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_ Chapter III: Simplicity Redefined _

Location: Phantom dropship, en route to landing zone in the outskirts of New Alexandria Planet: Reach Date: August 21, 2552 (UNSC Calendar) Local Time: 04:26 hours

Garek was grateful that Ar'n had allowed him to share a personal moment before this deployment, just as Ar'n was grateful for him making the offer. It had put the Minor's mind at enough ease to get him truly focused. It had been incredibly awkward, naturally, but they had both agreed that the intention was correctly placed. His mind had been cleared, as well, but that only brought a wariness of the battle ahead. He didn't even know what their objectives were, and that was troubling for reasons all its own. "What, exactly, will we be doing?" he said as they flew over several skyscrapers, more than a few with smoke billowing from shattered windows. The scene was as grim as it was beautiful, but this was not after a battle. No, it was only just beginning.

Kilo regarded him for a moment before looking back at the passing city and nodding. "For now, we will be setting up jammers to assist our brothers in confusing the fleeing humans. Your team, however," he paused, silently judging the three Minors. "Will be eliminating anything that would be a threat to us. Is that clear?"

"Yes, your Excellence."

"Good. Now, I suppose it is time for brief introductions. That is Seor 'Albosee, Anor 'Etsosee, Zero 'Insoree, and Razo 'Nezomee." Each simply nodded as they were mentioned. "Perhaps you would like to introduce yourselves, as well?"

"I am Major Domo Garek 'Izakee, and these are my Minors. 'Drakosee, 'Xaseree, and 'Stronasee."

"Their given names?" Razo demanded rudely.

Garek grunted his disapproval, that operative's remark rubbing him wrong way. It may have been for documentation purposes, in case anyone fell in battle, but that could have been done politely. Being "the best" brought forth an ego to match the reputation, he supposed. He would say nothing, however, as 'Nezomee was an Ultra. "Ar'n, Z'aes, and Orna; same order as before, sir." The operative nodded curtly towards them, the aforementioned three doing the same.

"Sirs?" the Unggoy co-pilot called from the front of the Phantom.

"What is it?" Kilo demanded, looking at the viewscreen.

"Thermal imaging is picking up several human armor units, your Excellence," the lead pilot, a Sangheili Minor, said.

"Anti-armor or anti-air?" The pilot said he couldn't confirm, as he simply didn't know the difference; it was all the same to him, as he needed to be more familiar with immediate threats, like other aircraft. Garek beckoned Orna, the resident expert in demolitions and nearly anything anti-vehicle, into the cockpit to identify the units.

"Those are anti-armor vehicles, pilot. However, a skilled operator could bring down an aircraft. You have nothing to worry about, though. We are much too far away." That did nothing to erase the uncertainty in the pilot's face, but that wasn't anyone's fault but his own; Orna did as he was asked, and the rest of them were just along for the ride. Garek would have blamed it on having an Unggoy co-pilot, if he were that delusional about the runts.

"They will be in our way on the ground, so be ready 'Stronasee," Kilo ordered as they reentered the troop bay and sat down.

"I am always ready, your Excellence."

"Sixty seconds from the first drop point," the Minor called.

Though the Minor couldn't see it, Kilo nodded and secured his helmet to his head. Garek had heard stories of why the humans, and Covenant races alike, feared the Spec Ops. Their armor alone was terrifying; the helmets were smooth and curved, but possessed three "horns" where the soldier's snout and mandibles would be. The eye covers, much like an Ultra's ceremonial helmet, glowed a bright blue. The colors they wore were a dark gray, much like steel, with the color of their rank as the trim and white, maroon, or gold armor details which indicated what task force and unit they were with; this squad in particular bore the maroon markings of a group simply known as Alpha-7. "My brothers, it is time to do what we do best: strike fear into the heart of our enemy and cause disarray among their ranks. Remember what our wise commanders have taught us and what the previous generations have done to get our Covenant where it is today." Once the Phantom was hovering over the drop zone, "Disperse, you know what to do. Do not let us down, Rangers."

Garek secured his own helmet, a shiver running the length of his spine as his shields rose. He blinked, eyes adjusting to the sudden addition of elements to his HUD. The condition of his shields, charges for his weapons, motion tracker, range finder. As long as he had been in service, he still had yet to get used to it. The atmosphere in his suit became separate from the outside world, and he switched to the external comms link. "See you on the ground."

The Spec Ops Major's body language suggested that he was smirking beneath his helmet. "No, you will not." With that, he dropped through the dropship's gravity lift and disappeared into the night.

Garek turned upon hearing Ar'n huff. "What?"

"Nothing."

"No, you have something to say Ar'n, so by all means, continue."

"Fine," he said, crossing his arms as best he could; the chest pieces they wore made it rather difficult. "Every time I even think about 'Albosee, I have to fight back a rage. So you could only imagine what this Phantom ride was like for me."

"You do hate him, truly."

"I prefer despise to the point of inflicting bodily harm."

"Hmm. See if you can lock that away in your mind, because we are stuck with them. I, too, hope this is a temporary pairing. All of that time spent getting to know our brothers will be wasted if we do not survive this night." They were all in agreement to that sentiment. Of course, there were Rangers in their lance that they loathed, but they were preferable to these operatives; Rangers were supposed to be efficient and fast, as Spec Ops were, but the latter had a reputation of ruthlessness, recklessness. "Check your equipment one last time. We shall drop soon." He entered the cockpit once more, silently watching the humans' movements on the multiple viewscreens before him, trying to place them to any kind of pattern - be it attack or retreat. His musing was interrupted when the pilot told him that they were nearing their drop zone. "Keep us at four hundred meters and open the side doors."

"Yes, sir."

"What is your name, Minor?" he said, using a less commonly-used Sangheili dialect.

The Minor tilted his head before glancing at the Unggoy opposite him. "Rypa 'Cazaree," he said with a nod. "And yours, sir?"

"Garek 'Izakee. Might I ask why you decided to become a pilot?"

"Hmm. Well, I have always had a love of aircraft; if you can name it, I have probably wanted to fly it. At first, I was disappointed when I was assigned to this Phantom, but that quickly became satisfaction once I actually sat in the pilot's seat. A few have called me an honorless swine," he paused to chuckle. "But I just tell them 'Well, this honorless swine just delivered you safely to your mission area. Under heavy fire without a single casualty, I might add. Have a nice day'." "Someone has to do it, and I would much rather have a fellow Sangheili taking me into battle than a few clumsy Unggoy." "Exactly, and thank you. Twenty seconds to objective. Tell the nishum that I send my regards, sir," he finished, reverting back the common Covenant dialect.

"Stay out of trouble, 'Cazaree." Garek pounded his left gauntlet on his right shoulder pad, getting his squad's attention. "Prime your thruster packs. We are going in via combat jump."

"Why would we need our thruster packs in the gravity lift?" Orna said, not hearing the doors opening until the wind came rushing into the troop bay and the doors locked into the open position with a loud click. "Oh."

"Weapons at the ready. Jump on my mark." He waited for the violet lights above each door to change to cyan; the signal for 'clear to exit'. "Go!" The seemingly dark sky suddenly became illuminated by multiple burning buildings and the lightning from the raging storm as he exited the cloud cover. He activated the thermal imaging technology in his helmet as rain violently splattered against his visor, making visibility next to nothing. He looked down and activated the thrusters on his back, seeing a rooftop rushing up to meet him. A grunt left his throat as he landed on the slick concrete. Not good for a first combat jump, but it could have been worse. Hearing similar sounds over the torrent, he activated his comms and selected Nazo's personal channel. "Team Two is on the ground and mobile. We are on a rooftop approximately...three hundred-forty meters due East of the Team One. Moving to assist now."

"Copy that, 'Izakee. Move quickly, but do not directly intervene unless they are compromised."

"Understood. Ar'n, get us out of this damn rain," he ordered over the squad's closed channel, gesturing to the electronically locked door leading to the building's interior.

"This should take no more than a moment...we are in." As they stalked the dark and narrow hallways, the scent of blood and scorched flesh filtered through their helmets. "It looks like the Jiralhanae have already swept through here. Ugh, I am completely sealing my helmet filters."

"Get used to the stench, Ar'n. Our weapons are going to produce the same result. Oh Gods," Garek trailed off, catching sight of a human, or what was left of it. He stepped over as much of the blood and entrails as he could before reaching down and closing the human's eyes. "May the Gods have mercy on you and show you the Path of the Enlightened," he whispered. "You did not deserve this."

"Did I just see that?" Z'aes thought aloud. "Garek, what the hell was that?"

"All that have passed, no matter how despicable, deserve respect."

"Not that. I mean that prayer, I have never heard it before."

"I practice the Old Beliefs, Z'aes. I do not care if it is 'heresy'. It is what I was raised to believe, and I will respect my parent's decision on the matter. I am sure they taught me these things for a specific reason. Do any of you have a problem with that?" They all gave him negative affirmations, save for Orna, and he turned his head pointedly to the Minor.

"I," he trailed off, hanging his head. "I do not know what to think about it. It may be heresy, but...I cannot help but be curious."

"Then we shall talk more about it later. Not a word to anyone, clear?" Once the three nodded, "Good. Come, we have a job to do. Ar'n, scout ahead."

"At once, sir. What should I do if I find something?"

"Maintain comm silence. If you find something, just wait for us to catch up. Z'aes, what should we do in case we are ambushed in these hallways?"

The Minor hummed as he scanned every inch of the walls. "Find some cover and fight back. Very basic, I know, but what else is there to do in that event? I have heard that humans travel in groups, much larger than ours, but we would have the upper hand in terms of skill and weaponry. I mean, of course we would. We are winning the war, after all." After descending several floors and finding nothing but plasma burns and bullet holes, Z'aes spoke again. "What type of establishment is this? I have seen several signs, but I cannot read their language."

"This is a hospital, and we are on...the third floor."

"You are just full of surprises, Ar'n. What is next? Are you going to tell us that some human infantry is coming this way?" Orna said lightly.

"About that..." Ar'n led them over to a window and indicated a column of armor, comprised mostly of Warthogs, but with a few Scorpions mixed in. "We cannot get through this on our own."

Garek scanned the row of windows and took note of how the benches were placed in front of them. Not much cover for their large frames, but at the range between them, it would matter little. The white of the walls, coupled with the dark windows, would hide them well enough until fire was exchanged. "I believe we can."

"What do you have in mind?"

Garek pulled the Type-50 SRS rifle from his back. "It is risky, but it should work. I am not sure how fortunate you all feel, but today...I feel like a gambler." He couldn't quite see their faces, but he knew he'd worried them. Perhaps he really was going mad.

Remnants of 4th battlegroup, 22nd Armored Corp, in formation before the New Alexandria Central Hospital Local Time: 05: 27 hours "Yo, Frankie!"

Corporal Franklin Nichols twisted in the passenger seat of his Warthog to see who called his name. "What do you want, Derek?"

"When are we movin', man? I'm about to go off and fight these fuckers myself."

"Patience, trooper. We'll be Oscar Mike soon, just gotta wait for the Major to pull his head from his arse."

"I'm just sayin', Sarge. We know the Covies are up the street. Why don't we just take 'em out?"

Franklin watched as Gunnery Sergeant Wilfred Moore, an Englishman, climbed from the driver seat of his 'Hog and approached the rear of the one beside his, which had Private First Class Derek Rowitz on the gun. "Listen 'ere, Rowitz. If you wanna go out there and get yourself killed, be my guest. If not, shut yer mouth and wait like everyone else. I don't really give a damn about you, kid; you're just like all the others. Too stupid or cocky to see this war for what it really is."

"I..."

"Just shut up and be patient."

"Gunny, we got Covies in the hospital, third story!"

"What're they doin', Mendez?"

"They're just...watching us."

"Delta-259, let's teach 'em that staring's rude, shall we?"

_"You got it." _ Specialist Austin Mendez watched through his binoculars as one of the Elites tilted it's head at him as the three tanks aimed their turrets at the hospital; it almost looked smug, as if to mock him. He opened his mouth to speak, but Gunnery Sergeant Moore fell to the ground dead before he could give the order to fire.

"Sniper, cover!"

"Delta-259, what's your status?"

"Major, sir," someone said into their comm; Mendez recognized it as Cpl. Nichols. "We're pinned down by Covi sniper fire and Sergeant Moore got wasted, over."

"Well, get the hell outta there! You have permission to move the column."

"Load up, and make it quick! Let's move!"

---

"Orna, get ready." Garek quickly left the room as every vehicle sans one Scorpion began moving. "Ar'n, let us get into the street to help Z'aes."

"Did you get the kill?"

Garek scoffed. "Of course I did. The human bore this insignia." He sent a picture to Ar'n through the Battle Net, the Minor humming as he looked at it.

"A Gunnery Sergeant. Not high in rank, but an officer nonetheless."

"Hmm. One down..."

"Billions to go," Ar'n said lightly as they exited into an alley, only to snarl and raise his Type-51 Carbine at a civilian frozen in front of them.

"Tell it to get out of here."

"What?!" came the hissed reply.

"Tell it to run, Ar'n. We are here to fight the enemy, not civilians." Ar'n lowered his rifle and barked at the human in its language, firing at the ground in front of it to drive the point home. Garek pulled his friend aside to let the human run past, the latter tugging his arm free once it was gone.

"Someone will hear about this."

"Go ahead and tell someone, I care not. There are more urgent matters to attend to." Ar'n grunted and began moving for Z'aes' position, Garek close behind. "How much further?" he whispered.

"About one hundred-twenty meters until they reach our trap," Z'aes said. "Are you sure about this?"

"No. All we have is the element of surprise."

"Element of surprise? They know we are here," Ar'n stated.

"Yes, but they do not know exactly where we are, or how many of us there are."

"Twenty-five meters."

"Orna, prime the charges," Garek said, receiving an affirmative hand signal. He eyed the fifteen charges placed throughout the street. They were spread out for maximum damage; three of them were designed to send out an electro-magnetic pulse, while the rest were meant to destroy the vehicles. He knew that this trap would not destroy every vehicle in the column, but he knew that Orna and Z'aes could take care of that detail while he and Ar'n handled the infantry. "Detonate!" His actions became mechanical as ten of the fifteen vehicles became disabled, and then flaming wrecks within mere milliseconds.

"Grenades first, go!" Garek popped around the corner in a crouch and tossed a plasma grenade into a group of humans, the others doing the same from their positions. Time seemed to slow as he began to down each gunner, fuel rod, concussive, and the luminescent rounds of a Carbine taking care of what he missed.

"They are retreating," Orna called, as if it needed saying. For affirmation's sake, Garek was grateful. Two of their Warthogs remained, and though pocked and scarred as they were, he could still hear the faint rumble of their primitives engines.

"Let them, conserve your ammunition. 'Vernomee."

"Yes, 'Izakee?"

"Have you finished with the jammer?"

"The Huragok are just finishing up. Are we clear to move on?"

"Affirmative. The human's armor has been wiped out."

"Excellent. We no longer need you to assist us... I suggest you get to these coordinates; that squad would greatly appreciate a helping hand."

"Received. Moving now."

Ar'n scoffed upon seeing the waypoint on his HUD. "How do you suggest we get there? It is on the other side of this city. Rubble, wrecks, human reinforcements. Need I remind you that we are not an army?"

Garek pointed to an undamaged M831 TT. "Ask, and you shall receive."

"No. No, no, no."

"I suggest you start walking, then," he quipped, gently removing a corpse from the driver seat.

Ar'n closed his eyes with a sigh, seeing that Z'aes and Orna were heading for the vehicle without hesitation. "What if someone finds out?"

Garek removed his helmet, clipped it to his left hip, and smirked. "No one will, Ar'n. We shall abandon it before we get to the waypoint. Get in the passenger seat and keep your rifle ready." He took a moment to ease into the vehicle. It was uncomfortable, his legs were already protesting, and his head rose above the windscreen. It still beat walking over that much ground to likely find that their time would have been wasted.

"I suppose a little heresy never hurt anyone," Ar'n mumbled once he settled into the transport.

Location: Kerület a Dics?ség, New Alexandria Local Time: 06: 47 hours

"We must go on foot from here. Hmm," Garek said, looking over the many buildings he could use for cover. "We should set up in there. It stands the tallest among these others, providing a clear view of the waypoint. We can assist our brothers from afar."

"How about that one?" Orna pointed. The building was only half as tall as the one he'd chosen, and twice as demolished; most of the face and wall on their side was missing, but it was dark and shrouded by smoke. "It is closer to that courtyard over there," he added, and Garek knew his intention; he wanted to be closer to not only his allies, but his enemies. He could respect that.

"Very well. Quickly. We have wasted enough time talking, let us get in there and aid our brothers." He gestured for Ar'n to peek a break in the courtyard's wall, the Minor waving for them to pass. They crossed the street in two pairs, Orna and Z'aes going first to clear the building if they had to. "Cover my back, Ar'n. Follow five meters behind me." He received only a nod, and ran forward. No alarm was raised, their presence still unknown. He ordered Z'aes and Orna to remain a floor below them, in the odd event that the humans had been crafty. "Listen. Do you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

"Exactly." He sunk into a half-crouch, stalking the corridor at Ar'n's back, glancing through doors as they passed. Things were silent by no means - it was a war zone, after all - but the lack of small arms fire below was cause enough to make him wary. They set up in separate rooms, keeping prone to further mask their silhouettes. "Do you see anything?"

"No. One moment," he said, quickly jolting back to spot he had previously scanned over with the scope on his Carbine. "The humans are holding them...prisoner? Oh, please, give me the order to open fire on the sick bastards..."

"Negative. You will hold your fire until I say. Wait one...found them." It was a despicable sight, indeed, seeing comrades lined up like that. Perhaps more despicable than that, however, was the fact that whoever was in charge had ordered the surrender. The Covenant, surrendering? Oh, the humans would enjoy that small victory, wouldn't they? He scanned the line of helmets until he found the red of a Major Domo. He nearly squeezed the trigger, but his grip faltered. He recognized that face. "No," he whispered.