Halo: The Interlopers

Mark and his team arrived at the Ponyville station, and they escorted their six ponies and the dragon to their respective homes. The sun was rising, and the ponies were appreciative of the symbolism. Mark escorted Twilight home, and came in.

“You said something about a scroll here?” Mark reminded Twilight.

“Uh-huh.” Twilight moved a rug, and opened a compartment under it. She produced a scroll. It was ancient, yet it appeared to still have plenty of use in it.

“It says something on here about a ‘Watchers’ Cabal’. Not in the spell itself, but in the extra text written on the scroll. This scroll is supposed to be almost a thousand years old, but the language is surprisingly modern. Maybe it’s not the original, but a reproduction for more modern users within this ‘Cabal’.” Twilight squinted at the parchment, as if she would see some new meaning by doing so.

“I don’t know how ‘magic’ works here, but uh, can you read the scroll aloud without activating it?” Mark still preferred the scientific hypothesis Emmerich had proposed days earlier to the notion of real “magic”.

“Well, it looks like it takes concentration to perform, so I’d say I could read it to you.”

“Hit me.” Mark leaned against a wall, and activated his helmet’s recording function. This could yield valuable information, with pertinence to current operations and even how humanity understood the universe. Of course, it was just as likely that it could be useless to all parties involved.

Twilight cleared her throat, and Spike looked over the ledge he slept on to see what was happening.

“‘Spirits of the stars, of the skies; grant me a form, one of lies. For them who tread upon two feet, grant me the ability to normally greet. Those without magic and without flight, grant me their form and spare me their plight.’ The incantation ends there. I guess the words were self-explanatory, and the actual spell is oddly easy to memorize. Actually, it says that the words only need to be uttered if the user is trying to grant others the power as well.”

“So it affects others too?”

“The spell itself affects whoever the caster wants it to affect, and it seems they only have to cast it once. After that, whenever they change into a human they can change back at will. So I could use it on any of my friends, and they’d be able to switch whenever they felt like it. Only those who can cast the spell can change their human appearance, though. It also seems that whatever the user previously had with them in their human form stays with them when they change, so I could morph and have clothes. But it says that the first use doesn’t come with clothes. I guess I’d be naked if I went human the first time.” Twilight blushed excessively.

“Yeah. Can you show me one of the copies you made? I’d like to read one myself, but I’d rather play it safe and not damage ancient texts.”

“Oh, do you mean for the notes? Those are a lot longer than the spell itself, so you can go ahead and read them.”

“Thanks, Twi.” Mark took the copy. It was written in shorthand, so it would be easier to read than the more fanciful writing the original probably had. There were strange symbols on it as well, all over it. They looked like the Forerunner glyphs Mark had seen in pictures. “What are these symbols?”

“Oh, those are magic glyphs, they’re used to describe how to perform spells. I suppose humans don’t have them.” Twilight looked content, happy to be dispensing knowledge.

“No… We don’t. But…” Mark was uncertain about revealing his idea. He decided to tell her.

“But what?” Twilight demanded.

“I know these symbols.”

“You just said that humans didn’t have these!” Twilight exclaimed, frustrated.

“We don’t.”

“Then what the hoof are you talking about!?” Twilight was visibly irritated at this point.

“They aren’t human. I don’t know these as magical glyphs, I know them as Forerunner glyphs!”

“Who, or what are the Forerunners?” If magic symbols had identical-looking counterparts on other planets, Twilight wanted to know.

“It’s no longer classified data, so I’ll give you the short version, and later on I’ll set you up with a way to check the out long one. Basically, they were a race of beings that 100,000 years ago wiped out all sentient life in the galaxy to stop the spread of a horrific parasite. They preserved some races by transporting them to a construct outside of this galaxy, beyond the range of the Halo installations, and then killed all other races of sufficient biomass to sustain the parasite to starve it to death. They haven’t been seen since they returned our race, which was in the Stone Age, to Earth.”

“That’s horrible!” Twilight said, appalled at the notion of galactic genocide. “But how would those glyphs be here?”

“Forerunner artifacts can be found on almost any planet featuring sentient life. Do you remember those aliens that attacked us earlier?”

“Yeah, the Covenant, right?”

“Yes. Now, they were and still are a union of alien races united in worship of the Forerunners as gods, and they base most of their tech on Forerunner artifacts. In fact, the Covenant themselves didn’t, and still don’t fully understand how much of the tech they use works. That’s a drawback of reverse-engineering, I suppose. Anyway, it’s not unlikely that there’s Forerunner influence on this very planet. I think that they probably have something to do with the similarities between our worlds.”

Twilight sat down, a mixture of worry and awe on her face. “Wow, this is heavy.” Until then, ancient aliens had been a fun idea for a sci-fi novel to her, but nothing more.

“Yeah. I think that-” Mark’s helmet radio went off, interrupting him. “Sorry, I gotta take this.”

“Raptor, this is Vice Admiral Hunt onboard the Deliverance, do you copy?”

“Affirmative. What’s going on?”

“We’ve got a shitstorm brewing up here. We need you and your team at Cavalia, ASAP. We’re diverting a Falcon your way as we speak. Your teammates are en route to your position. We’ll… Dammit.”

“What?”

“It seems that Princess Celestia,” Hunt began with disdain, “Requests that her students be taken to the command center to view the op with her. I don’t know why; maybe she got scared after watching that op involving Covies last night and wants somepony to be scared with. Anyway, we just called off that Falcon, and we’re sending a Pelican your way instead. I just ordered Surgeon and Maverick to round up those ponies they just dropped off, and bring them with. Sorry about this Raptor, but diplomacy has to be one of our priorities.”

“Understood. I’d rather worry about offending allies than fighting a full-scale war any day. I’d count my blessings, sir.”

Hunt laughed. “Yeah, I guess I’d rather complain about this than mourn a destroyed planet too. Deliverance out.”

“Twilight.”

“Yes?” She looked up at Mark, having been staring at the scroll on the floor in front of her.

“You and your friends are heading out. Princess Celestia requests the presence of you and your friends at Cavalia JSB, to view an operation my team’s about to perform with her. I don’t know why. Bird’s gonna land outside your house again.”

“Ugh. I need a break from traveling,” Spike said.

“Well, you can stay home and sleep if it’s okay with Twi,” Mark responded.

“Sure, just take a nice nap, Spike.” Twilight put the scroll and its duplicates back in the hidden compartment, and re-adjusted the rug.

“Awesome,” Spike said with a yawn.

Mark and Twilight walked outside, and waited for the Pelican to arrive. The sun was fully risen now, and ponies were just leaving their homes to begin their daily routines.

“There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you,” Twilight began. “How is it you manage to speak about all these horrible events without showing any remorse?”

“Mental callouses, I suppose. Deal with war all your life, and you learn to block out or shut in most of the bad stuff.”

“Are all humans as mentally resilient as you seem to be?”

“No, not at all. A lot of humans have permanent mental disorders from the horrors of war, and some of them are kept in insane asylums because of the severity of their condition. Ever seen a pony talk to dead ponies because they’ve convinced themselves the dead are still alive? Have you seen ponies who are convinced that everypony else is an impostor, and they’re the only real pony left in existence, believing themselves to be the subject of scientific study by aliens?”

“No…”

“I hope you never do.”

The rest of the ponies and Knife team walked to the pair’s position, or hopped in Pinkie Pie’s case. The Pelican arrived as the group assembled, and they all got in. They felt the aircraft gain altitude and speed.

“Knife team,” Vice Admiral Hunt began over the dropship’s internal speakers, “The CM forces, that’s what we’re calling the alliance between changeling and Mamba forces now, have withdrawn from Canterlot. Whatever they were after, they either got it or sustained too many casualties to continue their assault. They opened up another front, and that’s why we need you.”

“If you’ve got a problem, we’ll do our best to solve it.”

“An hour ago, the frigate UNSC Just Cause was boarded by CM forces during a patrol near the moon. All members of the crew are presumed dead; we need your team to help take it back. We’ll have some of our Longsword fighters blow a hole in the hull, and your team will enter. From there you’ll proceed to the hangar, where you’ll open the doors to enable marines to board the ship and assist in the recapturing. From there it should be a fairly standard boarding operation.”

“Understood.”

“Good. Hunt out.”

“All dead? Shit, twelve-hundred people is a lot to wipe out,” Ethan commented.

“Yeah,” Jason agreed, “And you and I’ll probably have to swap our weapons. I don’t see much use for a sniper rifle inside a UNSC frigate. A Covenant ship would be another thing.”

“Okay, I’ll swap my rocket launcher for a shotgun then.”

“What’s a ‘boarding operation’? If you don’t mind me asking,” Fluttershy queried.

“Well,” Jason began, “A boarding op is when a group of soldiers enters a vessel under hostile control. It involves lots of close-quarter combat, and it’s pretty dangerous because of that. You and your friends will get to see the op real-time through our helmet cameras, so it’ll explain itself mostly.”

“Oh.”

The rest of the trip was silent. The ponies weren’t sure how to feel about what was happening. They’d get to see Princesses Celestia and Luna and Cadence, and see Shining Armor in the hospital. They didn’t know the severity of his condition.

When the dropship landed, the bay opened and the nine passengers exited. A marine in battle dress led them to the command center.

“Whoa,” The ponies said collectively, staring at the busy people and the dozens of screens displaying a plethora of information that they didn’t understand.

“Princess Celestia!” Twilight exclaimed, happy to see her mentor. She hugged the princess’ leg. “Where’s Shining Armor? I thought he would be here.”

The marine who escorted them interrupted “Blue mane, white coat, unicorn male?”

“Yes that’s him.” Twilight responded. She was suddenly stricken with worry.

“Follow me.”

***

The marine led Twilight through a maze of corridors, and Mark followed them both. He removed his helmet, feeling that he wouldn’t need it here, and wanting to feel something on his face, even if it was just the artificial breeze of air conditioners.

Why is Mark coming? Shine is okay isn’t he? He said Shine was just going to be in the hospital for a while, and that he’d be fine.

They were led to the medical wing, which smelled of disinfectant. The humans going about their business were all clad in scrubs, some of them with varying amounts of blood on them. The marine led the pair to the Intensive Care Unit, and opened a door.

Shining Armor was attached to numerous machines, monitoring every vital function he had, and maintaining them. There was a tube leading into his mouth, which was attached to an object which revealed it to be a feeding tube.

“He’s in a coma,” A doctor said. He had snuck up behind them as they gazed at the comatose stallion. “He’s been like that since he got here; my guess is he’ll be that way for a while.”

“A coma? You told me he was fine!” Twilight yelled at Mark.

“I’m sorry,” Mark said quietly.

“Sorry? Sorry!? You lied to me about my brother’s health!”

“I- I didn’t lie, I just didn’t tell you the whole truth.” Mark was visibly nervous.

“Oh, so that makes it completely okay!” She quipped sarcastically. “He’s in a coma and you tell me he’ll be fine!”

“Well excuse me! Did you expect me to walk in and say ‘Sorry Twilight, but I fucked up and now your brother’s in a coma’? I never said I’d even bring him back alive, just that I’d find him. I didn’t want to give you false hope, but it looks like I failed there too!”

“Ugh, you’re horrible! You went there to save him and you messed up, bad!” Twilight was visibly furious, and tears flowed down her cheeks. She gritted her teeth as she spoke, and her breathing was heavy.

Mark waved the doctor out and shut the door, so not a soul would hear what he said to Twilight. “You’re God damn right I did! I risked the lives of my two best friends and nine elite marines just to make you feel better! I haven’t the foggiest idea why you crying back there made me do what I did, but now I realize you’re trouble. Shit! You made me break rule number two! That’s the most important rule you can possibly break and live!”

“Well then,” Twilight fumed, “What is this ‘rule number two’?”

“Number two is ‘Never let your emotions interfere with an operation’. I don’t even know what emotion it was that made me do you that favor. Pity? Empathy? Generosity? Kindness? If I feel emotions like that, then I’m a shitty SPARTAN.”

“Oh, so you did it to out of the kindness of your heart?” Twilight snorted. “What a load of crud!”

“You’re damn right I did it out of the kindness of my heart! And I’m disgusted with myself that I have such weakness in me. I’m good for fighting, nothing else! I’m not worth two shits as a human being, and now I’m becoming a lousy soldier too!” Mark sighed, and looked at Shining Armor. “Do you know what suicide is?”

“Yes,” Twilight responded.

“It’s the taking of one’s own life. It’s my ‘exit strategy’ for when I’m no longer able to fight. For me there is nothing except the mission. I know suicide is a horrible sin, probably as bad as murder, and that I’ll burn in Hell for it, but I don’t feel any attachment to this existence.”

“Oh, so now you’re trying to guilt trip me?”

Mark turned back to face Twilight. “No. I’m telling you that I’m fighting for the abstract, unattainable goal of peace. Do you know that there has never been a period in human history where people have not been killing each other? That even as our race faced annihilation from existence, we fought amongst ourselves? Small groups of humans that fought us before we met the Covenant, continued to fight us, bringing our extinction that much closer. Let me spell out what this means. I am neither the first to fight for humanity, nor the last, nor will there ever be a last; as long as we succeed, we cannot reach a state where soldiers are not needed. By ‘winning’ we delay victory. Do ponies have that feeling of hopelessness? ” His face was suddenly one of weariness, fatigue, and depression.

Twilight was no longer furious; instead, she felt pity for Mark, before her anger returned. “Don’t change the subject!”

“There was nothing more to say; I messed up, and I regret it. If I can’t even do my job right, what good am I to anybody? I know that what I do is important, but fighting for an ideal just doesn’t motivate me the way it used to. I want something to protect that I can enjoy; I want to fight for something reciprocal.”

Mark heard talking in his helmet. “I’ll see you later.” He put it back on.

“Raptor, it’s Surgeon, get to the Pelican, we’re leaving in five.”

“Copy.” Mark opened the door. The marine who escorted them to Shining Armor stood waiting. “Could you please escort her back to the command center?”

The nameless marine saluted and led Twilight back to the command center. Mark worked his way through the winding halls, and made it outside. From there he headed to the airfield, where his Pelican awaited. He jumped in, and the aircraft lifted off, the rear doors closing.

***

The ride took an hour, and was marked by complete silence on the part of the SPARTANs.

A while later, the pilot yelled back, “ETA five minutes.” The hatch behind the cockpit sealed itself, and the passenger bay began to decompress. A few minutes later, the rear door opened, revealing their target.

The frigate Just Cause had a hole blown in the side, just as Hunt said it would. The Pelican positioned itself as close as possible to the hull breach as possible, leaving as little possibility for error as possible for the three boarders.

Mark went first. He pushed off of the interior of the dropship, and flew through space for fourteen seconds before colliding with a wall inside the frigate. Jason and Ethan did the same, and came to stand next to Mark.

The ship’s artificial gravity was still functional, although the strafing run that created the team’s entrance had left this particular section with low gravity. The SPARTANs checked the room for hostiles. Seeing none, Mark contacted their transport.

“Echo one-one-niner, this is Raptor; we are in, you are clear to disengage.”

“Copy Raptor, Echo one-one-niner returning to station.”

“Maverick, you’re on point; Surgeon, you have the rear.” Mark gestured to a door, and Ethan moved to open it, his teammates close behind.

“Ain’t budging,” Ethan reported. Jason moved to unlock the door.

“It must’ve locked after the strafing run, probably to keep in the atmosphere,” Jason hypothesized.

“Can you make the next room into a makeshift airlock?” Mark inquired.

“Yeah, gimme a minute.” In addition to being a good medic and a fantastic sniper, Jason was also an excellent hacker. All of Knife team was highly intelligent, but Jason’s knowledge tended to be more mathematical and scientific, which was why he excelled at his roles. He tapped into the control panel for the door with his wrist-mounted TACPAD.

***

Twilight was still angry about Mark’s deception of her, even though she understood his motives. What he said to her, like so much of what he did, disturbed her. She kept her emotions under wraps, and appeared stoic as she watched the mission feed.

“Is there a reason Jason is just standing there, tapping that thing on his wrist? I don’t mean to sound rude, but…” Fluttershy asked.

“He’s turning the room they’re about to enter into a makeshift airlock, so they can enter it and then move through the rest of the ship. It’s locked right now, so he has to override the systems to allow them in,” A techie wearing an Army uniform sans the helmet explained.

“Umm, okay?” Fluttershy understood the basic meaning: that he was unlocking the door, but the rest flew over her head; she wasn’t familiar with most of the terminology he used.

The door unlocked, and Knife team entered. As the door shut behind them, the room hissed, and the ponies recognized the sound, having heard it earlier and remembering the explanation that it was air being pumped into the room. They moved to the next room after that was done.

It was filled with death. Green blood dripped from the walls, pieces of changelings littering the floor. Humans lied motionless on the floor; both sides were in the same condition.

“Damn, looks like we just missed this one. Blood ain’t even dry yet,” Ethan commented, his words heard from the command center. He ran a finger through a few of the small puddles, and each turned out to be liquid, just as he said. Several of the defenders were horribly mutilated, likely by the changelings.

Any idle chatter in the command center ceased as the entire room solemnly acknowledged the horrible fate of their Navy and Marine brothers and sisters; the humans all renewed their focus on their work.
The ponies they hosted were horrified, likely more so than their human allies.

This is what they deal with?

How do they bear through it?

How much have they seen that they can just shrug this off with silence?

Mother of Celestia, that’s awful!

They’re never going to see their families again…

I knew the changelings were cruel, but this?

Simply atrocious!

I can’t begin to imagine what they’ve seen that this doesn’t make them stop altogether…

***

“Knife, move forward, stay frosty,” Mark ordered, while motioning for the team to group up on the next door.

“Stacking up.”

Mark slammed the button to open the door.

A changeling rushed at Ethan, and pinned him to the ground. A dozen others swarmed in and did the same to Mark and Jason. The one on Ethan attempted to bite into his armor, but flinched as it chipped a tooth on his shields.

“Get offa me, shit-sucker!” Ethan exclaimed. He drew his knife and drove it into the side of the changeling’s skull. Pushing the creature off of him, he sheathed his blade and picked his shotgun back up. Another bug came at him, and he blew the front half of it into black and green chunks.

Mark delivered an uppercut to the jaw of his changeling, stunning it, and kicked it off of him with both feet. He activated the energy sword on his gauntlet, and began to dismember the insectoid creatures. They came at him at various angles to try and make it hard for him, but he wasn’t fazed.

Jason headbutted the changeling on him, the alien’s skull shattering, and chunks of green flesh and black chitin smeared his blue Security visor. He grabbed his pistol and opened fire on the remaining hostiles, careful not to hit his allies.

The whole fight was over in eighteen seconds.

“That was fun,” Ethan said with a laugh.

“Yeah, bug hunts always are,” Mark agreed. He wasn’t bloodthirsty, but he enjoyed a good fight.

They picked up their guns and moved on. The room they had been about to enter was eerily quiet. It was filled with a green mist, which condensed on the edges of their visors, and obscured their vision. Jason wiped his visor, trying to clean off the bits of changeling still on it.

Marines and naval personnel hung from the ceiling, suspended by an elastic green-gray substance. They seemed to have been partially eaten, likely by the changelings. At least one of them, a seemingly unharmed marine in a sealed joint-service Army-Marines bodysuit, was still alive.

Mark motioned for Jason to help cut him down, and they drew their knives. The elastic ooze was easily cut, and the SPARTANs ripped the goo off, leaving none on the marine’s armor.

Jason rolled him over, and knocked on his helmet.

“Wake up, buttercup!” He chirped.

The marine began to exhibit signs of consciousness, moving his limbs and head. He opened his eyes, and saw the silvery SPARTAN gazing at him. He sat up and scooted towards a wall.

“Fuck, what happened?” He asked, moving his fingers to test them. He had a Hispanic accent.

“You tell us,” Jason replied. “We just got here, fought off a dozen bugs. You’re the only survivor we’ve found, but then again this is only the third room we’ve been in.”

“Fuggin’ CMs happened, man. Six Pelicans came into the hangar flashing false IFFs on ‘em, and the bugs just swarmed outta three of ‘em. The other three had Mambas in ‘em, ‘bout seventy-five between ‘em. They musta been usin’ the expanded compartments.”

Mark spoke up. “What’s your name and rank?”

“Corporal Eddie Rico, sir.”

“Your IFF working?”

“Yeah, I see your names, callsigns ‘n ranks.”

“Just stick to our callsigns, Rico.”

“You got it, Raptor.” Rico saluted, and picked up an adjacent MA37 assault rifle, and an M6G pistol.

“You need ammo for those?” Ethan offered.

“Nah, I’ve still got ammo.”

***

“How come they use nicknames like that?” Pinkie queried.

“They’re callsigns. Callsigns are names used for special forces operators, and others, in order to conceal identities and confuse any enemies that may be listening, however unlikely that eventuality,” the Army technician responded. “Oh, I’m Sergeant Gregory Armstrong, by the way, but you can just call me ‘Greg’.”

“So, they’re like codenames?” Rainbow Dash asked.

“In a nutshell, yeah.”

“Oh. So Ethan is ‘Maverick’, Mark is ‘Raptor’, and Jason is ‘Surgeon’?”

“Mm-hm.”

“Thanks, Greg.”

“No prob.”

“That fight back there was disgusting,” Rarity commented.

“Yeah, there’s still some bits of changeling on Jason,” Twilight noted. “Wait, if they see through those visors, wouldn’t they be easily broken?”

“Surprisingly, no. The visor is the weakest part of the armor, but it’s still extremely durable. Surgeon could’ve headbutted a steel wall as hard as possible, and his visor would still be intact, albeit with a cracked outer layer.”

“Wow,” Twilight said. She was continually being impressed by the technology humanity wielded, although the idea that there was a group of aliens with technology far more advanced than humanity scared her.

Celestia pondered the efficiency with which the humans waged war, a frown on her face.

I’m beginning to wish they weren’t on our planet now. But they make excellent guardians, and seem to have good intentions regardless of their proficiency with war. We maintain our own military, so I suppose that they have every right to use their technology to defend themselves. The fact that they’re so willing to protect their allies does give comfort, and I suppose given that we are the only real allies they have they’d have to. Still, I don’t entirely trust them…

***

“Alright. Knife team, Rico, we’ve got five more rooms and corridors to make it through before we reach the hangar. We’re gonna open the bay doors so our Pelicans can drop off a boarding team; if the doors don’t open with either the primary or backup systems, we’ll blow ‘em open. If we see any surviving Eagle Sword personnel in fighting shape, Rico’ll fill ‘em in,” Mark explained. “Any questions?”

“Yeah, one,” Rico replied. “If our birds are only droppin’ off a team, how do we get out?”

“Simple. All three of us know how to fly Pelican dropships, so we’ll just borrow the Pelicans those Mambas left in the bay, and alter the IFFs so the fleet doesn’t shoot us down.”

“How’ll they know it’s not another boarding team?”

“We’ll link our individual IFFs to the birds, so they know we’re who we say we are.”

“Okay, makes sense.”

“Alright, same formation as before, Rico, you take the back with Surgeon.”

The marine nodded, and moved to position. The team moved up, and this time they stood further away from the door when they activated it, not wanting to repeat their last encounter with changelings. As he did before, Mark opened the door.

This time, it was Mambas on the other side. Mark threw a grenade in, and the team took cover. The explosion blew the PMCs to the walls, the shrapnel piercing their suits. Ethan stormed in and gave a hefty serving of 8-gauge magnum buckshot to each occupant of the room that was still standing.

At this point, other doors opened, and Mamba troopers flooded in, weapons firing. Knife team moved in as well, and the thunder of the two factions’ weapons dominated the room.

Mark’s DMR delivered fatal wounds to the hearts and minds of the attacking soldiers, piercing their helmets, skulls, and armor with lethal effects. He eviscerated one of his foes with his energy sword, and threw the body at another, stunning him long enough to close the distance and deliver a left-handed uppercut with spine-shattering force.

Ethan dispatched four enemies before his shotgun was emptied of ammunition. When that happened, he switched to his assault rifle and hosed the area with armor-piercing 7.62mm rounds. The sheer volume of the projectiles killed two more, and he reloaded after throwing a grenade. The grenade’s intended targets all made it to cover, but it bought him enough time to reach cover of his own.

Jason delivered a flurry of punches to the enemies surrounding him, and he broke dozens of bones. He followed with close range pistol fire, the high-caliber rounds devastating their targets as they impacted and caused massive trauma.

Rico just tried not to hit the SPARTANs as he gave cover fire. He was a good fighter, but the SPARTANs were all over the place, and he didn’t really have any clear shots.

As with most close-range firefights involving SPARTANs, it was over in less than a minute. By the time the last bodies hit the floor, Knife team’s shields were recharging, and their weapons were being reloaded. The group proceeded past the bodies filling the room, and towards the hangar. There was no resistance on their way there, which struck them as odd.

“Hey, why do ya think they took this ship anyway?” Ethan asked.

“Hell if I know,” Mark replied.

“Well they obviously wanted something on the ship and not the ship itself. Given the technical skill they have, they could’ve stolen the whole frigate easily; thing about that is that it’d be easy to track, so they’re better off with smaller ships. I’ll see if I can run a remote inventory later,” Jason said.

The four of them made their way to the hangar, and entered the airlock to it without incident. The hangar was pressurized already, but the airlock was always sealed in case of emergencies. This protocol suited Knife and Rico just fine.

“Alright, everyone get a frag ready, and when we open these doors throw ‘em in.” Mark switched to his grenade launcher, deciding extra firepower wouldn’t hurt. “Then we storm the room, and kill everything and everyone that doesn’t flash green. I want this quick and clean; we stay alive, and make sure they don’t. Let’s move.”

The team opened the door, and threw four grenades in. The shrapnel killed more than the blasts did, and surprised the PMCs in the room. A few of them regained their composure and returned fire, while yelling at their teammates to help them.

Rico moved to cover behind a row of crates and cupboards, and Knife team followed. Suppressing fire was intense, and it took down Mark and Ethan’s shields by the time they reached cover.

Jason took advantage of the smart-link scope on his pistol to fire from behind cover without exposing himself. He was able to take out a few Mambas that way.

Ethan and Rico fired their assault rifles from their cover, the two of them creating a small but deadly hail of bullets. The armor-piercing rounds punched through armor and flesh and bone, causing mortal wounds to the defenders.

Mark fired his grenade launcher at a group of Mambas that were behind cover and adjacent to a fusion coil. The 40mm round arced over the cover and bounced off of the wall, landing between one of the soldiers and the aforementioned device. A moment later, the charge detonated, killing the entire group with the combination of the primary and secondary explosions. He opened the launcher’s breech and loaded another round.

At this point the entire team moved up, and the remaining PMCs came out of hiding to take out the advancing team. In a storm of bullets, Knife team was hit multiple times, taking down their shields. Rico crumpled to the deck, a bloody mess of bullet wounds.

Jason activated his drop shield, and diverted power from his armor’s motion systems to maintain the blue bubble of energy as it weathered the metal storm. Knife team’s shields recharged inside the small haven, and they eyed their surroundings.

Jason spoke first. “Okay, there’s a group of them between the Pelican and control panel at the far end of the hangar. When I drop this shield, I’m gonna rush over there and engage in CQC. How about you guys?”

“I’ll slide under the Pelican behind us, and kneecap the bastards on the other side,” Ethan offered.

“Got it. I’ll take out the group near the bay doors; I’ll use my active camo to flank ‘em, and I’ll tear ‘em up,” Mark explained.

“Ready?” Jason asked.

“Three, two, one, go!” Mark ordered.

Jason dropped the shield, and using the performance enhancement module, moved faster than the mind could comprehend. Rushing over to the group farthest away, he leaped over the Pelican they hid behind and landed atop a Mamba, crushing his ribs and killing him.

From there, Jason delivered two jabs to another’s chest and a punch to their stomach. The next one he elbowed in the face, and threw into a wall with massive force. Jason was hit in the back by a burst of assault rifle fire that took half of his shield’s strength and turned around.

The person who had been stupid enough to attack him was near-instantly disarmed, the rifle ripped from her hands. Jason smacked her across the side of the skull with the butt of the rifle, breaking the woman’s neck. He spun another forty degrees and hosed another PMC with the remaining bullets.

The last four approached him from behind. He threw the empty rifle at one of them, breaking the faceplate of a Mamba’s helmet. The incapacitated soldier fell limp to the ground.

One of the survivors charged at Jason, armed with a shotgun, screaming in rage. Jason made a grab for the man’s shotgun, and took several pellets for his efforts. His shields were taken down, and he took the shooter as a shield. He drew his M6G and fired three shots, dropping the last of his attackers. His “shield” took several rounds, wounding but not killing him. He delivered the coup de grâce, the merciful finishing blow, to the head of the wounded enemy.

At the same time as Jason had sprinted off for his targets, Ethan ran over to the Pelican behind them and slid under the width of its elevated belly. His shields allowed him to glide across the deck with relative ease, and near the end of the slide he blasted one of the Mamba’s knees off with his shotgun.

Ethan followed up on his power slide by using the butt of the gun to break another target’s spine. The Mambas were just starting to react to his attack, and unleashed a massive volley of armor-piercing rounds at Ethan. Had he not kneeled and engaged his armor lock, he would have died there.

Ethan’s shields pulsated with enormous amounts of energy for several seconds, the excess shielding building up until the fields that contained them could no longer bear the stress. The fields burst, releasing a cascade of energy five meters in each direction. The resulting electromagnetic fields fried the non-EMP-hardened systems in the PMCs helmets.

They staggered back, the burst of energy creating a pressure wave similar to a small explosion. Ethan switched to his assault rifle and delivered a series of two-round bursts to each of the Mambas’ heads, ending their threat.

As Ethan and Jason went to deal with the Mambas, Mark cloaked and moved to the third group, which was a dozen strong. The PMCs were hunkered down, waiting for another attack. He moved behind them, and decloaked, activating his shield gauntlet. The contractors began to turn around when Mark delivered a neck-breaking right hook to one of them.

They began to fire at him, but their bullets glanced off his wrist shield. One of them threw a grenade at him, and Mark dove for cover just in time to dodge most of the shrapnel, although some of it hit him, weakening his armor’s shields. He emerged from cover and threw a grenade, his wrist-shield in front of him.

The grenade detonated and killed two more of them, and wounding the rest. Mark switched to his grenade launcher and fired; this time the shot bounced off of a wall and detonated behind the group, knocking them down. He took cover before they could get up, and only seven did.

Mark popped open the breech of his launcher, and slid another 40mm caseless grenade in. He slung it on his back, and drew his DMR. The Mambas were back up and firing. Mark activated his active camo and circled around to their rear, the contractors still firing at his last known position.

Mark delivered three shots to the back of as many helmets, getting as many kills. The four that remained spun around in time to see one of their own pulverized by a roundhouse kick. The last three were dispatched by Mark’s gauntlet energy sword.

***

The command center watched the firefight go down from the three SPARTANs’ helmet cams. Three feeds showed the lightning speed and brutal efficiency with which they dispatched the three groups simultaneously.

The SPARTANs’ movements were almost too fast to make out for the ponies, or for anyone for that matter. The whole room watched as they dispatched nearly forty foes, and lost only a single man. Everyone in the UNSC knew SPARTANs were the best, but they were still impressed when they saw them perform such amazing feats.

Meanwhile, the ponies who watched were full of conflicting feelings. On one hoof, these humans were formidable allies, and they were happy to consider themselves friends with them. On the other hoof, the soldiers’ extreme proficiency in the art of war intimidated them enormously, as did their seeming disregard for the death of their newfound ally, not to mention the calmness which they snuffed out the lives of two score men and women.

“Knife team, are you clear? The boarding party is standing by. How copy?”

“Solid copy. Send in the marines.”

“Copy that Knife team, sending them now. UNSC Andraste, you are clear to dispatch boarding party.”

“Affirmative, ETA is four minutes. Andraste out.”

***

Knife team regrouped near the center of the now-cleared hangar.

“Boss, Rico said there were six Pelicans that came in, right? ‘Cause I only see four,” Ethan pointed out.

“You’re right… Surgeon, get on that door. If possible, tap into the security cams to see if there’s missing birds. We don’t know why they came to this ship, and the answer might be in those vids.”

“On it.” Jason moved to the console, and began punching in commands. A minute later, the hangar depressurized. Frigates were too small to have working bay shields, which meant that they had to depressurize the whole room every time the hangars opened. The enormous covering slowly withdrew into the ship’s hull, the vibration it produced felt through the SPARTANs’ boots.

The boarding team’s Pelicans landed, dropping off thirty marines. With much haste, the leathernecks fanned out, regrouping with their fireteams. Their rides in lifted off, and flew out of the hangar. The doors shut behind the birds, and the room began to pressurize.

“Boss, I got those vids,” Jason said over the radio. Mark strode over to him. The video started playing. In it, six Pelicans landed in the hangar, and the scores of Mambas and hundreds of changelings swarmed out, wiping out the hangar crew in seconds. The vid played for a few more minutes, showing nothing of any real importance, before it froze.

“It ends there. We know for sure that they had six birds now. Problem is, they knew about the cams and stopped the recording. Whatever they did with those missing dropships, they didn’t want us to know. My guess is they stole something, and they don’t want us to know what until it’s too late.”

“Depending on what it was, we might be.”

Suddenly, the whole ship lurched. Half of the marines fell over, and some of them slid around a bit. The frigate had picked up a large amount of acceleration.

“Knife team, this is UNSC Andraste. Your ship’s engines just lit up; you’re accelerating on course two-eight-one by one-three. How copy?”

“Solid copy. Do me a favor; since I’m a ground-pounder, can you tell me where that’s sending us?” Mark requested.

“Sorry to break this kind of news, but you’re on heading towards the moon. At your current velocity, there’s no way to pull out of the dive in time; recommend your team and the marines grab onto something. You’re about to crash land at seventeen degrees off horizontal. Estimated time to impact, one minute thirty.”

“All right, listen up everyone!” Mark shouted over the comms so his squad and the marines would all hear him. “Someone or something put this heap on a course to crash land on the moon! We hit dirt in one minute, so strap up and hold onto your asses, because the shit’s about to hit the fan!”