In memory of those fallen in the defense of Earth and her colonies.

March 3, 2553

2559 (Military Calendar)/

Epsilon Indi System, Harvest

Utgard City

All was silent on the world of Harvest. It had been so for many years, since 2531, when Harvest was finally retaken by one Admiral Cole. It had been a long, brutal campaign that left thousands dead, and done nothing but piss off the Covenant. It was partially glassed, the cities were in ruins, and nuclear fallout smothered the once lush planet. Those effects were bad enough on Harvest, but twenty seven years of them hadn't made it any better.

The key words in the whole scenario, however, were 'partially glassed', never mind nuclear winter or a renewed alien occupation. All the CAA and UNSC could think about were those two important words. Hell, even just 'partially' cut it for them, and now a human battle group drifted in debris both decades old and days new, the broken and shattered ships belonging to both factions, though there was a bias to human ships.

The planet itself was rather uniform in appearance (even the ugly scars were done in patterns). A lot of flat land, one mountain range, one continent, one ocean. And it was hot. Or, at least it had been, and still somewhat was. In some places, it was a nice warm temperature, and even like the old Harvest in some ways - besides the radiation and mutated wildlife of course. In others, the ground scorched and burnt animals the moment they set foot on it. But otherwise the plant was locked in perpetual storm: Heavy snowfall, plasma clouds and other insane and unnatural weather occurrences. The CAA terraforming program had their work cut out for them.

In the capital city Utgard was one very important building - the Parliament building. Not a real Parliament of course, the UEG would never have allowed that, but the primary centre of Government of Harvest, both Earth federal and Harvest planetary. However, five blocks away, was an unimportant building.

Two Jackals in enclosed armour patrolled outside the building, simply walking by and ensuring they spotted any incoming forces from the human warships in orbit above the planet. What they didn't appreciate was that humans were very good at hiding and the likes. A small black barrel jutted from the ground. The scouts didn't even pay heed to it, instead walking by and looking around the buildings and sky, talking about whatever they could conceive of to escape their boredom and nervousness.

And in the midst of the snowfall, two small pffft noises couldn't be heard. The Jackal bodies hit the ground before either knew what was happening, and a second later, they were being dragged through the snow, dumped into an open manhole. The air shimmered as a tall figure moved beyond the manhole, moving quickly but not so much as to give itself away. Harvest was in night now, but that would only make it easier to spot anything when it was put in a spotlight.

The figure moved with such elegance and ease that one would have assumed (if it was visible) that it was dancing its way through the desecrated city, until it was in eyesight of the rear of the Parliament building. That figure was one Fred.

A Spartan of the Spartan II program, a veteran of the Great War, a destroyer of Insurrectionists, and all before the age of fifty. A rather good record in his own mind. He holstered a silenced pistol and pulled a shotgun from over his shoulder, cocking it with a satisfying click noise. He checked the HUD countdown timer. One minute until his fellow, Linda, was 'going loud' as she so humbly put it. Her loudness would put ODSTs to shame, that was for sure.

A small green light winked on his display, alerting him that Kelly was in position at the side entrance to the building, and it was followed by one from Naomi, who was assisting Linda. Linda was maintaining complete radio silence, so Naomi counted for two. All was in position. He checked his own armour, shields, weapons, everything. All was in place and ready to go, and his own body was pumped for the fight.

He blinked at the series of icons he had installed for this mission, and a comm channel was opened up to the pilots assigned to Blue team. The last pilots for Blue and their ships had been killed, unfortunately, and they had been good soldiers, but Fred had been assured that these two were just as good, maybe even better. He open the channel, and spoke clearly and quietly, a practice that wasn't necessary seeing as his helmet had the ability to block out every sound except his own, making his voice unheard to anybody but him and those on the radio.

"Flitter, Cloudchaser, this is One, come in."

There was a small burst of static before he could hear the voice of a woman on the radio. "Here sir," Cloudchaser responded.

"Three and Four are in position, marking target now." Fred watched as the building was highlighted red in his HUD.

The other pilot, Flitter as her nickname went, was the next to respond. "Target locked sir, beginning approach. Tell them to keep their heads' down." Flitter's voice was softer than Cloudchaser's, but no less confident.

In the old days (it sounded strange to Fred, but it was true), he would never have dared to use radio on a mission like this, should the Covenant be listening. But thanks to Cortana during operation: First Strike the UNSC had learned exactly how Covenant encryption worked. It wasn't completely safe still, and UNSC signals could be easily blocked as always, but it was a damn sight better than what Fred had had to put up with before.

A minute later, a dull roar swept through the air, perceptible even through the wind and snowfall, and two pelicans flew over the building at incredible speeds, their active camouflage dropping to give them the opportunity to fire. They let loose a torrent of missiles at the front of the building, tearing the reinforced doors from their hinges and killing many Storm soldiers in the process. As quickly as they had appeared, they reengaged the camouflage, though not before a green plasma rod flew through the air to her pelican. Expertly, she dodged and tagged the turret at the same time as a warning to others. She was good.

"Returning to Denmark for rearm," Flitter announced. And then the radio link died.

Complete disarray followed, and the front of the building was on fire. Not from the explosion, but from the aliens themselves. They didn't know what to do, a good proportion of officers down, so they simply shot into the outside air, at buildings, cars, potholes; anything they could see. The outside was so thick with plasma fire that Fred could see the illumination even from around the corner. He took all this in in the space of a few seconds, and then deactivated his camouflage, sprinting to the rear of the building, shotgun in hands. A heavy lead lined door blocked him from the inside, but he kicked it down with such force that a small chunk of wall was torn off with it.

Inside, a small Grunt without any protective body suit was cowering in fear, probably from both Fred and the fact that the building was exposed and he didn't have any radiation blocking equipment on. Fred wondered why it would be protecting a door that led to nuclear particles without a nuclear protecting suit, but then realised it was the Covenant they were dealing with: Competent at being killers, useless at protecting the killers themselves.

He felt no pity for it though, and blew its head off nicely with a close range blast from the shotgun. No point being quiet when the whole building was alert.

Moving up some stairs, he emerged into a corridor in which Grunts and a Jackal ran through, headed for the front of the building. For a moment, he believed he had remained unseen, until a single Grunt ran into his leg, not expecting the human super soldier. Fred looked straight into its disgusting little eyes. "Boo," he said quietly, and the Grunt squealed, only to receive similar treatment as the previous one had received. The moment the shotgun blast rang out, the Jackal turned to see him, and it raised its energy gauntlet, letting a blue shield cover its body. It directed Grunts straight to Fred, who reacted faster than them still.

Running to meet them, which they didn't expect, he pumped round after round into the Grunts, until he reached the Jackal. It got one good shot on him, until he grabbed its arm through the gap in the shield, pulled it forward so it stumbled, and kicked it so hard up the chin that its head snapped back; the spinal cord completely shattered and its blood vessels were torn in half. It collapsed dead instantly.

He didn't get any respite (not that he needed it) before a grenade indicator flashed into existence, and he ducked away, feeling the heat of a plasma grenade as its explosion seared his back. He turned to see an Elite just outside the range of his motion tracker at the other end of the hallway. Knowing there was no cover, and that this would be an up close fight, Fred improvised and found a moving barricade.

Stepping on the dead Jackal's arm with one leg, he tore the arm off with his hands. Like the bird it was, it had bird bones, and the arm tore from the body with ease. His armour took hits from the Elite's rifle, but his shields were adequate, and now he had another. He held the arm of a Jackal and the energy gauntlet it possessed in front of him as he charged down the corridor, letting it take the impacts for him. By the time it went red, and finally collapsed, he was already practically atop the Elite.

He dropped the arm and unloaded the last of his shotgun's clip (it was a semi-automatic drum-fed) into the Elite. The shotgun from Acheron wasn't as powerful as a Misriah pump-action, but it was faster and had stun capsules loaded into its standard ammo. The Elite stepped back a few paces by his own terms (metres in human length), and dropped his Storm rifle, removing an energy sword from his hip. Fred had noticed that the Elites had finally gotten over their prohibitive rule that only sword masters were allowed to carry swords - though while it was good for the Elites, it had no positive effect on his life whatsoever.

He sighed in mere annoyance, knowing that every fight with a sword-wielding Elite was a fight incredibly dangerous in nature – more so than the standard super-heated chemical based fights. Just another day on the job. He threw his shotgun at the Elite, for whatever good that did, and withdrew his own knife, a special tool no longer in service. Of course, the combat knife was in service, just not this model - the Great War era Spartan II combat knife: One serrated edge, one edge that was just super sharp, and a point so sharp and fine it negated the effects of energy shields. Why was it discontinued? Too expensive. What a surprise.

Charging the alien, he swung under its sword as the beast swiped, and tackled Fred it. They were equal in body weight, but Fred's armour was heavier, and the Elite collapsed on the ground under Fred. Fred plunged the blade deep into the exposed stomach of the Elite (or where a stomach was on a human anyway) and the Elite let out a howl of pain. Fred twisted the knife, but before he could go any further, the Elite realised how much shit it was in and shoved Fred aside with ease, adrenaline running through its body and Fred's too. It got to its hooves, along with the Spartan to his own feet, and growled in anger, once again charging Fred with the sword.

Lacking a knife, the Spartan made up with the next best thing: A grenade. Not his of course. That would be silly. Instead of going straight at the Elite, he fainted to its right at the last second, too fast for any effective response form the hulking alien, and pulled a plasma grenade from its thigh. Priming it, he attached it to the Elite's back and kicked the creature in the legs, sending it stumbling away from the super soldier. It turned and got one good look at Fred before it realised it had a blue ball of death on its back.

And then it had no back.

Collapsing forward on its knees, the dead, backless Elite collapsed onto its face. Fred flipped it over and retrieved the undamaged knife. The knife was like a destroyer: Compact, deadly, durable. But the difference was that Fred hated space and starships.

He tucked it back into its sheath before retrieving the shotgun, emptying the drum from the weapon and inserting a new one. A dozen rounds in this drum, another dozen in his last; who knew how many enemies. He liked those odds. Following the plan set out for him, he followed the map of the building to the central hall. It was towards the centre of the building, one floor up too. When he reached the stairs, he had had to blow them out to collapse a barricade with mines that had been set up on them, and simply used his thrusters to travel up the small gap.

He clambered into the doorway, and looked up to see a large empty hall. Lots of equipment, but nothing running it. Now what did that remind him of?

He pulled two frag grenades from his chest and flung them into the room, hearing roars from cloaked Elites. Some were unharmed –most were unharmed actually – but the grenade disabled the camouflage generators on some, and kicked up enough dust so that it coated the others to the point of invisibility being useless.

Except one of course. It thought it was being stealthy, but Fred knew better. He took cover behind one of the usual purple Covenant crates, and tagged that specific Elite as danger, permanently placing it on his and the other Spartans' HUDs. There were seven Elites in the room, including Invisible Alien. That was seven too many, but Fred was wondering how to take on seven Elites all by his own. He began to appreciate how hard it had been for the Chief during his time on Requiem.

But Fred was not without backup. A small yellow blip appeared on his tracker. Kelly. He gave her an orange light, signifying assistance needed. She gave a green one in confirmation. So, Fred did what any reasonable Spartan would do: The suicidal.

He leapt the crate and ran straight to the first alien, firing wildly but straight at the chest of the first Elite he came across. Half a clip later, it was down. His shields were peppered with plasma, but he didn't have time for that; instead he simply ran to the next alien and did the same. Two out of seven. A third charged him, but was quickly brought down, not by Fred, but Kelly. She stood at the doorway, unnoticed, with a battle rifle in her hands. Thanks to the weak nature of Elite SpecOps armour, the third was done in seconds, being nothing more than another body littering the ground.

Realising he was out of ammo with no time to reload, and barely any shields, Fred got himself between two Elites. He hit one so hard across the jaw with the shotgun that the jaw snapped as well as the shotgun. Fred redrew his knife and finished the falling Elite. The second Elite had been anxious to shoot its needler because it risked friendly fire, but now its concern was gone. Fred however, rolled under the needles before they reached him, and slid the knife into the kneecap of the Elite. It dropped to one knee involuntarily, and Fred thrust upwards through its mouth, straight into the skull and brain.

Had he tried that on the first Elite, it would not have worked because the first had been standard with heavy armour. A SpecOps Elite thankfully had significantly less armour and shields.

Kelly had finished her own targets, including the invisible Elite. Her amour had a scorch mark on is shoulder that hadn't been there before, but she appeared to be fine otherwise. She noticed him looking over her, and gave him a green light to signal she was okay. He nodded and pointed up a set of stairs that led to the Governors' old office. The last room.

Fred had an odd memory of the last Governor and his family. The Governor had sent a girl to Colonial Militia for sleeping with his daughter. That was in his memory for some reason, but even crazier was that the girl had ended up ODST till 2552 and then died stopping rebel ODSTs from stealing gold and abandoning schoolchildren for the Covenant. Of all the things in his life he couldn't remember, that one odd series of events he did. The brain was funny that way.

They moved slowly up the steps of the marble staircase. The steps were cracked, and ugly, but they held the weight of the Spartans. On his motion tracker, Fred could make out one remaining red blip and . . . two grey ones. One was right on front of the red - probably a meat shield – but the other was further away, in the back of the room, almost completely still, but moving enough to register on his tracker.

He looked to Kelly, and she gave the slightest of nods. Spartans didn't need to talk to know what they were thinking. They could tell. They were a family. Kelly was nervous: They had no flash bangs. Naomi was probably glad to be back on the field - much as she had enjoyed time with Kilo 5, it was nice for her to be back in the thick of it. And Linda was just being Linda: Efficient, calculating, maybe making a small, ultimate joke on the side-line.

Fred?

Fred was scared and confused. No mention was ever made of human presence on Harvest. Why would the Storm have prisoners? He was simply scared that he would kill he prisoner he was confused about. After all that Fred had seen and done, he hated losing people that needed to be rescued.

Approaching the door, Fred withdrew his pistol and rested it upon his knife hand in a cross shape, while Kelly stacked with her BR.

In the silence, Fred could still hear gunfire from the building's front. He counted to three with his fingers. One . . . two . . . three.

Fred burst the door open and ran in, Kelly behind him, and took in the sight: A massive Sangheili Zealot with an energy sword raised to the neck of a woman, and the woman had a child crying in the background. Scratch that last part out actually. The human-looking alien woman and her human-looking alien child. Fred had a panic attack for a split second before following protocol to the letter. He aimed his gun for the Elite, straight past the head of the mysterious alien, but firmly kept his finger off the trigger, and quickly conversed with the first of his pilots that he could reach.

_FLITTER GET HERE THIS INSTANT

_CAN'T - PELICANS LOCKED FOR REARM

_WATCH HELM. FEED

_ISN'T THAT CLASSIFI - WAIT ONE - CMD ROUTING ODSTS NOW

Wasn't the universe just full of curveballs? Genocide here; New Phoenix there; ancient zombie aliens mixed in. And now this. Why did the galaxy have a desperate hatred for humanity?

AN: Sorry about the wait. Really, I am. After my exams I got bad flu for ages, and then I just was busy and kind of lost muse for a while. I wanted to write, I'm in this not for views but for moi's own pleasure, et tu, but I just couldn't. Then, I finally did, and I realized I wanted to rewrite what I had so far because I feel it doesn't fulfill my image of events, and if it doesn't, I'm not happy, and if I'm not happy, I can't write. So expect better story writing (I think? IMO anyway) and better characters. Characters fundamentally same as before, just different here and there; like I said, rewrite, not recreate.

Changed up Prologue just so that you know what's going on and to ease you into story; old prologue was kind of clunky I feel. Will continue rewriting till CH3 (Ch2 including this as separate prologue) is reached (already in progress).

I have an early final next week, so don't expect anything much, but rest assured you are not abandoned - yet.

Also, removing the chapter after this - I know it deletes views, but like I said, I'm not in it for views, just for fun.

And shout out to WildCard-Yes Man for finding the MLP reference from last time. Can you find it this time? (Hint: I am not at all imaginative and this is seriously the most blatant Easter egg ever).

Disclaimer: I don't own Halo, or Mass Effect, or My Little Pony. They belong to Bungie/343i/Microsoft; Bioware/EA; and Hasbro plus I forgot the studio that animates MLP; respectively.