He spun around, his MA5K rifle leveled—and found himself face-to-face with a Covenant Elite, its jaw mandibles split in mimicry of an impossibly large human grin. The monster held an energy sword in one hand, and a plasma pistol in the other.
	It shot and swung.
	Tom sidestepped the deadly arcs of energy, set his foot between the Elite’s too-wide stance—pushed and fired at the same time.
	The Elite sprawled onto the ground, and Tom tracked his body, spraying rounds into the slit of its helmet. He didn’t miss.
	Team Foxtrot closed on him, leaving six dead Jackals behind, their bodies snapped like rag dolls.
	...
	Jackals and Elites rushed from their cover in the factory to meet the rest of Beta Company on the field, realizing perhaps it would be suicide to face Spartans in close quarters.
	Thousands of Covenant clashed with two hundred Spartans in open combat. Tracer rounds, crystal shards, plasma bolts, and flaring shields made the scene a blur of chaos.
	The SPARTAN-IIIs moved with speed and reflexes no Covenant could follow. They dodged, snapped necks and limbs, and with captured energy swords they cut through the enemy until the field ran with rivers of gore and blue blood.
	...
	Lucy was tiny. Like Tom, she was only twelve years old