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Corporal Oleksy Lebenov
Location: Alpha Base, LZ?
Status: Cooling mounted LAAG

The weapons barrel became red as the privates gunned down the sentinels that got in, unfortunately another cluster of sentinels kept him from letting up quiet yet. As he drug the tracer line over, he noticed another line of tracers from the marines coming over the other way. A moment later the sentinels were nicely cut to pieces by the massed fire, keeping any more infiltrators out.

Corporal Oleksy Lebenov cursed as the weapon heated up too much to risk continue firing. The weapon didnt take long to disperse heat, but it would still be a while before he could risk firing without killing himself. He then looked to the falling remains of the prayer. He had only been stationed with it for a single op, but the sight still shook him to his core.

He then looked more closely and saw the pinpricks of light from escape pods and ODSTs, some unfortunately enlarging a moment before disappearing, in explosions. This made him angry at the simplicity of those men's deaths, twenty years of caring from a family and peers, an education through at least highschool, and thousands of dollars in resources for military training and deployment, rendered meaningless by a small agile drone.

"Dammit! These machines are relentless! This goes far past a simple retaliation. Who would design a system like this?" The corporal angrily yelled, his query going to no one in particular. Walking to the front of the base, leaving the privates to the MG.

He came to a stop next to the commander, and after calming down, said "Sir, there is something wrong with this response. Only a child would make something so simple to set IFF systems for an entire race so quickly. There must be something wrong with the interface you used in the artifact." he calmly stated, his technological prowess coming to surface, "They are shooting anyone who comes for us out of the sky, orders sir?"

Rear-Admiral Christopher E. Hoffman
> UNSC AMNESTY OF GOD [AG.ACTUAL]
>> Bridge

Hoffman scowled, his eyes glued to the display screens before him. He stood with his hands clenched into fists, his brow furrowed, and his jaw tense. Like hell he was going to let these ******** take down another one of his ships. The Admiral spoke to his navigation officer whilst he kept his eyes glued to the screen, "You better have some good news for me, Wilson!"

The boy nodded his head, "Course set for retreat vector one-zero-niner-niner; coordinate pair Echo, sir." Hoffman turned to Wilson, his chest puffed out and eyes burning in their sockets. "Are you crazy?" he yelled, "We leave now these bastards can follow us! No, we stay and fight!" These things were obviously what the Office of Naval Intelligence called sentinels, but they were a hell of a lot bigger than the tinker toys the ground-pounders had come across. "Nobody ******** with my Navy," said Hoffman, "Especially in orbit around one of our planets!"

He had to take a deep breath before continuing. Hoffman was incredibly angry, and his crew could see it in the way he stood. His shoulders were pulled back and with each breath his body moved upward a bit, like a bull about to charge the matador. But Hoffman wasn't an ordinary bull; oh hell no, when he got pissed the wheels in his head started to churn. That men game over for whoever was on the receiving end of his wrath. "Charge coils one and four to 104%, arm archer pods one through thirteen, and get me a god damn firing solution!" The Admiral took his seat in his command chair and rested his elbow on the arm rest, placing his head atop his fist like the age-old statue of the Thinker.

"Sir, we have a slip-space rupture bearing zero-four-zero-zero," said Ensign Manilla. Hoffman's eyebrow shifted up a bit. "Friendly?" he inquired. "Yes, sir," she said, "The UNSC Odyssey, captained by Captain Andrew Poole." Arthur Wilhelm spoke up, the communications officer, "We're being hailed, Admiral." Hoffman nodded his head and sat up straight, both arms on the arm-rests. "Bring him up on display one," he said, his eyes shifting from the several other display screens. "Aye, sir," said Wilhelm. Poole's image appeared on screen, "This is the Odyssey. Admiral, just what's going on here?"

"Glad to see you're well, Captain," said the Admiral to dispense of the formalities, "I've got several powerful sentinels in orbit. They brought down the Prayer, which means our boys are stuck top-side until we can take these ******** out."

Sergeant Scarlet R. Whitmen
Marine Combat Medic
Harvest Searching For Captain Stone

Scarlet had finally finished tending to the Captain's wounds, it wasn't anything special but it would hold for the time being. She stopped for a few seconds think about what Stone had said, she decided he had the strength and will to make it so she picked him up like it was their wedding night but she was the groom. After managing to hold the man's weight she began to move, at first she jogged then she broke out into a run. After six minutes or so she began to get extremely tired "Sir, I guess a break isn't on your agenda?" she gave a small giggle then kept going. The Captain started to look worse so she ran faster but the planets environment wouldn't allow her to go full speed. She was at the final embankment when two sentinels came in on her left flank. She tried to move quicker but suddenly a hot sensation hit her on the lower thigh, one of the sentinels had shot her but it wasn't anything serious, just a minor burn. She came over the embankment and screamed at some marines stand near Alpha base "Help! Sentinels coming in hot!" she hobbled passed the marines and straight into the middle of the base "There you go sir.." she smiled and put him down and got down beside him.

Jones, Bradley D.
Planet's Surface
RFD Status: Online / Active
Locator/ID Tag: [FST.SGT.BDJ : B-115]
Location: Calculating... UNKNOWN

.... "Alright here's how its going to go... I'm going to rig the Generators to blow. Have your boys get ready to baracade the door, then, head down there," he pointed to a corridor to his left, "head down there to the service elevator. You'll get to the Hanger where you need to just fight your way to a vehicle or something. Just get out."

Mike turned to the Control pannel. "Just gimme some cover."

Brennan moved fast, his fingertips pressed hard against the keypad. He had to work fast.

He closed the coolant valves, then upped the heat to max. Finally, he commaned the computer to meltdown. The timer flashed on the screen: 12:00.

"Alright Hammer! You've got 12 Minutes... Get your asses out of here." He turned to the door, but then turned back to the Lieutenant. "Oh Mike..." He ripped his dog tags from his chain and tossed them to him. "Hand them to Captain Resnick."

He gave him a crisp salute, and slapped a fresh MA5B into his Rifle.

For once in his life, Michael Travis Brennan was not scared. He knew his fate, and he had come to terms with it.

The masses of Covenant that were baying for the blood of what lay on the other side of the barricade. The 2 devices that blocked the doorway rumbled and shuttered from the force of bodies pushing against them. But it did not budge. This must have been his saving grace... God must have wanted him to savor his last few minutes.

Mike sat his back against the plexi-glass that protected the outside from the energy exerted from the generators. He sifted through the rounds for his HE Pistol and loaded them into the clip.

He looked over at the display. Its bright white text read 9:32. The Captain gave a grin, and continued counting his rounds...

The timer hit 0:20. Mike was prepaired for the inevitable. He could tell the Covenanent on the other side were having trouble with the equipment. Their movements were more coordinated. It scared him a bit but he could still keep his nerves.

0:19

Mike accessed a COM link to the ships above. It was a weak one, and one he would not keep up for very long. He brought his Mic peice to his mouth and began to speak.

0:18

"This is Captain Michael Brennan. Former member of the Black Ops unit. These words are for whoever recives this message. Right now I relay this message in a Generator room beneath the Facility known as Belfast on VerCrouse, one of the last known planets left that has survived the siege of the Covenant. It is with great strife that I relay this message, I only have 15 seconds before this facility explodes with the force of 15 megaton warheads. Right now I have chose to make the great sacrafice that every armed forces soilder that has fallen in the UNSC has made. I make this message as a relay of hope. To my brothers, to friends, and most of all to my Captain.... Godspeed. End Transmition..."

0:09

Mike threw his COM in the corner just after saving his message to a Global Network. He gripped the stock of his Rifle as the top peice of machinery gave way and toppled forward. He could see the mass of Covenent; Jackals, Grunts, Brutes... all, wanting him, the lonley human that stood between them and their prize. Little did they know, they would soon get what they want.

0:05

Mike leveled the MA5B with his shoulder and fired, connecting rounds with many ligaments that were in the cocktail of bodies swarming on the other side of the make shift gate. He continued to fire, the recoil pinged every neuron in his arm, and caused him great pain. But, soon it would be over, and soon, he could join his squad.

0:03

The sweat from his brown blinded him, but he continued to fire straight. No way would he not take down a few uglies before going down himself. This was his Alamo, this was his last stand, and by god, he would make it the best ever seen.
With all of his might, and all of his strength, he shouted at the masses, "PRAY THAT YOU MIGHT BE SPARED! YOUR GODS CANNOT SAVE YOU NOW! AND THUS, I REFUTE THEE!"

0:00

....

JONES! GET YOUR a** UP! WE GOTTA MOVE!

His eyes came back into focus, and above him was Sergeant VanMetre holding his hand on his shoulder.

s**t... looks like its my time... Brad thought to himself, and reached for his combat knife, cutting the harness loose and grabbing his gear.

"Lets move Sergeant. Nap Time is over...

Gunnery Sergeant Thomas "Sparks" Cain
Somewhere near Alpha, Harvest
Climbing out of a hole

Thomas opened his eyes in the darkness. He could hear groans from his comrades. He could feel the chair he was sitting in. The air smelled like the aftermath of a summer rain. Ozone. He moved slightly, and noticed his harness was still attached. He pulled the latch, and the straps released him.

The escape pod had landed nose down into a large ice flat. The metal exterior, hot from re-entry, had cut through the ice like a knife through butter. Melted water leaked in through the door, dripping onto Tom's face, cooling him off.

Tom stood up as straight as he could on the back of his chair, trying to find a way to climb up to the door. Many of his comrades were injured around him, and they would need help to escape.

He hefted himself up, chair by chair, grunting slightly as he climbed.

"It's way easier to get out of these things when they're not vertical." Tom said to himself.

Finally, he reached the door. He pressed the door release button. No effect. The power must have been cut. He pulled his combat knife from it's scabbard, and carefully slid the weapon into the crack in the door. He pried, with all of his might, and the door's hydraulics finally gave. The door slid open several inches, just enough for him to get his fingers in the opening. He replaced his knife, and pushed the door the rest of the way. Darkness of the polar region, as dark as it was, was far brighter than the inside of the pod. He could see that five other marines sat in the seats below him, and the pilot sat in the front.

He carefully climbed down from the door, all the way down to the pilot. He felt her pulse. Dead. He moved on to the first two marines closest. One was dead, but the other to his right, was hanging on to life. Tom shook the man, and he came to.

"Wh-where am I?" He asked.
"Don't worry, you're safe. I'm gonna get you out."

Tom hefted the man, who was barely five foot ten, onto his shoulders. He climbed with one hand to balance. The man grunted painfully with every movement. Finally, they reached the top. The vessel had sunk three feet into the ice, and was still sinking slowly. Tom set the man down on the ice outside the pod, and climbed back in. He climbed down to the marine that he had been sitting across from, and checked his vitals. He, also, was dead.

"Unlucky fellow." He thought to himself. "That could have been me."

So, he climbed up to the row of marines closest to the door. As he climbed up to the one on the right, he could see that he was fully awake.

"Are you okay? Are you hurt?"
"I can't move my arm." He was barely able to choke out.
"I'm gonna get you out." Tom said, as he hefted the man onto his shoulders, just like before.

He climbed out of the doorway, and set the man down next to the other one, who had fallen unconscious. Climbing back in the doorway, he saw one final marine, across from where the last marine sat.

Tom shook the woman, hoping to get a sign of life. Finally, she came to.

"Uhnnn" She grunted, holding her head. "I've got the worst headache of my life right now."
"Let's get out of this heap and worry about headaches later."

Tom pulled on the harness latch, but it wouldn't give. Finally, he pulled out his knife, and went to work on the strap. After several seconds of tearing at the strap, it finally gave in to his pulling, and broke.

"Can you move? We have wounded."
"Yeah, I'm fine."

They climbed out of the wreckage together, and sighed. Gunshots cracked in the distance.

"They'll need our help."
"We have wounded to carry. Do you have a radio?"
"No. We'll need to find one to get these two dusted off." She said, gesturing to the two marines, huddled together for warmth.

Tom moved to pick one up. "I'm Tom, by the way. But you can call me Sparks." He said, hefting a marine onto his back once more.

Corporal Nathaniel Compton
> ODST COMBAT TEAM ECHO [ Echo 1 ]
>> Harvest Northern Polar Region
>>> Alpha Base Remains


Blackness. That's all there was other then the throbbing thud in the Corporals head. The steady beat of his heart forcing blood to rush to his head and cause the deep wound, or at least what he assumed to be a deep wound judging by the amount of pain, to sting in pain. Thankfully as always the pain was a reminder, albeit an unwelcome one, that Compton was still alive. He was still alive and he was fighting, the one thing he could do well. As his eyes rolled in the back of his head he twitched and stretched his hands. Something was amiss. There was something about it all that was off. Whether it was the tug of the safety harness on his shoulders or the warmth of blood that ran down through his hair, something was definitely off.

Finally the Marine snapped to and slowly opened his eyes revealing that his visor was cracked on the left side rendering the targeting system and ammo counter disabled. That meant no HUD, no FoF indicators and no VISR capabilities, His helmet was practically useless. It probably wouldn't hold in a vacuum and more than likely he would probably hinder any teams coordinated motions, but it would still protect him from the freezing temperatures of the ice world. His mental assessment of just what was wrong with his helmet though was only a waste of time, he was still hanging in the seat, wait, hanging? Finally Compton realized why his head throbbed, all of the blood was rushing to his head. He was hanging upside down in his drop pod.

The overgrown man moaned once before struggling with the padding on his safety harness. After a moment of wasting time futily attempting to release the harness Compton decided to try a different approach. He snatched the knife from the sheath on his chest plate and he gouged it into the heat resistant polyester straps, tearing away at the stubborn material until he broke free and fell onto his head once more, crashing into the top of the HEV. Of course the fall wasn't as damaging as it could have been, his immense size made it almost insignificant, the wound on his head however was not as forgiving. The pain shocked through his body, but did not stop him. He had gone through much worse and would likely do it again before this campaign was over. He swore up and down this would be his last, but new inside that if the UNSC called on him he wouldn't deny them.

The ODST struggled on the awkward ceiling of the drop pod before he found himself right side up once more. He looked toward the exit hatch of the pod, it hadn't deployed on landing which was odd but not altogether unexpected. The thing had a tendency to malfunction. Immediately Compton found himself feeling around the bottom sides of the door for the emergency release. It wasn't until a few minutes of stubbornly searching and cursing before he realized the drop pod was upside down. Making a mental note of his own stupidity he looked up and spotted the yellow and black striped release lever and pulled it. It budged about an inch, the door doing the same, it was jammed. Turning, Compton forced all of his strength into the back of the door, trying to force it open, but to no avail. The snow must have been packed against the pod so that he couldn't open it. He cursed, slammed his fist against the pod and let his head hang. There had to be a way out.

The ODST sat thinking, something that wasn't his specialty, wondering how he would get himself out of this mess. Suddenly an idea popped in his head. The thruster still had a go or two in them. He could use them to melt the snow, or even to push the pod out of the position that it was in so that he could climb out. Unfortunately if it was the ladder he had no way of prepping for it as the pod was both upside down which would make sitting in the seat difficult and he had cut the harness, making said feat even more impossible. But as he had no alternative that provided him with an immediate exit he decided to go for it. He punched the emergency thruster and after a half second pause was thrown face first against the seat of the HEV as it accelerated fiercely through the snow. The pod bounced frantically off of the snow, only a few seconds after igniting and the thrusters had already made the pod cover a good half of a kilometer. Finally as the the thrusters cut and the pod began to slow it crashed through what was unmistakably concrete and rebar. When it ground to a halt Compton was so dazed and confused that he didn't know which way was up or down.

Before Compton could gather himself the door shot open successfully, flying a few feet into the air and crashing against the snow silently a few meters away. Compton however sat in the HEV still, feeling what could only be described as scrambled eggs for a head. His vision was blurred and spinning, he was crumpled up against the bottom of the HEV like a crushed soda can and he was only sure of one thing. He was never going to try that again. The crack of guns in the distance was the only thing that forced the concussed soldier to move. Inch by inch, painstaking movement after movement he forced himself to rise from the pod, toting his beloved SRS99D with him.

There was a battle going and he couldn't remember what was going on. There was a short pause in the cacophony before Compton could bring himself to remember just what was going on. They were en route to Harvest when... Sentinels attacked them. " The Prayer! " His mind raced, " What happened to the Prayer?! " he tried to remember exactly what happened leading to that very moment. The Prayer jumped in system and encountered hostile Sentinels, they began to attack the ship and everyone was ordered to evac. Compton was one of the lucky souls that got to ride in the pods thanks to his low rank. Of course he made the rookie mistake of breathing too heavily during the drop and he passed out, sending his pod entirely off course. Now he was lost and wished he had stuck it out in the life boats with the real men.

Certainly a strange turn of events, he still had no idea what the status of the Prayer was or where the rest of Echo team could be. And with no HUD or FoF indicator he had no way to find out. He was as blind as a bat on a hostile planet cut off from all supplies and intel. This might rank pretty high on Compton's "You're ******** If... " list. He would have to add it to the list after he got off of this rock of course and after deliberating on whether or not to just stand in the rubble of what he assumed was once a UNSC base.

The crackle of his radio startled him however, but was a welcome surprise. His COMM still worked, that was a miracle in and of itself, at least he wasn't entirely hopeless. The voice that rang over the COMM however was the last one he expected to hear, " Echo 2 to Echo 1. Come in Echo 1. I overshot the target. Holding position at Nav Beacon 14 Golf. Say again, holding position at Beacon 14 Golf. Echo 2 out. "

In what could be described as a person that was stranded on a desert island's reaction to seeing a helicopter Compton chinned his radio in hopes that he could communicate with Mitchell.

" Copy that Echo 2, this is Echo 1. Echo 2 my helmet is cracked and I am unable to access any tactical information. " Compton took a look around at the desolate ruins of a base and smiled when he saw the six foot gaping hole that he'd pounded through the side of a building with the HEV, " I appear to be at an abandoned base. If you deploy a flare I'll be on your position in no time. You copy? " Even if Compton wasn't exactly Echo 1 on this mission he was so used to the designation that he and Mitchell may as well have permanently been given the titles Echo 1 and Echo 2.

Sargent Jacob Masterson
Harvest
Moving to Aid

Hearing the medic cry for help up the hill Jacob drove the Hog in her direction. He could see the medic limping down the hill and a pair of drones chasing her. Her IFF transponder read Whitman. Over the comms he yelled,
"Whitman hit the deck!" To Zulu he yelled
"Light them up zulu!"
"Sir, Yes Sir!" His gunner replied.
As Whitman ran the LAAG ripped through the sentinels and the hor roared past. That is when Jake spotted the lifeboat and the Captain's transponder.

Gunnery Sergeant Thomas "Sparks" Cain
Northern Polar Region, Harvest
Ducking Sentinel Patrols

Tom could see, as he stepped off of the ice sheet and onto rocky terrain, that the battle raging in the distance was a battle of a different sort. It was a battle against machines. He decided that he would follow the edge of the ice sheet.

"Those things are coming this way Sparks"
"I know. Just keep walking."

A patrol of three sentinels was slowly hovering their way, scanning the barren wasteland for lifeboats.

Tom spotted, out of the corner of his eye, a small cave in the edge of the ice.

"In here." He said, pointing to the cave with his free hand.

Tom crawled into the cave first. From the entrance, he could tell it was actually a tunnel, where meltwater from underneath the sheet drained. There was no water flowing, but a torrent could flush them out at any time.

The man on Tom's back awoke once more. "What happened? Where are we now?" He asked as Tom set him down in the tunnel.
"We're ducking an enemy patrol in this tunnel. Keep your voice down. Can you move on your own?"
"I think so."

Tom gestured for the man to press on into the tunnel. The man turned, and entered the ice. He stopped and pulled a flashlight from his backpack, and pressed forward. Tom could see that the solid ice, as you moved through it, had a blueish hue.

"I think this is far enough." Tom said after they had moved fifty yards in.

They waited. They could see through the ice in some spots, as the ice above them was only a few feet thick. Every little sound in this tunnel was amplified. They could hear the hum of the sentinels. Hear each other breathing.

The machines, scanning the ground, floated over them slowly, their strange propulsion humming slowly.

The three marines sighed in unison as the machines left.

"Lets get out of here. It gives me the chills."
"Oh ha ha." Tom said sarcastically.

Tom reached for where his shotgun usually hung on his back. He felt around a little, hoping to run into the hard composite stock. No such weapon could be found. His M7 Caseless still hung at his side, occasionally clicking against a grenade on his belt.

"Damn." He said under his breath as he exited the cave.
"What is it?"
"I forgot my Shotgun."
"I forgot my sniper in the lifeboat too."
"You've got your M7 though, right?"
"Yeah." She said, pulling it forward with her free hand.

Just then the sentinels, having found nothing but an abandoned lifeboat, hovered over the edge of the ice sheet. Their eyes glowed brightly down on the surprised marines.

Tom reached for his M7, and pulled it forward, unleashing a hellish spray of bullets on the machine nearly point blank. It fell onto the ice, and exploded. Shrapnel rained down on the marines.

"The others are coming! We need to move!"
"Go!" Tom yelled, pulling out the collapsible stock on his weapon.

The three marines ran through the ice and rocks as fast as they could. One holding it's injured right arm, one carrying another, and another running backwards with a M7.

"You two get out of here! Head for the nearest outpost!
"But what about you?!"

Tom turned his head. "I'll meet you there. Now go! That's an order Sergeant!"

The woman stood for a moment, wondering whether to follow orders. Finally, she had rationalized, and decided to press on. She had to get her wounded out.

Tom ran up a small hill, and climbed behind a boulder, waiting for the sentinels. He checked his magazine. Thirty five rounds.

"Damn" He said, replacing the magazine to his weapon. If only he had brought his shotgun. His trusty CAWS would dispatch these things easily.

He could hear the humming of the machines growing louder. He pulled the stock to his shoulder. Prepared to jump. Felt the trigger on his finger. Sweat. A strange thing in this cold environment. His breath frosted slightly on his helmet visor.

He stood and wheeled around in one motion. Lining his sights up with the first, he fired his weapon, struggling to keep the sights on his target despite the recoil. Gunpowder, he could smell. One machine fell and erupted in flames. Time seemed to slow down. The other machine had turned its gaze to Tom, who had run out of bullets. He turned and leaped to another boulder as a lance of energy splashed against his rocky cover.

Time sped up once more. He was breathing heavily, his breath visible in his own sight. He had somehow gotten to his feet after he had leaped from his cover. He was running. This was not his first brush with true fear, but in his mind he was thinking, "I'll be damned if I'm gonna get killed by a damn robot!"

He could hear that the machine was on his tail again. He dropped the empty magazine from his weapon, and put a fresh one in. He pulled the bolt as fast as he could, and looked for a cover where he could turn himself around.

He strafed, just as the machine opened fire on him. The beam splashed on the rocks around him, leaving a red, molten soup in it's wake. He could strafe, but he could not run forever.

Finally, a glimmer of hope. A large group of boulders twenty yards ahead. The weapon of the sentinel overheated with a hiss. A good sign. He jumped behind the rocks, and turned around. The machine rounded the rocky outcrop, weapon at the ready, but it was too late. The human marine had his gun pointed directly at it, and his finger was on the trigger. At nearly point blank, the M7 Caseless SMG tore through the ancient forerunner metal. The machine fell to the ground, and combusted with a satisfying crash.

Again, the smell of gunpowder. A smoking barrel. Tom exhaled for the first time in what felt like forever. His arm and shoulder buzzed from the recoil. He looked at the burning remains of his enemy, and stood. He walked up to the heap of trash, and spat.

"He's a tough son of a b***h, that's for sure."

Finally safe once more, or at least relatively safe, he set out in the same direction his comrades had gone. He had just realized he hadn't gotten her name.

"Damn, I must've seemed like a real ******** to her."