If you look in the dictionary, you'll find this is the meaning of short, but just to feed you guys because I've been so busy!! Now all of these Spartans were in danger. The augmentations were tomorrow and they had already managed to get the whole complex overrun by the Flood. He ran to the huge laboratory of all known knowledge, seeing immobile Flood forms on the walls, like huge lumps of Flood-flesh. It was the weirdest thing he’d ever seen. 1000 hours, SEPTEMBER 29,2552/MILITARY CALENDAR\ ON ‘INSTALLATION 05’ “This is CPO Mendez to all UNSC patrol in-range, this is the whole SPARTAN-III project crew, and we need help. We need at least nine Pelican Dropships ASAP.” They had been running from the Flood for four years, at least 12 of them killed already. CPO Mendez was running out of time when but one UNSC ship, the In Amber Clad had arrived out of slipspace, and he needed a ride back. The In Amber Clad slowly came towards their position, as Mendez peeped out of the small hole in the cave. A floating red light bulb had called this the Quarantine Zone, not that it really mattered at the moment. The ship went back into high orbit, and CPO Mendez asked for SPARTAN-058’s S2 AM Sniper Rifle. She unwillingly handed it over, and he looked through the scope seeing little pods-ODSTs-fall towards the ground, some 50 kilometres away. Mendez felt hope for his star trainee, John-117 to be the one that rescues him, but it was likely not the case. He stared at the ship for two days, when it came at a high speed towards his position. The InAmberClad landed only 26 metres away from the mouth of the tunnel. He signalled for his Spartans to enter the small human ship, so they did. They looked around, something wasn’t right. The hatches were jammed open, and Brutes swarmed the area. “Miranda! Get the hell out of here! Take the Spartans!” Mendez yelled. He fought to his last breathe, and was assassinated by a Brute seconds after. They were all dead, except for one Brute. CHAPTER 9====== 0007, OCTOBER 26, 2552/MILITARY CALENDAR\ ABOARD COVENANT FLAGSHIP, EXCALIBUR. John looked at Cortana’s holographic appearance. John looked down at his destroyed, bloody, soot-stained and cracked MJOLNIR Mark VI armour. “I guess ‘you look nice’ isn’t appropriate for the given situation?” Cortana asked. “You got it.” John replied. “Listen, Chief. Just before you run away to Coral, we’ve got a hospital of some sort in