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The Battle for Gamdon VI (Chapter Three): Time Shift Part I
Posted By: Mech<xxmitsurxx@hotmail.com>
Date: 15 September 2006, 3:41 am
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The Battle for Gamdon VI (Chapter Three): Time Shift Part I
"This is stupid. Can't we do anything other than this? Sleeping, perhaps?" Mech grumbled the words into his gun as he inspected it for anomalies and the Pelican around him jostled as it hit a air-pocket. The men around him nodded and laughed their agreement. Sarge, who was standing near the rear-access ramp in the Pelican, turned and walked toward him, his face a storm cloud. Damn. He'd forgotten to turn off the MJLONIR's external speakers. Again. He still hadn't got used to this thing. How could those SPARTAN-II's stand it? Unlike other SPARTANs, who were, 'natural'-that is, trained and augmented by already proven methods and given the MJLONIR suits for free- Mech had had to kill for his suit.
Wait. Sarge was close enough to speak. Mech studied the face. Just the same as all the other times he had studied it. Black, with the usual contrast of bushy gray-white hair that was still going strong even though he had to be at least forty-five. Eyebrows the same as the hair, with rather beady eyes underneath them. Just another face you saw laying in a ditch while bullets were flying. Sarge didn't look amused.
"You don't look amused, Sarge." Mech said, giggling a bit as he said it. It never ceased to amuse him that people expected him to be robot-like when talking to people. People just naturally assumed he was more comfortable in the battlefield than in real life, like all the other morale-boosting SPARTAN heroes. Not Mech. He hadn't been a SPATAN since the beginning, so maybe that was why he didn't have that battle-is-home kind of feeling. People always looked uncomfortable when he joked or talked sarcastically with them. But he should stop looking back. Better to look forward. The past brought the nightmares.
"I ain't, Danny. And I'll pretend I didn't hear your first remark. You know why we gotta do this. Who knows what the hell is going on Gamdon VI. Have you heard the reports?" Sarge's eyebrows rose at this. Mech rolled his eyes.
"Yeah, yeah. I dunno how the planet could be like this. I mean, radioing for help, saying that there's Covies everywhere and they need backup after the UNSC ships here went to Oblivion? And then, here we come, save-the-day heroes, and there is no sign of battle. No ships. No hostiles. The whole damn planet hasn't lost a cloud. And still, they're radioing us, sending the same message over and over. So now we gotta go down, make sure everyone hasn't OD'ed on some kinda insanity gas or water or whatever, and report back to the brass. A total-time waster. I could be on Trayne right now! Trayne, Sarge! Trayne! And instead I have to do this?" Mech looked at him, a face full of mock-sorrow behind the visor. Sarge still seemed to see, however. The bastard must be a mind reader as well as the only guy who didn't give a damn if you were God himself, as long as you got your job done.
"You bet your fancy MJLONIR suit we do. You know the UNSC rules for the war: 'If any planet, colony, or human settlement send distress signals of the enemy, the UNSC is required to answer these calls as long as no other planet of greater importance is in distress as well.' So now we just have to check these people out to make sure everything's good, then we can go back up and you can go back to your pretty little Albatross and train with your bestest buddies all you want. And if you're good I'll give you a cookie. How's that?" Sarge finished his little speech with a trace of sarcasm.
"Fine," Mech said. "But I hope it turns out as good as you say."
Sarge snorted, nodded, and headed back to his seat at the back of the Pelican. Discussion over.
The Pelican skipped over the air currents over the currently sunny noon of Gamdon VI, blowing back the occasional high-reaching tree. Sand swirled all around the beautiful planet's capital. Lush greens, buildings pleasing to the eye, bordered by a sweeping tan desert on all sides gave the town the feel of an oasis in the middle of a desert. In fact, if one traveled for about ten miles, they would find bland green-gray fields full of endless prairie grass, interrupted by the occasional stream, hill, or, in the case of the town of Gandervill, a large river.
None of this was in the minds of the soldiers departing from the Pelican, where already a crowd was forming. Mech, however, passed his eyes over the lovely landscape and felt a brief stab of jealously of how good this world had it, and how it didn't seem to realize it.
The crowd, by then, which had been gawking unashamedly at the soldiers the whole three seconds it took for Mech to process these thoughts, let out a collective gasp at the sight of the 'prototype' S-III. He ignored them, glancing through the faces until he the one he deemed the most important. He stepped toward him, and the man noticed. He started quaking. Mech sized him up. A little chubby, with the usual 'blubber of easy living', as Mech called it. Not to tall, not to short, and a face that looked forgettable. Bright, red hair that contrasted almost painfully with his deep brown eyes and black suit, which must have been like a oven in the heat the MJLONIR's sensors were telling him (98 degrees). The man opened and closed his mouth multiple times.
"You." Not a greeting. Just a fact. The men shook visibly, and nodded.
"Y-yes?"
"What's you name and position?" Mech toned down what he called his 'give-me-the-answers-before-I-kill-you' voice. It was always fun to mess with people who believed that you could do the impossible. But he didn't want the guy to be a gibbering idiot with fear. Fear screwed you over when you didn't want or need it the most.
"U-uh, Ja-Jacob Ronswell. I'm as-assistant t-to th-the Mayor of the ca-capital." Even with the stuttering in his voice, Mech could clearly hear the pride in his voice. The guy had probably spent years clawing his way, and sometimes backstabbing people he had worked with for years, to get the position. And the guy was proud of it. Typical politics.
"Good. Take me to him." Mech ramped up the tone of voice. Make the maggot feel a little worse. No more than he deserved.
"N-now?" The guy spluttered. Mech suddenly became aware of everyone around him. They were dead silent. Why wasn't anyone, especially the other soldiers, doing anything? Then, with eerie realization, Mech figured it out. They were all fascinated with Mech scaring the crap out of this guy. Mech was fascinated with it, himself. He'd honed this talent over years, and he had just realized he was a master at it.
"Now." It amazed Mech that whatever he said usually evoked a positive result, at least for him. Jacob swallowed with a gulp that sound more theatrical than real. Great. Now the guy was playing to an audience. Then he turned, motioned with a hand, and walked away. Mech looked back to the soldiers behind him, and nodded his command. "Let's go."
They looked each other over, seemed satisfied, and they followed Mech. Right into the weirdest situation they could have imagined. Right into the Mayor's building. Right into a plain, unadorned, building that looked like any other city hall you would expect.
Right into what would later become a smoking crater of fire, rubble, and bodies.
Mech
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