his Staff?"
      Scotts walked over to and poured some coffee into his own cup from the lukewarm pot. "The ship's security found Nodern, along with all of his Executive Staff, save one, killed near the GFCIC. They were all shot, from what appears to be ahead and behind them. While they haven't ruled anything out for certain, it's obvious to see this was not an accident. They were targeted and taken out specifically."
      It was an inside job, Warren thought immediately. "They have threats aboard that ship...what was the nature of Nodern's planned visit?"
      Scotts pulled out a data pad. "Apparently, he and his staff had discovered, by witness and recon on the surface, another factor of the operation. The matter was considered too sensitive for broadcast over the communications network, so he informed us of a priority meeting, with you and Admiral McCrea included. From what it appeared, this was pretty important."
      "Far more then coincidence," Warren thought aloud. "This was not random either."
      Scotts nodded.
      "You said that one of the Staff members was not present with them."
      "Yes," the XO replied. "Apparently, Nodern tasked his Intelligence Officer with going planet-side to confirm whatever it was he was going to brief us on. Any reports or communication from him would be logged in the GFCIC."
      "Get me those logs as soon as possible," Warren said, standing. "All of them."
      Both officers turned at the sudden flashing lights and alarms filling his office and the corridor outside. This type of alert was only used during training exercises or during combat operations when contact was made with the enemy.
      "Oh shit." Scotts breathed silently, moving for the door.
      Warren walked to the intercom on his desk as the normal white-lighting dimmed to operational red. "Bridge, report."
      The reply was not low key. "Captain, Covenant forces have entered the system, ten minutes out!"

0825 hours, November 21, 2552 (Military Calendar)
ODST AO, Hill 203 (Location of a known Surface Entrance)
Planet Red Dawn (Codename), Theta 1440+90 System

      "FLASH Priority Transmission, this is Red Eye One, I say again, FLASH Priority Transmissions. Prepare to copy."
      Lynn quickly slung his rifle and turned up the LRISC. The call over the net was obviously for everyone to hear on their band, and the indicated priority level was the highest possible, meaning that nothing was more important or crucial to the operation or status of the mission.
      Westfield looked up from his kneeling position over Wilson, who waited patiently through the pain for an evac to arrive and take him to someone who knew something about saving his leg; the gritting teeth from the Marine bore testimony to the pain, despite the biofoam precautions. Keeton didn't look over from his over watch position, but it was obvious the sniper was listening in. The long rifle kept scanning the area around them.
      "All units, Charlie in System, I say again, Charlie in System..."
      Lynn's heart jumped as the word filtered through the background white-noise. They were predicted to still have time to evacuate every Marine and leave the system without coming close to the Covenant. Their predications were wrong.
      "...Last wave of Pelicans are en route to the following egress zones. Proceed with all due speed to these locations for the evac; the Pelicans will not be able for individual pickup. Estimated time until the evac crafts leave these designated drop zones is fifteen, I say again, one-five mikes. First egress zone is as follows..."
      Lynn quickly scanned his map as the coordinates were announced over the net. There were only five spread across the Area of Operations, which meant that the remaining Marines, whose number was probably still near triple digits, would have to get to those locations before the fifteen minute mark came across.
      "Got one," Lynn said as the radio transmission finished. "Bearing one-niner-zero at two clicks."
      Keeton looked at Lynn this time. "What? We've got wounded."
      Lynn shook his head. "No evac except at those locations. Odds are whoever's in charge up there wants to get out of the system as soon as possible, and they're not going to wait for the Pelican's to pick up each Squad." He looked over at Wilson, who tried to get to his feet. Would they make it? "We have to move now."
      Westfield cursed and helped the Marine up, and Tanner ran over to help, despite his own wound. Lynn quickly thought of their situation, and devised a plan as best he could in twenty-seconds.
      "Westfield and Tanner, you carry out Wilson. Keeton and I will provide security."
      The Marines nodded and got Wilson to his feet; the cry of pain subdued but visible through the veins on the Marines neck. Under normal combat conditions, with no wounded, this might have been possible. With a wounded man and in hostile territory, though, this was nothing less then an exercise and futility. Did any of them want to stay on this planet, however, for what may be the rest of their lives?
      That very fact helped motivate them. Lynn moved over to Wilson, who was suspended on each end by Westfield and Tanner. "This is a quick walk in the woods, but you need to stay quiet; there's plenty of stuff out there that wants our hides."
      The Marine nodded in response. Lynn wished they had even just a Medic, someone who could at least give the man some Morphine. He turned and motioned for them to follow, and Keeton brought up the rear.
      They were about to make a deadly run through the claws of their enemy.

0825 hours, November 21, 2552 (Military Calendar)
UNSC Capitol Ship Chesapeake
In orbit above Planet Red Dawn (Codename), Theta 1440+90 System

      "Give me the SITREP."
      Warren looked up at the primary viewing display aboard the bridge. He was connected to Admiral McCrea's ship via the Video Link, and for a split-second considered terminating the connection. He had enemy ships inbound, and this man wanted him to convey the situation. Warren didn't have time for this.
      "Three Covenant medium-tonnage ships have entered the system, and are making way for our location at in-system speeds." Warren replied, annoyance in his voice. "I'm relocating the escort ships to provide cover for the Carriers as the Marines complete their extraction phase. If no more enemy ships enter the system, we should still be able to make it out fine."
      McCrea nodded. "What's the egress time period for our forces surface-side?"
      "Longer then ideal."
      The Admiral obviously didn't share amusement to his smart-remark, and the fifty-six year-old man's face wrinkled in anger. "We're entering slipspace in fifteen minutes, is that understood?"
      Warren looked down at his data pad. Was this man nuts? "Sir, we would have to cut our extraction times for the Pelicans in half to make that mark; we'd loose nearly half the Marines still on the surface."
      "Leave those decisions up to me."
      Warren nearly cursed. "Chesapeake out."
      Scotts turned from his station and looked back at the Captain, question etched on the officer's face. Warren sat still, thinking of the situation on the surface. If he implemented McCrea's timeframe, they would certainly leave with far less Marines then expected. Was that the definition of a successful mission? Throughout his years of training and service, he was always prompted to consider the lives in his hands before making a decision. Was it worth risking his ships to extract all the Marines, or was it wise just to leave the System and expect the losses on the surface?
      "Tell the evac Pelican's they have twenty minutes," he said finally, trying to compromise as much as possible. "We can't take the risk of losing a ship compared to a few Platoons of Marines."
      Scotts nodded and went to work.
      Warren couldn't even imagine what it was like on the surface, and his decision, or rather McCrea's decision, felt wrong. He had to weigh his options, though, and there were far more lives at stake in orbit if they stayed longer then if they extracted sooner and left some Marines behind.
      What kind of situation was this? He had a sudden hate for those Intelligence-guru's that assured him they would have time. Those men sitting in a dark room several decks below him should be on the surface with a rifle, doing something useful.
      He looked over as the Communications Officer sent out the order to the GFCIC, and the feeling washed over him immediately.
      He had just condemned men to their deaths.

Present Darkness, Chapter Seven: Part II
Date: 9 January 2005, 8:44 AM

0830 hours, November 21, 2552 (Military Calendar)
ODST AO, One Kilometer from Extraction Zone
Planet Red Dawn (Codename), Theta 1440+90 System

      Lynn held up a fist.
      Something did not seem right ahead. They had been traversing down the slop of Hill 203 and were now making their way through the tight valley that would lead them to the Extraction Zone. Nothing so far had caught his eye, but he could tell when something seemed out of place.
      The sight ahead of him was seemingly normal, but he could faintly pick out the moving objects just over a hundred meters ahead. The small figures darted around skillfully, some even up in the trees. There was no mistaking it; those were crazed Jackals.
      He ducked instinctively as plasma fire erupted from the slopes, concentrated on the Jackals ahead of him. He stayed low and noticed the source of fire from the hills ahead of him to his left and right. Covenant squads began tearing a path through the vegetation towards those beings, beginning to eradicate them from existence.
      Clever bastards, Lynn thought. The Covenant had flanked the beings.
      High-pitched screams echoed through the valley floor as the Jackals began to fall from the continuous Plasma fire. He could see them darting around, moving up the slopes towards them, but the Covenant quickly dispatched the creatures. Part of him was glad that the Covenant were getting rid of those crazed beings, and the other half worried.
      Either way, there was still a threat left for them to deal with.
      The deep-growls came into existence. Lynn looked up to the group of Covenant on the slope, and saw the large beings' instantly. The large, black-haired creatures began tearing through Grunts and even Elites, who were caught entirely off guard. Those large creatures effortlessly tore through the ranks, beating down their oppressors as if they were mere hindrances.
      The second group of Covenant on the opposite side of the hill continued their reign of fire on the Jackals in the valley. They were completely cutoff on both sides from going around this mess, which left only one option.
      Lynn motioned for Keeton to come forward. The two Marines observed the fighting for one more second before Lynn spoke up, whispering to the sniper just loud enough to be heard.
      "I'm going to go up the slope towards the group of Covenant still unscathed, you lead they way straight through. I should attract enough attention."
      Keeton nodded. The sniper didn't object to the seemingly insane plan, knowing their time constraints. If they didn't make it through this death trap within the next few minutes, they may as well plan on spending the rest of the lives on this planet.
      "Keep moving, I'll met you on the other side."
      Keeton looked at the ODST Sergeant he had known only for a few hours. The soldier had proven himself more then worthy to lead them, and he had an unusual amount of respect for the man. Seeing many battles and coming across plenty of soldiers, the sniper didn't find many Marines as capable as this man. Force Recon had taught Keeton to be the best, but the fact remained; there were others out there like him.
      Others who were willing to sacrifice their lives.


      Lynn crouched and moved off towards the slope of the hill, unnoticed by their common enemies engaged in the firefight. Part of him was anxious; fearful. He didn't want to die, and he sure as hell didn't want to die on this planet, forgotten forever, but he had a higher purpose. He had men to save.
      He silently ran up behind a tree and peered around it. Ahead of him, no more then fifty-meters, were several Grunts and three Blue Elites, all of them preoccupied with their targets in the valley below. He kept his rifle shouldered and made a silent run to the next tree, bringing him ten meters closer. He was partly surprised there were no regular Jackals among this Covenant group, but it was actually a good sign. Those smaller creatures had superb senses, and were often the vanguard for any Covenant squad in battle. Without them present, he would be able to get far closer then normal.
      One more tree lay between him and the group. Lynn carefully stepped out and walked slowly towards it, carefully planting his feet around sticks or twigs that could announce his presence. The heat from the plasma fire was now beginning to warm the air as he continued his slow, stealthy walk towards the group. He kept his sights on the head of an Elite, but none of the creatures even suspected his presence.
      He silently came up against the tree and peered around. Fifteen meters was all the remained between him and his foe. He was thankful, at least at this moment, that those crazed Jackals were hard to hit, since it kept the Grunts and Elites occupied and focused on their darting movements. Lynn watched carefully as the aliens ahead of him continued their firing, and noticed the slight signs of the weapons overheating. If he timed it right, he might just be able to pull this off.
      Four grenades were still strapped to his LBV, none had been used since his insertion to this planet. Had these just been Grunts, one fragmentation grenade would have easily done it, but up against three Elites with shielding, he was sure all of them would be needed. He slung his rifle and detached two of them, holding one in each hand and removing the pins with his teeth. The time had almost come...
      Three Grunts and an Elite nearly simultaneously stopped firing, their weapons overheating. Lynn leaned out a little farther and tossed the first Grenade, landing without a bounce in the dirt near the Grunts. His second throw put another grenade barely in front of the Elites. None, however, noticed the object fall at their feet.
      Lynn quickly pulled off his last two grenades and repeating the process, hiding behind the tree as the fuses burnt down. The three seconds seemed like an hour, but finally the satisfying thump resounded, and debris flew past him.
      There were screams and growls from the aliens, and Lynn leaned back out and threw the grenades blindly into the smoke and debris. He pulled back in from behind the tree and pulled out his rifle. Two further explosions rattled his teeth, sending dirt and even body parts flying past him.
      One, two...three.
      Lynn shouldered his rifle and moved out from behind the tree, dark smoke and dirt consuming the air ahead of him. He took careful, but steady steps towards the smoke, scanning back and forth quickly with his BR55, trying to pick out in survivors.
      He snapped to his right as a black, charred Elite stumbled out of the haze, the alien obviously disoriented and wounded from the explosions. The trigger depressed twice, and six rounds tore into the unshielded warrior, sending the alien to the ground.
      A smaller figure emerged directly ahead. Lynn saw the blood running from the shrapnel wounds of the small Grunt, and settled the sight at the ugly creatures head. Three rounds entered the alien's skull, sending a slight burst of methane into the air.
      He began strafing up the hill a little more as the dust settled. Slight groans were evident from somewhere ahead of him, but the area was still obscured. Lynn stopped moving and kept his rifle shouldered.
      There. Lynn saw a large figure crawling from the haze. The Elite was pulling itself with its two arms, its armor charred and riddled with wounds from the grenades. Lynn withheld fire as the entire alien came within his sight; it was missing both its legs.
      Six more rounds depleted the life out of the Elite, and he turned to move around the scene. He had to get past this slaughter pit before those crazed-Jackals began charging up the hill, and he also had to get to his fellow teammates that were hopefully sneaking past the fight in the valley. With any luck, they were be on a Pelican in ten minutes.
      Lynn heard the noise, but couldn't react in time as a body crashed over him, sending him to the ground. He quickly rolled out of the attack, sending his foe over and off of him. He brought himself up to a knee and spotted the small creature.
      Red eyes from the small, ugly Jackal analyzed him for a second before darting off behind some cover. Lynn turned at some more sounds, and noticed the movement ahead of him. Over a dozen crazed Jackals were darting towards him. Death in their eyes.
      Was his luck that bad? Lynn aimed at the first being and fired twice, missing the alien altogether as it closed the distance quickly. He fired again at a second Jackal, hitting the alien and sending it out of sight.
      The BR55 spat out more rounds, most missing as the Jackals closed to within thirty-meters. He couldn't believe how fast they were; it seemed as if they could nearly dodge his bullets. The trigger depressed again, but the charging lever snapped forward and nothing but a soft click resounded.
      Lynn turned from the incoming aliens towards his extraction zone. Only one thing came to his mind as he pulled out another magazine for the rifle.
      Run.


      There it was, just up the treeless hill. The sweet sight of their savior.
      Keeton looked up the two-hundred meter long slope to the black Pelican settling into a hover and descending. This was their ticket out, and it was the only thing that kept them moving through the continuous fighting.
      Their silent endeavor through the valley behind them proved rather flawless, with the Covenant fire into the valley stopping shortly after several blasts; all of which were by the ODST Sergeant, Keeton thought. To top it off, the creatures lurking through the valley began running for those explosions, leaving them with a clear path out.
      He knew that Lynn was in trouble, but he had to make sure the Marines with him got to the safety of the extraction zone before going back to help. He helped Tanner and Westfield carrying Wilson up the barren slope, the injured Marine clenching his jaw from the pain of his leg wound. They would be off this rock in a few minutes.
      They stumbled to the top of the small hill as the Pelican settled a meter above the ground. He looked about to see at least four Squads-worth of Marines emerge from the slope to the top as well, panting from their own run to this evac location. The sight of fellow soldiers was encouraging, but another daunting fact came to mind.
      Would they have enough room?
      "Get him aboard," Keeton ordered as two Marines ran over to help with Wilson. The sniper turned to what appeared to be the highest-ranking ODST with them. "How many do you have?"
      The Gunnery Sergeant took in a deep breath, obviously fatigued, and replied, yelling over the sound of the Pelican. "I have twelve, plus this other Squad we hooked up with before climbing this hill, so a total of seventeen."
      Damnit. Keeton looked back to them loading Wilson, who grunted in pain. "We have one more in the valley below," Keeton yelled to the Gunnery Sergeant as he positioned his men in a security circle around the craft. "I need to go back and get him."
      The Sergeant looked at him, his face full of concern. "Still alive?"
      The nod answered the Drop Shock's question.
      "Peters, Mansen, Rogers, and Neadson, get your asses over here!" The four Marines quickly responded to the Sergeant's order, and the remaining Marines adjusted their security circle accordingly. Keeton looked on, confused for a moment.
      The Gunnery Sergeant turned back at him, a serious tone washing across the middle-aged man's face. "Lead the way. No way in Hell we're leaving someone behind."


      Lynn could feel the presence of those Jackals behind him, and turned around, continuing to run backwards as his rifle came up. Three rounds dispatched a target less then five meters behind him. He turned quickly to see another crazed Jackal begin a lunge at him, its red eyes staring him down from behind two outstretched arms.
      Six rounds killed the being in midair, its body falling to the ground and tripping another Jackal directly behind it. He was tired, and the Jackals had seemingly closed his lead effortlessly. He was in excellent shape, and could run thirteen kilometers with all his gear on without too much exhaustion, but these creatures were on a different scale. They were enhanced, and had a far better advantage over him.
      He fired another burst at a Jackal drawing close, then turned back around and began running full bore. He was so close, and the hill that the extraction zone was on was just around the valley turn ahead. He was sure that Keeton and the rest had made it, otherwise he would have noticed their bodies along the way in this tight canyon.
      He turned and fired another burst, his rifle's charging level snapping forward yet again as his magazine ran dry. They were practically on top of him, and their deadly attacks were imminent.
      This hadn't been in vain; he had saved the lives of four of his Marines. He took comfort in the fact that his plan had worked well enough for them to escape, and that was the only thing that had really mattered to him. While he fought for his own life now, he had done his job. He had done his duty.
      He had saved his men.
      The inevitable tackled him, sending him painfully face first into the dirt. He let his grasp of the rifle go, it was empty always, and rolled to the side, forcing his assailant off. He reached to his right leg and pulled out the M6C sidearm, slipping the safety off in one fluid motion.
      Another Jackal jumped on top of him, its red eyes glowing with hate; its mouth dripping with drool. It took a swipe at his chest, not comprehending the armor plating. Lynn was thankful for once that he put this heavy stuff on, and shoved the barrel in the creature's face, pulling the trigger once.
      He instinctively rolled to a new location as another Jackal pounced down, claws first. It landed at his previous location and snapped a look over at him, its dirty, bloody teeth coming into view. Lynn aimed with his right arm and fired twice, sending the creature back first to the ground. He rolled to a knee and saw three of the being's charging him simultaneously, their jaws open; high-pitched screams of death echoing through the small valley. The three-point sight settled on the first one, sending a Magnum round through the creature's neck, and he pivoted to aim at the second, firing twice into the being's chest.
      He flinched as a loud crack echoed through the valley. He blinked as the head of the third creature disappeared in a mist of body fluids as the slight contrail continued on into the dirt. The fight wasn't over.
      He fired at another incoming Jackal as rifle fire broke out from the direction of the extraction zone, rounds and tracers ripping through the terrain just ahead of him, sending blood into the air and bodies to the ground. Three more rounds spat out from his pistol before the receiver snapped back.
      Lynn turned to see the figures continuing to fire beyond him. A wave of hope washed over him as he recognized the lone sniper and five ODSTs. He had men he could count on covering his back.


       "Move, Marine!" The Gunnery Sergeant yelled as he fired another burst.
      Keeton stopped to reload and watched Lynn jump up and start running for them, Jackals emerging from the vegetation to chase him down. He slapped the large clip into the sniper rifle and gazed through the scope.
      What the hell...?
      Without thinking, he fired a round through the temple of a large creature that emerged from the forest. He had seen the bodies of those things in the underground facility, by never one alive. It was larger then an Elite, and ran like an ape. The large body slumped forward as his round erased the beast from existence, but more appeared behind it.
      He expertly began eliminating each of those large beings, but four rounds per clip didn't give him much of an advantage. He reached back into his LBV and felt for another clip. There wasn't one.
      Keeton cursed and slung the large rifle, bringing out his M6C-SD pistol, the long silencer protruding from his grip. He aimed as best he could at another large beast, but at such a distance he couldn't guarantee a hit.
      Battle Rifle fire cut down any creatures continuing the chase, and the few remaining beings immediately stopped and turned back towards the thicker vegetation. Keeton watched in curiosity as the crazed Jackals and beasts, which were relentlessly attacking them a moment earlier, ran from them, disappearing from view. The rifle fire discontinued a second later as the ODSTs looked on in question as well.


      Lynn reloaded the pistol as he neared the Marines, their covering fire coming to a halt. He looked over his shoulder and didn't notice a single creature chasing him. Had they all been killed?
      "Ok, son, let's get off this rock." The Gunnery Sergeant yelled at him, reloading his rifle.
      Lynn wanted to fall at their feet and thank them for their actions, which saved his life without a doubt, but their time was probably already up, and they needed to get aboard the Pelican.
      "Mansen, contact the Pelican over the LRISC, tell them we'll be there in five mikes." The Gunnery Sergeant said, turning to run back to the evac location.
      Lynn took a deep breath, and looked up the valley floor to the barren hill several hundred meters away, a single Pelican waiting atop of it.

0845 hours, November 21, 2552 (Military Calendar)
ODST AO, Emergency Extraction Zone
Planet Red Dawn (Codename), Theta 1440+90 System

      "Zulu 143, what's your status?"
      Warrant Officer Ken Maxwell immediately reached for the volume button, turning the radio communications down from its abnormally loud state. His copilot adjusted the squelch level of the radio, and the transmission came in more clearly.
      Maxwell depressed the transmit button as he looked out the side window from the cockpit of the Pelican, hovering steadily several meters above the ground, waiting for word from the rear gunner that all the Marines had been loaded.
      "143 reports no contact, currently on station at Extraction Zone Echo Four."
      The reply came back far quicker then the pilot would have expected, and the tone was far from what he wanted. "Zulu 143, you are overdue on your departure by five mikes, you are hereby ordered to exit to Area of Operations and proceed with all due speed to the Stanton Bay. Acknowledge."
      He looked out the window yet again and spotted the figures now just coming up the base of the hill. "Negative, 143 cannot leave our station, we have six Marines still on the surface."
      The reply was far more harsh; the FAC was probably in a bad situation. "143, I say again, lift off now or concede to being left on this rock."
      His copilot looked over, swearing at the reply from their Forward Air Controller. "We can't leave them, they're only about five minutes out."
      Maxwell nodded, watching the Marines begin their ascent up the hill. "I say again, 143 will not comply until all Marines are aboard."
      The ship shuddered, and Maxwell quickly scanned the instruments. They had been hit by something. "Damnit, losing hydraulic pressure on rear starboard control surface. Turning on auxiliary support." The pilot looked out the window again and saw the Plasma charges skim over the craft from somewhere down the hill slope. The Marines still in a security position around them began returning fire.
      "Sir, the Marines are reporting inbound resistance up the opposite hill slope," the rear door gunner announced through the intercom system.
      "Shit, we've got to got off the ground before they stick us good," the copilot said.
      Maxwell nodded. "Get those Marines aboard, we'll circle around."
      The call was given to the rear gunner, and the Marines around them boarded the Pelican quickly. Maxwell could feel the vibration of the gunner firing rounds as the "green" signal was given over the intercom. He reached down to the collective stick and raised it all the way up, forcing the Pelican into the air.
      "We're overloaded," the copilot said, noticing the diminished performance as the craft climbed for altitude. The engine readouts were rising into the red, meaning they were overworking the engines at a critical point. The Pelican could take that kind of abuse, but not indefinitely. "How many Marines do we have back there?"
      Maxwell shook his head as the altitude reader hit triple digits, Plasma charges flying up after them from the ground below. "Nineteen or so."
      The pilots leveled off the collective stick and hit the throttle forward, changing the directional thrusters to the rear and accelerating the craft forward. They were in a bad situation; if any Plasma charges contested the aircrafts structural integrity, getting into space would be impossible.
      "Zulu 143, this is Oscar Tango Three, we are still on the ground!"
      Maxwell cursed. The Marines had seen them depart. "Roger, we know. There are enemy forces on the opposite side of the hill; LZ is too hot for a pickup at this time."
      There was no reply as he banked the ship back around, giving the rear gunner an easy line of sight to the Covenant forces firing at them. The rear gun opened up a hail of bullets, and the chin turret, operated by the copilot, added to the firestorm of rounds that tore up the ground around the Covenant.
      "Going back around."


      Lynn and the rest stopped and watched the Pelican circle back around, firing down upon some unseen enemies on the other side of this hill. Plasma charges chased after the craft, some impacting it. All the ODSTs knew the dangers of the craft being compromised, rendering it incapable of space transitions until after repairs could be made, but they were out of time for that option to work.
      "Oh shit..."
      Two large charges shot up after the craft. Fuel Rode Cannons, the only hand-held weapon capable of inflicting serious damage on the craft. The ship side-slipped and dodged the first, but the second shot was well placed.


      The copilot yelled as the second charge hit their port wing.
      "We're hit, number three thruster is overheating, shutting it down."
      Maxwell gritted his teeth. The hit threw the craft a bit, but the impact wasn't the bad part. It was the damage done to his bird. "Damage?"
      "Severe to the right side, but we're still operational. I don't think we could sustain another hit like that, though."
      The swearing in the cabin was followed by that of the pilots.


      They Marines watched as the craft began emitting smoke from one side. They ceased climbing the hill and stayed low after word of enemy forces on the other side was heard; they couldn't afford get in a firefight with the Covenant who had weapons like that.
      Lynn let his head drop. There were at least nineteen Marines aboard that ship, and all of them were risking their lives for theirs. He wanted to get off this rock, he wanted to go home, but how much was he worth? How much were the seven of them worth? It was obviously logical that nineteen lives took precedence over seven, but he couldn't quite condemn himself, and the others next to him, to their deaths.
      Why couldn't he? He had nearly died so the four Marines in his Squad could live. He had gone on alone to give them the fighting chance they needed; he had willingly sacrificed his life for that. The reason he was still alive was nothing short of a miracle.
      They had a choice, and more importantly, they had a duty to put the greater good of those lives above their own. The chances, the odds, the risks; all of it was too high.
      The mind. That's where the decisions were made, that's where the perspectives were born. He looked up and grabbed the radio from the Marine next to him. If they let the Pelican keep trying to evac them, they were condemning the lives of all those aboard that ship, not their own.
      The Marine looked back in question as Lynn depressed the button. This was for those Marines.
      "Zulu 143, this is Oscar Tango Three, abort the pickup."
      The Marines around him, except Keeton and the Gunnery Sergeant, immediately spoke up. Lynn ignored them and continued his transmission.
      "I say again, abort the pickup."


      Maxwell frowned at the radio transmission as he tried to keep the craft level. Were these Marines crazy? Who would want to be left on this planet?
      "Oscar Tango Three, we're not going to leave you down there."
      The reply was calm and collective; the very two attributes that made it painful to hear. "Negative, get back to the carrier. You know the risks, and you're already packed with Marines. Don't risk their lives."
      The copilot looked over. "Shit. We can't stay around here much longer."
      Maxwell gazed off into the horizon. They wanted to be left behind, so that we could live. These men were making the ultimate decision for our gain.
      They were making the ultimate sacrifice.


      Lynn looked back up at the Pelican one last time. The scene around him was mixed; the Marines next to him were angered with his transmission, except for the Force Recon Sniper and the Platoon Sergeant. The trees were swaying back and forth in the mid-morning breeze, the sky was lightening to its mid-day blue state, and the sun was continuing its rise over the landscape.
      The distant sounds of Covenant firing their weapons was slightly drowned out by the wailing engines from the Pelican. Emotions were tense, and the feeling consuming them all was settling in. They weren't going to make it off this planet.
      They were going to join their comrades lost here.
      "Zulu 143," Lynn said, his voice steady. "I have three Marines aboard there. One last thing before you leave."
      The reply was low-tone; the pilots obviously not in favor of their decision. "Anything, Tango Two."
      "Make sure they let everyone know what we saw down here. Make sure that what we found here isn't forgotten. Papa Tango Two, out."
      It was quiet. The Marines looked at him with hate, but Lynn knew it was the only real option. No matter how hard those pilots tried, they would never leave this planet. They just weren't meant to.
      "Will do." There was a pause. "Zulu 143 is RTB."
      Their lives were lived short, and their goals were left unaccomplished. Every one of the Marines watching the Pelican turn and ascend away from them was too young to die. Their lives were being ended in front of them.
      Lynn dropped the transmitter and looked at the Marines around them. Depression washed over them, and their will to fight dropped from existence. He saw the look in their eyes; the longing to leave, but the revelation that they never would. He could feel their pain, their heart ache, their want for freedom of this war, but none of them would ever see it. The peace they all longed for would be left up to another man, at another time. They had been left here, and the reality of it sunk in.
      Lynn closed his eyes and leaned against a rock, the silence a welcoming factor for him to think. He thought of his life, and how much he had accomplished, and also how much he had passed up. He thought about his family, his past, and his decisions that led up to this point.
      He opened his eyes and looked one more time at the men around him. He hadn't done anything wrong; he hadn't made a mistake. He was destined to be on this planet at this point in time, and so were the Marines around him. This was no accident. This was their fate.
      He thought to his beliefs, and he ruled out the religion. He once believed in God, in an entity of supernatural powers. He had gone to church with his family as a boy, and had lost those beliefs after breaking away and growing up. Something pricked him, though. Something called out to him. He could feel the presence of something, and he knew that there was something greater then him, something remotely present in this war torn planet.
      It was hope.
      Their fate had left them here, but it had not condemned them to death. He looked at the Marines around him once again, their silence testimony to the realization of their short-lived lives. Their hearts, however, were still beating.
      Keeton looked over and read his eyes. The Force Recon Sniper understanding him before the words came out of his mouth. The older Gunnery Sergeant was already in that place, having served his life for the Cause of the war. And these young Marines would soon see it too.
      The fight for them was just beginning.
      "It's not over."
      The silence was broken by his words.
      "It's not over."

Present Darkness, Epilogue
Date: 9 January 2005, 8:54 AM

Epilogue

Marked for Life

1110 hours, November 28, 2552 (Military Calendar)
UNSC Carrier Stanton Bay
Near UNSC Forward Operating Station, Marylhurst System

Admiral McCrea and Captain Warren stepped off the Pelican and into one of the Docking Bays of the large carrier. The two officers had refrained from talking aboard the entire transport time from their own ship to the Stanton Bay. The operation of a week ago was deemed a success, and the word was spread across the Chain of Command, prompting quick replies of congratulations from various commanders and officials.
      Even from those currently engaged in combat.
      The operation, despite its proclaimed success, felt somewhat wrong for the two commanders. They had heard many myths about what had conspired on the surface, and they were now going to find out the actual truth. After jumping to slipspace from around Red Dawn, they had heard many stories.
      They were quickly escorted down the ship's long corridors until they entered a conference room, several men waiting inside. The two officers immediately recognized the uniforms, and the patches on them. Helljumpers. The elite troops of the Marine Corps, and the primary driving force behind their operation. These soldiers deserved their undivided attention.
      Warren motioned for the three Marines on the other side of the room to sit down at the table, and took his own seat only after they did. He noticed that one of the soldiers was on crutches, his leg in a brace to promote the steroid's healing process of the wound. A man worthy of the Purple Heart.
      "Well," McCrea started. "It's nice to finally meet you Marines. I'm under the impression you have some vital information for us that can confirm some of our initial...assumptions."
      The one Marine wearing both the ODST Patch and the Force Recon emblem spoke up first; yet a third patch depicting his proficiency as a sniper. "The rumors you may have heard on the surface are true. There are, in fact, biologically enhanced Covenant; and they offer a far greater threat then you can imagine."
      McCrea sat up straighter as the confirmation came through. So it wasn't all worthless talk. The Marines had seen this foe, and they were important enough to merit Nodern's ill-fated meeting of a week ago. "Tell me, how did all this conspire?"
      The sniper began, his voice steady, but the emotions obvious. "I was one of the first three teams to hit the surface, well before anyone else. I was able to see the entire initial deployment of the operation, and I can say we ran into problems.
      "Aside from the fact that nearly half of the Drop Shock's were killed within the first ten minutes of battle, and there were multiple problems throughout, something occurred on that planet far more important then the mistakes we made."
      The sniper stiffened a little. "We linked up with a Squad from a downed Pelican shortly into the operation, and subsequently discovered those enhanced Covenant creatures; possibly the greatest threat to the UNSC at this time."
      There was a short pause. The Force Recon Sniper continued after letting it sink in.
      "We encountered those biologically enhanced Covenant sub-species under hostile conditions in the forest's of the AO. They were in the form of Jackals, extremely fast, and even somewhat intelligent. We further discovered an entry point to an underground facility. The facility was definitely Covenant in origin, and was the harboring and enhancement location of this altered beings. It was completely by accident, but upon discovery, we came to the conclusion that this was the initial breach location of this enhanced creatures, and that they had overpowered the Covenant, eventually making their way to the surface."
      McCrea turned to Warren. "So the aerial reconnaissance reports were true. Colonel Nodern was going to tell us in person before his untimely end."
      Warren nodded, then beckoned for the sniper to continue.
      "That discovery," an ODST said, taking over the conversation. "Prompted a member from my Battalion Executive Staff..."
      "...Major Jody Foster." Warren finished the sentence. "We know."
      "Yes, sir. Major Foster and his team were supposedly tasked with gaining more intelligence on these enhanced Covenant beings, and was killed in a firefight between us and some ONI hit team-"
      "What?" McCrea interrupted, the revelation bringing a thought to his mind. "We had ONI operatives on that operation?"
      "Apparently so," the Marine continued. "The firefight resulted with the death of every last one of them, one man from our own Squad, and Major Foster."
      Warren snapped a look at McCrea, having the same thought. "An ONI hit team? Nodern had information of those beings, and that was what he was coming to tell us. They murdered him to prevent the information from reaching us..." His voice trailed off.
      McCrea let his head drop and brought a hand to his forehead. This all went on under their noses.
      "Those ONI men didn't expect us to show up, however," the ODST continued. "We also knew of the Covenant biologically enhanced beings, and that is what Major Foster was supposed to bring back to you. They didn't count on us, and that is the only reason why you're hearing this right now." The soldier paused for a second. "We lost good men down there so you could know this."
      McCrea and Warren fell silent. They had been so out of touch with the surface operation that this all slipped them by, resulting in the death of one of their best Battalion Commanders, along with men on the ground.
      "This information will be processed and the situation will be tended to," McCrea said finally, confusion and the feeling of betrayal easily noticeable on his face. "I can't believe I never suspect that ONI Major..."
      "Seven Marines voluntarily stayed behind on that planet so we could get this word out to you," the third Marine said, gripping his crutches.
      Warren looked back with a hard gaze, a hint of surprise in his voice. "We left men alive on that planet?"
      The three ODSTs nodded in unison.
      "This information was worth them giving up their lives," the Force Recon Sniper said. "Don't make their sacrifice in vain."
      Warren looked over at McCrea. Could they have known? Could they have stopped this? "Admiral, we have lots of work to do."
      The two officers stood and looked at the Marines. These soldiers had dedicated their lives to fighting this war, and the Marines they had left on the surface actually gave their lives for it. This information was more important then they had initially thought, and this threat, now confirmed by these three survivors of the operation, wouldn't be ignored anymore.
      Action would be taken.
      "Remember," The sniper said as they turned to leave. The two officers stopped and looked back, reverence clear on their faces. They had commanded a strategically successful operation against the Covenant. They had done everything correctly "by-the-book," but those officers knew full and well their shortcomings. They now had something to work for.
      "Remember the sacrifices of those men."

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