AN: in the process of a rewrite.

Millions of stars burn bright across the galaxy, Countless wonders spanning far and wide, waiting to be discovered by travelers with the courage to brave them. Still, no matter many wonders a galaxy might contain, most if not all of them are useless when the travelers are faced with extinction.

And there were no places left to hide.

"Evans! Take evasive maneuvers!" Shouted the warship's Captain.

"Yes sir!" Came the nervous response of the crewmen, desperately trying to stay calm.

"Sir!" Yelled another noncom. "Enemy Carrier is releasing a squadron of Seraph fighters, together with a dozen… make that two dozen troop transports!"

The Captain bit back a curse. He had to appear in control, even if he knew that there was no way out of this one. Their enemy was as relentless as they were efficient. "Spin up the autocannons and target those boats. I want the troop transports dead."

"Aye sir!"

Throughout it all, Jacobs, the only AI onboard, watched the humans frantically try to fight their way out of the fight. He might have wondered why they persevered like this, had he not been a so-called "dumb AI". He could never reach the full-blown personalities of smart AI's, neither could his imagination reach infinity.

He was, however, particularly good at his job; ship navigation and repelling single-ship fighters. A micro-second after the order was given, the AI took control over the guns and made sure that every bullet went where it was supposed to go: straight into the Covenant's fighters.

That knowledge did reassure Captain Ryan Spenser of the UNSC Platernus at all.

This is all going to hell, he grimly thought. A middle-aged man, Captain Spenser was no stranger to the war. When his ship jumped to a random Slipspace trajectory to escape destruction at the hands of his hated foe, he had not expected to find himself in Covenant controlled space.

His ship was a Destroyer, 500 meters long and in possession of two meters thick armour plating, two MAC-cannons and more than 30 oversized Archer-Missile pods. It was a beauty, as deadly as it was sturdy.

A hundred of such ships wouldn't have been enough. A mere hour ago, he witnessed the Covenant – a collection of alien races hellbent on human extinction – burn another world to ash. Aegis III, with a population of ten million, was now a shimmering orb of glass. The Platernus barely made it out in one piece, but it appeared the Covenant was trying their damnest to rectify that.

"Sir, enemy fighters are targeting our autocannons! They are trying to punch through a hole to get their transports to board us!" Yelled his navigational officer.

Why waste troops trying to take our ship when they could simply have their carrier blast us to hell?

Their ship had stumbled into Covenant-held space by accident. Their only saving grace was the fact that they were only facing one enemy vessel. Even so, the UNSC only won battles in space when they outnumbered the enemy three to one. This was not a fight they could win.

"Adams!" Captain Ryan yelled. "Warm up the MAC cannon and prepare to fire at coordinates three-two-zero by eight-five three."

"Sir!"

There would be no reinforcements. The Captain and his crew weren't technically in this sector of space. They were not even on a mission. They didn't exist, strictly speaking. They were a black operations skeleton crew, just enough to pilot the ship to its destination - which was classified to everyone save for a select few individuals.

They originated from the Office of Naval Intelligence, ONI for short. The organization that protected mankind, whatever the cost.

The most prominent project that ONI created was the SPARTAN-II program. Originally designed to counter the growing amount of rebellion and terrorist activity, the SPARTAN program was the real tide-turner in the war Human-Covenant war. Wherever a Spartan appeared, soldiers would rally and fight with renewed vigor. They inspired hope in everyone they met, while at the same time being avoided and shunned when the rare occasion arose that people would meet them outside of the battlefield.

Human nature. They feared that which they could not understand Even though the majority of mankind practically worshipped the Spartans, they would never know where the Spartans truly came from. How they came to be.

As they damn well never should. Only a few knew of the truth behind the SPARTAN project. If they ever found out, people would rebel against the UNSC.

"MAC cannon is ready to fire sir!" Adams yelled.

"Fire at will!"

A shudder shot through the UNSC Platernus as two bolts of white-hot metal were launched from its sides. The two 600-ton MAC rounds raced through the vacuum, as if they were trying to best each other. The Covenant carrier saw the threat coming and tried to take evasive maneuvers. Whoever was piloting that vessel wasn't smart or fast enough to move their ship in such short notice and the twin bolts smacked into its sides.

The ship spun with momentum and for a moment, its underside floated up. The two MAC rounds had hit the shields at their strongest, their momentum getting divided and spread alongside the sides as the shield tried to smoothen up the damage.

But the two rounds had hit the ship almost at the same time, nearly at the same spot. MAC rounds weren't naturally that accurate, but Jacobs had the tendency to overcome that inaccuracy by adjusting the fire controls. He wasn't ordered to do so - a fact that might have disturbed Captain Spenser somewhat, had it not been for the AI's destructive results. Because of the near-perfect accuracy of the hit, the Carrier's shields were unable to smoothen up the damage without flickering and fading away.

One or two crewmembers cheered or mumbled praises to their selves, but their victory was short-lived. Several seraph fighters scored a direct hit on the .50 cal autocannons. Without those guns protecting the Destroyer's sides, the troop transports had no problem slipping past the UNSC's defenses and boarding the vessel.

Alarms flared as the crew realized that several ships had managed to board them and they proceeded to take the necessary actions. Normally, the human defenders wouldn't have been a match for the Covenants troops.

Then again, there wasn't anything normal about this encounter. When the colony Aegis III was found by the Covenant, every available ship in Slipspace was pulled to system defense duty. The Platernus was on its way with the valuable cargo to the mission-site when they received the planet's distress call and they were forced to stop halfway to come to the colony's aid. When it became apparent that the planet was doomed, every ship still in orbit took in as much humans as they could before jumping to random Slipspace coordinates - as per Cole Protocol. Their destroyer had picked up two companies of marines - for a total of 328 soldiers - when their duty had come.

That being said, as soon as the enemy's shielding was breached, they had launched so many new fighters and troop transports that they could have put Earth's largest hornet's nest to shame many times over.

There was one consolation though. Zulu and Foxtrot Company weren't the only fighting force present on the Platernus. Every crewmember had received extensive combat training and there were two full platoons of battle-hardened Orbital Drop Shock Troopers present. That put the number of soldiers on their ship to 400 combat ready soldiers, plus one other soldier. A soldier who spent the majority of the ride from Aegis III to wherever the hell they were now in cryo-sleep. A soldier so deadly, so powerful, that even the mightiest Covenant forces feared him.

That soldier was a Spartan. Not one of the much-vaunted SPARTAN-II's, which arguably made him even more of a surprise to the Covenant. No, this Spartan, along with his brothers and sisters, technically didn't exist.

"Captain?" Said the AI. "Enemy transports have successfully penetrated our defenses and are now unloading their troops. The Marines are engaging." He paused. "Two-Sierra is fully active and ready for combat, sir."

The Captain glanced at the AI. Jacobs looked like an old British soldier, complete with an oversized moustache that adorned his upper-lip. "Any idea why we weren't simply blown out of space the moment they encountered us?"

"My guess, sir, would be that they are planning to capture our ship-board Intel. And me."

"And by that, gain access to our most inner colonies." Spenser scowled. "Like hell they will. Tell eleven to head to engineering and greet our friends in person. The company leaders can decide where their marines can be the most effective. Tell the 35th to take up defensive formation to guard the bridge and the 58th to guard the barracks; we will need the equipment."

"Yes sir. "

As soon as the reports of the impending invasion forces had been spread amongst the Marine's officers, Spartan Operator Zero-One-One was waked from his cry-sleep.

The super-soldier barely had the time to blink at the sudden thaw before hearing the familiar voice of his Captain, shouting at him in desperation. Something about the Covenant and engineering.

"Yes sir," he said to nobody in particular. Judging tactical situations in space combat was something he usually left to Spenser. When he realized they were in the middle of nowhere, swimming in Covenant ships, however, he wondered if it wasn't better to just get the hell out of dodge.

Then again, it would take several minutes for the Shaw-Fujikawa Translight Engine -the slipspace engine - to recharge. Whether they fought or not, they were still stuck there. Even if the engine recharged fast enough, the Covenant could still find it and destroy it, consuming the ship in the resulting explosion.

Number eleven sighed. The Captain made the right call, for now. What happened after the engine recharged would determine their fates. Until then, he would defend engineering until further notice.

On his way past the various marines and ODST's running about, the Spartan received a fair share of glares. He paid them no mind and made his way to the barracks. If he was to repel a Covenant invasion force, he would need guns.

"Sir!" One of the marine guards saluted him. "Follow me sir, the armory is right this way."

The Spartan simply nodded and followed the soldier to the barracks. Once he arrived, he walked past the segments containing the side-arms and stopped by the grenades. An explosion at the wrong moment or place could rupture the ship and blast everyone into vacuum. To prevent that, the Platernus was outfitted with lots of bulkheads, more so than the average Destroyer. That made explosives fair game.

He picked up four fragmentation grenades and two packs of C12 explosives; enough to blast a Covenant Wraith tank to smithereens.

After that he grabbed a fully loaded MA5C Assault rifle plus an M90 Shotgun for the really close work. Grabbing enough ammunition for multiple sustained engagements, he walked to the heavy weapons segments. He suppressed the urge to grab a Jackhammer rocket launcher and moved on, realizing that the weapon was too heavy and cumbersome to carry with him all the time. With some luck, he wouldn't need it.

The clattering of automatic weapons discharging sounded in the distance and he knew that the conflict had begun. While the marines defended the key regions of the ship that got assigned to their squads, he would march onwards to the engineering part of the ship and dig in.

"Move it soldier!"

"Yes sergeant!"

"Get to cover men!"

Various cries and shouts echoed through the corridors as the Spartan sprinted towards engineering. The sight of the super-soldier, clad in his snow-white MJOLNIR armour and the EVA helmet that rested on his head, was enough to bolster the Marines' courage.

He didn't stick around for long. The Spartan only stopped to take down an Elite that was about to shoot one of the soldiers, or deliver the killing blow to a downed enemy about to draw a sidearm.

He must have looked like an angel of death to them, he thought. He only showed up to save someone's life and then he moved on. Such was the story of his life.

When he finally arrived at the intersection between Engineering and Cargo-bay 1, he almost ran headfirst into an Elite clad in crimson armor.

The Spartan immediately backed up while firing his assault rifle in short bursts. Why didn't his motion tracker warn him? Was it defect?

The alien warrior looked equally surprised. The fact that he had been stomping around the ship and encountered a Spartan at only two feet distance must have been a confusing situation for the bastard.

Whatever the alien thought, it ceased as soon as the armor-piercing rounds fired by the super-soldier whittled down his personal shielding, ricocheted inside his helmet and turned his brain into minced meat.

As soon as the Elite toppled, the Spartan walked over and grabbed the alien's plasma rifle. Even though he had his own equipment at the ready, he had standing orders from Section Seven at ONI to obtain as much technology of the covenant as possible, so the engineers might be able to reverse-engineer them. At the very least that piece of alien hardware was more efficient at blasting down shielding. And armour. And flesh. Everything he encountered, really. Covenant firearms had always been superior to their UNSC counterparts.

He moved up to the entrance of the engineering department and was surprised to see that the enemy had already established a complete outpost in there. In the split-second that trickled past after the door slit open, he saw that the Covenant had dragged two powerful Shade turrets onboard and set them up on the two catwalks that lined the far left and right walls. There were at least a dozen grunts - four of them veterans, as indicated by their red armor - and five Elites.

Three of those were blue-armored rookies, one of them was a veteran like the one he had encountered on the intersection.

The last one wore golden armor and was armed with an energy sword.

Great.

When the doors opened some of the warriors turned, perhaps expecting to see the Elite that lay dead twenty feet back. What they obviously not expected was the white-armoured soldier that immediately opened fire and killed their two shade-gunners. After that, the warrior shifted fire and fired a sustained burst into the head of the Elite that was the closest, overloading his shield and splattering his brain across the deck.

After the one-second time-lapse between the door opening and the super-soldier killing their turret support and one of their commanders, several grunts panicked and turned tail.

The golden Elite barked a few commands at them and then stabbed one of the fleeing grunts in his side, killing the cowardly creature.

Thankfully the little Grunts had served their purpose all too well, as the Spartan used that brief moment of confusion to lob a grenade between the remaining pack of grunts. He headed towards the consoles to his right, seeking cover from the barrage of plasma that was undoubtedly to follow.

he grenade went off with a loud bang. Body parts fell to the ground, the explosion having claimed at least four Grunts and the crimson-clad Elite

Another Elite one was wounded by the explosion and, shocked and dazed as he was, clutched the stump where his left arm used to hang.

By the time the Spartan reached his cover, the remaining Covenant soldiers returned fire. Plasma burned through layer after layer of metal and soon the console had enough holes for five ODST's to be able to fire through all at once.

The Spartan almost smiled when he unslung his shotgun. He feigned to the right and then dashed from the left side of the console, jumping in the air and twisting to avoid the plasma fired. He pulled the trigger as fast as the weapon would allow.

The slugs fired from the gun were enough to topple multiple Grunts and finish off the wounded Elite, blowing a fist-sized hole in its chest.

The Spartan landed in the midst of the confused Covenant horde and dealt a powerful blow to a Grunt in front of him, sending the alien sailing through the air and landing a dozen feet away.

He moved like a blur, breaking his enemies with his bare hands and the occasional Shotgun blast. By then the golden Elite had closed the distance and swung his blade at him, burning hotter than the sun and causing his internal temperature to spike.

The super-soldier had been taught many moves to disarm and kill an opponent with a bladed weapon and one of those was the best suited, because it would deal with the two rookie elites that still stood near him as well. He stepped closer just as the Elite was about to swing again and sidestepped to his opponents' bladearm, then spun around. He positioned himself right next to the elite and spun his body a few degrees more to his right, while at the same time lowering his own center of balance.

His move worked perfectly and the golden bastard lost his footing, swinging his sword-arm wildly as he slammed to the ground.

The Spartan to his left and delivered a powerful uppercut to the alien's head. After that, he twisted his wrist and ducked underneath the warrior's right arm, preventing himself from being swished in half.

The Commander roared in pain and anger, infuriated at his inability to kill this armor-clad quick human.

His frustration was short lived, as the Spartan brought his hand down on the Elite's neck and broke it. The Elite went limp and, before the sword could clatter to the ground, the Spartan spun around again, slicing the nearest Elite in half. Plasma fire hit him square in his chest and his shielding dropped dangerously low.

Next, he dropped the golden alien and jumped away, before the remaining few grunts and their only commander could kill him. Brandishing his assault rifle, he side-stepped to his right and squeezed off a few shots, toppling the grunts. The Elite roared with frustration and charged at the Spartan, firing his plasma rifle until it overheated.

With his shields fully depleted and the ambient temperature dangerously high, the human would be in serious trouble had his enemy controlled his fire. But now, as the Elite's weapon overheated, the Spartan closed in within a second and delivered a few crushing blows to the alien's chest. Finally, he twisted on his leg and roundhouse kicked the bastard in his four mandibles, breaking its skull and its neck.

The Spartan pivoted, checking for more hostiles.

There were none. Engineering was secure, for now.

He snatched a few plasma grenades from his fallen enemies and scanned his surroundings. The next wave of enemies would undoubtedly arrive soon,

Meanwhile, Captain Spenser swore underneath his breath as he issued order after order. Two more frigates had appeared out of Slipspace, reinforcing the lone Carrier. They would be within weapons range in less than four minutes and their destroyer still had five minutes to go.

The waiting was nerve-wrecking, to the point where more than a few of his crewmembers suggested a Slipspace jump without the engine having been fully charged.

When Ryan inquired whether such a maneuver ever worked before, AI told him that it had been attempted only twice. Both times the ships had been completely annihilated.

That left him with two options: one, remain there while the Shaw-Fujikawa engine recharged, fighting to repel the borders and wait to see whether they would survive being a minute under Covenant guns.

The second option seemed much simpler: attempt the jump without sufficient power and risk being completely destroyed.

At least the Spartan managed to secure engineering. That gave the Captain enough time to exhaust all the other options before deciding.

"Sir?" Jacobs inquired.

"Give me some good news, please!" Growled Spenser.

"Very well. The good news is that the soldiers are still preventing Covenant forces from destroying our vessel and that the enemy carrier is dead in space.".

Spenser had heard that 'the good news is' tone before and he knew that it always had to be followed by a 'but the bad news is' remark.

He was proven right not a second later, when the AI added, "The bad news is that the enemy frigates have begun charging their weapons. It would seem that the Covenant changed their minds about not killing us."

"Which they normally never do." One of his crewmembers said.

"So they have seen fit in the situation to change their strategies…" Another one replied.

His crew raised a valid point. Why would the covenant refrain from killing them before trying to kill them?

The seconds ticked away and soon Jacobs spoke the dreaded words.

"Enemy within optimal range in 30 seconds."

Damnit. He was out of time. The slipspace engine still had to recharge for more than a minute; by then they would all be dead. Covenant plasma weapons were horrificly efficient; they wouldn't even survive one salvo.

His options were dying a certain death within a minute trying to fight, or dying a less certain death while trying to run.

"Jacobs, Calculate how far the charge of our Shaw-Fujikawa engine will be when those frigates open fire."

"Sir, one moment." Two seconds ticked by, during which another tremor shook the ship. "Ninety-three percent, sir, if we divert power from the MAC-gun."

"What is the chance of survival when we jump at 93% charge?"

The AI hesitated. "Without proper tests to compare and base my assumptions on, I cannot tell whether it would be fifty or zero point zero fifty."

"Just give me an answer."

"Chances of success are at the most ten percent. At the very least…"

"Do it!" The captain interrupted the AI.

"Do what, sir?" It asked.

"We are jumping to slipspace, as per Cole Protocol it has to be a randomized jump. Get to it people!"

The crew jumped to attention.

"Five seconds until enemy weapons range!" Jacobs said.

Ryan reached for the radio. "This is Captain Spenser! Brace for immediate slipspace jump!"

As he spoke, he could see the enemy frigates firing their weapons at his tactical map. They each fired two plasma bolts, followed by two more.

One salvo was more than enough to completely annihilate their ship.

"God speed sir…" The AI spoke with a voice that, for the very first time in his career, sounded apprehensive, if not downright dejected. The AI probably knew that this would be the last time they worked together. "…it was an honor serving with you."

"The honour has been all mine…" Ryan replie, After having exhausted every strategic option available to get them this far… they might very well die without ever seeing an end to the war.

It had to end like this some day; the Spartan had completed at least three dozen high-risk high-reward missions in top secrecy. Captain Spenser and his crew got to serve with him for only seven missions and they hadn't even learned his name.

Not that it mattered much; no one ever gets to know a Spartan. And Ryan knew his crew - every single one of them. He could name them by their front names, name their families and, in some occasions, their children, In that regard, he was content.

The plasma raced towards them and the ship surged with energy not normally there when jumping to Slipspace. The captain reached for the button and activated the comms unit. He had seconds to make his announcement.

"To everyone that can hear this: we are performing an underpowered Slipspace junp. Be advised – "

The Captain never got to finish his sentence. A bright purple field slowly extended from the Shaw-Fujikawa engine and then- suddenly- it enveloped the entire ship.

Down in engineering, the Spartan had barely enough time to realize what was happening. The field expanded with speed equal to a MAC cannon firing and surged through him. His shielding flared and dropped substantially, and he felt his skin simultaneously tickle and burn. His shielding dropped to zero and he felt a discharge race through his neural interface and his body. It felt like his veins were on fire, bombarding his senses with a pain he hadn't felt since the augmentation process.

An involuntary groan escaped past his lips as his knees buckled and he fell forwards, vivid flashes and images appearing and disappearing in front of his eyes. His mind faded in and out of consciousness, until darkness took him.

Captain Ryan Spenser never experienced such pain. within one second his screen had turned black and every single system on the ship was shutting down. Then, what appeared to be a purple flash erupted in front of his eyes and he ceased to be. His body went limp and tumbled to the floor, as did the bodies of every single human and alien onboard the ship.

The last remaining monitor in the bridge showed the vital signs of hundreds of humans' flatlining before it shortened out and exploded.

As the Captains' body hit the ground, the Shipmaster of the Covenant frigate Holy Cleansing of Fate ordered his ship to approach the humans' vessel. He witnessed the vessel's hull erupting with a barely visible purple field, before it suddenly vanished.

With a frustrated growl he slammed his hand on the console and opened the communication broadcaster to his sister ship.

"Prepare to return home..." He growled. We are done here, my brothers."

~0~

UNSC CODEX EMTRY: ORGANIZATIONS: THE UNSC

The UNSC- or United Nations Space Command is the military, exploratory, and scientific agency of Earth. The UNSC was formed halfway through the 22nd century when Earth began massively militarizing its off-world colonies via propaganda and then defeated communist and fascist forces in the "Interplanetary War" which consisted of several side-battles that took place on Mars, the Jovian Moons, and the South American rainforests. Although the Interplanetary War brought wrought great suffering and death unto Earth and its colonies, it united humanity's militaries into a common, armed force by the end of the 22nd century. Not everyone loves the UNSC tough, as a resilient and heavily dug in Rebellion called The Insurrectionists began terrorizing the UNSC and its civilians, somewhere in the late 25h century.