PROLOGUE BETA COMPANY'S VICTORY AT PEGASI DELTA 1135 HOURS, JULY 3, 2545 (MILITARY CALENDAR) 51 PEGASI-B SYSTEM, TARGET AREA APACHE, PLANET PEGASI DELTA The orbital pod impacted, and metal wrenched and sparked. Inside his cocoon of titanium, lead foil, and stealth ablative coating, SPARTAN-B292 watched black stars explode across his vision, he tasted blood in his mouth, and the last air compressed from his lungs. Tom's training kicked in: he pulled the pod's twisted frame apart and blinked in the bright blue sunlight. Something was wrong. 85 Pegasi-914A was supposed to be a faint yellow sun. This was electric blue—boiling plasma blue. He jumped, rolling to one side as the blast washed over him. The outer layers of his Semi-Powered Infiltration armor boiled and peeled like a bad sunburn. "Training," his instructor, Lieutenant Commander Ambrose, had said. " Your training must become part of your instinct. Drill until it becomes part of your bones." Tom reacted without thought; a lifetime of training took over. He raised his MA5K assault rifle and fired along the trajectory of the plasma bolt, making sure to sweep low. His eyes cleared, and as he automatically reloaded his weapon, he finally saw the surface of Pegasi Delta. It could have been hell: red rocks; orange dust-filled sky; the scars