1900, December 7th, 2542.
CIC Bridge, UNSC Trafalgar, Ectanus 45 system.

Cole slowly crossed his hands as the reports from the ground kept coming in. The reports straddled that infuriating line between an outright disaster and a successful deployment. For every successful landing, another was up to its neck in its own blood and required precious reinforcements to secure.

The battle was starting to slow down for the moment as the Covenant fleet continued to consolidate and pull back across the system. The Coalition outnumbered the Covenant, and the Covenant fleet was getting stretched thinner and thinner by the minute as it attempted to fight the Coalition across the system. Cole ran through every option he could, and he was reasonably certain that he could win the battle in orbit.

He couldn't say the same for the ground battle. While none of the landings had been a failure, not a single one of them was as successful as the strategists had planned for. A quarter of all the drop-certified forces of the Coalition had been wounded or killed so far in the gruesome meatgrinder on the ground. And they had managed to take out many of the Covenant anti-orbital weapons.

But they had held the line. And that had allowed for the millions of Coalition soldiers that had been mustered for this battle to hit the ground behind them safely. Within an hour of landing, the battle on the ground had turned into the largest and bloodiest battle in human history. Perhaps even the bloodiest day in human history itself. The numbers that Cole caught his officers relaying back and forth between the ships providing orbital fire support, escort missions for transport ships, and the Generals aboard the troopships, were mind-boggling. A million humans had died on the surface of Chi Rho in the first hour, from a mixture of dropships being shot down and the close-quarters fighting that was developing in the outskirts of the Assembly Yards.

Cole continued to look at the strategic screen as the battle unfolded around him. There was little else to do, for now, other than sit back and wait for something important enough to happen, which required his personal intervention. He twiddled his thumbs, awkwardly paced back and forth, and impulsively kept checking his antique wristwatch. The Strategic displays continued to change slowly, confirming to him what he already knew. The Covenant fleet was pulling back behind the moon, while the Coalition ships pursued as fast as they could without breaking formation or getting too close to the anti-orbital weaponry of the Covenant.

His nerves were slowly being shot to hell and back, and he could see that his crew was starting to notice. The marines that had been chosen to guard the bridge of the Trafalgar occasionally glanced at him, their body language that of overbearing concern and worry. They had seen his outburst, and not been able to keep their eyes off of him ever since. Cole hadn't cared enough to tell them to stop it. For the moment, he was just happy that other people were giving a damn about his mental state. The Bridge crew were acting in very much the same way. They sat behind their consoles and continued with their assigned tasks with the levels of training and diligence that he had chosen them for, and reinforced by constant drilling and training. They were the ones that were from the looks of things, the most disturbed by Cole's emotional outburst at the death of Karandis. Each of them almost worshipped him for his abilities and saw him as almost a paragon of naval leadership. Someone that was above emotion and concern.

He was wondering which of them would be the first to break from their position and attempt to give him a glass of water, force him to let a medic take a look at him, or just ask him to please sit down. Some small part of him was desperate for just that. A basic display of empathy or concern for him. But he knew that it was too much to ask for.

In their eyes, he wasn't a tired old man with a racing heart, shot nerves, and a growing desire to start crying and never stop. To them, he was Cole, the defender of humanity, the exemplar of the UNSC navy, and the greatest human who ever lived. And the more this continued, the more he just felt a very real desire to bite down on his pistol and kill himself. He quashed a desire to start sobbing at the loss of human life he was responsible for. He could do it in his room after the battle was over. Or he'd finally be dead. That would also be nice. He'd very much appreciate being dead over being carted around to support a dying cause.

His wife was going to show up soon. He had planned this out with her. She would arrive with her rebel fleet behind the Covenant formation, she would lead her fleet against the Covenant forced behind the moon and disrupt their formation while the UNSC fleet closed the distance to deliver a killing blow upon the Covenant fleet. They would win the battle, and she and her rebels would receive that pardon Parangosky was offering all insurrectionists. They would renew their marriage vows, he would retire alongside her to a nice home in the country, he'd shoot any reporter or ONI recruiter that tried to get him back into the action, and he'd plough her harder than the fields he wanted to start tending to.

Cole breathed in deeply, feeling the fragility of his ageing body with every breath he took, and the way his mind felt like it was mere moments from breaking apart and never coming back together. He stifled a pained sob and thought back to the task at hand.

"Dove." He said, not showing any sign of emotion in his voice. "When will Alpha come within line of sight of the Verdun?" The loss of Blue Team had nearly broken him, and only the word that they were being safely extracted by the Justicar and Spectre deployed to Target Alpha had stopped him from breaking down.

The holo-tank next to the strategic display lit up, showing an old man sitting at a bench, with a Dove sitting in his head. The Old man leaned forward against a cane, then started speaking through the bird on his head.

"An hour. Captain." The AI said, offering a quirky simulated smile.

He thought back to the Spartans he'd met to brief them of the mission. They had all stood before him in their fully resplendent MJOLNIR armour, ready and eager for their instructions. Or at least, that had been what he thought he read off of their voices and limited body language. They had been introduced to their missing 'kin' and they had prepared themselves for a great battle to come. Oh, how invincible they had seemed, how assured of victory he had been when seeing them.

And then this damned battle had fully kicked off. The Spartan Teams deployed to Assembly Yards Beta and Epsilon had gone silent, their last words being that they'd been engaged by Elites with red energy swords. Then the Citadel Special Forces deployed to those yards had gone quiet one after the other as well.

The reactors of these massive city-sized naval yards still burned at full power, and the anti-orbital weapons deployed in the cities were still firing up into orbit. That was six dead Spartans, on missions he had sent them on. Spartan Gold Team, and Alpha Team had been deployed to those targets respectively, and they had both gone quiet, presumed dead. That was the most Spartans lost on any individual mission launched by the UNSC, in the history of the Spartan Program. On a deployment that he had signed off on.

Only Grey team had succeeded in its mission so far, and successfully left inside a Covenant gunship. While targets Delta, Zeta, and Eta were still up in the air. Spartan casualties had been reported, but Black, Omega, and the Red Team had gone dark. The teams were working hard to fight their way out. Out of the surviving teams, three Spartans had gone down, as well as dozens of the Commandos and STG agents sent to assist them. If they would be able to win was still undecided, and the insecurity was starting to ravenously gnaw at him.

A feeling of guilt and self-loathing was wrapping itself around his heart, and digging into his chest cavity. Even if he knew that he hadn't been able to know the Covenant would deploy forces specifically tailored to hunt down Spartans. He had still been the one to send them on those missions. And he couldn't help but feel just as guilty for them, as for the crews of those ships he had sacrificed over the years. Be they those he'd sent to hold the line to allow the rest of his fleet to retreat, or the ones that had been destroyed in assaults he had ordered. Every name he could still recall was pushing down on his mind, and was crushing it like a vice.

The defeat of Blue Team, which he still could barely believe, was the greatest concern at the moment. With their failure to take out target Alpha, it could now freely deploy its forces across the planet, and possibly lose the Coalition the battle for Gamma, the nearest city. They had to be destroyed, but there weren't many options. Each ship was needed to fight the Covenant, and nothing short of capital-grade firepower would be able to crack the shields and destroy the base.

He'd immediately thought of the Verdun, and its overcharged Super MAC gun. It could most likely destroy the city. But that would leave the Supercarrier for the fleet to deal with. He needed the Supercarrier defeated if he wanted to win the battle, and for that he needed Verdun's one shot.

Cole sighed deeply. "Dove. Cancel the firing order for the Verdun. They are to wait until the Supercarrier gets into range. "

The AI nodded it's avatar and did as instructed. Shortly afterwards, the AI blinked red twice. "I am receiving protests from the ground forces led by General, Leonard Ross. He's claiming his forces won't be able to take Gamma if Alpha can attack him in the flanks."

He had expected this to happen, but there was little he could do. "Duly noted, Dove. But the battle in orbit is more important than the ground war." Cole said, forcing steel into his voice. "The ground commanders will just have to divert their reserves." For a moment, Cole was glad he was merely in command of the navy for this operation. At least if he died, it wouldn't be because someone else had to abandon him.

2100, December 7th, 2542.
Outskirts of Assembly Yard Gamma.

Any hint of planning or organization had long ago abandoned this hellish battle.

The expansive plains of blackened glass outside of the Assembly Yard were littered with the wrecks of dozens of Covenant Scarab walkers and UNSC Vultures, far too many to count. Around the hulks of these massive war machines, vast fields of dead bodies and ruined vehicles had been strewn around, as if carelessly thrown away by some kind of godling who had thrown a temper tantrum with his toys.

Two armies, each of them trained and prepared for a battle like this, each matching the other in equipment and training, and both fighting for the complete destruction of the other, had thrown themselves against each other in a battle whose intensity would have been unimaginable for anyone involved just over a year ago. Three thousand years of military tradition and experience threw themselves against the millions of vengeful humans and their unexpected allies that had come to expel them from the human world.

Nialla leapt through the still smoking wall of the Covenant storage depot, flying into the smoke left by the incendiary grenades that had gone off mere moments before. She opened fire upon the stunned Grunts in the room, mercilessly gunning them down with precise bursts from her Phaeston rifle. She didn't give their almost-civilian esque apparel and limited arnaments a glance as she moved between the stacked plates of purple nanolaminate, gunning down any Covenant that moved. Kelnara slammed down next to her, landing atop a Grunt, and crushing its skull with a stomp from her armored boot. There were no quips, no jokes, no sarcastic remarks. Just steely Turian determination.

The sound of gunfire and explosions reached them from the ground floor, where the Human Marines were fighting their way through the motor pool and the barracks of the workers, meeting what sounded like stiff opposition equipped with plasma grenades and rifles.

Yeltis' rifle rang out, taking off the head of a Jackal that was priming a grenade, and sending its body falling down the gangway it had been standing on. The twins, Gervod and Gelnis, advanced slowly behind her. Their once-conjoined minds still worked with amazing synchronicity as they advanced behind their Sergeant. The mute Turians both sweeped the hallways to their left and right respectively, gunning down any cowering Grunts that were trying to avoid the advancing Turians. Although it was distasteful to some, the Turians were quite skilled at clearing civilian environments with lethal precision.

"For Alluvion. For the Thirteenth!" Nialla yelled to her squad to spur them on, reminding them of the humiliating defeat of the Thirteenth Pallavan Legion. Although they were Armigers, and therefore shuffled around as needed, they had all formed solid bonds with the Legion. But it was gone now, and would only be reformed after a new army of drop-certified Turians was trained up.

The thought of more Turians growing up in this war, and being thrown into this war, both filled Nialla with roaring patriotism, and growing disgust for the Covenant for forcing this fate upon the Turians. The past three months she had seen more dead and dying Turians fresh from boot camp, than she had ever wished to see her entire lifetime. Lives in their prime snuffed out as they fought for their state, and for the Hierarchy's sovereign imperative to establish peace across the galaxy.

Pallonis hovered up from behind, his rifle's barrel covered with Unggoy blood. The Omni-Bayonet was hissing ominously as the blood around it bubbled and evaporated. The former General was taking what looked like a disturbing amount of glee in hunting down the running Covenant forces. He rushed forward on his thrusters, gunning down anyone that shot back, and stabbing the ones that merely attempted to run.

Ravager approached the last uncleared room and gathered around the door for a Breach. Kelnara approached and activated her Omni-Tool. She activated a cutting torch, and stuck it into a gap in the middle of the door. There was a hissing as the plasma cut through the lock. She stood back, drew her shotgun, and loaded shredder rounds.

Nialla made a hand signal, which her armor translated and sent to the twins. She readied an incendiary grenade, then nodded. Gervod and Gelnis went to each side of the door, stuck their hands into the thin gap, and wrenched the door open into a small crack. Nialla shoved the grenade through, and the twins pushed the door closed again.

There was a loud whoosh followed by screaming as the grenades detonated. The Twins tore the door open again, and Kelnara and Pallonis rushed inside. They opened fire on the burning Grunts and Jackals, their shredder-rounds ripping the burning bodies of the defenders apart. By the time Nialla had set foot inside, there were no signs of life left anywhere in the depot.

Nialla brought up her TACMAP. The Coalition was advancing across the outskirts, and pushing back the Covenant armor along the main highways. Casualties were quickly mounting, and the advance was starting to slow down. But this did little to deter the bloodlust Nialla was starting to feel. She wanted to kill Covvies, to make them pay for every single life that had been lost this day. For a moment, it felt very good to hate, even if she knew she'd be horrified by her thoughts, the next time she entered a sleep cycle.

"No survivors," she transmitted to Buck, The ODST whose squad was clearing the final floor above them. "Do you require assistance?"

"No, but thanks for asking." The human said in that snarky self-confident manner she had started to associate with ODST's and non-commissioned human officers. The way they treated everything like it was a joke, and nothing was serious. The only thing that made the attitude remotely bearable to Nialla's Turian sensibilities was their effectiveness as soldiers.

"One minute breather, everyone." She ordered her squad. She took a large "pull" of the nutrients and liquids inside the tanks built inside her abdomen, while the other soldiers sipped from the built-in dispensers in their armor. She wanted to strike up a conversation, and briefly remind herself she was still a person, and not a killing machine. But she couldn't muster up the will to do so. None of her squad seemed remotely happy or content about the situation, and she doubted any would appreciate a talk.

Suddenly a bolt of blue shot through the hallway they had just passed, then detonated somewhere else in the building. The entire structure shook, and began to crumble down. The floor cracked,

"Burn your way out!" Yeltis immediately yelled, taking aim at the nearest wall. He charged up an incendiary blast and fired it at the wall. A quick glance at the TACMAP by Nialla confirmed that this wouldn't leave them exposed when facing the Covenant, and she joined in, firing an incendiary blast, then switching to armor-piercing rounds and firing at the rapidly heating section of wall. The wall began to buckle in and sag, but held.

"Cryonic." Nialla ordered calmly, and fired a bolt of supercooled liquid at the wall, which splashed across the melting metal. There was a high pitched sizzling noise, and the wall cooled, cracking. She burst forward, her thrusters propelling her through the wall, shattering it as if it was glass.

The first thing she saw was that there were thousands of Brutes charging forward, their footsteps throwing up a cloud of dust. They burst from sewer covers, alleyways, and across the main roads. She glanced at her TACMAP, when she noticed it had suddenly gone into standby. The Covenant had deployed their jamming technology again. Her barriers flared as carbine rounds slammed into it. She cursed, and slammed herself down to the ground.

There were Marines fighting desperately to hold off the Brutes as they swarmed in from what felt like everywhere. She reached out for a fallen human, when something green and buzzing suddenly grabbed the huma and dragged him off the ground. A swarm of Drones was firing at any soldiers that tried to stand and fight, wearing them down with streams of plasma fire, or swooping down and carrying them off towards the Brutes, throwing them down in their path.

"Drones!" She yelled. She had never fought the insectoid menace before, but knew of their danger. The few Turians that had engaged them spoke in hushed words of their ferocity and sheer weight of numbers.

Her radio crackled softly. "This is First Lieutenant Anderson. I am assuming command over the First Cross-Drop-Battalion. Pull back across the highway and dig in at the foundry district. Hunter-killer teams are disabling the Covenant jamming beacons. Reinforcements are inbound!"

2200, December 7th, 2542.
Port Hangar bay, UNSC Trafalgar.

John still felt his heart pounding in his chest as the hijacked Covenant dropship came to a halt inside the hangar of the UNSC Trafalgar. His troubles with breathing had only gotten worse. He believed he had collapsed multiple times during the escape to the stolen shuttle and had been carried by the Biotics of the Asari each time. John knew that he was starting to suffer oxygen starvation as a result of his weak and erratic heartbeat and that he had to remain calm. He did as a lifetime of training had taught him, and treated the current situation as just another fight to overcome.

The hatches of the dropship opened, and the Spartans of Blue Team were levitated out onto reinforced medical gurneys that had been specifically built to transport wounded Spartans. John saw the masked faces of the doctors and nurses that had overseen the Spartan's initial augmentations, and the MJOLNIR-certified technicians that maintained their armor. They swarmed around him, talking frantically about the wounds that Blue Team had suffered. They immediately started being pushed, presumably towards the medical bay.

John went through the battle against the Hoplites, going back and forth over how the battle had been fought. His almost perfect memory helped him to relive the fight, and imagine just how things could have gone differently.

He heard a female doctor that was running alongside the gurney holding Linda shouting into a microphone. "Spartan Zero-Five-Eight has suffered severe damage to her lower spine, rib cage, and the left lung. She is suffering from catastrophic internal bleeding, and is in a trauma-induced coma. Prepare a heart lung machine and a dialysis machine, then prepare the surgical bay to begin the reattachment of her spinal cord to the lower body."

Linda had been struck from behind with incredible speed and force. The attacker hadn't appeared on motion trackers before it had already struck, which implied either a hitherto unknown level of sensor-spoofing and Covenant Stealth technology, or the ability to move faster than the Spartans had been able to react. To avoid what happened to Linda, the Spartans would require improved sensor technology. He made a mental note to add this to his report.

The technicians were frantically working to take off his Mjolnir armor, foregoing standard procedures and using specialized tools to open the armor as if it was the chassis of a mangled car, cutting open priceless locks and joints without a shred of concern about the inordinate cost, all so they could try to save the Spartans inside. John felt his helmet being removed, and the kiss of the stale ship's air on his skin. It felt acceptable. A doctor flashed a light in his eyes and looked somewhat satisfied at the result, whereupon she placed an oxygen mask across his mouth.

The armor around his chest was cut in half, and peeled outways as if the technicians were trying to get into the soft interior of a lobster. Some of the Technicians and Doctors balked at what they saw, and John heard some muffled cursing. The one who looked to be in charge of the ones overseeing him, quickly began taking notes. "One One Seven has received third-degree burns to his heart, a deep cut across his chest that has nearly punctured his left lung, and the complete loss of his right hand. Blood Work indicates he is suffering from mild oxygen starvation. Prepare an emergency temporary prosthetic for the missing hand, then start flash-cloning a new heart and lung."

John examined the stump where his hand had been. It wasn't the first time a Spartan had lost a limb and needed a replacement. But Spartan bones and musculature were slow to regrow properly. If the doctors did well enough, his nerve endings would be saved, and he could receive a new biological hand in a few months. But until then, he'd receive a cybernetic replacement.

He thought about how he'd been bested, and how he could avoid it happening again. The Hoplite that attacked me used the sides of its shield as a lethal cutting weapon. I parried its spear with the butt of my rifle, then drew a combat knife and tried to stab it. It was faster than I anticipated, and blocked the dagger, then struck me with the shield, dazing me long enough to strike me across the chest. The shield has to be treated as a separate weapon in its own right.

"Spartan Oh Eight Seven, callsign: Kelly, has had her throat slit with a thin object of indistinguishable composition. She has suffered severe blood loss and has entered a state of brain death. Place her in cryogenic storage immediately."

Kelly had been the only Spartan able to take on the Hoplites in close quarters, matching its speed and using her raw strength to kill it in a single strike. But then it had struck her in the throat with its shield. Kelly did not know the shield functioned as a stabbing weapon, and had not prepared for it.

John saw Fred's Mjolnir armor removed, and caught a glimpse of the over a dozen stab wounds through it. Fred was the close quarters combat specialist of the Spartans, and was notorious for his love of knives and other stabbing weapons. He had fought the Hoplite that attacked him, and even forced it on a back foot. Only for the Hoplite to somehow extend its shield and wrap itself around Fred's hand. With his hand caught in a lock, Fred had been left open to a flurry of deep stab wounds through the chest, before having his eyes cut out.

"Spartan One Oh Four has been attacked by a long stilleto-esque energy dagger, and received thirteen stabs through the chest. His heart has been nicked, and his right lung has been punctured." There was a hiss as Fred's helmet was removed, and one of the Doctors cursed loudly. "Spartan One-Oh-Four has been cut across the face and lost both his eyes. Remaining ocular matter and the intact nature of his eye sockets make in-situ flash-cloning a possibility. Recommend starting immediately to optimize regrowth"

They finally entered a large white room filled with advanced surgical equipment, and the Spartans were quickly transferred over to large medical beds. John felt needles being inserted into his wrists, powerful restraints wrapping around his limbs. Large mechanical arms descended from the ceiling, all fitted with surgical components. One of the arms sprayed an antiseptic fluid across his chest, which burned with an almost purifying pain. John didn't fight it, recognizing it as saving him from a potential infection. An arm with an injector descended from the ceiling and was pressed against his neck. There was a brief hiss, and everything went dark.

2300, December 7th, 2542.
Nanolaminate Foundry, Outskirts of Assembly Yard Gamma.

Nialla leaped from the dead drone towards the next, maneuvering deftly with her thrusters as she slammed the creature down towards the hard ground. It crunched beneath her weight when they hit the ground, and made a sickening Squelching noise. She fabricated her Omni-blade, and stabbed it into the creature's skull. Killing it instantly.

The human Lieutenant had managed to rally a defense around the foundry district by the cross-drop battalion. But it hadn't done much to halt the Covenant. The Coalition lines had already been pushed back half a mile around, leaving the foundry exposed and surrounded. Ravager Squad was flying around from position to position, throwing themselves into every hallway, alley, or sewer entrance that the Brutes were trying to get through. The Foundry was large, and in the middle of a sprawl of almost urban development, full of narrow alleyways, underground access paths, as well as wide open streets over which cargo vehicles could move.

Nialla felt something punch through her chest. Error reports appeared over the top right corner of her cybernetic eyes, not her helmet. She flew out of control, and slammed down at the entrance of a vehicle pool. The impact shook her to her bones. Anaesthetics were released in her bloodstream, and automatic repair systems began kicking in. A firm hand grabbed her by the collar, and began pulling her away to safety.

She looked at the source, seeing that it was First Lieutenant Anderson. The ODST's helmet was cracked, and he had a nasty cut across his side. The man was firing a shotgun with just one hand, blasting back a Brute that rushed up with a brutal looking maul. He was dragging her towards the Motor pool, inside of which several squads of ODST's were making their stand. Their overlapping fields of fire gunned down the oncoming Brutes, even as members of them started falling from pinpoint carbine fire, or the massive burning spikes of the Covenant Spikers.

Another Armiger slammed down onto a brute that Anderson had hit in the chest, thrusting the tip of an omni-bayonet into the skull of the beast. Pallonis performed a backwards flip and landed in front of Nialla, laying down suppressive fire for the wounded Turian. Nialla activated her omni-tool and shot a thick blast of Omni-gel into the wound in her chest. She pulled out her pistol, firing into the skull of a Brute that was attempting to swing the blade of its Spiker at Pallonis. The Brute recoiled and stumbled, collapsing into a heap.

"Sergeant Nialla. Are you okay?" Anderson asked as he dragged her into the motor pool, and put her behind a wall, then leaned out to face the oncoming Covenant. He pumped a nonexistent slide, looked a bit befuddled for just a moment, then opened fire again. The motor pool was rapidly being turned into a fortress. Holes punched into walls to fire out, flash-fabricated mines thrown out into the weapon, while machine guns set up crossfires.

Nialla held out a hand to be pulled up, and the human pulled her up. The man radiated a sense of calm self-assured power that was infectious. She felt safe in his presence, and perhaps a little bit excited by his voice. She squashed the thought, and nodded. "I'm good. Automatic repairs have fixed the spinal damage." Her back arched, and she had lost one of her internal oxygen tanks.

"Good. We need everyone in the fight. The counter-attack should be arriving soon to push the Covenant back again." Anderson said, only to suddenly go quiet.

"What's wrong?" She asked, a hint of panic in her voice. Had the Covenant done something to the reinforcements, or had something happen in orbit. She glanced up, expecting to see a Covenant ship charging its glassing beam. But there was nothing to see except for the massive air battle taking place overhead.

"The tank forces and mechanized infantry have been diverted to counter another Covenant attack coming to relieve the city." Anderson then paused again, holding a hand against the side of his head. His body language changed from surprise to blatant horror.

Suddenly Anderson yelled at the top of his lungs, amplifying his ""

"Chemical weapons are being dropped on our position!" Anderson yelled, and quickly began spraying omni-gel over his cracked armor.

Nialla almost froze up in surprise, but her body still acted by pure instinct as she followed the routine drills she'd been practicing since she was a child. Her armor was intact, and all her seals tested as positive. She turned Anderson around against his will, but he did not protest, and checked him up and down. She then felt an ODST rush over and examine her, and spray Omni-gel onto a compromised section.

"Are the Covenant gassing us?" Kelnara asked, slamming down next to Anderson. She was carrying two wounded ODST"s, one under each arm, and put them inside the Motor Pool, where ODST Medics took them from the Turian. Behind her came Yeltis and the Twins. Gelvod had a large hole in his armor that had been patched with omni-gel, while Gelnis was missing his left armor.

"We are." Anderson said. "The Batarians are dumping nerve gas across the whole city."

FUCK. Nialla cursed inwardly. "The four-eyed bastards are using chemical warfare on our positions!?"

Then it came. Creeping from the other side of the motor pool came an insidious green mist that quickly went across the ground. Nialla paused, quietly praying to the Spirits that her armor would hold. The gas passed over her, and wafted towards the Covenant lines, where the Brutes had been joined by large formations of Grunts and Jackals, poised to assault the Foundry and take it. Which they would have undoubtedly. The Brutes paused in the middle of their charge, and seemed to hesitate. When a shell landed in their midst, from which another cloud of gas emerged.

Then the screaming began

The Grunts and Jackals screamed, clutching at swelling throats and bleeding eyes, as they almost seemed to come apart. The flesh of the smaller Covenant species began rotting. Grunt exoskeletons started to crack and peel off, while Jackals almost seemed to fall apart as their thin joints practically disappeared as if nothing had happened.

"I think I'm gonna be sick." Buck said as he emerged from the storage depot that he and his squad had been using for cover, making gagging noises at the sight.

The Brutes charged through the gas, roaring in defiance as their eyes ran red with blood, and they collapsed in bloody coughing fits. Their spasms of agony were so violent it looked like their bones were breaking. Drones began raining from the air, slamming into the ground with brutal crunching noises. Their attacks continued but were repelled with almost pitiable ease.

The gunfire and explosions around the battlefield stopped. Then was replaced by quick double taps, as the Coalition soldiers began to put down the victims of the gas. The ODST's, Asari Commandos, and the Turian Armigers of the Cross-Drop-Battalion emerged from cover to look upon a quickly developing hellscape. Bodies lay all around their defences, but many more of the Covenant were dying a slow and lingering death.

There were blasts of flame in the distance as humanoid figures in jet black armor, wielding large flamethrowers or what looked like Harpoon rifles marched. Their armor had just a few individual marks, that of the Special Intervention Unit. The Hegemony's premiere death squads.

Their flamethrowers spat clouds of noxious acidic chemicals that melted their way through anything it touches, turning vast chunks of the Foundries into roaring infernos, as the very metal and soil seemed to catch on fire. They advanced with an almost cruel but calculating precision, their harpoon-rifles punching through the few fully armored Covenant that remained, the projectiles expanding inside their targets and ripping them apart, before retracting again for easy pickup.

Huge plumes of fire rose up in the distance as low flying gunships dropped fuel air bombs upon Covenant formation. The Covenant Assembly yard had little that could burn, but the Batarians somehow still set large chunks on fire. Nialla didn't even want to think about what kind of chemicals they were using in their flames.

"We should help them." Anderson almost seemed to mutter at the sight, and this seemed to spur the Coalition soldiers out of their stupor. They advanced in squads, sweeping their way forward. But found nothing alive.

Nialla felt sick at the sight, and was filled with an irrational desire to run from the cloud of death she was inside. Her squad passed a corner, where they came upon a Batarian mechanized formation engaging a Covenant opposite.

Batarian tanks were duelling at close range with Wraiths, while soldiers in suits emerged from armored vehicles wielding flamethrowers and their harpoon Covenant were trying to launch an armored assault, but whatever flames the Batarians were using stuck to the Wraiths as if they were made of wood. The vehicles turned into blazing torches, with crews scrambling out, only to be gunned down by the advancing Batarians. Nialla's armor indicated the air was filled with lethal levels of chlorine gas.

Brutes and Elites in full body armor were engaged in vicious close quarters combat with the Batarians, who had lit Omni-fists, blade gauntlets, and other brutal melee implements. The Batarians ripped out organs with blade gauntlets with hooks on them, dragged down Brutes with flash-fabricated chains, and laid down withering streams of automatic fire at the Covenant. Nialla's suit indicated that the rounds were a foul concoction of Caesium and Polonium, designed to tumble inside their targets.

Gunships flew overhead, while Batarian tanks rolled down the streets. They piled out of Mechanized transports, or marched up the streets. They looked eager to fight and ready to kill.

"Should- should we help them?" Kelnara asked, her shotgun shaking. She glanced at Nialla for advice.

"We… Yeah, we should." Nialla mouthed and walked over towards the body of a Brute that was still twitching. She shot it in the head, then wandered over to the next, almost in a haze. "Put them down."

2300, December 7th, 2542.
CIC Bridge, UNSC Trafalgar, Ectanus 45 system.

-"Tell them to take it up with Matriarch Aethyta. She ordered the Batarians to keep their deployments a secret." Cole told Dove with every last bit of courtesy he had left. "You are in the inner city, are you not?" He cursed inwardly. He was the highest commander of the invasion at the moment.

Cole was furious. Aethyta and he had talked about keeping the Batarians as a reserve to breach the Covenant cities. But when the battle for Gamma had nearly been lost, she had ordered the Batarians to throw the Covenant back. But the methods they'd used had been beyond horrific. The Batarians had shown up with minimal warning, they had deployed a horrific onslaught of chemical weapons upon the Covenant forces defending the approaches to the inner city, then sent in their toughest and most brutal fighters to wipe out the remaining defenders.

They had done as ordered, but the other commanders on the ground had been surprised to say the least. The Asari and Human generals had been horrified at the sudden deployment of chemical weapons.

Sure, the UNSC had stockpiled nerve weapons. But they rarely used them as the Covenant had a history of ruthlessly hunting down caches of the weapons, or winning too quickly for any deployment to be authorized. And the mixture of Fluorine-based fuel air bombs, flamethrowers, and nerve toxins that the Batarians had dumped on the Covenant was devised with a level of cruelty that Cole could only wish human scientists weren't capable of.

Dove suddenly appeared on the screen, his holographic avatar flashing red. "Fleet Admiral. The Covenant are powering up their Slipspace engines!"

Cole almost wanted to weep at the statement. "All ships. Attack while they charge their drives! All Coalition ships, charge and attack!"

2300, December 7th, 2542.
Shrine bridge, Covenant supercarrier Through Moonlight Reflection Upon This Faithfull Odyssey Do We Find Salvation From This Universe Of Sin, In Which We Have Been Shackled (abbreviation: Moonlight Reflection), low Chi Rho orbit, Ectanus 45 system.

Thel glanced at the information he was receiving from across Chi Rho, and the Ectanus system. All the fleet positioning was displayed before him on a grand holographic map. He perused what he saw, thinking over just what his options were at the moment.

He'd lost.

Everything had gone well just moments before. The Prelates, whose deployment had remained secret even to him, had struck against the special forces deployed in the primary Assembly Yard, and successfully defended it. But they had lost half their number so far. They had died slaying the strongest group of Demons the Covenant knew off, martyring themselves for the cause. Returning with their bodies would help to appease the High Council. And from the other Yards he had received word that The Silent Shadow had claimed the skulls of Ten Spartans. They would bring these with them, Gild them, and present them to Hierarchs.

The forces of the Primary assembly yard had sallied forth towards the nearest other Assembly Yard, and seemed set to destroy the landing zone.

But then, the four-eyed aliens had suddenly hit his only successful breakout attempts with gas bombardments and fluorine-based fuel air weapons. The force emerging from the Primary Assembly Yard was in a stalemate, while the Assembly Yard it had tried to relieve was projected to fall within the day.

The Humans were deploying massive amounts of heavy war material that they hadn't done for most of the war, and it was grinding his forces down. If he had had just a few more ships and orbital defense grids, he was sure that he could have contested the landing more meaningfully and stopped the humans from landing all this equipment.

But there had just been far too many ships. Over ten thousand of the Citadel's ships were swarming the system and harassing his supply lines, while the Humans had deployed their new countermeasures and were still holding strong. The fighting had turned into a long ranged duel, even as the fleets he had sent to hide behind the planet's moon to recharge their shields had come to rejoin the main battle.

Across the system, he was being pushed back by the Salarians and the Asari, and they were threatening to envelop Chi Rho and hit it from all directions. And the Human fleet had fought with a hitherto unimaginable level of competence and fury. Without reliable plasma torpedoes, his total firepower was much diminished. The next engagement would go like the first. Both fleets would destroy a vast chunk of the other, and the Covenant would lose more of its total power with each ship lost. And as his ships grew more and more damaged, the Turians could strike again and again upon his weakened ships.

And in the event they lost, what would become of the Covenant? He could only imagine the thousands of Citadel ships heading into Covenant space, completely unopposed in any meaningful way until High Charity broke from its political stupor and managed a defense. He had also seen the reports of cloaked ships hitting his supply lines.

In his mind's eye he could imagine thousands of ships attacking across the Covenant frontier, deploying nuclear weapons across isolated worlds, hitting disorganized local defensive fleets, and cutting through the trade that was the lifeblood of the Covenant. This would lead to rebellion and insurrection across the tributary worlds. His fleets could become the core of a new fleet to defend the Western Fringes. He could press-gang more crew, set up orbital defenses, and impress civilian shipping.

He made the order. "All ground forces. We have lost this battle. And although my hearts yearn for an honorable death, doing so would be beyond selfish. We are the only fleet still active in the western fringes of the Covenant. If we are destroyed, then the heartland of our Union will be undefended. We must be the bulwark of the Western Fringes. You must make the heretics pay. Die well."

Thel said the words that might doom himself. "All ships fall back to Zhoist immediately. We are abandoning Human space."

He walked towards his command throne and sat down. "May the gods forgive me. For I just became the first Fleet Master to retreat an entire armada." The Sangheili on the ship turned to look at him. But to his surprise, there was no anger, no resentment. They looked understanding, and many even nodded slowly in agreement. These Sangheili knew true duty extended beyond the search for a glorious death, and for a brief moment, Thel was almost overcome with pride.

2305, December 7th, 2542.
CIC Bridge, UNSC Trafalgar, Ectanus 45 system.

As the Covenant fleet began to turn away from Chi Rho and charge their Slipspace Drives, the Coalition fell upon them. The Trafalgar led the charge, its engines burning at the safety limit, its twin Super MAC guns roaring and shaking the superstructure of the ship it fired upon the rear of the Covenant fleet. Two Battlecruisers were torn apart and they were split clean through, while a volley of nuclear missiles three flights of Stormcutter escorts into nothing more than a cloud of shrapnel and debris.

But the Covenant were too far away, and threatened to escape before the UNSC could make full use of their weakened state.

Then Slipspace rifts formed in close proximity to the leaving Covenant fleet. A hundred and fifty converted civilian ships, cargo freighters with nuclear weapons, and custom built warships of designs unknown to the UNSC, jumped into the system. At their lead was a heavily modified UNSC light frigate. The UNSC Bellicose, Captained by the love of his life. She had answered his call after all. Cole smiled. His Wife always had a proper sense of timing.

The former Insurrectionists dived into the formation of the Covenant, firing barrages of missiles all around them at the Covenant fleet as they were transitioning into Slipspace. Engines were blown off by swarms of missiles, jury-rigged MAC guns punched through reactors and shut down Slipspace rifts in catastrophic explosions. The lead Covenant ships were unable to safely transition safely into Slipspace. Over a hundred Covenant ships were burning in the void as fifty remaining rebel ships reached the other side of the Covenant formation. Still led by the Bellicose, now proudly bearing battle scars along the side.

The UNSC fleet joined in the pounding, destroying eighty Covenant ships as their MAC guns caught the Covenant ships as they attempted to enter slipspace. The unshielded craft were vulnerable as they were moving to enter into Slipspace, and they suffered horrendous losses as missiles found purchase within engines, and blew them apart. Hulls were ripped and torn open by Archer Missile volleys, while Slipspace Drives shorted out from power failures and tore the ships apart as they attempted to jump.

Cole's eyes were fixed upon the largest Covenant ship that remained. The Supercarrier was starting to jump. And he had no intention of letting the ship escape. He grinned as he waited for what was to come. The Supercarrier slid into the Slipspace rift, the front half slowly disappearing through the portal.

There was a brief flash of light, and then a monstrous explosion as the rear of the Supercarrier was vaporized as Verdun's overcharged Super MAC round struck true. The rear of the Supercarrier was blown apart as its reactor core was punctured, and the monumental amount of energy contained within was released. The Slipspace portal violently slammed shut in a discharge of energy that crippled two dozen of the surrounding Covenant ships.

The Turian ships dove in, their Captains eager to avenge their fallen Fleet Admiral. They flew through the Covenant formation, strafing torn hulls, or launching torpedoes into engines.

Cole sat in silence as the final rifts began closing. He glanced at the confirmed kills. The Coalition had lost half their ships in a day of hellish fighting, and there were still millions of Covenant soldiers upon the surface of Chi Rho. But the battle in space was over. Five hundred escorts, A hundred and thirty-two Battlecruisers, six Assault Carriers, and a Supercarrier. The UNSC had lost almost half its ships, with the Citadel losing nine thousand ships. The losses weighed heavily on his conscience. But they had made the Covenant pay, and would secure a bounty of Covenant technology from all the salvage they could now perform in the system.

"Fleet Admiral. The planet!" Dove suddenly yelled, bringing up an image of Chi Rho. And the massive explosions upon the surface. Every Assembly Yard had detonated their reactors simultaneously, transforming the cities into small suns that had consumed everything within hundreds of miles in a fireball. The only cities that still stood were the Supervolcano and Gamma which had been disabled by Grey Team.

That thought sent Panic through Cole's mind. Had Black, Red, or Omega team managed to exfiltrate like they had attempted, or had they also been destroyed by the Covenant's spiteful final action. What about the troops upon the surface? There had been millions of soldiers attacking the Assembly Yards.

"Dove. Casualties." Cole ordered calmly. He felt the emotions he'd been suppressing for so long begin to bubble up.

Dove didn't answer immediately. His avatar transformed into a messenger pigeon, which began flapping its wings and flying off. After a few seconds of waiting, the dove transformed back into the AI's regular avatar. The AI spoke slowly, as if it was mincing its words. "Twenty million were in the blast radii. Fifteen million UNSC. Casualties unknown." silence descended upon the bridge at the statement.

Cole nodded calmly. Then he felt a stabbing sensation in his shoulder. "I see. Well done, Dove." The Fleet Admiral saw the gazes and stares of the bridge crew as they looked at him, whereupon they awkwardly looked away and averted his gaze. They didn't want to see Cole break down like what had happened when Karandis had fallen.

Then Cole collapsed onto the deck.

"Medical to the bridge! Cole is having a heart attack!" Dove yelled, the simulated voice filled with genuine panic. The AI's avatar transformed into just the dove through which it spoke, flailing its wings around wildly. There was a flurry of motion as the Marine guards rushed over to him, turning the Fleet Admiral around, and tearing open his uniform. Cole smiled softly as he looked at the lights on the ceiling.

"Nothing to worry about. Get back to your posts. We have a war to fight." He muttered. "No time for… time for… time." He closed his eyes and let darkness take him, just as the first Medic stormed onto the bridge. He was sure it wouldn't be too bad. He would get fixed up, then right back to work.

Just like he always did.