Halo: The Interlopers

“Sir, what do you need us for?” Mark asked.

“After I heard about the op you pulled with those Sabers, I requested dossiers on you three and information on Miss Sparkle. Using those, I got an idea of what I can use you for. Miss Sparkle?”

“Yes?” She replied wearily.

“We’re having problems keeping tabs on the civilians here. I need you to help keep track of the ones we’ve slated for the primary evac and use the criteria we’ve set to organize them. Martinez!”

A UNSC corporal reported to the earth pony’s office. “Yes sir?”

“Escort Miss Sparkle to the evac organization area. She’ll be taking desk twelve.”

“Yessir!” Martinez answered. “When you’re ready ma’am.”

“Hey, Twilight,” Wall asked quietly. “Could you keep tabs on Helia and make sure she gets out okay?”

“Sure.” Twilight smiled, and followed the corporal to her new assignment.

“Lieutenant Wall, Warrant Officer Carpenter.”

“Sir,” They responded in unison.

“You two will help command the perimeter defense. Get yourselves some shut-eye in the next room, you start at 0900.” It was already 0450, so that left them a bit over four hours to rest. They opened the door to one of the many makeshift barracks, one of which was directly accessible from Clay's office, removed their gear and fell asleep on the thin mattresses. For all their lack of comfort, they were still better than the carpet and sheets they’d been sleeping on before.

Mark shut the door to the soldiers' temporary quarters, and turned to face Clay. They were alone in his office now

“Lieutenant Colonel Thompson. After the primary and secondary evacs, the UNSC will be taking command of the situation, barring Princess Celestia herself intervening. But for now you’ll be running an op to help extract griffon delegates from the island. They’ve got an Osprey-class nuclear attack submarine waiting several miles out to sea. The Covenant haven’t paid any attention to the VIPs we've extracted by boat, in this case a commandeered yacht, but what’s left of the CM forces want them alive. That’s why I need you to help them get to the exfil point safely, and bring that boat back. Civilian vessels have been a discreet and valuable asset to us since we got here, and that hasn’t changed.”

“Understood, sir. Where do I report?” Mark said, actually happy to have a real mission instead of simply fighting for survival like he had been so far.

“The courtyard at 0600. A waypoint should be coming up now. Any ammunition you need will be supplied just prior to your dispatch.”

And one did, his neural implants overlaying a waypoint on his HUD. Mark nodded in acknowledgement.

“Good. You’ve got a bit more than an hour to do whatever you want. A mess hall is a just past the evac organization area; once you walk back out that door just turn left and keep on ‘til you hit the door.”

Mark saluted him and headed back out. Closing the door behind him, he walked towards the mess hall until he saw the door he knew Twilight was behind.

“Ah, what the Hell,” he muttered. “Might as well.” Mark entered the room, which resembled an office space, minus the gunfire that he usually associated with such an environment. He walked to desk twelve and knocked on the cheap surface to get Twilight’s attention. She looked up, more energetic than when he’d seen her just minutes before.

“Hey. How ya holdin’ up?” He asked with a weak smile, leaning sideways against the plaster wall.

“Yeah, I’m doing good. The ponies here were nice enough to give me some of their energy drinks to spread out through the day. I’ll definitely make it. How’re you handling things?”

“Good. SPARTAN training teaches you how to function on very little sleep, so I can manage a few more days with sporadic rest, more if I can get some stims. I got my first mission in a while from the Brigadier, and I’m heading out in about an hour. A real mission, but probably a milk run; just an easy VIP escort. I should be back a few hours after I leave. I’m heading to the mess hall, anything you want?”

“No,” She waved her hoof. “I’ve got candy bars and trail mix. I’d kill for a dandelion sandwich though. I already asked and they’re out, but thanks anyway. Nice talking though."

“Yeah.” Mark left and continued to the mess hall.

I’m glad she’s okay, and doing something less dangerous.

He entered the mess hall and microwaved a UNSC ration before sitting down to eat. The heated pork chops, beans, mashed potatoes and broccoli, were gone in ten minutes. It was far from one of his favorites, but he didn’t hurry or prolong it. He savored eating finally something more than the gruel he’d been fed by Star-Swirl’s thugs and the snack food and oatmeal he’d eaten at Wall’s marefriend’s place.

After his meal he felt refreshed. As he exited the room, he heard a mix of conversations through a door to his right. It had the words “civilian communications room” above it. Mark entered to see civilians and soldiers alike communicating with their families, which gave him a brief moment of envy.

One particular pair stood out to him. A pair of pegasi, a red stallion with a magenta mane, and a yellow mare with the same colored mane; both wore dirty business attire. They were making clucking noises at the screen, and when Mark moved to see what they were doing, they were saying good morning to a familiar-looking orange pegasus filly. He heard the filly giggling at whatever it was her probable parents were saying after they stopped.

“Don’t worry Scootaloo,” The mare said soothingly. “We’ll be coming home soon.”

Mark left the room and headed out to the courtyard to acquaint himself with his teammates for the coming mission.

***

A week prior, Ethan and Jason awoke around the same time, early in the morning. They removed their helmets to eat their nutrient bars, and awoke the ponies.

Rainbow Dash had her head rested on a leaf, and she was snoring softly. One of her wings was flapping a bit, which reminded Ethan of how dogs would sometimes run in their sleep. He put his hand on the side of her chest and shook her softly. Her hoof tried to swat him away, but when it came into contact with the metal of his armor she opened her eyes, remembering where she was.

“I have to uh, go, if you know what I mean,” She said.

“Don’t go far,” Ethan replied. He scratched his face and took a swig of cool water from his canteen. The air was cool to his face, and flowed over his stubble.

Jason had walked over to Fluttershy and knelt down next to her. There was a soft smile on her lips, and her chest moved up and down slowly.

“Hey, wake up,” Jason whispered.

She stirred and opened her eyes. Jason had opened a nutrient bar and offered it to her, which she graciously accepted. Rainbow Dash was eating one of her own too, and drinking from Ethan’s canteen.

After their breakfast, the four of them circled around the smoldering embers of the campfire and discussed their next step.

“Alright, first things first; we need to figure out who shot us down, and get rid of them,” Jason said to start the conversation.

“Are you crazy? We can’t take on a whole enemy base!” Rainbow Dash responded. “Maybe if my wing wasn’t fucked up I’d be able to figure out who did it safely, but…” Dash flexed her injured wing, and showed visible pain. “It’s still too painful to move it.”

“My wing is mostly healed. I’d offer to do a fly over, but I um, usually freeze up when I’m flying too high. There was one time I didn’t, but I’d rather not risk it,” Fluttershy agreed.

“You might not be able to take on a base, but we can. The night Canterlot was attacked by CMs, our team was destroying a large Covenant camp, and we’ve pulled several ops like that since. Our only issue is finding out where our attackers were,” Ethan countered.

“Long-range communications are still jammed, but medium and short range comms are still up,” Jason said, looking at the TACPAD on his wrist. “I’ve located the crashsite and established a remote link to the Pelican’s computers, specifically the flight recorder. I’m downloading the last few minutes of flight data right now. From there I’ll figure out the trajectory of the missile that hit us, and trace it back to the source. If it took us down in one hit, it must be too large to be man-portable, and therefore stationary; that means that if I find the source of the attack, I find the base or camp.”

“And once that happens, Jason and I’ll take out the jammer and AA battery. You two will stay put while we take care of business.”

An hour later, the two SPARTANs headed out, telling the ponies to stay one last time. The trek took another hour.

“Think we’ll find a huge base, or a camp?” Ethan wondered.

“My guess is a camp. Barring some unknown method of transporting materials, nobody could build a base this close to San Cadenza without being detected,” Jason theorized.

Ethan jumped onto a huge felled tree and pulled Jason up. “Makes sense.” They slid off of the other side, and continued walking.

“I’m willing to bet that whoever shot us down has a set of orders with them. Trace and kill after this; easy enough.”

They continued walking in silence until they neared a clearing, at which point they crouched and observed.

Before them was a decent sized camp, complete with a jammer, comms array, and AA missile battery. They saw about three dozen enemies in the camp; a dozen Mamba contractors, a dozen changelings, and dozen ponies wearing their own forest camouflage instead of the SURPAT worn by the Mamba PMCs.

“Why are those changelings in disguise?” Jason wondered aloud. “And wouldn’t they be using the same gear as the mercs?”

“Dude, I don’t think those are contractors. Remember how when we got here Equis was in the middle of a Cold War between Equestria and Unikraine? I’ve got a hunch as to who these guys are…”

Jason switched to his sniper rifle and zoomed in on two particularly loud individuals who seemed to be giving orders, a unicorn and contractor. He zoomed further on their rank insignias.

“Looks like the merc’s a major,” He aimed a bit to his right. “And the pony’s a full colonel.” He looked at Ethan and lowered his rifle. “These could just be rogues; I think they’re just fanatics who see this as a way of restoring their nation’s glory. I mean, we aligned ourselves with Equestria, and therefore with NETO. That was picking sides; I wouldn’t be surprised if that rustled a few jimmies over there.”

Ethan made sure a round was chambered in his shotgun, and then in his assault rifle. His body language indicated he was eager to strike.

“Think about it, Jay. An alien race joins with your nation’s enemies, and you get left behind somewhat in the diffusion of culture. A few months later, some humans approach you and say they want to help you catch up, in exchange for resources and facilities. With Unikraine’s help, the Mambas can set up the manufacturing necessary to reverse-engineer and mass-produce the VANITY armor system and its accessories.”

“They have to know that they’re allying themselves with parasites as well, though.”

“Obviously. But they’re a dictatorship, they don’t give a dead moose’s last shit about their subjects. Look, we can debate this all day, or we can move now and find out.”

Jason considered it for a moment. “Okay, let’s move.” He held up a fist and extended three fingers. “Three.” His ring finger went down. “Two.” His middle finger fell. “One.” His last finger dropped. “Go!”

Ethan activated his decoys and charged into the fight, while Jason sprinted around to their rear and began delivering precision shots to the changelings nearest him. Their green blood painted the dirt as they dropped one by one. With the dozen SPARTANs that seemed to be attacking from one direction, they ignored Jason completely. Within the first few seconds, the only air-mobile enemies were gone.

Ethan continued to fire two-round bursts from his rifle, each one connecting and killing its target. He continued until his magazine was empty, and there were only eight left. Jason sprinted past them and used a mix of martial arts and his magnum to finish them off.

“That went quicker than expec-” Jason began before an 8 gauge magnum shotgun blast cut him off, and launched him onto his belly while disabling his shield. He turned quickly enough to see a yellow blur tackle the weapon’s unicorn user.

Similarly, the Ethan was pinned down by fire from an emplaced M247 heavy machinegun. He peeked out to take a shot at his attacker and saw a rainbow streak collide with the merc. He saw that it was Rainbow Dash, who fucked the merc’s skull until he stopped breathing and fell limp. After that she cantered over to the others.

“And you wanted to leave us behind!” Dash said with a cocky smile.

Jason stood up and grabbed the unicorn’s weapon. His shields recharged, and he snapped the weapon in half with his knee. “Well, I guess we stand corrected. I wish you hadn’t put yourselves in harm’s way, but I’m glad you did.”

Ethan destroyed the jammer, antenna, and AA battery before calling in for evac. Meanwhile, Jason tied up the surviving unicorn to take as a prisoner.

A few hours later, two Pelicans arrived. One to pick up the four of them and their captive, and one to carry soldiers to investigate the facility.

When they climbed in, they were greeted by a holographic projection of Admiral Hunt. Jason explained what had happened to them, what they’d discovered, and Ethan’s theory.

“Thank you, Major, and you too Captain. We’ll drop you off at Cadenza AFB, where Miss Dash and Miss Fluttershy will be able to see the performance they came for, and will have their injuries tended to. Our spooks will work with the EIS to dig up more on these Unikrainians.” Hunt turned to face the two soldiers. “Unfortunately, after we debrief you two, we’ll need your help for an op north of Manehattan. After that one, we’ll need you to help defend the area surrounding it.”

“Oh dear, did something happen there?” Fluttershy asked the hologram.

“Yes. It was invaded by Covenant and some CM forces. SPARTAN A-217 and Twilight Sparkle were there at the time, but we lost contact with them a few days ago, near the public library. Colonel Thompson was also not equipped with his armor while there, so we can’t be very sure of his condition at this point.”

***

A week later, back in Manehattan, Twilight Sparkle was sitting at desk twelve organizing the evacuation. She’d already taken care of Wall’s marefriend and made sure she would be evacuated during the primary phase.

Mark had just left the room when she felt an odd feeling in her chest; she felt as though her heart dropped. At first she chalked it up to the energy drink she’d had. Then she realized that wasn’t it. She was quickly consumed with trying to figure out what it was, as she began working on autopilot.

She continued working as her mind tried to diagnose what had just happened. An hour later her mind had narrowed it down to two possibilities. There was something about Mark that directly had an effect on her body functioning, or something about him had an effect on her emotions, which in turn affected the balance of chemicals in her bloodstream.

Twilight left it at that, and resumed focusing on her work. If she could help get more civilians out, she should focus on doing that.

***

Mark walked into the courtyard and heard the sounds of battle in the distance; automatic weapons firing, explosions, the screams of horror and pain. It was raining hard, but he didn’t bother to roll down his sleeves or even find something to shield at least part of him from the downpour.

He walked to a group of soldiers and civilians, the latter likely the VIPs. The soldiers, ponies and humans alike, looked tired. They weren’t as covered in blood and filth as him, but they were definitely worn ragged.

A pegasus pony with a singed tail, a blood-spattered mane and a fresh scar stretching across his jawline, wielding a Hoofler and Kob MP5N. A human with no armor, sleeves rolled up, a patrol cap and a bandana covering his face in the paradox of hot air and cold rain, and using a standard MA37. An earth pony wearing a bullet belt and hefting a Foalbrique Nationale M249, his left foreleg wrapped in a bandage and his face blank. Another human, this one a UNSC Army medic with streaks of blood staining the woodland camouflage sleeves of his uniform top, using an MA37 as well. A unicorn pony with a Colt M4A1 and a standard, if filthy, Royal Equestrian Army uniform sans the helmet.

As for the civilians, they were all griffon males from what Mark could tell. As big as an Elite and with all the strength that came with such bulk. If these were just the diplomats, he hoped to fight alongside their soldiers soon.

One of the ponies’ ears began to rotate toward a sound in the distance, which Mark soon perceived as well. It was one of the sounds every UNSC soldier learned if they didn’t want to die.

“Banshees!” He bellowed. “You two!” Mark pointed at the eyepatch pony and the unarmored human. “Get the VIPs into a shelter; the rest of you are on me!”

They rushed to the nearest fortification, where a UNSC soldier was manning an M247H heavy machinegun and firing at the incoming aircraft. The lone gunner took down two of the seven Banshees before one of their plasma bolts hit him directly in the face, vaporizing his blood to such a degree that it entered a highly energetic gaseous state and burst his skull open from the pressure.

Mark rushed to the gun, and the Banshee flew overhead. He began tugging at the turret, trying to rip it off its hinges. Meanwhile, the sky was alight with tracers as the defenders in his section of the perimeter fired at the attacking aircraft. On the third pull, the turret came off its hinges, and its electronics linked to Mark’s HUD.

He brought the weapon to bear and rotated to face the attacking aircraft. He mashed down on the trigger, and unleashed a storm of 12.7x99mm High Velocity-Explosive rounds against one of the targets. It proved too much for the aircraft to bear, and it exploded thirty meters above the ground. He repeated the process with two more, plucking them out of the sky.

One of the three remaining Banshees began firing at him, and Mark dropped the weapon and fled. He moved to a concrete wall and hid. He saw his pony ally sling his M4A1, produce an FIM-92 Stinger missile launcher, and fire it at one of the Banshees. The three kilogram HE annular blast fragmentation warhead detonated upon hitting the left wing of the aircraft that had attacked Mark, destroying the whole aircraft easily.

As Mark caught his breath, the pony discarded the launcher tube, and put a new one into place, before repeating with the next Banshee. Combined fire from UNSC and REA soldiers took down the last attacker. Mark patted the pony who had taken down two Banshees on the back. “Good job.”

“Thanks.”

They regrouped in time for their Pelican to arrive. The two soldiers who’d escorted the VIPs into the shelter earlier covered the rear as they got in following the VIPs. After the whole group was aboard the rear doors closed and the engines roared. It was obvious to Mark and the two UNSC soldiers with him that neither the ponies nor griffons with them had ever ridden in a Pelican dropship.

The flight was brief, only a few minutes to the pier. Once they arrived, the dropship hovered over land and opened the rear doors. The humans piled out, followed by the ponies, and then the griffons. The dropship flew back into the crumbling maze of buildings, quickly disappearing.

The boat they were to use was indicated on the humans’ HUDs, and they led the group to it. Once they were aboard, the boat’s captain started the engine and his first mate untied them from the dock.

Mark noticed that the first mate, a griffon, spent an inordinate amount of time watching the horizon. That was the job of Mark and the other soldiers, and he knew the first mate knew that. Having been trained in counter-insurgency, he knew the signs of a terrorist waiting for something, and the first mate set off bells.

A pair of Mamba Falcons appeared on the horizon, and were shot down by REAF F-35As almost as quickly as they came into view; faster than the escorts could draw their weapons.

The moment he saw the first mate pound his talon on the side of the boat, Mark made him as a traitor, likely a sell-out to the CMs. Unfortunately, if he confronted him with the VIPs aboard, he’d endanger their lives. He was forced to play the waiting game.

They made the rendezvous with the submarine after an hour of travel. The vessel surfaced and opened a large hatch, which revealed a squad of griffon soldiers to help the diplomats in. After the sub dove, the captain brought the boat around and headed back to the harbor, all ahead full.

Once they were within a kilometer of land another hour later, Mark walked to confront the angry-looking griffon, and was tackled overboard by him. The boat continued onwards obliviously as Banshees swooped in and fired their fuel rod cannons at the craft. The boat exploded, killing all occupants.

Now it was just Mark and the griffon trying to get to shore. After several minutes of swimming and dunking, they reached land and began to fight.

The griffon, surprisingly quick despite the cold water and soaking feathers and fur, leapt behind Mark and ripped his DMR from the magnetic strip on the back of his armor, then clubbed him with it. Mark rolled sideways and jumped to his feet, ducking to dodge a horizontal swing. He grabbed the rifle and yanked it from the griffon’s talons, and was about to fire when the griffon knocked it from his hands and sent it flying dozens of meters away.

There was no time to draw his pistol now, so Mark tried to keep on the offensive. He closed with the griffon and pummeled him with his fists, expecting the front half to have the hollow bones of a bird and thus shatter easily under his strength. Unfortunately for him, it didn’t; griffons had solid, durable bones suited for combat. He injured the creature nonetheless, staggering it backwards before returning for a lunge.

The griffon tackled Mark to the ground, pulled his armor off without damaging it, then began punching him with everything he had. While griffon bones were tough, a SPARTAN’s bones were practically unbreakable due to their carbide ceramic ossification enhancements. Still, Mark felt every blow, taking hits to his chest and face.

Mark hit the griffon with a left hook, and then kicked him off with both feet, sending him a few meters away. He scrambled to put some distance between him and his opponent, and failed. The griffon pounced and slashed Mark’s back, leaving deep, bloody wounds. Mark elbowed his attacker, delivered a chop to his stomach, then a hammer blow with his fist to the same location. The hybrid rolled off of him, and Mark jumped onto him.

Now on top, he pummeled the griffon’s face and neck. He tried to get the SPARTAN off of him, slashing at Mark’s face, arms and chest. Mark took several of the slashes and kept going.

He choked the hybrid as hard as he could, and the griffon choked him back. It became a struggle to draw breath and stay conscious. Mark could feel his prey weakening, even as he saw black spots in his own vision and weakened himself.

The bird finally passed out, his talons releasing their grip on Mark’s throat. Aware that the bird could still survive, he choked him some more, until unconsciousness gave way to death.

Mark stood up, then put his forcefully removed armor back on and retrieved his rifle. Activating his radio, he called for exfil on the appropriate channel.

“This is SPARTAN A-217, requesting evac. Home in on my signal,” He panted.

“Copy, locked on signal. Sensors read you’re on your own, please confirm.”

“Affirmative, it’s just me.”

“Copy, Falcon inbound. ETA four minutes.”

Mark got onboard the Falcon when it arrived, and was silent as the gunners took potshots at Covenant soldiers while en route to the base. When he arrived at the station, he jumped five meters from the aircraft to the ground, stumbled a bit, and walked inside.

He proceeded to Brigadier Clay’s office, and entered with a salute. He stood at attention, ignoring the extreme pain and fatigue he was experiencing.

“Sir, extraction was successful. However, a traitor was among the crew on the boat, and we entered a protracted battle. The subject tackled me overboard, and before the boat could come back for us a flight of Banshees destroyed the boat. We swam for shore and fought hand-to-hand without weaponry or armor.”

The brigadier just stared at him, horrified. “Princess fucking Luna…”

“Sir?”

“Shit Thompson, I’m surprised you’re still alive after taking on a griffon without any weapons or armor, much less awake and ignoring the pain. Go get yourself some treatment. There’s an infirmary through the evacuation organization area. You know where that is?”

“Yes sir, I know where it is, but I’m fine. I know how to block out pain, I can still fight, and I’ll survive. I don’t even have any damage to my bones.”

“Thompson, you look at least four times worse than last time I saw you, and I was tempted to order you to get medical attention then too. Now I am ordering you; get yourself fixed up ASAP!”

Mark saluted again and headed to the medical station Clay had told him of.

***

Twilight had long since written off the earlier incident as a regular biological glitch, and continued working. With her help, the organizers were faster and more efficient with their work and productivity increased dramatically.

She stopped for a few minutes to eat a candy bar and start on a new energy drink. When she saw Mark walk, or rather stagger through, her magic stopped, her snack fell to the floor, her ears bent downwards and her jaw fell open. Once again her heart dropped, although this time it felt like it had dropped to her stomach and her blood had frozen over.

“Hey Twi. Brigadier Clay thinks I need medical treatment and ordered me to get some at the med station in the next room.”

She followed Mark into the infirmary, still horrified at what his injuries. She saw him remove his armor and lay his weapons down, and when his top and undershirt came off she almost fainted.

Mark had already sustained a huge amount of punishment before their arrival here, and several of the bruises were only partially healed, to say nothing of the new ones. He had slashes on his arms and torso, with three deep cuts in his back. Bruises covered a third of the skin she could see, and he was bleeding from a fresh horizontal cut an inch above his left eye.

A medic began applying biofoam to his cuts, sanitizing and sealing them. Finally, with the combination of intense pain and extreme fatigue, Mark fell to his knees. Even then, it was only a few seconds before he stood back up when the pain numbing effect of the treatment kicked in.

Mark sat down on one of the open beds and reached to put on his brown undershirt when a field of purple magic enveloped him and forcefully laid him down. “That’s not necessary, Twi,” He said through gritted teeth, struggling to break the field, and almost succeeding.

“The fuck it isn’t!” Twilight burst out. She realized what she had just said and covered her mouth with her left forehoof and lowered her ears even further. She’d never in her life gone any closer to cursing before than the minced oaths “heck” and “hay”, yet she had just said one of the foulest swears in the pony language; the only other time she'd ever sworn was when she was forced to play Russian Roulette days ago.

Mark realized her shock at having sworn, and stopped struggling. She in turn released the field.

“I’m fine now. Just give me a few stims to pep me up and I’ll be good as new.” He knew he was lying. At this level of fatigue, stimulants would only serve to delay him passing out altogether. Almost all of the sparse sleep he’d gotten during his time in Manehattan had been on thinly carpeted floors and thin beds, which meant that most of his rest had been mental rather than physical. Even with all of his mental and physical conditioning, he was looking at a short time-span in which he could keep fighting like this.

“Are you just going to keep pushing yourself until you die!?” Twilight demanded, hot air coming from her nostrils.

Mark just stared at the ceiling. “In a word, yes.”

“What about your friends or the people and ponies that need you right now?”

Mark sighed. “I’m not going to bullshit you Twi, this is easily the worst state I’ve ever been in my entire thirty-six-and-a-half year life. But I know my limits and I don’t plan on ignoring them; two more days of this shit and I’ll just give out, but with stims I can stretch it out to three days, which should be enough to finish the fight.” He continued staring at the ceiling.

Twilight sat in silence for several minutes, just staring at him. Eventually she spoke up, even if her voice was barely more than a whisper.

“Why keep fighting?” She asked softly.

“I told you why, remember? Because somebody else would screw up or break under the pressure… Because what I do is important… ” Mark closed his eyes.

He sighed, but then looked at Twilight and smiled. “I want to thank you, for everything.” Mark looked at the clock, to see it was only 9 AM. “When does the primary evac start?”

“Ten hours.”

“Then I’ll sleep for eight.” He fell asleep almost immediately.

***

At 5 PM Mark awoke in his bed, his neural implants waking him. When he rubbed his eyes, he saw a waypoint in the courtyard. He got dressed, grabbed his weapons and moved out to the courtyard. It was still raining hard, and the men looked as weary as ever. Mark was far from rejuvenated himself, having had nasty dreams for the duration of his sleep, but eight hours of sleep on what seemed to be the most comfortable bed in Manehattan worked wonders on him physically.

A Pelican was waiting for him. When he approached it, the rear door opened to reveal the most welcome surprise of his life thus far. He stepped in and the doors shut, but the dropship didn’t take off. A few minutes later, they opened again.

Out stepped Mark, clad in his MJOLNIR armor. He’d swapped his M6G for an M319 IGL and kept his DMR. As the soldiers saw him, they cheered. The SPARTAN had just boosted morale by donning his armor.

He strolled through the courtyard, into the station, and entered Brigadier Clay’s office. He saw the SPARTANs of Dagger team already there, as well as Twilight Sparkle.

“And just who the fuck are you?” Brigadier Clay asked, trying to see through the polarized blue visor of his JFO helmet.

“Lieutenant Colonel Mark Thompson, sir, eight hours of sleep and one suit of armor later.”

“Well Colonel, we were just about to start a vid conference with Princess Celestia and your Admiral Hunt,” Clay responded.

The screens switched from a display of the theater to loading screens, and then real-time images of Celestia and Hunt. All military personnel in the room snapped to a salute, while Twilight bowed.

“At ease,” Hunt said.

“As you were,” Celestia said at the same time.

“The primary evacuation will begin in under two hours. We expect to get seventy percent of the civilians here out with the trains. Following that, we will hold this station until UNSC Albatross heavy dropships and Pelicans with expanded bays can airlift the remaining civilians and wounded out. The joint UNSC-REAF no-fly zone will be lifted for the duration of the secondary evacuation. All forces not evacuated after the secondary evac will be transferred to UNSC command. Alpha and Delta companies will accompany the outbound trains, and Lieutenant Rosenkov will provide additional escort, to help defend against any potential Covenant attack. Miss Sparkle will also be accompanying the outbound trains, as will Lieutenant Wall and Warrant Officer Carpenter. The four of them will all be on the same train in the same car.”

Lieutenant Svetlana Rosenkova nodded and checked her weapons before heading to the trains. Her silver-colored armor was highlighted with a streak of red down each arm, one down the left side of her torso and on the sides of her Air Assault helmet. Twilight followed her out of the room.

“Hey! Take care, alright?” Mark shouted. Svetlana’s acknowledgement light winked green on his visor and Twilight smiled at him.

“Will Twilight be alright?” Princess Celestia asked, clearly concerned for her protégé.

“Ma’am, I can personally vouch for the soldiers accompanying her; they’ll die before anything happens to her, and I don’t see that happening either,” Mark consoled her.

“I trust your judgment, Colonel. Now, I’m concerned about the Covenant presence in the city. Are the preparations complete for your plan?”

“If you’re referring to the plan to hijack the Forerunner structure, then the answer is ‘no, not yet’,” Hunt answered. “The UNSC Andraste won’t be in position until around midnight.”

“I don’t believe we have that much time, Admiral,” Celestia said with a sense of urgency that was lost on nobody. “If the Covenant aren’t eliminated by midnight, I’ll be forced to take extreme measures.”

Princess Celestia disconnected ominously. Admiral Hunt took that as his cue and disconnected as well.

Later, just before 7 PM, as the trains were still being loaded, the Covenant began pounding Grand Canteral, sending the soldiers stationed there into full alert. Mark, Alexander and Lukas hustled from the lower levels to the main hall.

“We need another twenty minutes for a full evac! Hold the line!” Clay barked over the PA system.

Mark’s team and half a platoon of allied forces held back the attackers in the main hall without major incident for fifteen minutes, pulverizing the intruding Covenant under their combined fire and painting the floor with blue and purple blood.

“This is Bravo one, Charlie is down! Repeat, Charlie company is gone! A fucking Locust busted through their line and it’s headed straight for the main hall!”

“Here it comes!”

The quadrupedal mech burst through a large window and began firing its cannon at the infantry inside. Most of the defenders were hit in the first blast and charred black, reduced to withered husks by the intense heat of the Locust’s beam.

Mark switched to his grenade launcher and Lukas switched to his sniper rifle. All remaining forces in the room began chucking grenades at the monstrous machine, hoping to damage its legs. It was fruitless, as the “feet” were well-armored, but it gave Mark an idea.

“Archer! I’m gonna use my GL to hit the knee on the left foreleg with an EMP blast! That’ll seize it up, and then you put some fucking fire on that joint!”

Captain Lukas Farber flashed a green acknowledgement light. Mark popped from cover and fired a grenade on the EMP setting, detonating it right next to the knee. The Locust was EMP hardened to the point where even the relatively strong EMP from a 40mm grenade wouldn’t freeze it up, even if it would a Wraith. But the EMP jammed the mechanical parts of the joint, essentially halting the vehicle’s movement.

Lukas popped from cover and emptied his magazine into the target area, the bullets forming a neat line across the joint and critically damaging it. When the leg moved again, the Locust’s weight was placed on it and it shattered, toppling the machine.

Mark closed with the vehicle while reloading his grenade launcher. He holstered it and activated his wrist-mounted energy sword, cutting the cockpit open. An Elite Ultra was inside, and promptly had twin prongs of plasma thrust into its skull, superheating the fluids inside of it and popping in open.

Mark leapt off of the wreckage, deactivated his blade, and drew his DMR.

“All units, primary evacuation is complete. Be advised, this area is too hot for the birds to land. Proceed to Trots Square for the secondary evac.”

Several Warthogs towing passenger trailers burst into the hall. Mark got on the rear gauss cannon of one, while Lukas grabbed the driver’s seat and Alexander took a seat on the trailer and a trooper took shotgun. Mark used the cannon to blast an opening in the wall big enough to drive through.

“Go man, go!” Mark yelled. Lukas obliged and drove the ‘Hog through, exiting onto the street. They drove for a hundred meters before a civilian flagged them down.

“Hey wait! Hold on, stop!” A male voice yelled, prompting the vehicle to halt. The owner of the voice indicated his wife was stuck under rubble.

“Just hold on, I’ll be right back!” The trooper yelled.

“Come on man, the building’s coming down!” Mark yelled back.

“Just wait, she’s right here!” Mark recognized the male who’d called for help and the female trapped under the debris. They were Scootaloo’s parents, he’d seen them earlier in the civilian communications room talking to their daughter.

“Let’s go man, hurry!” Mark shouted.

The building, and one next to it, began to collapse.

“Come on man, we’ve gotta go!” Alexander piped in.

“Move it, Archer!” Mark shouted. The Warthog lurched forward, and more civilians emerged from the tunnel, and the trooper freed the mare from under the rubble.

“No wait, hold on, they’re coming!” The pegasus stallion pleaded.

“The building’s dropping!” Lukas yelled. The whole section of the building the civilians were emerging from was crumbling upon itself. Screaming drowned out everything else as chunks of masonry crushed entire families.

“Hold on, please!”

“Go now or we’re all fucking dead!” Mark ordered. Lukas followed his order and floored the gas pedal.

“The fuck are you doing!? Stop the ‘Hog!” The trooper who’d tried to rescue the civilians bellowed. The whole section of Grand Canteral collapsed, crushing dozens of families.

“Son of a bitch!” Alexander swore.

A Banshee swooped down and fired its plasma cannons at Mark’s vehicle, severing the cable holding the trailer to the ‘Hog. Alexander sprinted after the vehicle, and Lukas slowed down so he could get in. Mark hit the Banshee with a single gauss round, obliterating it.

They formed up with a convoy headed to Trots Square, and were almost there when a Banshee hit the vehicle in front of them, separating them from the convoy. Lukas navigated the cramped streets as best he could, but when they arrived at Trots Square, the last of the dropships were taking off.