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Finishing this Fight by macskull
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Chapter One: High Charity
Date: 30 December 2005, 11:57 pm
This story is an (almost) exact clone of the one that's currently being created on fanfiction.net. I just wanted to post it here to see what the HBO readers thought...
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"And where, Oracle is that?" the Arbiter asked calmly.
"Given the data put into my banks by those who created me, and assuming a margin of error of 0.04% due to changing from my units to yours, and attempting to use your geographical names, the location of the Ark is…" 343 Guilty Spark paused as he calculated – "in the Local Sector, Sol System, Planet Classification A923."
"Hey, tin-can, what the hell planet is that?" Sergeant Avery Johnson asked.
"Well, after studying your race and their terms, I believe you use the term 'Earth.'" 343 concluded. Johnson immediately coughed. "Say WHAT!?" he cried incredulously. "You've GOT to be kidding me."
There was a short silence as the two humans present thought about the implications of the Oracle's statement. The Arbiter broke the silence. "It seems that this 'Earth,' as you call it, has some importance to the both of you. If it is all right with you, you may proceed to my ship, the Enamored Glory. I believe it will suit your needs. We can then proceed to your planet."
"You're offering to continue this small alliance, Elite?" Commander Miranda Keyes asked. "Yes, and I would prefer it if you called me 'Arbiter.' This is the title given to me by the Prophets and I would like you to use it, human," the Arbiter said.
"Well, then. I suppose you'll have to call US by our titles. I'm a Sergeant, and she's a Commander." Johnson said. "Very well… Sergeant," the Arbiter replied. "I will call a Phantom from my ship, and we will return there."
Both Johnson and Keyes were relatively quiet throughout the trip back to the Enamored Glory. The Arbiter looked and saw their sad faces, and asked, "Of what importance is this planet… Earth? That you would be so saddened to hear of its attack by our – or, rather, what were our, forces?"
"Earth's our home planet. Everything we have to live for is there, you split-lipped bastard." Johnson stated simply. The Arbiter grunted. "Fine. We will call any remaining Sangheili ships and depart for your planet. Once there, we will dispose of any filthy Jiralhanae that put up resistance."
The Phantom on which they were traveling slowed as it entered one of the Enamored Glory's hangar bays. Once the Phantom stopped, the party of two humans, one Monitor, six Elites, and four Grunts stepped out onto the purplish-colored floors of the cruiser. After arriving on the ship's bridge, the Arbiter ordered "Osta 'Yalinshri! Contact all Sangheili ships in the system. Tell them to assemble here, over High Charity. Make haste, as we have much to do!" A crimson-armored Elite sitting at a control panel pressed some keys and spoke, sending a message to exactly four hundred sixty-three Covenant ships, all of which began to converge on that historic place.
"So you're no longer allied with those damn dirty apes?" Johnson asked. "That is correct, Sergeant," replied the Arbiter. "In fact, a new name for our collective of Sangheili, Unggoy, and Lekgolo is in order." The Arbiter spoke into a transmitter in front of him – "My brothers, for truly we are now brothers, we have been deceived. The prophets' only will is to propel themselves on the Great Journey, leaving all others behind. We have made alliance with the humans and will proceed to their home planet." The bridge of the Enamored Glory was filled with the roars of thousands of Elites as they uttered their battle cries. "We shall call ourselves, not the Covenant, for they are deceitful and unworthy of such a title, but the Order of Revelation, for with us we bring truth and light to our brethren," the Arbiter continued.
"Arbiter! I am receiving a signal from inside the city. I do not believe it to be hostile, but it is not Sangheili," the crimson Elite said. "Place it on the ship's speakers," replied the Arbiter. All eyes and ears turned toward the strange incoming message…
"Cortana to all UNSC personnel, can anyone hear me? I repeat, Cortana to all UNSC personnel within range, can anyone hear me? Respond over UE Tac-channel A23!"
"Holy shit," Miranda Keyes whispered.
- - - - - - - - - - - -
"New contact, unknown classification!" the communication officer shouted to Fleet Admiral Terrence P. Hood. "It isn't one of ours. Take it out." Silence filled the COM room of the GSO (Geosync-Orbital) Super MAC platform Cairo as no less than four Super MAC cannons were trained on the strange new ship that had just appeared over Earth.
"This is Spartan-117. Can anybody hear me, over?" came the crackling voice over the station's radio. "Isolate that signal," Hood ordered. "Master Chief, what are you doing aboard that ship?" he inquired after a slight pause.
"Sir – finishing this fight." With that, John, Spartan-II number 117, picked up the Brute Shot dropped by a Brute he had just killed, loaded a fresh clip of four egg-shaped grenades into it, and boldly bashed down a locked door to his left.
John looked around. He couldn't see any enemies, but he knew there were some nearby. If only Cortana were here, she'd be able to help him out. Get a hold of yourself, John. You left Cortana at High Charity – you did the right thing, the Spartan thought. He turned a corner and immediately pulled back – he had just seen six Jackals coming straight toward his location, squawking animatedly at each other. Their shields were lowered, meaning they suspected nothing. He took advantage of the situation. Waiting until the threat had moved past, he jumped out and swiftly took out the rear three aliens with blows to the head. He picked up their plasma pistols and shields, activating a shield just before the remaining Jackals opened fire on him.
"Chief, you've got two choices. You can stay and try to fight the entire crew of that ship, or get to an escape pod and let us finish off the bastards with a MAC round." John winced as the voice of Admiral Hood clanged in his head just as he killed the last three Jackals with bolts of superheated plasma. "I'll go, you obviously don't want another Prophet landing on Earth," John answered.
"Prophet? On board that ship? Well, that changes everything. Chief, you now have five minutes to get to an escape pod before we blow that ship to hell – whether you're on it or not." "Understood, Admiral," the Chief said. He'd have to move quickly – the escape pods were quite a ways away, and there no doubt would be guards. He grabbed some plasma grenades from at his feet and moved toward the escape pods.
After charging through sixteen Brutes, twenty Drones, and twelve Jackals, John finally reached the escape pods. He picked a particularly promising-looking one and got in. He punched the 'launch' button just in time. As he did so, his HUD's countdown timer hit zero – the MAC guns had fired, and soon the Prophet of Truth would be just an annoying memory. His small escape pod was shaken several times by nearby explosions – Archer missiles, plasma torpedoes, reactors of dying UNSC and Covenant ships, and the occasional Longsword or Seraph, being hit by anti-single-ship weaponry. He then felt the shudder as a MAC round passed within 1500 kilometers of his small craft, heading straight for the Forerunner ship. John didn't even bother to shield his eyes as at least three MAC rounds cleanly impacted the ship, disabled its shields, and tore it apart.
"Serves you right, bastard," John muttered under his breath.
- - - - - - - - - - - -
"Give me the COM channel that message requested," gasped Keyes, still trying to get a hold of herself. "Commander Miranda Keyes to Cortana. I thought you were with the Chief." "I was," came the reply, "but he left on the same ship as the Prophet of Truth and I asked to stay. I've gathered lots of information about the Covenant."
"Cortana, the Covenant as we know it is no more. The Elites, Grunts, and Hunters are now part of the Order of Revelation – and we've just joined. We will need their help if we're to get to Earth to defeat the Brutes." Keyes stepped back from the control panel, but then quickly stepped forward. "Where are you, Cortana?" "The large building in the center of the city, third floor, southern wing."
Keyes turned to the Arbiter. "Could you spare a team of Elites? We need to go and get that construct." "Certainly, if it is of great importance to you," agreed the Arbiter. "Ylim 'Makatli! Your team is to go to the surface, and extract this human construct. Equip yourselves to deal with the parasite." "Yes, Arbiter," the gold-clad Elite replied, and then bowed. "We shall arm ourselves with the best weapons we have. We will take Carbines and swords to deal with the infestation." The golden Elite contacted his squad of one dozen hardened Elite soldiers, who headed for the Enamored Glory's armory. "Hang on, Goldie – I'm almost immune to the flood. I know more about that AI than any of your best scientists. I'm coming along," barked Johnson. "Very well, Sergeant," the golden Elite said. "Johnson, be careful," Keyes told the man. "Yes ma'am," he growled.
The spec-ops team armed themselves to the teeth with almost any weaponry they could find – Carbines, plasma rifles for sidearms, energy sword, and plasma grenades – then headed for Hangar Bay C32. They jumped into a Phantom, which flared its engines and then accelerated through the hangar's opening doors. A squadron of six Banshee attack fighters escorted the Phantom to the city's surface.
After a smooth five-minute ride, the group of thirteen Elites and one human landed in the middle of a flat, open area, opened the Phantom's loading door, and loaded their weapons. The fourteen soldiers moved toward the entrance of a tunnel seventy yards away, careful to be silent. When they were only twenty yards from the door, a large 'pack' of Infection Form Flood poured from it – and was immediately destroyed by plasma fire. "Yeah, popcorn chicken bitches!" yelled Johnson. "Do not be too confident, Sergeant," Ylim 'Makatli said. There will be more, and they will be armed. "Let 'em come! I'll kick their asses myself!" replied the human as he twiddled with his BR55.
The Elites went through the door first, weapons at the ready. They moved through the darkened, spore-clouded passageways of the dying city of High Charity, covering every angle against a possible Flood attack. After ten minutes of relative quietness, the team reached a small room with two pedestals in the center. "Over here, Sarge!" a cool female voice urged. Johnson looked, and saw a projection of Cortana on the pedestal to his left. "Get me out of here! Gravemind is probing my data banks and I'm running out of time," she added, more insistently. Johnson complied, not even bothering to ask whom this 'Gravemind' might be. He pulled Cortana's chip out of the pedestal and put it in his pocket. "All right, ladies, let's get back to that Phantom," he said, turning to Ylim 'Makatli.
The team set off, back the way they came. After what seemed like an hour, they emerged from the darkened hallways onto the pad they had landed on – and stared in shock. Flood Combat Forms were everywhere, and their Phantom was burning. Ylim 'Makatli surveyed the area and saw one Elite, their pilot, fighting valiantly against six Combat Forms. Eventually, though, he succumbed to sheer numbers and fell to a few rounds from an M9C pistol. Ylim 'Makatli growled and activated his energy sword. His teammates did the same. "By the Prophets…" began one, and then he stopped as he remembered the Prophets were meaningless. Johnson looked up – there were only three Banshees fighting the Flood from the air. That meant that – damn. These damn zombies were powerful. Ylim 'Makatli turned to Johnson. "Sergeant, you fire at them from long range while we get close enough to eliminate the parasite with our blades. May the gods be with you – and us." The gold-clad Elite uttered a fierce battle cry and twelve voices joined him. The Sangheili charged forward and began slicing at the Flood, who nearly scattered at the sudden appearance of this new threat.
Johnson trained his BR55's scope at a distant Combat Form and pulled the trigger. A burst of three rounds sped from the gun and dropped the parasite in its tracks. The Flood screamed in agony, alerting others to Johnson's position. Damn! was the only thing he thought. He continued to fire quickly as several Combat Forms advanced on his position. He fired at what should have been their heads, killing most with only a single shot. One, though, got through his barrage of fire and leaped into the air ready to kill the human – but exploded as an energy blade cut it down. "Thanks, Goldie," Johnson said to Ylim 'Makatli as he wiped Flood guts off his face. "Sergeant, we have disposed of all the parasite. My troops have done well, as have you," the Elite said. "I have contacted the Enamored Glory and they will send two Phantoms, one for us, and a medic team for my wounded. Our pilot is still alive, we will tend to him. It will be a five minute wait until our transports arrive."
"Commander, we should form defensive perimeters around the destroyed Phantom. It appears the parasite is massing on the far platform." A white-armored Elite motioned to a distant platform, and Johnson could see at least two hundred Combat Form Flood gathering – if they got here in less than five minutes, well, the entire squad would be screwed. "Sergeant, can you hit those targets at such a range?" inquired the white Elite. "Of course." It was only one hundred yards, and every good Marine knew the BR55 was accurate to 150 yards, up to 250 in good hands. Johnson jammed a full clip into his rifle and was satisfied to see the ammo counter read '36.' He took aim at an unfortunate enemy and fired round after round until at least seventy Flood combatants lay on the ground. "Impressive marksmanship, human," the white-armored Elite told him. "Thanks, you're not too bad yourself." The two looked at each other and realized that even though their species had a long way to go before they could actually be friends, these two could manage right away.
The Flood began advancing and Elites started opening up with their Carbines, felling row after row of the foul creatures. Their two Phantoms arrived minutes later, and the medics from the first took three wounded Elites onboard. The medical Phantom took off, and one of the three remaining Banshees peeled off to escort it. Suddenly, a rocket shot out of nowhere and destroyed the escort. "What the fuck?" swore Johnson. He turned just in time to see a group of rocket-carrying Combat Forms heading straight toward his group's position. "Hey, aliens! Take out those bastards!" The Elites fired upon the advancing threat as they scrambled aboard their Phantom.
Once all were onboard, the pilot punched the thrusters and they accelerated, unevenly to avoid the rocket fire. Ylim 'Makatli looked down over the pad and saw his remaining two Banshees heroically keeping the Flood busy – and then saw the rocket heading toward the belly of his Phantom. Before he could react, the Phantom's cannons fired at the rocket, miraculously destroying it. The Banshees swerved to avoid more rockets, but one made contact, sending the first aircraft and its pilot to their flaming graves. Ylim 'Makatli bowed his head in reverence as the other Elites did the same.
The final Banshee shot upwards toward the Phantom, turned, fired one more fuel rod cannon round and some main cannon fire, then swooped upwards as it barrel-rolled to avoid a final rocket. "Raise a communication link with the Enamored Glory," Ylim 'Makatli said to the pilot, who complied. "The link is up commander," the pilot said after several seconds. "Enamored Glory! Let me speak with the Arbiter!" The Arbiter replied and the voice was put over the Phantom's speaker system. "What is it, Ylim?" "Arbiter, the parasite destroyed five of our Banshees and their pilots. We should eliminate this accursed infestation by any means necessary." The Arbiter thought in silence before replying, "You are right. Return to the Enamored Glory as soon as possible. Four hundred sixty-three ships are currently arriving over the city. We will commence orbital bombardment and destruction as soon as you are on board."
The two Phantoms arrived inside a hangar bay after a bumpy ride. "All warriors to their posts! We shall begin the bombardment immediately," came the orders over the intercom as klaxons blared. Johnson scrambled out of the Phantom as his Elite comrades sprang to their battle stations. "Thank you, Sergeant. You fought well," Ylim 'Makatli said to him. Johnson smiled and headed toward the bridge. That's one damn tough guy – even for a split-lip, he thought.
He arrived on the bridge after a harrowing elevator ride – it was slow and choppy since most of the ship's power had been diverted to its plasma cannons and plasma torpedo launching mechanisms. Johnson could see though the video monitors hundreds of ships firing volleys of plasma onto the orbiting city's surface and Halo Installation 05, which was in orbit around the city. Sporadic radio transmissions were heard on most ships in the Fleet of Pious Loyalty – transmissions from Order of Brotherhood platoons that were scrambling to avoid the bombardment in their Phantoms and Seraphs.
The bombardment continued for ten minutes, during which sixteen teams arrived in different ships' hangars. After the bombardment was completed, plasma torpedoes were ordered to be fired at the city. The fleet moved away as hundreds of torpedoes streamed toward High Charity, impacting in a blinding flash of bluish light. When the light died away, Miranda Keyes looked. High Charity and Halo Installation 05 were gone – only small chunks of debris remained.
"Well, that sure as hell took care of that," she uttered.
- - - - - - - - - - - -
"Doctor, we've exited Slipspace," Kelly said to the middle-aged woman on her left. "There's damage to decks four through nine from that last Covenant cruiser and from debris we hit coming out of the jump." "Thank you Kelly, we'll deal with that. Do you have reports on personnel casualties or ammunition?" Doctor Halsey asked. "Ma'am, according to my readouts and reports given just before we left Slipspace, we've got about one hundred Marines ready to fend off any possible boarding threat, and about five hundred security and staff are doing just fine – no significant casualties since before the jump. Our MAC ammunition is seventy-six percent depleted, Archer pods B9 to K4 are empty, the other pods are at eighty percent. Autocannon ammunition is at thirty-four percent."
"Damn," swore Halsey under her breath. The doctor wasn't sure how much more space travel she'd be able to handle, especially in such a bathtub. The Gettysburg was falling apart, having taken a severe beating during the UNSC's defeat over Reach. And the damn ship was practically unarmed. Once the pride of the UNSC Navy, the Gettysburg-class cruiser was aging and was poorly armed, especially for today's cruiser standards. Doctor Halsey was graying, at about sixty years old; she'd been around since way before the Human-Covenant War began. In addition, she'd played the lead role in developing the SPARTAN-II project.
Dr. Halsey approached Kelly's seat at the front of the bridge and looked out of the main window. A large gas planet was blocking most of the view. "Well, Kelly, any idea where the hell we are?" "No, ma'am," the Spartan replied. "This seems to be outside any area the UNSC's probes have mapped. I'm not getting any data from the UNSC's data servers, even though I've tried nearly every planet in this quadrant." Well, of course you wouldn't get a signal – the damn Covenant have destroyed all these planets, she though bitterly. "The ship's navigation systems have absolutely no data and Apollo has no idea what's going on," she continued, motioning to a hologram on a pedestal next to her. "Kelly is correct, Doctor. There's nothing that the UNSC knows about this region of space," Apollo concluded.
"Hang on, Doctor. The ship's equipment is picking up radio chatter. It doesn't seem to be UNSC, though; it's all garbled." Kelly began tapping furiously on her console, hoping to find the source of the odd messages. "There are at least sixty different signal strengths here; it's got to be a whole fleet, not a lone ship. The signals seem to be coming from around this planet."
"All right, then. Let's get ourselves around this planet and find out what's going on," Halsey ordered. "Apollo, warm up the MAC guns and arm half the available Archer pods – oh, and make sure we've got a Shiva ready to fly. I don't want any surprises." "Yes, Doctor. MAC reactors are charging – nine percent, fifteen percent, twenty-three percent… forty-seven seconds to full charge," the AI reported. "We'll be coming 'round this planet in about two minutes," Apollo added.
Two minutes later, all eyes on the bridge were on the windows, looking for what could be around this planet, which Kelly dubbed 'Urectum.' Doctor Halsey had left to check on the status of the Archer missile pods, some of which had somehow not armed – it was thought to be an electrical problem. The planet finally moved aside revealing inky black space. Suddenly a siren blared. "Proximity Alert!" read a screen in front of Kelly. "What the hell is going on here?" demanded the Spartan.
"Ma'am, our FOF transponder is picking up 'F' tags. And those 'F's don't stand for 'friendly.' We seem to have encountered a small Covenant fleet. Seventy-three ships, nine of those are capital." "Doctor Halsey, we've encountered a Covenant fleet. Should we attempt to engage?" asked Kelly, knowing the answer before the question even left her mouth. "NO. Do NOT engage. I'll be on the bridge shortly," came the quick reply.
Doctor Halsey arrived on the bridge in quick fashion and gasped for air as she told Apollo to prepare for a jump back to Reach. The AI complied and calculated the necessary vector. "Uhh, doctor, you should see this," whispered Kelly. "I don't believe it – is that what I think it is?" asked the doctor. "Yup," replied Kelly. "It's a ring-world, I believe John said something about one of these in our last contact. We should mark this location and jump immediately."
"Ma'am, one of those Covie frigates is heading our way," reported a bridge crew member. "Fire the MAC gun once, give 'em a scare," replied Halsey. "Apollo, fire once they're in range, launch a Shiva, and once you've verified contact, make the jump. Set that Shiva to detonate thirty seconds after we jump. And release a probe so we can see what happened to those bastards." "Yes, Doctor," the hologram said. "Oh, and Apollo, mark this location for UNSC mapping. Protocol P235J."
Six seconds later, the Gettysburg shuddered. "MAC round away!" announced the AI. "Shiva released, EMP should severely damage most of the enemy ships. Archer missiles away – probe away – we're jumping in five… four… three… two… one… now." Bluish-green spots appeared around the ship as it jumped away from the hail of fire.
Many crew members turned to one large monitor on the bridge control panel, which was showing grainy footage from the probe. A bright light appeared in the middle of the screen as the MAC round impacted against the Covenant frigate, whose shields had not yet been raised. The super-dense tungsten-ferrous rounds impacted the unshielded metal and tore through several decks – and the Archer missiles impacted on the ship's exposed plasma reactor, causing a large explosion. Another light, brighter now, appeared as the Shiva detonated. The screen went white and flickered, but did not die. The EMP-shielded probe had been placed just outside the blast radius and managed to avoid the worst effects of the nuclear explosion. The blast caught the Covenant ships off guard – many of them hadn't even raised their shields, not expecting an attack. When the screen finally went dark again, the crew onboard the Gettysburg could clearly see the burning wreckage of a large number of ships. "Seventeen enemy vessels destroyed, forty-three severely damaged, doctor," Apollo reported.
"Excellent. Well, all we have to do now is get back to Earth and let the UNSC know about our gift basket," Doctor Halsey told Kelly as the two headed for the cryo-room.
Chapter Two: Back to the Future
Date: 8 January 2006, 3:02 am
- - - - - - - - - - - -
The escape pod carrying John-117 docked with the Cairo MAC platform. The Spartan stepped out of his pod onto the polished metal floors of the Cairo's docking area. Fleet Admiral Terrence Hood was there to greet him. "Welcome aboard Chief. It's good to have you back. I trust you've been well?" John saluted the Admiral, who returned the gesture. "Pretty shitty, actually. We encountered another Halo, there were Flood there too, and I had to leave Cortana in a Covenant holy city. So, just the average Spartan day." Hood chuckled, then got serious. "Any word from In Amber Clad?" John looked down, then responded, "No, sir. As I was leaving, the In Amber Clad flew over, and I believed it to be full of Flood. I haven't heard from Commander Keyes either."
"You'll have to give me your video chip – I'm interested in finding out about this new Halo." John took out his chip and gave it to Hood, a bit reluctantly. He didn't think that anyone should have to see that kind of horror in his or her entire life. Admiral Hood saluted again, and John returned it in kind. "Well, Chief, I'm off to view this record. Maybe we can use it for training," Hood said with a wink. "Why don't you get some rest. You're to go to Earth's surface to repel another wave of Covenant ground units. They've landed in central Egypt. There's gotta be something in Africa, but we can't figure out what it is. And trust me, we've got even ONI working on it." John complied and went to the armory, where tech staff removed his Mark VI battle armor, then went to a bunk nearby. He fell asleep, a deep sleep without dreams.
He awoke several hours later. The clock on a nearby wall read 0300, UNSC standard time. An ODST was standing near him. "C'mon, Chief, we've got to get going. You're to go to the briefing room with the rest of the squad." The rest of the squad? thought the Chief. I have to work with a bunch of hard-up Helljumpers? Great. He crawled out of bed and returned to the Cairo's armory where the techs fitted his armor. He noticed that it had been undented and repainted. He thanked the techs and headed for the platform's briefing room.
Once there, he took a seat in a comfortable chair near the head of a briefing table. Admiral Hood walked on, holding a holo-projector. "Men, you're some of the finest the UNSC has on Earth. As you all know, two small Covenant frigates somehow got through our defense grid and have established a small foothold in Cairo." He activated the projector and a 3D map of 'Cairo and Surrounding Areas' appeared above the table. "The two frigates landed here – and here," he added, motioning to the locations of the two ships. "Latest intel says the infantry is located along this highway. Armor and light vehicles – Ghosts, Spectres, and Wraiths – heavily defend them. Anti-aircraft artillery has been placed. The only reason we know is because most of our Kestrel recon craft were shot down, but they did provide valuable information. You're the elite strike team that can disable those AA guns and take out those frigates. You'll have to eliminate enemy armor and infantry as well.
"You'll get a dozen Scorpions and some Kestrel air assistance, that's all we can do. We'll even throw in a battalion of LAAVs. You'll put down here and rendezvous with the Scorpions two clicks east of the LZ. If you need the Kestrels, you'll have to contact them yourselves," Hood concluded. "Any questions? Good. You leave at 0400. Good luck." The group of soldiers left the room and headed for the armory. Once there, they picked up frag grenades, BR55s, M7s, M9Cs, and some M41 MAV/SSRs, and a few S2AM sniper rifles, as well as some extra ammo for those weapons. The crew of twelve dozen ODSTs and one Spartan proceeded to the docking bay, where thirteen Pelicans were waiting – twelve for the troops, and one for medical and support staff.
The flight of Pelicans took off and began the long, steep descent into Earth's atmosphere. The view from the inside became pink as the Pelicans' heat-resistant coatings flared from the speed of entry. After a careful, long ride, thirteen Pelicans touched down near Geneva, Switzerland, to pick up seven Albatrosses carrying LAAVs and more supplies. The twenty aircraft set off south across the European continent, over the crystal waters of the Mediterranean, until the deserts sands of Africa came into view on the horizon.
- - - - - - - - - - - -
As Commander Miranda Keyes looked over the glowing wreckage and debris of High Charity and Installation 05, she sighed. This would be the fate of Earth, and indeed the whole human race, if the Fleet of Pious Loyalty did not reach the planet in time.
"Arbiter, four hundred sixty-three ships have gathered. We are ready to jump to the Sol System," a blue-armored Elite informed the Arbiter. "Move the fleet into formation and prepare for the jump," ordered the Arbiter. "It shall be done," the Elite humbly replied. He immediately sent the command to every ship in the Fleet of Pious Loyalty. The Enamored Glory shuddered as thousands of thrusters fired as ships moved into five battle clusters. "Cluster one, you shall take the front. Clusters two and three, arrowhead formation left and right, four and five, take the left and right rear," the Arbiter commanded. Affirmative roars were heard as ship masters maneuvered in the tightly packed area.
"Arbiter, we will jump in thirty seconds," announced the blue Elite at the control panel. "Initiate jump sequence!" ordered the Arbiter. "How much time will it take to arrive just outside the Earth system?" "Eighteen hours, Mighty One," the Elite replied.
Thirty seconds passed. Blue-green flashes of light appeared over the ruins of High Charity and Installation 05, and four hundred sixty-three ships simultaneously entered Slipspace. The lights faded as the orbiting city and superweapon were left, glowing embers floating in the endless blackness of space, testaments to the power of the Fleet of Pious Loyalty.
While the fleet was in Slipspace, Sergeant-Major A.J. Johnson plugged Cortana's chip into the Enamored Glory's interface. Even Johnson was surprised that Cortana's chip fit into a Covenant, or Order or Revelation, rather, interface socket. Even though Human AI's were light-years ahead of their enemy counterparts, they still used the same interfaces. It was just so odd that the two very different races could have such similarities.
Cortana entered the Enamored Glory's systems and took in information about its weaponry, architecture, and propulsion systems. Her hologram appeared in one of the bridge's holotanks. "Well, Sarge, this ship's systems seem to be very similar to those of the Ascendant Justice's that I encountered after the destruction of Reach. But their AI is quite primitive in comparison. I can't say I'm all that surprised," the AI said.
"Well, Cortana, how much of this information can help us by either destroying the Covenant fleets over Earth, or adding technologies to our UNSC ships?" asked Keyes. "A whole lot, actually. I can use this to determine the best spots to hit an enemy ship, and using data I've gathered, I can fix the plasma cannons to be much more efficient, like I did on the Ascendant Justice," Cortana answered. "Do it," ordered the Arbiter, "and send the instructions to all the fleet's ships. We will most likely be outnumbered or outgunned, so we will need all the power we can get."
"Can do…" "You may call me Arbiter," the Arbiter told Cortana, who was obviously at a loss as to who this decorated Elite was. "Right, can do, Arbiter," she finished. She sent the instructions to the four hundred sixty-three other ships in the fleet, whose AI's immediately adjusted their ships' plasma cannons. "There. Now you'll be able to fire at least three times more before the system needs to recharge, and you'll be more accurate at longer ranges," Cortana informed the Arbiter. "Thank you. Your name shall go down in our history as the mastermind that won us our first military operation," the Arbiter replied. "I'm flattered," said the AI.
The fleet cruised through Slipspace as life went on as normal aboard the ships. Little did they know that their definition of 'normal' would change within a few days' time…
- - - - - - - - - - - -
The thirteen Pelicans and seven Albatrosses zoomed several miles above the Earth's surface as they cruised over Africa. John looked below him and could see the endless expanse of desert, perforated only be scattered oases and the blue ribbon of the Nile River. He looked down, however, on a different scene farther south – black scarring from battles past; the Covenant had not been kind during their brief stay in New Mombasa.
"We'll be on top of the LZ in three-oh minutes – forty clicks out!" announced the lead Pelican's pilot. "C'mon boys, let's show those Covenant split-lips who's boss!" a Sergeant said to the ODSTs over the radio. "Hoo-rah!" responded one hundred forty-four voices. John grabbed his S2AM out of the weapons storage area of Pelican Echo 420. This bird was the sister of Echo 419, lost over Halo while John had escaped the Pillar of Autumn – and it was the same Pelican that the only survivors of Halo had escaped on. John popped a full clip of four rounds into his S2AM and took a BR55 and M9C Magnum off the wall racks, making sure each one had plenty of ammo. He grabbed four frag grenades out of a crate at his feet – he knew he'd need them later.
"We're over the LZ in ten!" came the pilot's voice almost thirty minutes later. A few Pelicans flashed their signal lights indicating that their paratroopers were ready. "Mark!" said the lead pilot, and a stream of Helljumpers poured from three of the Pelicans – thirty-six ODSTs were performing an airdrop to secure the site for the other seventeen aircraft. Thirty-six parachutes deployed as Covenant antiaircraft artillery began targeting the UNSC craft. Luckily, their aim was terrible, as was usual for the large plasma mortars.
"Alpha team to Pelican Echo 420!" came the crackling voice over the COM channel. "We've taken up the perimeter and the LZ's secure. We're taking light fire from Covenant infantry and would like it if you could get down here pretty damn quick!" "Roger, Alpha, we're moving in now," replied E420's pilot. The three Pelicans that had held the paratroopers flew onward, heading south over the desert toward the nearest UNSC base north of what was left of New Mombasa.
"Alright, boys, this might be a rough landing. I'll put down long enough to unload troops and gear, then we're dusting off," said the Pelican's pilot. "We'll see if we can distract their infantry so you can sneak in there." Seventeen aircraft descended until they were about four feet off the ground. Troops began tossing crates out of the ships, and they jumped out afterwards. The Albatrosses disengaged their Warthog LAAVs and the seventeen craft soared skyward. "Second squad, your Scorpions are about a click and a half away," came a pilot's voice over John's COM. "They'll be here in two minutes."
"Right," John replied. "We'll move in to assist Alpha squad," he said, this time speaking to his men. "Bravo and Charlie, you'll flank the Covenant from the left. Delta, you're with me, we'll go down the front and snipe out their Jackals, and see if we can take down their Ghosts and Wraiths. Bravo, you will be concentrating on the artillery, especially the AA guns. Charlie, break from Bravo at position 3, then wait for our signal to move in on their infantry while we're keeping them busy." Three squad leaders and over one hundred 'hoo-rahs' sounded as the ODSTs prepared for the battle of their lives. To John, though, this was routine – go in, kill the enemy, come back alive. He set the ODSTs in motion as the Scorpions rolled up. "Hey Chief! We'll go right, and get behind them. That okay?" a tank operator asked. "Sure thing, go ahead. We were just leaving," replied John. Twelve Scorpion MBTs rolled onward, moving toward the Covenant's right flank.
"All right, men, lock and load," John told the one hundred-eight ODSTs standing around him. The soldiers fell into their groups and set off into the desert. John took point for Delta, keeping his S2AM ready, pointed toward the Covenant encampment with its two frigates in the middle.
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"Doctor, we've left Slipspace and will arrive over Reach in one hour," Kelly-087 said to the middle-aged woman monitoring the Gettysburg's engines. Doctor Catherine Halsey stepped toward Kelly's monitor. "Good," she said, "we might run into surveying teams, and we don't want them to think we're Covenant. Turn on our FOF system." "Yes, ma'am," the Spartan replied. Her hands flew to the console and she flipped a switch, sending out a radio beacon that all UNSC personnel in the area would recognize.
The ship cruised on through the desolate space, moving closer to its target – the fortress world of Reach – or, rather, what had been the fortress world of Reach. Now, it was only a crystal orb in space, glassed by a Covenant armada after they had passed over. The armada had come for something, but no one was sure what. Either way, that something had been found, all life on the planet had been destroyed, and the human empire had lost yet another shipbuilding world. Most importantly, they had lost two Spartan-II super soldiers, lost while defending the ONI buildings on that planet.
Forty-five minutes later, while Dr. Halsey was preparing to bring a small party of marines down to Reach's surface to see if she could recover anything from her offices, Kelly was watching her console's readouts. There was nothing unusual – until her FOF indicator started blinking. Hmm, a friendly, she thought. Must be a Reach survey team. "Doctor," she said over the intercom, "I'm picking up friendly signals on my FOF indicator, but they don't seem to be coming from outside the planet's gravity well – which is odd." "Just a minute, Kelly, I'll be right up," responded Dr. Halsey. She dropped what she was doing and headed toward the Gettysburg's bridge elevator.
Catherine Halsey arrived on the bridge a short thirty seconds later and Kelly pointed to the tags on her monitor. "They're not coming from outside the gravity well, which is either an anomaly, a glitch in the system, or-" "Or, there's something inside the planet. Can you tell where that signal is coming from?" asked Halsey. "Uhh, yes, it appears to be coming from… inside the planet, where your offices were. Yeah, that's definitely an anomaly. And there are two of them. God, I guess we really DO need to fix our equipment." "No, Kelly, I don't think so. I think there's someone in my offices… but the only UNSC personnel that would be there are… no, it couldn't be… it's just not possible…"
"Sorry, doctor, but what's not possible?" Kelly was completely baffled by the doctor's strange reaction. "Kelly, when I left, there were several of your teammates on the planet, both defending the MAC gun reactors and defending my offices and the ONI HQ there. I had, like everyone else in the know, presumed them to be dead. But, if those signals are what I think they are, we're in for a very big treat." "You mean it's possible that there are some Spartans left on Reach?" Kelly asked.
"Yes, it's possible. Most likely, they're deep underground in my offices. Those would have survived the glassing, but we'd have to get into the building," Halsey responded. "So, let's do that," Kelly said. The Gettysburg zipped towards Reach and began hailing the signal found inside the planet. There was radio noise, but no one on board the ship could hear any indication of life.
The ship went into high orbit around Reach and Dr. Halsey and Kelly, as well as a small group of six Marines, headed for a Pelican. Once in the hangar bay, the crew of one dozen men (and women) climbed aboard the landing craft and took off for the planet's surface, above the area where the signal was coming from. "Ma'am, we'll be putting down shortly," the Pelican's pilot announced.
The Pelican touched down over a small glassy mound that Dr. Halsey knew to be her office door. It had been glassed over, but there was still a signal coming from the inside. "Corporal, I'm going to need you to back off and fire two Anvil missiles at this door here," "Yes, ma'am," the Marine replied. He climbed into the Pelican, backed it away, waited for the people on the ground to take cover, and pressed the 'fire' button. Twice.
Two HE Anvil-II missiles streaked toward their target and contacted. After the dust and bits of glass cleared, Halsey could see a hole the size of a large car blasted into her door. "Great, men. Let's get going," she commanded. The group of one dozen filed into the hole, with Kelly taking the lead and several Marines covering her and Dr. Halsey's rear. The group descended down several flights of stairs – the glassing had destroyed the building's emergency generators – moving silently as they went.
A cracking, weak, and tired voice over Kelly's radio broke the silence. "This is Spartan Vinh-030. Does anyone read me? Over." The entire group stood in shock. No one, not even Doctor Halsey, would have expected one of her Spartans to survive underground for that length of time – it had been almost three months since she had left with Kelly. She knew there was a good supply of food down here, but still…
"Vinh-030, this is Spartan Kelly-087. Can you hear me?" Kelly responded to Vinh's call for help. "Oh my God. Kelly, is that you? Holy shit, I though no one would ever come," came Vinh's voice over the radio. "Vinh, is anyone else down there with you? Any Marines, things like that?" Kelly asked. "Yeah. We've got… let's see… uhh, we've got three Marines and, well… Spartans Isaac-039 and William-043."
"Vinh, is everyone down there all right?" This time it was Dr. Halsey that called Vinh. "We're all fine, except for William. He got some pretty nasty food poisoning a few days back. The sooner you get down here, the better. We haven't seen light in… wow. How long have we been down here?" "Vinh, you've been down there for nearly three months. We're coming to get you out. Private Perez, take two men with you, go back to the surface, and see if the Gettysburg can spare another Pelican," Halsey commanded. "Yes ma'am," the Hispanic private responded. "Aerts, Adler, you're with me." The three Marines set off for the surface.
The remaining nine people moved farther down into the labyrinth of tunnels, all the while getting closer to Vinh's signal. After five minutes of walking, they arrived in a small room, the only light coming from Kelly's suit and the Marine's flashlights. Vinh and the others cringed at the sight of the light. "Doctor, take it easy. We've been in the dark since the backup generators died a week ago."
After some quick greetings, the three Spartans and their Marine companions headed out of the vast underground building, arriving on the surface about ten minutes later. Vinh, Isaac, and Will activated their Mark VI armor's face shield darkeners to keep out the sunlight, which was magnified reflecting off the glassy surface of Reach. The three Marines had to keep their eyes shut to avoid being blinded.
The group, now consisting of ten Marines, four Spartans, and one doctor, made their way toward the Pelican Dr. Halsey and the others had flown in on. As they did so, the second Pelican Perez had been sent after touched down nearby. The group met up with Perez, Adler, and Aerts, all of whom proceeded to climb onto the Pelicans. The two aircraft dusted off and headed back towards the waiting Gettysburg.
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The S2AM sniper rifle boomed as John pulled the trigger. He was gratified to see the round pierce the skull of a very ugly and high-ranking Brute, whose brains shot out the other side of its head. "Okay, men. Move in now," John whispered into his radio, letting Alpha, Bravo, Charlie, and the Scorpions know it was time to start the fight.
"This is Alpha. We've been spotted by a small patrol of Jackals and are engaging," came the voice of Alpha leader. John could hear the sound of rifles firing and plasma whizzing past the speaker's head. "Roger, Alpha. Bravo and Charlie are on their way now," John replied. He again placed his crosshairs over a Covenant soldier, this time an unfortunate Jackal sniper. The round tore through flesh and bone as it flew through the Jackal's chest. Using the rest of his clip, John dropped the driver of a Ghost and a stray Jackal, both clean headshots. He slammed a fresh four-round clip into his S2AM and again took aim at the Covenant, who were now in disorder. Rockets, sniper rounds, and small-caliber bullets flew everywhere as Delta team came into full view. The Covenant scrambled to their turrets and vehicles, but it was too late. The Covenant's first line of defense had fallen.
John called up the Scorpion battalion on his radio. "Ready to move?" "We are ready, sir," came the response. "Go ahead, move in right." "Yes sir." With that, twelve Scorpions moved around the Covenant, stopped, took up position, and began raining high-explosive shells onto them. John's COM crackled with activity – Bravo and Charlie were in place and were engaging the enemy. "We're taking some casualties – these Covies are tough," said Charlie leader. "Hold in there, Charlie team. We're moving in now."
John's squad charged toward the Covenant. He switched to his BR55; he had decided that the S2AM would be useless, even in his hands, in close combat. Out of habit, he checked the ammo counter – it read 36 – and smiled. "Ready or not, here we come," he said. Looking to his left, he saw a few ODSTs from Alpha pinned down by three Brutes with Brute Shots. John swung up his BR55, taking aim at the first Brute's head. Half a second later, John had pulled the trigger, three rounds had flown from his rifle, and the Brute lay dead, its head destroyed by the bullets. He fired a burst at the second Brute just as it fired back. John rolled out of the way, avoiding the worst of the grenade blast. He checked his HUD (shields at 1/2) and looked to find the Brute clutching its shoulder. John threw one of his frag grenades at the two Brutes, and one second later, the 'pineapple' exploded, sending both Brutes to their fiery deaths.
John turned around and saw that the Brute's grenade had killed two of his men. He marked their location with a small transponder and took their grenades. He knew it wasn't the greatest thing to do, but the ODSTs were obviously not going to be using them anytime soon. He looked back where the Alpha soldiers had been – they had left to rejoin the battle. John smiled and looked up. He could see the flames of Covenant vehicles – the Scorpions had obviously done their work. He ordered the remnants of Delta team forward. Thirty-two men (he had lost four in battle) headed toward the enemy camp, which was now in disarray.
Two dozen Jackals jumped out from behind a clump of bushes, shields activated, and began firing on the ODSTs. The humans hunkered down and began firing their weapons at the new threat. John fired until his BR55's clip was fully depleted, but due to the Jackal's powerful shields, he was only able to score five kills. He reloaded and raised his head to see a flash of green plasma coming at him. John ducked, but it was too late. The overcharged plasma pistol bolt made contact with his helmet, fully draining his shields. He cursed and waited for his shields to recharge.
After what seemed like an eternity, the alert beeping stopped and the Mark VI's shield recharged. John again raised his head and saw that thirteen Jackals were advancing on Delta's – their – position. He yelled a warning as he drew a frag grenade from his pack. He pulled the pin and threw the grenade behind the Jackals. The grenade exploded, sending eight of the Jackal's bodies flying through the air and splattering John's armor with purplish blood and guts. He again cursed and wiped his faceplate. "Take them out!" he shouted to his men. They opened fire again, and one ODST threw another frag grenade. It, too, exploded, sending the other five Jackals in the advancing group flying over the human's heads.
"All right, let's finish them off," announced John, who kept firing at the remaining six Jackals. After several lucky or well-placed shots by both him and the ODSTs, the Jackals were down, and Delta team's march toward the Covenant camp continued.
"Chief, we've reached the center of the enemy camp," came the voice of Bravo leader over John's COM. "Looks like there's a bunker here, but it's extremely well defended. Apparently, there's a minor Prophet hiding down there. He seems to be in command of this particular group of alien bastards," Bravo leader said. "Tell your men to clear the area. I'm going to order an air strike, Anvil missiles," John responded. "Roger Chief!" came the response. "Chief, we've cleared the area and we are awaiting the air strike," Bravo leader said three minutes later.
"This is Spartan-117 to Longsword Wing 522, do you read me?" the Chief asked. "Yes sir, we're readin' you loud and clear," came Wing 522's response. "We're requesting assistance – there's a nice Covenant bunker that needs destroying, and you're the guys that can do it. I'm thinking four or so Anvils should do it," John said. "Roger, Chief. We can spare a bird – ETA, one minute. You've taken out the Covenant AA, right?" asked Corporal Mike Breu, commander of Longsword Wing 522. "Yes, 522, we've taken care of those. You've got free airspace from the Mediterranean down to southern Kenya," John answered.
Thirty seconds later John head the rumble of a distant engine – the Longsword was rapidly approaching. Within the minute, the Longsword was only a few hundred meters away from the bunkers. Looking upward, John could see the flashes as four HE Anvil-II missiles streaked across the sky, bearing down on the bunker. The Longsword pulled a fast turn and went back to rejoin its squadron. Four missiles were fired; four missiles hit their target. Sand and steel flew everywhere as the missiles impacted. John and a dozen select members of Delta squad hopped down into the bunker, guns blazing.
Brutes, Jackals, and Drones died as fire from small arms and explosions from frag grenades flew everywhere. Luckily, the bunker was large enough to allow the use of explosives. John left the foot soldiers to the ODSTs and began to search for his target – the Prophet that was down here. One floor down, John found him, hiding in a room, guarded by two Honor Guard Brutes, whom John dispatched with two quick bursts from his BR55.
"Hey, dirtbag. Why did you come to Earth, and what are you looking for?" John inquired, shaking the Prophet. "I am the Prophet of Glory! My sermon must be completed or all will perish before beginning the Great Journey! Let me speak!" the Prophet answered. "Wrong answer, buddy," John said. "Try again." He grabbed the Prophet by the throat and began to choke him. "I was ordered to Earth – by – the High Council… to… find the…" "Find the what?" "I cannot tell you… it would be h-heresy!" John looked at the Prophet of Glory and thought, Fine. Fuck you. You're not gonna tell me anything, so you're useless. John let go of the Prophet's neck, stepped back, raised his gun, and squeezed the trigger. "Goodbye, asshole," John whispered. He looked at the body one last time and headed back towards the surface.
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