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CHAPTER THREE
0649 hours, August 30,2552 (Military Calendar)
\ Epsilon Eridani system, Orbital Defense 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-drying instacrete 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, but over 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'd recovered from SPARTAN-059's
armor.
Fred scowled. He hated the necessity of stripping gear from
Malcolm's suit. But it would dishonor 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 hard times.
Charlie Company's surviving Marines had held off the Cove-
nant assault with batteries of chainguns, Warthogs, and a pair of