A Halo story

"Mayday, mayday, this is ODST Lieutenant Wilson, to any UNSC ship in orbit, we need evac, stat! Covenant has got us surrounded! I repeat, Covenant has got us surrounded! We can hold them off for now but they're moving Wraiths into position! We have heavy casualties and need evac stat! I repeat, we need evac stat!"
"Lieutenant Wilson, this is UNSC destroyer Harbinger, we will send a Pelican to your location as soon as we clear the skies. Hang on down there."
"Negative Harbinger, if we don't get that evac in ten minutes, we're all vaporized!"
"We will do our best, troopers. Hang in there."

The battle on the planet was going badly. As usual. UNSC forces trying to hold off the vastly superior alien force invading found themselves outnumbered and outgunned. The only reason the planet hadn't fallen yet was due to the ODST detachment on planet. ODSTs were Orbital Drop Shock Troopers, more commonly known as Helljumpers. Generally launched from drop-pods in orbit, they were the toughest, meanest and baddest ground-troops the United Nations Space Command had at their disposal. Luckily enough for the planet's defenders the Covenant, a gathering of several alien races with superior plasma weaponry, hadn't brought their ships into play yet, preferring to glass the northern pole of the planet, rather than engaging the Harbinger. If that hadn't been the case, the Harbinger would have been destroyed in minutes. While ground forces were better trained, and could outmatch a Covenant army of equal size, the space forces were dramatically outclassed, their unguided Mass Accelerator Cannons being not accurate enough against the pin-point guided plasma torpedoes or beams and the lack of shielding made the fight as unfair as you could make it.

In orbit above the planets the fighter contingent was desperately trying to assert dominance in the air, the versatile Longswords fighting in the upper atmosphere, with the slightly weaker Shortsword fighters trying to chase down enemies in the lower atmosphere. It wasn't a fair battle, really. Despite their fighters being properly equipped, and that the enemy light attack crafts, known as Banshees, were about as dangerous as a fly against the shielded Longswords and fast Shortswords, the arrival of a large Seraphin contingent had forced a balance on the two parties, which meant bad news for the ground troops. The Seraphin possessed shields that prevented a missile lock on, and were faster, and much more manoeuvrable than the Banshees, although still inferior to Longswords.

"Harbinger! They're bringing in Wraiths! I can fucking see them! They'll start shooting at us in five tops! GET US OUT OF HERE!!!" lieutenant Wilson screamed into his radio, seeing the dreaded Covenant tanks being brought in position. Despite having fought valiantly, a testimony to the ODST's battle skills being a battlefield littered with alien corpses and large pools of orange, blue and purple blood, none of them were willing to die due to a mortar barrage that would literally vaporize them.

"Harbinger, this is Valkyrie, I'm going in!" an insane pilot yelled into the com. Seconds later a Pelican drop-ship, armed with a dozen missiles and a heavy gatling gun at the front, launched itself from the Harbinger's hangar, into atmosphere. It's flight didn't go unnoticed, and immediately a group of Banshees altered their course to stop the dropship, or at least, prevent it from passing in one piece. The pilot proved to be skillful, as he launched all missiles in one go, timing it perfectly. The banshees who had made the mistake of swooping towards it rather than coming in from behind were obliterated in the ensuing explosion, and the Pelican dove through the cloud a few seconds later, a cheer echoing over the coms.
"Valkyrie! Abort! Abort! Seraphin incoming! Seraphin incoming!" a navigation officer yelled. It was too late, three Seraphin attack craft appeared from the clouds, diving straight for the defenseless Pelican. Just as the pilot said his prayers, apologizing quietly for leading the medic in the back to a quick death, a Longsword dove past them, pushing his engines to the limit. It overtook the Pelican with ease, flew in front of him and took the first plasma hits with it's shields. The fighter's own twin gatlings roaring in response. Through the continuing barrage of bullets, four missiles left their tubes. The shields of the Seraphins, who had counted on a weak Pelican and not a fully armed Longsword, couldn't sustain the beating and dissipated, right on time for the missiles to hit.
"That's how you fucking do it!" a roar blasted through the radio, the words uttered in a voice that hinted at utter madness.
"Let's go Valkyrie! Let's pick 'em up!"
"Sierra 005, abort! Abort!" came the panicked shrieks from the navigation officer.
"You'll drop like a fly in lower atmosphere! Abort! Abort!"

The only response was the pilot hitting his boosters, pumping his speed up to very unsafe levels for flying in lower atmosphere, but fast enough to keep him from spiraling down. He dove straight into the clouds, the Pelican several hundred meters behind him. Both ships broke through the white blockade, revealing the battlefield underneath them, where the Wraiths had just started their bombardement. The first shot was flying through the air, heading straight for the ODSTs desperately trying to run away from the guessed impact zone. Without hesitation, or common sense, the Longsword collided with the plasma blast, the impact shattering it's shield, and part of it's left wing. It turned, smoke flaring from the engine from internal damage. As it started spinning, it launched it's remaining missiles, somehow managing to aim them to a decent extent. They collided in the earth, turning several Wraiths into scrap, and forcing the others back with damage. The Pelican dove down, almost crashed into the troopers, and made a perfectly executed turn, the hatch lowering as it landed, it's engines still on.
"Move it guys! Move it! They're coming!" Wilson screamed, rushing to the muddy fortifications to meet the advancing wave head-on. The Covenant were dead set on not letting them escape, and decided to take the fight to them, now that the human forces were retreating.

Iva rushed out of the Pelican, not having really processed the fact that they were alive, but pushing it away and deciding to think about it later, if there was a later.
"Come on, come on! Get them in! Wounded on the far seats. That one over there! Hurry! Be careful! You! Grab that blue bottle and give those with severe wounds two pills each! Faster!" she yelled, instructing the lightly and heavily wounded ODSTs as they rushed onto the Pelican. The sound of automated rifles firing interrupted her thoughts that had been entirely focused on the wounded, then came the whistling sound of plasma fire. She ducked, a reflex as it hit the front-line troopers who were doing their damned best to return fire against the mass of aliens. For once, there were no grunts with them. No little methane breathing buggers that generally attacked in thousands, and were the cannon fodder of the Covenant. No, what came at them was a bunch of elites, two, two and a half meter tall bastards with a small shield generator, a lot of combat experience, and a whole load of dislike for humanity.

A purple shard hit a trooper who went down screaming, his shoulder pierced. Another soldier turned to him, pulled it out and threw it away before it exploded, which the damn things tended to do half the time. The soldier remained on the ground, groaning in pain. Staying low, Iva ran for him. She crouched down next to him, smacking him on the cheek.
"Come on now, stay with me. Up you go." she said, hoisting his arm over her shoulder.
"That's it, come on. We're not leaving anyone behind." She stood up as much as she dared, considering the amount of plasma fire thudding into the ground around them, and started carrying the soldier to the drop-ship. As she came near, two others rushed to her and grabbed hold of him, taking him into the ship, and safety.

"Incoming bogeys with heavy weaponry! Gonna try to take 'em out!" came the mad voice over the com again. A screeching sound could be heard as the Longsword popped into view again, flying over the troopers and leaving behind a trail of smoke, and flames fanning out of the engine. He came in fast, too fast, way too fast, and way too low, and before anyone could even blink, he crashed into the advancing elites. Spinning around, his gatlings fired every round they could before they buckled under the impact. Still sliding, the cockpit opened and a man wearing the outfit of a Longsword pilot, a black suit capable of sustaining the human body for some time in vacuum. He threw his helmet away as he tried to mount the fast moving craft, before hopping out, a pistol in his hand. The elites carrying the heavy weapons, as well as said weapons themselves, were turned into powder as he had aimed his ship right onto them. The gatlings had torn large gaps in the elite ranks, shattering their formation as the ODSTs fired everything they had. The pilot landed on his feet, rolled to lessen the impact, and started running for friendly lines. Iva tried to ignore him, focus on the wounded, but most people present found it hard to ignore the madman who had just prevented the Covenant from blowing up the drop-ship for a second time.

The elites weren't happy about it, and roaring, the nearest one gave chase, a blue energy blade in his hand, which could cut as easily through metal as it could cut through flesh. He charged, trusting in his physical overwhelming superiority. He slashed. The pilot stopped, dropped down and grabbed the outstretched hand of the elite, carefully avoiding the sword. Pushing his feet against the alien's chest, he kicked hard, and made him fly over him using the alien's own momentum against him. The elite was taken off guard, and fell down, unable to use his strength fully to cleave the pathetic human. By the time he rolled around to get up, he felt the touch of cold steel against his skull. It was the last thing he felt. Other elites roared and charged him, but he had already sped off, the covering fire of sniper rifles picking off several others, the guns being powerful enough to penetrate their shields. Another came in from the side, slashing, his arm fully outstretched to avoid a similar fate, aware that this human was not to be trifled with. The pilot jumped at the last second, his hair getting torched by the heat of the blade, his gun pointed straight at the elite's four jaws as he somersaulted over the weapon. As the elite fell down, the pilot grabbed the blade and continued running. Another salvo, and four more pursuers died to the watchful snipers. The roar that came now was deafening, a good fifty elites charging the lone human who had taken the blade, the ODSTs forgotten, something the troopers were thankful for as they hurried getting into the drop-ship. Getting quite close, he managed to almost reach the barricade when another elite charged him from the front, energy blade in hand. The pilot stretched out his own arm and made a wide swing for the elite, who immediately moved his own blade to block it. As the blades connected, the elite gave a push to the blade, intending to completely overpower the human and kill him the next second. However, the human proved to be more cunning, and let go of the blade. The strength put in the swing made him lose balance, and in the last second of the alien's life, as he started straight into the barrel as the human twirled too close for the blade to reach, he admired the human's warrior skills. Continuing his spin, he dodged the falling elite, dropping his pistol and making a run for it. Plasma started filling the air around him, and just as he reached the barricade and dived for it, he took a hit on the right shoulder, making him crash down, on his shoulders, as he almost blacked out in pure pain and agony.

Lieutenant Wilson, along with the medic Iva, grabbed the paralysed pilot and pulled him towards the drop-ship, the last soldiers abandoning their post to escape as well. Plasma shots flew around them, but the shattered elites couldn't place down a proper barrage, allowing them to get into safety. As the hatch closed, the Pelican's engines fired up, and they launched themselves into orbit. Luckily enough for them, the fighters had managed to subdue a good amount of the enemy resistance, and they had a safe, and quick flight back to the Harbinger.

Once they arrived, Iva started yelling around instructions, comforting her patients, and sending them all of to the med bay, and making sure they'd be treated in proper order. She was about to send the daredevil that made the rescue possible off, when he stood up, and walked down the ramp.
"Hey! Where do you think you're going!" The guy responded by raising his left arm, waving.
"Gonna catch a nap." he said, chuckling as he said it. As he walked away, he was stopped by the Harbinger's captain, Lucas Sinnon. He froze on the spot and tried saluting with his right hand, before cringing deeply and bending over in pain, saluting half-assed with his left hand instead.
"Sir" he whimpered. The captain nodded, then pointed to Wilson, Neal, the Valkyrie pilot, and Iva.
"All of you, come with me. I want a full debriefing."

A few minutes later the five people were assembled, and after the captain had said 'at ease', they had relaxed, and even were allowed to sit down.
"Neal, you had no permission to launch. And Victor, you KNOW that it is against every single regulation to take a Longsword into low orbit." he said, a very stern look on his face. Then his eyes twinkled, and a smile broke through.
"And I'm damn happy you did what you did. You saved a lot of boys out there. Tell me Iva, will all of them make it?"
Iva straightened up at hearing her name. She was a front-line medic, not used to dealing with high ranking naval officers. It took her a bit to get herself together.
"Y-yes sir, twelve heavy wounded, the rest is lightly wounded, but they'll all make it."
"How many ODSTs were on planet, lieutenant?"
"Sir, when the Covenant invaded I had exactly two hundred men down there. Along with additional marines, whom, I believe, didn't live for very long. We lost contact with all bases shortly after the invasion started." he said, not too happy with that.
"So you managed to keep thirty-four ODSTs alive against those odds? Not bad lieutenant. Not bad. You can be proud of yourself. Neal, Iva, Wilson, you're dismissed. Victor, you're staying." the captain said, while everyone, including Victor got up, before he sat down again. As the others exited the room, Victor felt himself growing very uneasy under the captain's stare.
"You know, considering what you did, I should have you pulled off the flight roster, and into a cell. But god damn son, we need those flying skills if we want to beat back the Covenant. Hadn't it been for you, they would've been shot down on approach, the Wraiths would've gotten them, or the elites would've. You saved those men down there, and you even managed to somehow fly a Longsword in low orbit. We need more pilots of that level. Not to mention you're one of the very few humans, that aren't Spartans, that took down several elites. Probably the first one to do so in close combat. We need that, pilot. So, effective immediately, I'm promoting you to lieutenant, second class. This gives you the freedom to act on your own if you see fit, and coordinate with our drop-ships to give them optimum cover. Also, from this point on, you're allowed to fly with both Shortswords and Longswords, in space and in atmosphere. Next time you want to pull off a mad stunt like that, do it." The captain stood up and saluted, followed by Victor, slowed down by his wound, who saluted with left.
"Good luck lieutenant."
"Thank you sir!"

As the captain left the room, he almost bumped into a glaring Iva, who sidestepped the captain with grace, and grabbed hold of Victor's arms the moment he popped up.
"No more of your bullshit about napping. You're coming with me to the infirmary. NOW!" she yelled. She knew that plasma burns could cause a lot of infections, and she wasn't about to let the guy who saved their lives die from his own foolishness. Victor made a face that indicated he was planning on protesting, but as Iva dragged him off, he became frustratingly aware of how tired he was, with the adrenaline having left his body, and the pain constantly tormenting him. As the captain coughed to hide a chuckle, Iva dragged the pilot off.

As they entered the infirmary, Iva's working area when she was stationed aboard the Harbinger rather than aiding soldiers on the ground, she grabbed some scissors and removed his suit from his upper body. She breathed in sharply as the wound became visible.
"That bad?" grunted Victor as he got pushed onto the operating table.
"Yeah." Iva said, being surprisingly cold for her doing.
"Some of the suit got melted into your skin, that's gonna give nasty infections." she said, trailing off at the end. She saw Victor turn white. Either he had gone through something like that before, or he knew what the procedure was.
"Yeah, I'm going to have to-" Iva started, when Victor reached out for a bone-saw, turned it with the back towards him, and knocked himself hard on the neck. Immediately after getting hit, he dropped down, unconscious.
"That son of a..." Iva swore. She had heard rumours about an insane pilot, but this was beyond what she had expected. The guy frigging knocked himself out, while they had anaesthetics aboard! Or maybe he was just that terrified of needles. She chuckled. Guy goes toe to toe with bloody elites, but was scared of a needle. Sighing deeply, she put on sterile gloves, grabbed a scalpel, and started cutting off the burned flesh, removing any traces of the suit, so that it wouldn't poison his blood. She also hooked him up to a monitoring machine that kept a close eye on his internals, and she discovered that he had been slightly poisoned by it, but not enough to do any long term damage. She also noticed that there were some components in it that popped up as 'unknown', but as no alarms flashed she ignored it. After the operation, she sighed, throwing her gloves away put new ones on, and then started washing the blood of his back. As she cleaned her patient up, she started noticing that even by ODST standards, which were the best of the best, he was muscled, but not in a bad, bulking way. He was toned, very well built, somehow giving off the impression that he was slender, thin almost. A bit unreal, not completely human. She called for a nurse, shaking her head and dispersing the thoughts, and told her to move him to the small sickbay which was close to where she stayed, standard procedure for people with risk of blood poisoning. There were two other ODSTs there as well, so he wouldn't be alone. Looking at her watch, she realized she had plenty of time left before the anaesthetics would wear off, so she decided to go the mess hall first. Stretching as she left, she gave a polite nod to the nurse as she walked in to move Victor. Finally being safe, without immediate duties, and having some time off, she started thinking about the events of the last hour.
"Man." she thought. "He really is nuts."

Victor woke up two hours later. He blinked, clearing his vision rapidly from the anaesthetics. His eyes darted around, scanning the area he was in, before recognizing it as a sickbay aboard the Harbinger, and his eyes ceased their movement. He brought a hand to his eyes and touched them softly, checking if his contacts were still in place. Next he moved his hand over to his shoulder and touched the bandaged skin very softly, before prodding harder. It was healing quickly. He could already feel a new layer of skin forming on the wound. It'd take him more time to fully heal, but he remained combat-capable, and that was all that mattered. He closed his eyes again, enjoying the moment of calm. There were very little moments like these. Generally, after encountering the Covenant it was fight for your life, then retreat while half the fleet went up in flames around you. If they were lucky. Covenant technology didn't always allow a strategic retreat. Or any kind of retreat at all. He drifted off in memories. Needles, too many of them. Faces, most of them blurred. A cold voice whispering, talking about perfection being fake, and that other goals needed to be met. Failures, failures everywhere. He grinned. Hopping off the bed, he lied himself down on the floor, then started doing sit-ups. Steeling himself against the pain raising from his shoulder, he started counting.
"One. Two. Three."

Captain Lucas Sinnon was sitting in his office looking over reports that piled in ever since the conflict on Gorvan. Or rather, the destruction of it. The planet was glassed now, like far too many others had been since the outset of the war. Covenant ships would swoop in, engage the UNSC defenders, wipe them out without taking a lot of losses themselves, then proceed to glass the planet from orbit, killing millions without remorse. Wordlessly he browsed through the loss reports. UNSC destroyers Fortress, Vessel of Spring, Strength and Honour were lost with all hands on board. Strength and Honour's loss would be felt the most, as it had a full regiment of ODST's on board. The cruiser Wall of Steel was lost as well, as if the UNSC had any cruisers to spare. Or any ship, for that matter.