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Deus Ex Machina: The Magical Gatecrasher
Posted By: Neil Yudsponwy<mark_price@hotmail.co.uk>
Date: 29 May 2007, 6:31 pm
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Intense flames of battle consumed the ancient craft known to all as the Ark; known to only one was its true purpose. It loomed upon the Earth with an intention to eclipse all prophecies, while its six remaining lieutenants awaited their master's war-cry, billions of light years away.
John sat behind a weapons cache stand, his left gauntlet cradling the beak of a limp Kiggyar; a hostage still confused as to why his arms and legs refused to do as they were told. More alarming for the unfortunate sniper, was the metal twine and grenades being taken from the stand and wrapped neatly around his useless body. The Kiggyar's eyes followed in horrified panic as more incendiary plums were plucked and slid down the wire to adorn his fragile, spindly frame. John paid no heed to his enemy's doe-eyed expressions, his energy at a low ebb from days involving little sleep, constant heavy fighting and billions of air miles. One less Kiggyar in the universe wasn't going to trouble his conscience.
Less than five feet in front of him, lay an orbital drop shock trooper, one of a troupe that gave up their lives just to help John get to this point: the floor directly above Truth's congregation. As they first entered and took to the chamber, John had noted the rather large aperture and encircling flange in the centre of the room. As they fought pillar to post in an effort to get near to their goal, John had also noticed the gargantuan glass dome above him, one that magnified the light from thousands of stars pouring in from the constellations. He hoped that the opening in the floor had in its midst, a similar cyclopean lens leading to the ship's inner sanctum; leading to Truth: the reason for the Covenant's misguided beliefs. The remaining troopers that survived the initial fight had been beaten back to the doorways by concentrated fire and random brute shots, leaving the Chief enclosed by a sweeping Jiralhanae guard.
Between bouts of traded gunfire and eclectic taunting, the Spartan could hear Truth's voice over the public address system. The egomaniac sounded like he was winding down his sermon, but without Cortana to translate, there was no way of knowing for certain. John did know that the second the pompous crone stopped talking, it was all over bar the Halo rings singing a supernova swan song. Though he hated the warbled tone and the bastard perpetuating it, he still didn't want the sanctimonious bile to stop.
The Spartan's audiocom burst into life with a myriad of voices washed up in a wave of battletalk, one particular tone rising above them.
"Chief: all units are being told to evac and be clear in five minutes, we're not letting the Ark reach atmosphere; we don't know what her payload is."
Aside from the possibility of imminent death from hordes of Covenant forces and a manical Truth summoning forth oblivion with every breathe, the Masterchief now had General Hood waiting to obliterate the ground from beneath him.
'I have an opportunity here, sir, I'd like to take it.'
"Son, it's above my station to tell you different from what you should be doing right now, but if it wasn't, you'd have the green light to show those alien scum exactly who they're dealing with. Do I make myself clear, soldier?"
'Crystal, General, absolutely crystal.'
Another voice entered the fray in direct response to General Hood, an air of officialese permeating every perfectly-voiced syllable.
"Spartan one-one-seven: you will dismiss General Hood's last statement and vacate that ship immediately. Any other action will be considered gross misconduct and misuse of-"
The muted responder continued to blink and flash but John had heard all the Oni suit had to say.
With an unspoken seal of approval to continue his operation, the wily warrior finished dressing his prisoner and played his trump card to the surrounding Jiralhanae. The Kiggyar felt the pressure from around his beak release enough for him to get a warning to his comrades. With a mighty squawk still screeching from his throat, the unwitting mark suddenly felt the vice-like grip of the gauntlet re-applied.
The idea of being used finally dawning on the hapless Kiggyar.
'Shhhh.'
The Spartan brought his right index finger up to his visor in a sarcastic gesture, after all, he only needed the attention of one furry cushion.
The reflection in the dead trooper's visor was of a fat and distorted image of a brute, cautiously rounding the small flange-like rim in the centre of the room, it came to stop directly ten yards behind the stand. The brute's head shifted from side to side, wondering what had happened to the cooing Kiggyar. John smiled. He tapped the floor with his knuckles and awaited the overgrown oaf's response.
"Come out, demon, death awaits you in my hands."
The Chief stepped out brandishing a Kiggyar bomb, throwing the highly decorated figure towards the surprised Jiralhanae. The brute took a step back and prepared to shrug the bomb off before noticing the wide eyes of the Kiggyar pass him by, sailing over the edge to the dome below. He felt the sudden force of the demon smashing into him, lifting him clean over the rim and following suit.
As they fell towards the golden eye, the irony of being the recipient of several vicious headbutts was lost along with consciousness on the foolish brute. The intimate figures slammed into the dome, with John using his right elbow to snap the Jiralhanae's neck. Scouting the local scene for his other accomplice, John saw that the fall had not killed the Kiggyar. He crawled over the brute to reach the length of twine he had left extending from his improvised explosive device, the one that desperately wriggled like a worm on a hook to get away.
The Spartan knew it would take more than just a few bodies to make the dome break, he pulled the leg of the dead brute over his armour and wrapped its arms over his shoulders, his trophy pelt now offering protection against the inevitable blast. He yanked the cord and awaited the dome's demise. The Kiggyar yowled his sorry little heart out for a miracle. A miracle that just didn't come.
Constantly the oracle interrupted him: endlessly was he told to shut up: forever did the charade continue.
"Given the severity of our predicament and the swift actions necessary to resolve this almost universal containment breach: I do find the current atmosphere and ceremony to be rather inappro-"
"Be silent oracle, I near the end of my sermon; we will begin the great journey soon enough."
"Of whom is this Oracle and great journey which you profess? My name is Mobius Cerebrum and I am the overseer of this installation. Once containment protocols have been enacted, we shall not be going anywhere.
The golden vizard shattered into a million deadly shards, each a ready-made Spartan assassin reigning death and destruction upon all that stood in their way. Spearheaded by a familiar green figure that struck fear into the black hearts and minds of his foes.
Truth stood in awe of what his eyes beheld. This demon, this human that had defied gods and monsters alike; a human that haunted the hallways of countless Covenant nightmares, rode into his reality on the hide of a Jiralhanae corpse.
"Curses, demon, this day you shall not prevail!"
The angry prophet forwent his religious dogmatics, bellowing instead at the fullness of his lung before throwing aside the tabletised scripture and lunging for the fierce red orb that acted as the Ark's activation.
The charred corpse slammed into the ground, gushing forth blood from every orifice. John felt the pressure from the fall reverberate through his body: around him the shards fell, skewering and destroying the harmony of the Covenant's commune. Several of them decapitated in the instance. The Chief scrambled over the squashed, blubbery mass and darted for the orb, the flash of a cyan glow giving rise to his lethal companion.
As the two giants crossed paths in the eye of chaos, the Spartan broke free from the confines of heroic and soared into the vistas of legend.
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