• Spears of plasma and dozens of pink-colored needles filled the smoky air as Ben, Spartan-118, defended his position outside the UNSC HQ building on the besieged fortress world of Reach. The battle rifle gripped in his armored hands sent countless bursts of fire down range to the numerous Covenant forces assaulting the complex, slicing through Grunt methane packs and spilling globs of blue and purple blood across the courtyard before him. He knew he couldn't keep this up forever, and even with his enhanced physical abilities, he could feel himself begin to tire under the endless onslaught. Of course, his ammunition was bound to run bone dry long before he himself did, which was quickly becoming a reality with every round ejected from the rifle's muzzle. But he had to hold this position no matter what the cost, as per the orders assigned to him by Lord Hood before he was evacuated. Personally, Ben preferred not to die for an Artificial Intelligence (AI) storage mainframe, but it was for the good of the UNSC and the continued survival of the human race, so he was still stuck with being the last line of defense for the building where it was stored.

    The battle rifle's ammo counter hit zero and Ben withdrew behind the concrete slab that served as his cover. As he slammed a fresh clip into the weapon, he stole a quick glance at another figure in MOJNIR armor coolly picking off Covenant soldiers with a sniper rifle. Rachel, Spartan-119 and Ben's closest friend throughout the rigorous years in the Spartan-II Program, ducked as the projectile from a needler pistol became embedded in the metal of a nearby wrecked Warthog, throwing off her aim and forcing her to take shelter behind charred vehicle remains. "Having fun yet?" Ben asked over the helmet-mounted intercom.

    "More than you can believe." Rachel replied as she reloaded her weapon, "You think they’d have gotten the hint by now, huh?”

    Ben sighted down the tactical scope on his rifle and scored a headshot on an exposed Brute, “That’s the Covenant for you. Stubborn to the last.”

    Suddenly, Ben’s radio crackled to life and the female voice of the AI Cortana greeted his battle-filled ears. “Spartan Team Omega: the AI mainframe has been successfully removed from the HQ. Fall back to rally point and await further orders.”

    Cortana, the Artificial Intelligence that the creator of the Spartan-II Program, Doctor Elizabeth Halsey, made especially for the experiment, was one of the more pleasant AI’s and the one that Ben trusted the most. This was mostly due to the fact that when she had her choice of which Spartan she wanted to train with, she chose John, Spartan-117 and Ben’s half-brother. Ben could never figure out why she would pair with John, but he guessed that it was for a very good reason and made it a habit to not think too much about it.

    “Rodger that.” Ben answered, squeezing off a couple of bursts before a hail of spikes from a spiker gun burrowed deep into the nearby wall. He turned to Rachel, “Well, you heard the lady, let’s get out of here. I’ll cover you.”

    Rachel nodded and took off at a full sprint down through the equipment complex as Ben used his weapon set to full auto to keep the Covenant pinned below cover. Immediately after the clip ran dry, he ran after the other Spartan, loading his last full clip into the slot located near the stock. Death and destruction surrounded the super soldiers as they quickly made their way among the rubble-filled streets, occasionally splashing through ankle-deep puddles of leaking water mains tainted with both human and alien blood from the dead combatants that littered the city. The UNSC was fighting a loosing battle ever since the Covenant ships came out of Slipspace over the planet and the slaughter began. Ben had lost many of his friends during the fighting that ensued, Spartans who had laid down their lives so that humanity might have a better chance at achieving victory over the alien menace. John had survived the worst of the siege, but had gone missing not too long ago when he and Ben had become separated. The two of them never had a strong relationship their entire short lives and harbored deep resentment for each other, but Ben found himself hoping that his brother was alive and had managed to escape.

    About four miles later, two large red blips appeared on Ben's heads-up-display and moved rapidly in their direction. He cursed as he recognized the incoming hostiles, yelling, "Banshee strafing run! Get down!" and diving into a ditch as a storm of plasma cannon fire scorched the ground where he stood seconds before. It wasn't long afterward when Rachel joined him and they peered cautiously at the pair of Covenant fighters turning in a wide arc as they came around for another pass. Ben's mind raced, trying to figure out a solution to the situation that they had gotten themselves into. They could make a run for it, but even with the powerful shields that covered their new MARC V armor, the Banshee's guns would chew right into them like a hot knife through butter. Besides, running across open terrain with enemy air support flying by overhead was nothing short of complete idiocy. He'd have to think of something else that didn't include suicide.

    Off to his left further down the ditch, he spotted an overturned Warthog among a pile of twisted metal and the blackened skeletons of what looked like Covenant Ghosts. Ben glanced at Rachel and motioned to the vehicle, communicating his intentions without saying a single word. Rachel gave him a thumbs up sign, and Ben could tell that she was smiling with excitement behind her mirrored visor. As one, they emerged from the ditch and made a beeline for the fallen Warthog, Ben excavating it while Rachel kept her scope painted on the Banshees. The ships drew closer and closer across the orange skyline, coming within range of Rachel's rifle. The weapon uttered a sharp report as the weapon fired and punched a hole in the Banshee's hull, forcing it to abandon its attack run. "Ben!" Rachel said, eyeing the other steadily nearing vessel.

    "I've got it!" Ben exclaimed as he heaved the Warthog back onto the road, "Get in!"

    Rachel attached the sniper rifle onto the holster on her back mounted the turret on the back of the vehicle. Once she was on board, Ben slammed his foot on the gas pedal, causing the Warthog to fishtail before it gained traction and sped away down the chipped asphalt. He could feel the entire Warthog vibrate as Rachel unleashed the full power of the machine gun in the direction of the last remaining Banshee. Heavy caliber projectiles pounded the fighter's frame, and within seconds, it burst into a cloud of blue and white plasma, showering the ground below with sizzling pieces of shrapnel. "That's the last one." Rachel told him, obvious relief filling her voice, "I think we're in the clear."

    Ben allowed a sigh to escape his lips, "Nice shooting."

    "Thanks." she replied, "I do try."

    The rest of the journey to the rally point was, for the most part, uneventful. They drove into an expansive hangar bay and brought the Warthog to a screeching halt before a small group of UNSC soldiers and two Pelican troop transports, their only ticket out of this meat grinder. The two Spartans dismounted and strode over to the open boarding ramp of one of the waiting ships, stopping to snap off a well-practiced salute to a gray-haired officer in a blood-spattered uniform. The dark-skinned man returned the salute and gave a respectful nod to the super soldiers. "Glad you two managed to make it out in one piece." he said, "I thought for sure all the SPARTAN-II's had been wiped out in the first attack."

    "Well, we're like cockroaches, sir." Rachel said, "You can never really get rid of us that easily."

    The man, Major General George Jackson, chuckled and slipped a lit cigar between his teeth, "Ain't that the truth. Let's get moving. Reports have indicated that the Covenant intends to glass the planet soon, and I would much rather not be still on the ground when that happens."

    "Yes, sir." Ben and Rachel replied as they followed Jackson into the Pelican's main personnel hold. Sitting shoulder to shoulder along the metal benches on either side of the hold were several Orbital Drop Shock Troopers (ODST) and a few Marines, two of which had suffered moderate injuries and were being tended to by a medic. The soldiers looked up in awe as the Spartans made their way to the last two unoccupied seats on the far end of the hold, some conversed in hushed tones never ceasing to take their eyes off of the seven-foot tall armored figures. Ben could understand their reactions if he had been in their shoes seeing a Spartan up close and personal for the first time. He was sure that it was quite a sight to behold.

    Ben and Rachel took their seats near the hatch that led to the cockpit and fastened their specially-made safety harnesses. "Everyone's in, Anna." Jackson called to the pilot as he was seated across from Ben, "Take her out."

    "Copy that." the pilot, 23-year-old Sergeant Annaid Mitchell, answered in her British accent, "Make sure your seats and tray tables are in their upright and locked positions, and if you left anything behind, you'd better forget about it because we're not going back."

    The Pelican's engines increased in tone as the transport lifted off of the hangar bay floor and accelerated out to the growing darkness. As the ship broke through Reach's atmosphere and emerged into the zero-gee environment of space, it maneuvered around huge chunks of debris left over from the furious ship-to-ship battles fought between the Covenant fleet and what little UNSC ships there were in orbit. Even the satellites that had been the backbone of Reach's defense system did next to nothing to stop the enemy ships from landing their troops all over the planet. It was a sad day, one that Ben knew that the UNSC would have a hard time recovering from.

    No more than ten minutes later, the Pelicans entered and landed in the crowded hangar of the USS Morning Glory, a UNSC frigate that had thankfully stayed alive throughout the siege. The ramp swung down and the transport's passengers made their way onto the equipment-cluttered floor, making sure to leave enough space for the imposing forms of the Spartans. Once Jackson strode out of the Pelican, he approached Ben and Rachel with a sympathetic look on his weathered face. “Look, you two should get some rest.” He stated, “We’ve all had a very trying day and you guys have been fighting harder than all of us.”

    “With respect, sir,” Ben said, “we can’t rest. Not while the Covenant is still on our doorstep.”

    Jackson briefly looked at the ground, “I understand that, but for all we know, you could be the only Spartans left alive. I can’t send the best hope we have at defeating the Covenant into harms way without any gas in their tanks. At least take thirty; I’ll let you know when we need you again. It’s not a request.”

    Ben and Rachel exchanged glances before Ben replied, “Yes, sir.”

    “Good.” Jackson said. With that, the old soldier walked away towards the turbolift that would take him up to the bridge of the Morning Glory, leaving Ben and Rachel to figure out how to actually rest after all that had happened to them on the planet below.