0649 hours, August 30,2552 (Military Calendar) Epsilon Eridani system, OrbitalDefense Generator Facility A-331, planet Reach.

Fred looked over the battlefield from the top of the southern bunker, his temporary command post. The structure had been hastily erected, and some of the fast-dryinginstacrete hadn't fully hardened.

The bunker was not the best defensive position, but it gave him a clear view of the area as his team worked to strengthen the perimeter of the generator complex. Spartans strung razor wire, buried Antilon mine packs,  and swept the area on patrols. A six-man fireteam searched the battleground for weapons and ammunition.

Satisfied that the situation was as stable as possible, he sat and began to remove portions of his armor. Under normal circum.stances a team of techs would assist in such work, butover time the Spartans had all learned  how to make rudimentary field re.pairs. He located a broken pressure seal and quickly replaced it with an undamaged one he'drecovered from SPARTAN-059's armor.

Fred scowled. He hated the necessity of stripping gear from Malcolm's suit. But it woulddishonor his fallen comrade not to use his gift of the spare part.

He banished thoughts of the drop and finished installing the seal. Self-recrimination was a luxury he could ill afford, and the Red Team Spartans didn't have a monopoly on hardtimes.

Charlie Company's surviving Marines had held off the Cove.nant assault with batteries ofchainguns, Warthogs, and a pair of20 HALO: FIRST STRIKEScorpion tanks for almost an hour. Grunts had charged across the minefield and cleared apath for the Jackals and Elites.

Lieutenant Buckman, the Marines' CO, had been ordered to send the bulk of his men into the forest in an attempt to flank the enemy. He had called in air support, too.

He got it.

Reach HighCom must have realized the generators were in danger of being overrun, so someone panicked and sent in bombers to hit the forest in a half-klick radius. That wipedout the Covenant assault wave. It also  killed the Lieutenant and his men.

What a waste.

Fred replaced the last of his armor components and powered up. His status lights pulseda cool blue. Satisfied, he stood and activated the COM.

"Red-Twelve, give me a sit-rep."Will's voice crackled over the channel. "Perimeter estab.lished, Chief. No enemycontacts.""Good," Fred replied. "Mission status?""Ten chainguns recovered and now provide blanketing fields of fire around the generatorcomplex," Will said. "We've got three Banshee fliers working. We've also recovered thirtyof those arm-mounted Jackal shield  generators, plus a few hundred assault rifles, plasmapistols, and grenades.""Ammo? We need it.""Affirmative, sir," Will said. "Enough to last for an hour of continuous fire." There was ashort pause, then he added: "HQ must have sent reinforcements at some point, becausewe've re.covered a crate marked HIGHCOM  ARMORY OMEGA.""What's in it?""Six Anaconda surface-to-air missiles." Will's voice barely concealed his glee. "And a pairof Fury tac-nukes."Fred gave a low whistle. The Fury tac-nuke was the closest thing the UNSC had in itsarsenal to a nuclear grenade. It was the size and shape of an overinflated football. Itdelivered slightly less than a megaton yield, and was  extremely clean. Unfortu.nately, itwas also completely useless to them in this situation.

"Secure that ordnance ASAP. We can't use them. The EMP would fry the generators."ERIC NYLUND 21"Roger that," Will said with a disappointed sigh.

"Red-Three?" Fred asked. "Report."There was a moment's hesitation. Joshua whispered: "Not good here, Red-One. I'm postedon the ridge between our valley and the next. The Covenant has a massive LZ set up.There's an enemy ship on station and I  estimate battalion-strength enemy troops on theround. Grunts, Jackals, equipment, and support armor are deploying. Looks like they'regggetting ready for round two, sir."Fred felt the pit of his stomach grow cold. "Give me an uplink.""Roger."A tiny picture a peared in Fre'ds heads-up display, and he saw what Joshua had sightedthrough his snippperscope: A Covenant cruiser hovered thirty meters off the ground. Theship bristled with energy weapons and plasma artillery. His Spartans couldn't get withinweapons range of that thing without being roasted.

A gravity lift connected the ship to the surface of Reach, and troops oured out— thousands of them: legions of Grunts, three full squadrons of Elites pppiloting Banshees,plus at least a dozen Wraith tanks.

It didn't make much sense, though. Why didn't the cruiser get closer and open fire? Or didthe Covenant think there might be another air strike? The Covenant never hesitatedduring an as.sault ... but the fact that he  was still alive meant that the enemy's rules ofengagement had somehow changed.

Fred wasn't sure why the Covenant were being so cautious, but he'd take the break. Itwould give him time to figure out how to stop them. If the Spartans were mobile, theymight be able to engage a force that size with  hit-and-run tactics. Holding a fixed positionwas another story altogether.

"Updates every ten minutes," he told Joshua. His voice was suddenly tight and dry.

"Roger that.""Red-Two? Any progress on that SATCOM uplink?""Negative, sir," Kelly muttered, tension thickening her voice. She had been tasked withpatching Charlie Company's bullet-ridden communications pack. "There are battlereports jamming the entire spectrum, but from  what I can make out the fight up.stairsisn't going well. They need this generator up—no matter what it's going to cost us."22HALO: FIRST STRIKE"Understood," Fred said. "Keep me—""Wait. Incoming transmission to Charlie Company from Reach HighCom."HighCom? Fred thought headquarters on Reach had been overrun. "Verification codes?""They check out," Kelly replied.

"Patch it through.""Charlie Company? Jake? What the hell is the holdup there? Why haven 'tyou gotten mymen out yet?""This is Senior Petty Officer SPARTAN-104, Red Team leader," Fred replied, "now incharge of Charlie Company. Identify yourself.""Put Lieutenant Chapman on, Spartan," an irritated voice snapped.

"That's not possible, sir," Fred told him, instinctively realizing that he spoke to an officerand adding the honorific. "Except for four wounded Marines, Charlie Company is gone."There was a long static-filled pause. "Spartan, listen to me very carefully. This is ViceAdmiral Danforth Whitcomb, Deputy Chief of Naval Operations. Do you know who lam,son?""Yes, sir," Fred said, wincing as the Admiral identified him.self. If the Covenant wereeavesdropping on this transmission, the senior officer had just made himself a gianttarget.

"My staff and I are pinned down in a gully southeast of where HighCom used to be," Whitcomb continued. "Get your team over here and extract us, on the double.""Negative, sir, I cannot do that. I have direct orders to protect the generator complexpowering the orbital guns.""I'm countermanding those orders," the Admiral barked. "As of two hours ago, I havetactical command of the defense of Reach. Now, I don't care if you 're a Spartan or JesusChrist walking down the damned Big Horn  River—/ am giving you a direct order.Acknowledge, Spartan."If Admiral Whitcomb was now in char e of the defense, then a lot of the senior brass hadbeen put out of commission when HQ gggot hit.

Fred saw a tiny amber light flashing on his heads-up display. His biomonitor indicated anelevation in his blood pressure and heart rate. He noticed his hands shook, almostimperceptibly.

ERIC NYLUND 23He controlled the shaking and keyed the COM. "Acknowl.edged, sir. Is air supportavailable?""Negative. Covenant craft took out our fighter and bomber cover in the first wave.""Very well, sir. We'll get you out.""Step on it, Chief." The COM snapped off.

Fred wondered if Admiral Whitcomb was responsible for the hundreds of dead Marines who'd been trying to guard the gener.ators. No doubt he was an excellent ship driver. . .but Fleet offi.cers running ground ops? No  wonder the situation was FUBAR.

Had he pressured a young and inexperienced lieutenant to flank a superior enemy? Hadhe sent in air support with orders to saturate-bomb the area?

Fred didn't trust the Admiral's judgment, but he couldn't ig.nore a direct order from him,either.

He ran his team roster up onto his heads-up display: twenty-two Spartans, six woundedso badly they could barely walk, and four battle-fatigued Marines who'd been throughhell once al.ready. They had to repel a  massive Covenant force. They had to extractAdmiral Whitcomb, too. And as usual, their survival was at best a tertiary consideration.

He had weapons to defend the installation: grenades, chain-guns, and missiles—Fred paused. Perhaps this was the wrong way to look at the tactical situation. He was thinking about defending the installa.tion when he should have been thinking aboutwhat Spartans were best at—offense.

He keyed the SQUADCOM. "Everyone catch that last transmission?"Acknowledgment lights winked on.

"Good. Here's the plan: We split into four teams.

"Team Delta—" He highlighted the wounded Spartans and the four Marines on the roster."—fall back to this location." He uploaded a tactical map of the area and set a NAV marker in a ravine sixteen kilometers north.  "Take two Warthogs, but leave them and stealth it ifyou encounter any resistance. Your mission is to secure the area. This will be the squad'sfallback position. Keep the back door open for us."They immediately acknowledged. The Spartans knew that24 HALO: FIRST STRIKEravine like the backs of their hands. It wasn't marked on any map, but it was where they'dtrained for months with Dr. Halsey. Beneath the mountain were caverns that the Office ofNaval In.telligence had converted into a  top-secret facility. It was fortified and hardenedagainst radiation, and could probably withstand anything up to and including a directnuclear strike. A perfect hole to hide in if everything went sour.

"Team Gamma." Fred selected Red-Twenty-one, Red-Twenty-two, and Red-Twenty-three from the roster. "You'll extract the Admiral and his staff and bring them back to thegenerators. We'll need the extra crew.""Affirmative," Red-Twenty-one replied.

Technically Fred was following Whitcomb's order to extract him from his currentposition. What the Admiral didn't realize, though, was that he would have probably beensafer staying put.

"Team Beta—" Fred selected Red-Twenty through Red-Four. "—you're on generatordefense.""Understood, Chief.""Team Alpha—" He selected Kelly, Joshua, and himself.

"Awaiting orders, sir," Joshua said.

"We're going to that valley to kill anything there that isn't human."Fred and Kelly faced the three Banshee fliers that had been dragged into the makeshiftcompound. Fred peered inside the cockpit of the nearest craft and tabbed the activationknob. The Banshee rose a meter off the ground, its antigrav pod glowed a faint electricblue, and it started to drift forward. He snapped it off, and the Banshee settled to theground. He quickly tested the other two, and they also rose off the ground.

"Good. All working."Kelly crossed her arms. "We're going for a ride?"A Warthog pulled up and skidded to a halt in front of them, Joshua at the wheel. The rearheld half a dozen Jackhammer mis.siles and a trio of launchers. A crate sat in thepassenger's seat, one loaded with the dark, emerald-green duct tape that every sol.dierin the UNSC ubiquitously referred to as "EB Green.""Mission accomplished, sir," Joshua said as he climbed from the Warthog.

ERIC NYLUND 25Fred grabbed a launcher, a pair of rockets, and a roll of tape from the 'Hog. "We'll beneeding these when we hit the Cove.nant on the other side of the ridge," he explained.

"Each of you secure a launcher and some ammo in a Banshee."Joshua and Kelly stopped what they were doing and turned to face him.

"Permission to speak, sir," Kelly asked.

"Granted.""I'm all for a good fight, Fred, but those odds are a little lop.sided even for us... like tenthousand to one.""We can handle a hundred to one",Joshua chimed in, "maybe even five hundred to one with a little planning and support, but against these odds, a frontal assault seems—""It's not going to be a frontal assault," Fred said. He wedged the launcher into thecramped Banshee cockpit. "Tape."Kelly ripped off a length of tape and handed it over.

Fred smoothed the adhesive strip and secured the launcher in place. "We'll play this one as quiet as we can," he said.

She considered Fred's plan for a moment and then asked, "So, assuming we fool them into letting us into their lines ... then what?""As much as I'd like to, we can't use the tac-nukes," Joshua mused, "not in the far valley.The intervening ridge isn't high enough to block the EMP. It'll burn out the orbital defense generator.""There's another way to use them," Fred told them. "We're go.ing to board the cruiser— right up its gravity lift—and detonate the nuke inside. The ship's shields will dampen theelectromag.netic pulse.""It'll also turn that ship into the biggest fragmentation grenade in history," Kellyremarked.

"And if anything goes wrong," Joshua said, "we end up in the middle often thousandpissed-off bad guys.""We're Spartans," Fred said. "What could possibly go wrong?"