-1Project Sleipnir

Disclaimer: I do not own Halo nor any characters that starred in Halo, nor do I own certain technologies I was impressed by in other games (one being Master of Orion 2, and I will mention them at the end of each chapter with a few descriptions for any tech heads out there). The only characters that I own are the ones I have created as backup to the ones in the game. Any similarities to characters live or fictional owned or created by others is purely coincidental. As for the mech like armor, I personally like the look of Heavy Gears from the RPG Heavy Gear created by Dream Pod 9 and ACs from Armored Core Series, so that is the look of the armor. If there is any other problems arising that I did not address I apologize for not putting them in and will do so if given notice. All ideas used to make this story progress and all the information and people created are either owned by Halo or by me. Plagiarism will not be accepted (get your own ideas on your stories please.) REVISION INFORMATION PLACED thanks for the wait all, however I noticed I was being plagiarized by a TheSilentWinter, copying all of my first 3 chapters (excluding the master chief information) and altering the wording somewhat, but basically all the story is still there, including a (spoiler) line of Garrett talking about liquid nitro down his pants. I do not condone this, get your own damned ideas for stories, I made this story from MY mind, and I simply set it in the halo universe to add a bit more interest. Please, I understand most people who read this are other writers, yes you may gain ideas for your own stories, but do not steal things from people where we work so hard to write these. We expect criticism to work harder and alter our errors, not someone taking our thoughts and making them their own, and not giving you credit. Power to the creative minded, and I feel sorry for those who must steal from another to feel noticed. Now, on with the story, and for all those who send reviews to me, I hate flames, I want criticism, of course this will not be realistic for the most part, it's in a game universe, and technology is way out there. The criticism I will use to better my writing skills, as you would expect. As for the paragraphs, yes, somewhat mashed, but it was a way I noticed some other writers used that I am quite a fan to (I give credit to Harman Meyerhoff if you ever read this, APAGEAR II online website writer, for inspiring my writing and sense of humor) anyways, read on…

"God, I hate this cold" Lieutenant Garrett Gryphen sat bunched up in his little foxhole he made a couple of days earlier. It wasn't much, but it helped somewhat against the wind on Valeius. It was about 10 degrees below zero, but the way things were going it felt more like someone had poured liquid nitro into his pants to see if he would say hello to the world. He had a few supplies, nothing much: a few blankets, a combat knife that was chipped at the hilt, his MA6B Battle Rifle with half a clip in it, four extra clips and an M6D pistol that looked like it had seen better days. The Marines on this colony had been fighting for nine weeks straight, and no matter how much the covies pounded on them, they simply would not budge.

The weird thing was, the covenant could have bombarded the place to hell and back twenty times over if they wanted to. The UNSC fleets in the area were either destroyed long ago, escaped to neighboring planets, or were sent to protect Earth, leaving the grunts planet side with as many provisions as they could spare. Garrett blew into his hands as he saw the familiar figure of a warthog rumble out on the distance. The distinctive sound of the chains on the wheels somehow made things feel a bit reassuring. Not that it mattered much; the covenant had found it easier to just use infantry instead of vehicles as there was too much snow.

Most hover vehicles that were dropped for the alien ground pounders found that the turbofans and anti-grav systems either clogged or froze, not that the warthogs and scorpions fared any better. The warthogs did still work, but only because of the little heat the engine could give off and three times as much maintenance a day. Make sure you don't run through my pit you crazy bastard Garrett thought to himself. There had been more than one occasion when a warthog had nearly run him over in his frozen dirt womb. There was even a time when one was hit by a barker, and flipped over and nearly pinned him in his spot.

The good news was that it provided some fantastic defense and he hosed a few grunts and four elites trying to push through. The bad news was it had started to leak gas into the hole and he couldn't get out until someone helped him. "Alpha six three zero do you copy, over" chirped over his com set. "This is Alpha six three zero to Zulu command." The static buffers were having a field day with trying to cut through the weather.

"Garrett, how's it hangin out there? Any sign of them?" Garrett peeked over the lip of his pit to spy on the surroundings for a brief second, and then ducked down again. Keeping your head up for a second was okay for reconnaissance; leaving your head up there was making yourself a target. "Nothing yet, but the show isn't over. We still have a parade waiting for them." Static flared as he finished speaking, and he couldn't make out the first couple of words from command.

"Last transmission breaking up, come back over" he responded. Not having the info is never a good thing. "Your guard duty is hittin nineteen now, you should come back and get warmed up. We'll send another to relieve you." Garrett felt relieved. He had spent almost a full day in the frozen wasteland with not even a sign of the enemy.

This was a bad thing. They usually attacked once a day, but mostly repelled. As he chirped in a response to get a bunk set up, he heard a faint sound of crunching in the distance. His hearing was always good, and it saved his life and his comrades more than once. Feet upon snow about sixty feet away from him, and there were multiple pairs.

He gripped his gun. There was no way relief could get here that quickly.

Zeras'Aldes moved as carefully as he could with his escort of hunters and jackals, but with all the snow around it was difficult to move without making a loud crunch sound. He couldn't see anything out in the light blizzard, but he knew where he was going. His trackers had pin pointed the human base and he was going in to assess the situation. Recon was not exactly glorious, but it was essential. "C'mon you laggers move quicker or the prophets will have our heads! We must gain this intelligence or we'll never find the cache of artifacts! Move!" and with that, he kicked one of the jackals in the ass.

The jackal brought his shield over his head and jogged forward a bit faster, screaming in the process for a short moment. What imbeciles I'm stuck with he thought. He could be in a blazing battle, rending humans' limb from limb, but he was stuck with a group of horribly trained recon units. His gold armor had a few marks and battle medals for his devotion to the prophets, and yet he was still put with gathering intelligence. He stopped for a moment and scanned his surroundings.

This was the least guarded flank, mostly infantry as the human vehicles were kept closer to the buildings to keep maintained. That left quite a few Marines in the area to fight if they got heard. But where were they? All he could see was snow, rocks and trees. Not a living thing around.

Not that he minded, it just felt like he was walking in unaware. He was at the coordinates given to him, but he didn't know where the base was. Just when he was going to turn and head the party left, the lead hunter's back became pock marked with rifle fire. He dived to the ground and rolled then dashed to a boulder for cover. He threw a plasma grenade just as a jackal flew through the air from a frag hit nearby.

The others fired wildly while gaining cover. Looks like he was going to see action after all.

Garrett sprayed the area in front of him with his rifle, emptied his clip, and loaded a fresh one, all while pulling out another grenade. The other marines nearby followed similar actions and opened a hail of biting metal wind. He locked the clip in place and peered from his well concealed hidey hole. The plates planted on top of his hole with snow on them provided the best camo ever, and he could still pop up from an area that was obscured by a bush. He still couldn't believe that that bush was still alive even in this winter.

He opened fire again, hit a jackal in the leg, saw it buckle, and saw another bullet pierce the opening in its shield and into the jackals chest. Purple blood spurted out like a geyser onto the ground as the bullet shredded clean through and pinged off of the shields of the gold elite. The elite rolled to better cover and threw another grenade on top of a fox hole. The marine shot out of it as fast as he could, but was cut down by fuel rod guns. The others continued to return fire, but the jackals were dropping like flies.

Suddenly, an opening for the elite! The Gold armored behemoth shot for it and ran. The others tried to follow, but few made it through. "Don't let him get away Lieutenant. We need what info he has. There has to be a reason for them not glassing us." Easy for you to say. You're not out here pissing off a few hunters.

"Cover me" Garrett yelled as he pressed a button on his helmet for his squad to break and follow him. The remaining marines threw as many grenades as they could then continued their barrage. Most of his squad made it through, but one PFC took a plasma bolt through the left leg and was grounded, right next to a foxhole which he was pulled into. A nearby bunker roared to life with three chain guns taken from destroyed warthogs. The few jackals that followed the elite were cut down, but the hunters continued on, thoroughly angry.

Garrett chased after, pulling his pistol and taking shots at the hunter's backs. They knew better. All the hunters arched up and tilted their armor to allow better protection of their backs. It left their front stomach area open, but no one was firing from that angle were they? Garrett ran as hard as he could, his squad mates laying waste one at a time to the hunters.

They eventually reached a small forest area, and there the elite stopped. He turned and got ready for a charge. If this was to be his fate, he would rather die than give in to being a prisoner to the humans. And at that moment, the ground fell out from under him and the remaining three hunters, as well as under the marines. Apparently the gunfire hitting into the ground caused a cave away, and into an area not known.

Garrett fell into darkness, then hit the ground and lost consciousness from the impact. Wherever he was, he was an easy target.

(So… Garrett is in an unknown area and now he gets knocked out. "Murphy's Law: what can go wrong, will go wrong" goes well here. A perfectly planned mission comes crashing to the ground. But where is he? Barker: a mine with a cone like blast radius that sounds similar to a dog barking when it goes off. Normally used against lightly armored vehicles or infantry, but can be modified to deliver heavier ordinance in the area of effect.