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Brutus, the Spartans, two AIs and the Pirate Fleet by Traumatised Marine
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Brutus, the Spartans, two AIs and the Pirate Fleet (Part 1)
Date: 8 April 2003, 7:45 PM
'Those who depend on prosperity, and despair during war; fail to realise that peace and struggle are by-products of chaos. In an existence where a mind's world is as delicate as a candle flame in a stormy sea."
-David Ward, 2241.
"Commendable though the successes of the Spartan II project are, Dr. Halsey, you cannot deny that we will not be able to turn the tide of this struggle with a new batch of supersoldiers. They are a small group of human beings, no amount of military mind-conditioning or anatomical augmentation will make them strong enough to change things now."
Dr. Halsey took off her spectacles and gave them an intentionally slow clean. She was well aware that every person at the long conference table in the center of that ridiculously dark room in the depths of the ONI building was waiting for her to reply. Finally she replaced her glasses and looked at Professor Zolkievich coolly.
"Professor, I did not ensue that idea, what I am saying is that the scope of application and abilities of my Spartans should not, and must not, be overlooked. Time is running out, and we will never have the chance to try and formulate a dynamic strategy again. We have little left opportunity to make a stab at our race's continued existence, and I am saying that the only weapon that we have that has ever shown to be more powerful in any way to the Covenant is my Spartans."
Professor Zolkievich bowed his head in slight frustration for a moment.
"Yes, Dr. Halsey, I know that, and it is completely irrelevant to what I just said- The Spartan II's are simply soldiers when you come down to it. They cannot stop an orbital bombing, nothing we have ever done has ever been truly effective at winning significantly against the Covenant. Thus, I ask you; what is the sense in squandering this precious, last chance that we have, on something that we have already tried? We cannot win the way we are now, we must find a new factor, a new application that will open up new scope for us, and a genuine hope of humanity surviving."
It was now that a General asked the question that Professor Zolkievich wanted.
"What 'new factor' could there possibly be?" He asked, incredulously.
The Professor smiled.
"An allay within the Covenant!"
A sudden jolt of look-exchanging and murmuring shot through the assemblage at this concept. Once it died down the Professor answered the question that all the other people's faces were shooting at him; 'How.'
"My colleagues and I are confident that, provided with the resources and necessary individuals, we could clone a perfect Covenant, who we would train. When we would be finished, this alien allay would be totally loyal to and understanding of our cause, able to blend in inauspiciously with it's own kind. And when the time came..."
The Professor brought his fist down on the table,
"...cripple the Covenant network from the inside. The scope we would have if we could have an insider in the Covenant is endless..."
The Professor gave a small grin. He had set the bait, now he would reel them in.
"...and it would certainly turn the tables, suddenly we would have a strong, fighting chance against the Covenant!"
One of the Admirals scoffed,
"What utter rubbish, how would you be able to inject such an 'operative' into the Covenant military without detection?"
The Professor gave a resigned sigh, but then quickly gathered himself again, angry at himself for showing a visible sign that he knew his idea was flawed.
"There are two possible ways that the subject could infiltrate the Covenant military. Firstly, we own several pieces of Covenant technology, including a pair of 'Seraph' Covenant fighters. I would propose that the subject would pilot one of these craft mid-battle into a confrontation between our own forces and the Covenant, a battle where there would be other Seraphs in combat. At the end of the battle, when the Seraphs are recalled, so shall our own operative. The other option would be to inject the subject into a field battle, and he would return in a similar way as he would in the previous option; once he was recalled."
An ONI Official spoke up.
"Ridiculous," She snapped, "There are a thousand ways this could go wrong. The operative might even be killed before it gets the chance to infiltrate a Covenant ship."
Another official agreed,
"There are too many flaws to this plan, it is half-planned and not practical. We should not take the risk."
However one of the more respected Joint Chiefs, spoke forcefully.
"The question is not if we could afford to take the risk, but if we could afford not to take the risk. This plan may not guarantee success, but if I find out a single one of you has even briefly deluded yourself into thinking we could come up with a bullet-proof plan during times like these; I will do my level best to ensure you never come anywhere near this council room again. This plan has the potential to change everything if it works, and I think that whatever it is Professor Zolkievich needs, he'd better get!"
The Professor grinned and nodded his appreciation of the Joint Chief's support.
"Dr Halsey!" The Professor called in the hallway outside of the conference room.
Dr Halsey turned to face the advancing Professor.
"Yes?" She asked, her eyebrows raised.
"I have a request to make. There were many members of your team who organised and carried out the augmentation of the Spartans and also the growth of their replacement clones, I believe."
Dr Halsey flushed pink briefly.
"How did you know that!?" She hissed in a fluster.
The Professor did not answer that question, he got the impression she would not pursue an answer. Instead he proceeded to ask,
"It would be immensely helpful to my team's new project if we could borrow the experience of the appropriate individuals in your research team."
Dr Halsey paused for a moment, considering this, before consoling herself that she could not afford to be secretive and withdrawn to her fellows at a time like this.
She gave the Professor a sudden disarming smile.
"Of course, Professor Zolkievich, whatever you need to get this project afloat."
**************
Dr Hobson entered the lab, and his head was involuntarily drawn to view the vertical cloning tank in the center of the room.
Thousands of black tubes, power cables and optical wires spanned out from the tube across the room to their appropriate fluid tanks, control stations and status monitors. They resembled the vines of some swamp-dwelling plant that had had more than a century of solitude to grow and dominate some derelict room.
Although of course, this was no derelict room, and that which filled it had been constructed in a matter of weeks. The threat of danger always promoted efficiency.
Within the tube, that glowed faintly turquoise, the 'project' was growing.
Professor Hobson studied the half-grown Elite yet another time, there was always a fascinating element to be found at looking at an alien creature so lifeless and close that never ceased to exist no matter how many times you saw it. The Elite's skull had more pronounced rear lobes, and it's jaws fitted snugly around the device that was feeding it and giving it air via a number of tubes. The ridges of the sockets of it's closed eyes (rather like a crocodile's) were the only way he could actually make out where the eyes were against it's tough scaly hide.
It's arms were lanky yet muscular, and four digit claws were at the ends of each, (the fourth on each in a similar position to our own thumbs.) The chest was bulky in comparison to the waist, the ribs and sternum well-defined. The legs were muscular, with one more joint than a human would have, the leg movements would be similar to that of the rear legs of a horse. At the ends of it's legs were a pair of thick, robust, cleaved hooves. Dr Hobson shuddered as he got a mental image of those demonic hooves trying to pummel through the thick transparent acrylex of the tube.
Dr Hobson's gaze turned to Professor Zolkievich, whom was with Professor Moulinaux; the pair of them stalwartly watching the monitors and the Elite with unrelenting vigilance for any problems. Even with the very pinnacle of SolCore's current cloning equipment and databases, cloning was a very uncertain thing, and they couldn't afford to lose this creature.
Dr Hobson approached Professor Zolkievich, and waited to be acknowledged, (one annoying behavioural quirk of the frail yet authorative Professor Zolkievich was he would not respond or communicate with someone until he decided he was ready.)
Professor Zolkievich finished running his diagnostic and looked up at Dr. Hobson, while Professor Moulinaux continued, unchanged.
"Did they agree?" Asked Professor Zolkievich simply.
"Yes, Professor, they'll be carrying out the operation the day after tomorrow, at 10:00 am."
Dr. Hobson slid his hand into his pocket and withdrew a small pill container.
"They said you should take one of these this evening, and another two tomorrow; one in the morning and one in the evening. Apparently the brain has a sort of neural 'seize-up' if it has any form of physical siphoning or neurone cutting, these pills will depress that effect in the frontal lobes of your brain, so they can take some tissue safely."
Professor Zolkievich took the little container and examined the label briefly. Satisfied, he put it in his own pocket. He faced Dr. Hobson again.
"Thank you Doctor Hobson." He dismissed, before retraining his eyes on the monitors.
"It will be strange," Continued Doctor Hobson, "it'll effectively be a clone of you, even if it will be based in silicon. There's only one other person whose actually had this procedu-"
"Doctor Halsey," Professor Zolkievich finished, "Yes, I know."
Dr. Hobson turned to leave, but then he hesitated. He took another look at the Elite in the cloning tank.
Then he asked,
"Professor, have you thought what you're going to call it?"
"Brutus." The Professor replied bluntly, not pausing at his busy monitoring station.
Professor Hobson pondered for a fleeting moment, then thought aloud,
"Ah, the one person Augustus Caesar thought he could trust most, the one who sent the final knife into his back. But didn't Brutus end up with those who once supported him turning against him?"
"Not before the deed was accomplished." The Professor replied dryly.
"Hmm..." Mused Dr Hobson, eyeing the Elite, "Let's hope the knife doesn't end up in our backs..."
Professor Zolkievich continued to tap away at the control panels.
"If it will help you sleep at night, Doctor, I will call him 'Charles.'" Professor Zolkievich said with his typical wit.
Dr Hobson grinned, and glanced again at the creature.
"No... keep 'Brutus,' he doesn't look like a 'Charles.'"
Brutus, the Spartans, two AIs and the Pirate Fleet (part 2)
Date: 13 April 2003, 7:48 AM
"Doctor Hobson!" Exclaimed Professor Zolkievich, angry and violated, "What is that!?"
Doctor Hobson drew the weapon from the fold of his lab coat where he had been half-heartedly concealing it. He had been half-heartedly concealing it because he had hoped no one would spot it, but if they did, it would not actually look as if he had been actually trying to hide it.
It was an electro-chemical sedation handgun, a peculiar looking little weapon with a large handle and a stubby barrel, from which the magazine of sedation darts and the electric-charge projectile wires were fired. It was designed to stop something instantly and keep it immobile.
"Just a precaution, Professor Zolkievich." Doctor Hobson replied, trying to sound reasonable.
Professor Zolkievich gave an angry grunt.
"Doctor, it is my opinion that you have been watching too many tasteless films. Brutus is not going to come bursting out of the tank and latching himself onto someone's face. This is going to be a difficult procedure, we aren't sure how Brutus is going to cope with disengagement, it may cause trauma. The last thing we need is for you to be aiming that thing at him. Now give it to me!"
Professor Zolievich outstretched his hand, and Doctor Hobson reluctantly handed over the gun. It was really rather funny that such a small, old man, could command such respect from a man nearly twice his size.
"Professor," Said Professor Moulinaux, "I'm picking up activity, increasing neural stimulants by 4%."
Professor Zolievich nodded approval, and watched Brutus in his tank. He was a fine specimen, a fully grown Quadrefeacium, or 'Elite' as his species was commonly known throughout the UNSC.
"Neural activity is coming steadily and adjusting well, no signs of mental stress, shall I increase the percentage increase of the neural stimulant again?" Asked Moulinaux.
"No." Zolkievich commanded, "We've taken this long, we can afford to wait a bit longer and be careful."
Within ten minutes, it was time.
"Draining nutrient fluid." Reported Professor Julian. Everyone watched as the tube began to drain, the pale turquoise liquid bubbled downwards, steadily lapping down Brutus' body, exposing more and more of him to the air that replaced the liquid. The tank was in moments completely drained, Brutus' body slumped against the wall of the tube, now that it was unsupported by the fluid.
"Disengaging aural umbilical chord... now." Announced Professor Julian.
There came a hiss from the tank, and Brutus gave a slight convulse. Though everyone had been prepared for it, it still made them jump.
The aural umbilical chord eased away from the clasp of his jaws, and retracted to the top of the tank.
Brutus' jaws hung open in a limp manner. However every so often how ever they would flex, as if to search for the mouthpiece that they had been clamped onto ever since they developed. The mouthpiece that Brutus had received oxygen and nutrients from his whole, short, fast-grown life, up until this moment.
"Bringing up plate supports." Said Professor Julian.
From the very base of the tube, there appeared a set of acrylex plates that moved out to fit together and form a shallow bowl-like boundary about three feet out, to stop Brutus slumping onto the floor and damaging himself when the tube was retracted.
"Retracting tube." Said Professor Julian shakily, trying to initiate the procedure and watch the tank at the same time.
The tube hissed upwards slowly, the last remains of the nutrient fluid dripped from it's rim.
Without the tube, Brutus collapsed with a dull, wet thud into the safe support of the large shallow bowl around the base of the tank.
Everyone watched with silent anticipation.
"Come on." Urged the Professor, "Breath! Take your first independent breath of air."
Brutus spasmed, then coughed; a grating, mucussy cough. Then he let out a guttural roar that scared the life out of every scientist and reverberated against the walls of the lab. Afterwards, Brutus simply lay quietly slumped in the support basin, every so often taking a long powerful breath, and slowly exhaling.
"What was that!?" Exclaimed Doctor Wardmen, referring to the roar.
"It must have been a means for his species to stimulate their lungs into action, rather like a baby crying." Said Professor Moulinaux.
"Good Lord, the mothers must have some horrible, sleepless nights." Remarked Doctor Lloyd.
Some of the scientists laughed shakily, only to go silent when the saw what Professor Zolkievich was doing.
He advanced right up to Brutus, and looked down on the sprawled creature in the shallow basin support. Brutus moved one if his legs weakly, still breathing slowly and powerfully, but didn't seem aware of him. Professor Zolkievich slowly extended his hands, and grasped the Brutus' head behind his jaws. Brutus responded to this with a responsive, powerful, yet shakey attempt to turn over. The Professor then raised Brutus' head, still holding it and supporting it, so he was looking down into Brutus' white little eyes; like chips of ice. The Professor brought his face closer, until it was a few inches from Brutus' slightly saliva-dripped jaws.
Brutus squinted his eyes, trying to focus on the blurry image before him, until he managed to get a roughly clear image of the Professor. He gave a small growl, and exhaled a warm, moist breath into the Professor's face.
The Professor felt and smelled the warm breath, like vinegar. He took it as an acknowledgment from Brutus.
Professor Zolievich slowly and gently lowered Brutus' head, laying it back onto the support of the bowl, and turned to his fellows.
And to his surprise, he saw that Professor Moulinaux had been aiming the electro-chemical sedation gun with trembling hands at Brutus, all the time that he had been holding his head.
Professor Zolkievich raised his hand reassuringly.
"Come, come, my dear! What? Did you think he was going to bite my face off? We are his creators, his 'parents.' He will be dependant on our teachings and help as he develops mentally, do you really think he was going to be some sort of mindless killing machine?"
Professor Moulinaux lowered the gun, looking thoroughly ashamed of herself and intensely embarrassed, her normally snow-pale cheeks were tinged rosey.
"Now," Said Professor Zolkievich, animated and eager, "Doctor Hobson, Doctor Wardmen. I would like you to get Brutus onto a mobile bed, and put him in the secure room. Adjust the temperature so it matches that of the clone tank fluid, and pipe in Johann Pachelbel's 'Canon in D', followed by a randomised selection chosen by Archimedes from my 'Relaxing Classical' audio file."
The scientists all looked at Professor Zolkievich as if he was joking, but when they saw him stare back coldly they realised he was perfectly serious.
"Now..." Finished the Professor, still looking around at the other scientists challengingly, "I am going to notify ONI, although no doubt they know already, I'm sure there are bugs in here that we've missed. Other than Doctor Hobson and Doctor Wardmen, who must attend to Brutus, you are free to take some free time until I call for you."
Professor Zolkievich turned on the vid-link to ONI, using his alpha priority entry code. There was a brief pause, where in the top left corner of the screen in small white text there flashed the message,
"Encrypting transmission, please wait..."
Then a metallic voice began to across the audio players, no image of it appeared, simply the words it said scrolled along the screen.
"Welcome Professor Zolkievich. Which department shall I direct you to?"
"This is a priority alpha request," Professor Zolkievich said, slightly slowly and more pronounced, so the dumb machine could comprehend, "Direct me to the head of ONI."
A new message flashed in the top corner.
"Processing request, please wait..."
Within moments this message was replaced with the image of the head of ONI, he was anonymous, simply addressed as 'Sir' or the 'Head' by the few who ever got the chance to exchange dialogue with him. The room the Head was in was very dark, the man was little more than a silhouette.
"Ah," Said the Head, "Professor Zolkievich, you bring news of Brutus?"
The Professor nodded.
"Brutus has successfully been extracted from his tank."
The figure of the Head straightened up, clearly with some measure of anticipation.
"Excellent. Is there anything else you will be requiring for the training of Brutus? We need him combat-ready as soon as is feasible."
Professor Zolkievich replied,
"Well then, Sir, I would like to request that we be sent some Covenant specimens. Alive and fighting-fit. If we are to train Brutus properly such training opponents will be invaluable."
The Head paused.
"Professor Zolkievich, I would have said such a request would have been near impossible, were it not for recent events. I'm not sure if you and your team have been made aware of this, but the human-held planet; Sigma Octanus, recently came under a Covenant assault. Unbelievably, even when outnumbered, nearby forces managed to repel these invaders, notably by the efforts of one Jacob Keyes. For reasons I shall not disclose to you," The Head added coldly, "There was a large amount of Covenant ground forces during the assault, it was not simply an orbital bombing but a raid of a description. The infamous Spartans brought about the destruction of the majority of these forces by means we here at ONI are certainly displeased with. However there is still to be some clear-up operations to be carried out. I shall issue the order that a number of Covenant prisoners must be captured during this operation."
The Head paused, then asked,
"Is there anything else?"
Professor Zolkievich shook his head graciously,
"No, we have already received word from NavSpecWep of the URA-MJOLINER and that it will be ready by it's deadline. We have also been notified that the team that will be augmenting the new Spartan IIs will also augment Brutus in the same go. Also, the OSD for Reach has contacted us to tell us that we will be able to have uninhibited flight training space within a set of secured coordinates nearby the planet, for Brutus to train using a Seraph fighter. And the productions are already well under way for the neural matrix transition of a clone of my own brain to provide the basis for Brutus' AI; Arkus. So, for now, we are fine."
The Head nodded, and terminated the vid-link.
Brutus, the Spartans, two AIs and the Pirate Fleet (Part 3)
Date: 29 April 2003, 7:17 AM
Dr. Hobson in particular had formed a bond with Brutus.
They had begun mind-conditioning Brutus since he came out of the tube. Brutus' species may have been trying to destroy humanity, but Brutus had been born into this world as one of the humans. He shared the views of the humans, and was of a level of loyalty towards his creators and their cause that was the same, if not more than, that of the honoured men and women who were serving with their lives for humanity in the UNSC.
Yet even though in spirit one could say Brutus was a human, physically he was not. And the brain is a physical thing. Thus, Brutus' brain did think differently, and sometimes did not understand concepts that humans did.
The Scientists had a limited archive of the Elite language, and though they had endeavoured to compile and teach as much of it as possible to Brutus, (as he was going to need to be able to communicate with the Covenant if not to arouse suspicion) they had been forced to fill in the gaps in their knowledge of the language. So Brutus spoke a mongrel mix of his species' language, and German, (the Scientists found that Brutus found it easier pronouncing German words with his four jaws than English ones.)
And now, Dr. Hobson was having a deep conversation with Brutus, using some translating software they had created, to act as translator for the two.
The pair had become well accustomed to speaking, waiting for the computer to translate, listening to the reply, and waiting for the computer-converted reply that would be comprehendible.
Brutus growled slowly.
The computer translated as he spoke,
"I understand the principles of right and wrong. I understand that to be an enlightened being I must endeavour to do what's right. Yet I myself, and everything I learn, is clouded by bias. By simply having an opinion, one is obscuring the means to see right ad wrong. Surely a side fights because it believes it is right. For there to be conflict, two or more parties must be involved. These parties will fight because they believe their view to be right. Yet if those views conflict, logic dictates that one or more is wrong. I think the only way to perceive right and wrong is to be neutral. Yet I am not neutral, I am biased. So I am unable to judge right and wrong."
Dr. Hobson interrupted in anticipation of the point Brutus was about to make.
"So you are concerned that if you cannot judge right and wrong, you cannot prove to yourself that the side you fight for is the justified cause."
Brutus listened to the translation, and nodded.
"Yes."
Dr. Hobson gave a small laugh.
"Well, I don't know what to say. Of course I believe that the human cause is just. Yet the very fact I am on the human side means my view has no ground, if your assumption is correct."
After saying that, and realising what he had said, he laughed again.
"Why do you find it amusing?" Asked Brutus.
Dr. Hobson wiped his eye.
"Because Brutus, you have no idea how terrified everyone is that when you infiltrate the Covenant military, you will decide that perhaps you would rather fight for them. And yet, here I am, fathoming with you over whether the human cause is actually right or not."
Brutus growled swiftly.
"I feel strongly that the human cause is just also, and I will not abandon you."
Dr. Hobson nodded, waving his hand dismissively.
"Yes, yes, I know that, Brutus, I myself am convinced of your loyalty. Yet in answer to your question: No side can be truly right or wrong, because there is no universal concept of right or wrong. What is acceptable in some cultures, may be considered an abomination in others. So technically, you can have two conflicting sides, yet both can be right, in accordance with their own morals. For us, we believe that we as beings are entitled to live, to exist. Yet the Covenant come, with no apparent provocation, and seem determined to deny us even the basic right to life. So Brutus, if you believe that it is right that beings should be able to exist, the very principle that life is for, then you are on the right side. Because the Covenant fight to end our existence, we fight to preserve it."
There was a long silence.
Dr. Hobson was awaiting Brutus to continue, expecting him to find more flaws in the explanation. However Brutus was satisfied. It is really quite surprising how much of one's communication and understanding is based on body language, of course this was nulled here, as Doctor Hobson could never learn to read the face of a four-jawed alien. Therefore, he couldn't be sure if Brutus was going to continue or not.
In the end, however, the silence was broken by neither of them, but by that of Archimedes, the lab AI.
"Brutus, Doctor Hobson. Head Professor Zolkievich wishes that you join and the rest of the team in the hardware lab."
Following the Doctor's lead, Brutus followed Doctor Hobson out of the small conference room.
"The URA MJOLINER has arrived." Cried Professor Zolkievich eagerly to Brutus and Doctor Hobson as they joined the others.
Professor Zolkievich noted once again as he looked at Brutus how peculiar such a tall, exotic being appeared against the rest of them, standing several feet higher than even Doctor Hobson.
Doctor Hobson asked,
"You're not going to open it are you? Shouldn't we leave that for when Brutus arrives at Reach?"
Professor Zolkievich snapped,
"I should like to see Brutus in this armour before he must leave for Reach. Besides, that's still a few days away. During the time between now and then he can be getting accustomed to donning this armour, so he will be completely used to it by the time he begins combat training."
No one disagreed, secretly every one of them wanted to see Brutus in the armour, anyway.
After about an hour of fitting the Scientists stood back and admired Brutus.
He stood, like some exotic knight, clad in iridescent blue, chromed-smooth armour. Outwardly it seemed no different from the amour the other Elites wore. But inside it was another matter.
"How does it feel?" Asked Doctor Lloyd.
The computer translated for Brutus, and then translated his slightly irritated growl of a response.
"Uncomfortable and restrictive. I think this armour will hinder me. I detest the armour plates that latch to my jaws, they do not allow me to close my maw properly."
Brutus gave his jaws a frustrated clench, fighting against the restraint of the mandible plates.
"Sadly it is absolutely crucial to your success, Brutus. However, as I requested, NavSpecWep has given it a number of 'refinements.' " The Doctor addressed Archimedes, "Archimedes, begin the URA-MJOLINER display program."
The hologram crystals set into the ceiling warmed and projected a number of symbols and arrows that indicated the many parts of the armour, little boxes of scrolling information accompanying each arrow.
Brutus looked at his armour, moving his arms and watching with mild interest as the holographic arrows reacted and followed his movements.
"Brutus, stop moving about, please." Said Professor Zolkievich, to which Brutus obediently stood straight and still.
"Now," Said Professor Zolkievich, examining the holograms, "My, my, my! They've included things I never envisioned. Not only have they given the armour the same AI capacity as a warship and given you refined shielding, but they've included all other sorts of other hidden equipment. Brutus, raise your left forearm so it is vertical, and flex your middle claw until it touches your palm."
Brutus did so, and as he did, to his and the other scientists surprise, a small fiber-optic camera began to snake it's way from a virtually indistinguishable slot at the top of the gauntlet. Brutus unflexed his finger, and the camera stopped snaking out, then flexed it again, and the camera quickly zipped back into the gauntlet.
"Cute." Said Doctor Lloyd, "But it's hardly going to save his life in a critical situation, is it?"
Professor Zolkievich ignored her and continued dictating actions for Brutus to follow.
By the time they had finished, they had uncovered a short 400 volt stun-lance that extended from the left gauntlet, sedation darts fired from the right gauntlet, several small, detachable sabotage-mines hidden in small compartments in the lower leg armour, night and thermal vision as well as scanning reticules that flipped down from the rim of the helmet, and all manner of concealed miniature sabotage and security insurgency equipment in the torso.
"Very impressive..." Breathed Doctor Hobson, "What do you think, Brutus?"
Brutus growled, and the computer translated,
"Worth the burden."
*******************
The Scientists all donned vac suits, as did Brutus in a custom-made suit, (even though he was capable of actually surviving the deadly-cold vacuum of space for short periods of time.)
They were gathered to await the pickup of Brutus by a secured UNSC escort to take him to Reach for training and augmentation. The Professor stared for a while at the half of Earth visable from over the Moon's horizon. Their underground lab was based on the edge of the dark side of the Moon, so he never got to see any more of the human homeworld than that from where he stood. It looked so exposed and vunerable. It wasn't hidden, it was only that the galaxy was vast, and that the Covenant were having to search it all. Yet despite this, faced with an enemy that was so successfully destroying human worlds, Earth's doomsday seemed certain to be drawing near.
And yet, here he was, with Brutus, trying to change the course of history and the destinies of billions of precious lives.
The Scientists were all grimly silent. This was the point where they knew all their efforts were over, time to unleash what they had created upon the outside. Yet, the most horrible realisation was that once Brutus was on the escort, the Scientists' chance, there shot at changing things, was over. No time to change anything or go back, that was it. And all they had to look forward to was to await the time when they would find out whether they had done enough. And resting upon that knife-edge was all that human minds had ever truly contemplated; humanity's existence.
It was a lost, hollow feeling, like being cast adrift into a foggy sea filled with rocky, shallow waters. And the only thing that would break the painful silence of waiting was the failure of a rock tearing through their boat, or the unbelieving relief of the boat softly embedding itself in the wet sand of a shore.
And here came the escort.
The Professor recognised the pick-up as a UNSC 'Pelican' dropship. It was flanked by a pair of stout 'Bearclaw' gunships, a number of gun turrets swivelling around in unfading vigilance.
The Pelican landed, it's vac doors opened, and six UNSC Vacuum Troopers piled out. They wore body-gloves of kevlar, scaled-down breathing apparatus and life-support systems, as well as combat armour. They carried assault rifles the Professor would not have been able to name, he assumed they were the standard issue for these kind of soldiers.
The Troopers ran with extended, leaping bounds due to the Moons gravitational strength, until they came to an effortless stop before the Professor's team and the towering Brutus.
One of the Troopers stepped forward, the small rim of his gold-plated visor obscuring any expression, leaving only the static, artificial helmet.
"Professor Zolkievich, as mutually requested by the Joint Chiefs of the UNSC, the Head Officials of ONI, and yourself. We are here to collect the individual, 'Brutus' and to escort him to Reach."
The Professor smiled to himself from behind his transparent facial visor, it sounded like the Trooper had rehearsed speaking this little protocol.
"Very well, we relinquish custody and care of Brutus, who is now to be taken by the appropriate UNSC personnel whom you shall be transporting him to."
The Professor turned to Brutus and extended his hand.
Brutus recognised the sentiment and gripped the small Professor's hand carefully and shook it appropriately.
"Goodbye Brutus." Said the Professor with finality.
Brutus paused as he pondered a reply, then he growled it. He knew they could not understand him without the translating software in the labs, but if they could have, they would have understood him to say,
"If I do not die during my mission, I shall endeavour to see you again."
Professor Zolkievich and his team watched as Brutus was escorted by the wary Troopers into dropship. The soldiers seemed uncomfortable, probably wondering what damage Brutus would do should he suddenly turn on them. Brutus looked cramped as he hunched over in the Pelican drop-off hatch, as the vac door came up, and the Pelican took off, followed by the gunships.
"Now what?" Asked Doctor Wardmen a little hopelessly.
The Professor turned to his team, and spoke simply,
"I think we had better get back into the labs and get back to work on the Covenant stasis shield technology. Before Brutus, ONI was pressuring us to discover how to maintain field stability while holding temporary shield breaches, they'll be pushing us again soon, we'd better get a head start."
The Scientists agreed enthusiastically, glad to be still contributing to humanity's cause.
****************************
Brutus was listening to the Vac Troopers, although he had never been actually taught English as such- as it was believed it would be useless for his mission and he could not pronounce it very well. Yet, he still had picked up some rudiments of the standard human language, and listened to them behind a veil of utter disregard.
"Never had the chance to see one this close before." Said one of the Troopers, beneath his visor he was examining the details of Brutus' face..
"I've never seen one. Period." Admitted another. "I've only ever seen combat with the Covenant once, most of the time the bastards just orbital bomb."
"Where did you see combat?" Asked another Trooper.
"Draco III." He replied.
Several of the Troopers also said that they had been in the Draco III conflict.
"What division were you in then?"
"Division 17, we were assigned to guard secured civilian gatherings."
And so the Vaccum Troopers continued to talk, now beginning to ignore Brutus, when the Pilot of the Pelican announced on the come in a relaxed, slightly drawling voice.
"Okay boys, we'll be docked with the 'Viking' in two." He said, referring to the cruiser they were headed for. "Get the alien ready." He added coldly.
***************************
The Pelican came in the appropriate starboard hanger to be welcomed by four platoons of Marines, as well as the Captain and several lower ranking Officers.
Brutus watched their expressions as he came out from the Pelican, ranging from cool calm to uncomfortable disposition.
The Captain, was one of the more reserved. As the use of the translation software was not really an option in the hanger, the Officers the Captain ordered to escort Brutus to the cryo room had to make do with gesturing.
Brutus was not at all pleased.
The translation program was applicable in the cryo room, and the Technicians were trying to explain.
The on board AI translated,
"We assure you, we've been sent specifications, and there will be no differences in freezing you than freezing a human, the anatomical differences are not a problem, it will be fine."
Brutus gave a fierce growl that made one of the Technicians think about calling in some armed support.
"Once I have been frozen, I will be helpless. I am not willing to be so dependant on strangers."
The Technicians despaired, they could hardly force such a creature into the cryo tube even if they wanted to.
One of them opened a comm channel to the Captain, requesting council on how to proceed.
The Technician soon finished on the comm and then addressed his fellow.
"The Captain's coming down to see if he can work this out."
After a bit of talking to from Captain Malik, Brutus reluctantly cooperated.
Brutus lay back, finding he had to bend his knees slightly to just fit into the cryo tube.
One of the Technicians took a deep breath, forcing his face into an expression of determination and advanced up to Brutus with the Bronchial Surfactant Apparatus. He addressed Brutus.
"I'm not sure how easily this is going to fit in your mouth," He said, eyeing Brutus' jaws, "So I need you to hold it in position, and when I say; you inhale as big a breath as you can manage. When you do this, you will be taking a fluid into your lungs. I urge you, do not panic. It will feel strange and unpleasant, and you will want to cough it up, but you must lie back, and do not inhale any more after you have taken in the fluid."
Brutus grunted, and took the device, holding the mouth piece awkwardly in his mouth with his jaws wide open.
"Okay, now... inhale." Ordered the Technician.
Brutus took in a huge breath, and it took all his mental restraint to stop himself from gagging forward and trying to cough. A jet of a syrupy liquid shot unpleasantly down what felt very much to be 'the wrong way.' He could not breath, he knew that, so uneasily, he lay back, not knowing what was going to happen next.
The Technician monitored Brutus' readings and keyed the tube door shut.
The hatch hissed slowly down, until Brutus could only be seen behind its acrylex pane.
"Venting in Trioxide now!" Cried the Technician.
Gas hissed madly about Brutus, although he obediently remained still and quiet.
"OK, inducing optical coolant, temperature dropping."
The Technician watched as the gauge dropped to -269 degrees centigrade, a little above absolute zero.
The Technician held his breath as he checked the stabilisation readings, to see that they were green.
"Thank God for that!" He whispered.
The Captain, whom had watched the whole thing, commented with a hint of disapproval,
"It seemed to have a psychological complex about being completely dependant, I wonder what other problems Command will encounter when faced with this thing's different mental mechanics?"
Captain Malik stared at the frozen form of Brutus for a few moments, then exited the cryo room.
*******************************
"Captain, the security outpost 'Trident' is requesting we transmit our ID code."
Captain Malik did not turn his head.
"You don't need my permission to carry out such a menial task, Ensign." He said curtly.
Ensign Nylund gave his eyes a resentful roll and transmitted the code.
"A simple 'Yes Ensign' would have sufficed, you dick!" The Ensign thought silently.
The Viking, receiving permission to continue from the security outpost, proceeded towards one of the orbital docks in orbit around Reach.
"Freud!" Summoned Captain Malik, addressing the ship AI, "Notify the necessary personnel to wake up our cargo, have it ready in personnel poly-airlock 5, with an armed escort."
"Yes Sir." Freud confirmed.
Brutus, The Spartans, Two AIs and the Pirate Fleet (Part 4)
Date: 23 July 2003, 9:17 AM
"Nathan, look!" Hissed Scott 299, indicating an extended trolley being pushed by a pair of wary nurses, beneath the white linen cloth was a large, peculiarly shaped body.
Nathan 156 narrowed his eyes, studying from a distance the shape of the body behind the cloth. His first impression was of some horribly deformed person, but then he began to consider...
However before he could voice his suspicion, he, Scott 299 and the other three young Spartans who were in the same batch group, were called in to the operating theatre for drugging.
"You stupid little-" The Surgeon halted mid-speech as if silenced, trying to suppress the eruption of fury he was about to unleash. He pinched the bridge of his nose with a hand that trembled with rage. He no longer held eye contact with the nurses, he simply looked down, his voice shaking with anger. He growled through gritted teeth,
"You just carried this creature... through the hall, with a simple cloth concealing it. God knows how many people saw it... GET OUT!!" He cried.
The two nurses bolted from the operating theatre, looking red and frightened.
The Surgeon threw off the cloth that concealed Brutus' sedated body.
"Just because this is a military medical facility..." The Surgeon muttered, "...still risks, people must be more cautious..."
He took a deep breath and recollected himself.
"Well," The Surgeon announced to his companions, "Congratulations you all. We are pioneers, the first to perform an operation on an alien with intent to keep it alive."
Brutus was distantly aware of voices, discussing something. Though he strongly wanted to listen, he was also so tired that his body screamed to his mind to not waste the effort and ignore the muffled dialogue.
"What was it? 10% increased muscle mass?"
"Yes, it was originally 15%, but that would have started to look suspicious. 10% just gives him the edge while remaining reasonably indifferent."
""Retinal enhancement?"
"Yes, yes. All of the neural improvements like eyes and reactions have been done."
The two voices continued until a radiating burn swept over Brutus, feeling like it was just below his skin. He gave a slight grimace from the pain and the effort meant he fell back into unconsciousness.
"Okay 'Brutus.' This is what we all want to see." Chief Silver said candidly, "How willing you are to kill one of your own species."
Brutus considered replying to this, but then thought perhaps the better testimony of his feelings would be in practical demonstration.
"You must know the Covenant weapons inside out by now, so I'm not going to review, let's just see how well you put what you've learnt to use."
Brutus was ushered into a small, dark cubicle, facing a blast door, and shut in there.
The voice of Silver piped in from somewhere at Brutus' feet,
"Okay Brutus, when we open this door, you'll meet your first Covie opponent, show no mercy!"
There was a pause, and then the door gave a warning hiss, and a shaft of light broke into the chamber as the door opened.
The door was too slow for Brutus' liking, and he ducked through it as it opened and into a well-lit, airtight combat arena. Several heavy-duty crates were placed about the floor for the obvious purpose of cover. Brutus poised his rifle skilfully and sidled to the cover of one of these crates. He checked the motion tracker that displayed on the reticule over his eye that protruded down from the rim of his helmet.
Hiding, as he himself was, there was an enemy, behind one of the other crates.
However, that enemy was choosing to remain still, as no movement appeared on the tracker.
It didn't matter to Brutus, instead he focused on listening, his improved senses being put into practise. And he heard it, the creature was obviously making an effort to keep it's breathing quiet, but not quiet enough. Brutus estimated where the sound was coming from, and peered around his own crate to the crate he believed his target was taking cover.
A spike of adrenaline lanced through him, he primed himself, plasma rifle ready. Then with a powerful, almost silent movement, he had vaulted over the crate and propelled himself off one of its edges towards a spot where he would be able to fire at his target.
He landed gracefully, his legs flexing and cushioning any force of the impact.
Brutus heard a squeal of surprise, and saw the creature that had issued the sound. He was disappointed to see what it was. He recognised it well from briefing; a Grunt. The little creature was startled, but clearly did not seem to think Brutus meant to inflict harm upon it. In fact, the little simian almost seemed relieved to see him.
"Hah!" Brutus thought, "You think I am a comrade! Your mistake, little one!"
Brutus levelled his rifle and fired a three-blast volley into the creature's chest, sending it flipping backwards, and ending up sprawled, motionless, it's charred blood messed the floor.
Brutus paused, considered the moment, and lowered the rifle. It had not been particularly satisfying, but it had been efficient.
Brutus proceeded to try different methods, testing his abilities with each new opponent.
The next Grunt he met, he decided he was going to immobilise with one of the integrations to his modified Elite armour; the URA-MJOLINER.
Out of curiosity, Brutus allowed the new Grunt to think he was an ally for a few moments.
He advanced up to it calmly with no indication of hostility.
The little creature saw him and gave a little whoop of excitement and scurried up towards him.
Because of the translation software in his neural chip, Brutus understood what the creature said,
"Elite! Elite! You're come to save me! Thank you! Thank you Elite!"
Brutus nodded, and then, having had enough of stringing the little creature along, he decided to test out his stun-lance.
The foot-long electrode slid from his left gauntlet noiselessly, it's thickness honed to a shallow but incredibly sharp point at it's end.
The Grunt saw the device protrude from his gauntlet and gave a little squeak of curiosity, and stared at it. It did not have the chance to even realise what happened, Brutus did it so quickly, he brought the lance whistling through the air and gave the creature a slamming swipe to the abdomen. Such a blow would have surely caused the creature to collapse in pain, but upon contact the lance delivered a sustained 400 volt shock.
The creature doubled over in silent, violent, shock-induced spasms. After a few moments it fell and lay still. It was still breathing weakly, crumpled on the floor. Quite resilient considering it's size and the voltage of the shock.
Brutus had by now also tested his sedation darts on a Jackal, but his next confrontation was the one that everyone who was monitoring his fights had been waiting for; a fight with one of his own kind.
When Brutus and the enemy Elite met, there was a pause. Then the enemy Elite, also wearing blue armour like Brutus, extended it's right claw, pushed out below it's waist as a sort of gesture of acknowledgment, like a salute. The Elite waited for Brutus' response.
Brutus considered what he should do. He could return the gesture, then come right up to the enemy apparently as a friend, and kill the Elite with a sudden, unexpected melee. But Brutus decided it would be better if he gave the creature a fair chance and let it know that he was not it's friend, then it would have the opportunity to fight back. (He was curious as to see how this opponent would fight.)
So, to the other Elite's shock, Brutus levelled his plasma rifle in response, and opened fire. The first shot splashed into the enemy's shielded chest, however the following ones missed as it did a combination duck and sidestep, followed by a counter volley from it's own plasma rifle.
Brutus rolled under these shots, rolling forward, and then springing back up, propelling himself hooves-first at the Elite's legs. The Elite however, demonstrated brilliant reactions, leaping up in the air and not only avoiding the attack, but also landing and bringing both of it's hooves down crushingly on Brutus' head and jumping off. Brutus' shields took the damage, but they had now flickered out, and he was in serious danger, dazed on the floor.
The Elite was about to spin around to finish Brutus off, it would be over in less than a second. The Elite levelled it's rifle at Brutus' head, but to it's sudden surprise, Brutus flung his legs up and pinned the Elite's rifle and claw in-between his hooves. With a powerful jerk, Brutus' legs flung the Elite over his floor-bound body and into a solid wall, knocking out it's own shields. The Elite crumpled to the floor momentarily, slumped against the wall.
Brutus leapt up and as he did so, so to did the Elite hurriedly recover itself. Both were unshielded, so they sprinted for the cover of the crates as they half-aimed and fired at one another. Brutus was not hit, but he managed to score two hits upon his adversary before the pair of them reached cover, one clipping the creature on the shoulder and another on the thigh.
Brutus dove behind a single crate, while his enemy ran behind a pair, one stacked upon the other.
Both of them were going to wait until their shields recovered.
At least, that was until Brutus risked a glance over his crate and saw his chance.
In a split-second decision he leapt onto his crate as his enemy still remained hidden behind its cover. Brutus swiftly launched himself into an explosive ariel kick, speeding through the air towards the enemy's crates. His extended hoof connected with a deafening crash into the top crate, a titanic blow that sent the huge, heavy crate teetering momentarily. Brutus heard his opponent cry out in anger, terror and surprise as the crate toppled and came crashing down on it.
Brutus heard a blunt, wincing 'CRUNCH!'
He went to survey what had become of the Elite.
To his surprise, the Elite was not dead, before the crate had toppled it had tried to make a desperate, flailing leap backwards. But now it was pinned down, it's right leg was crushed and shattered beneath the immensely heavy, crumpled crate, blood was steadily issuing in a glistening pool from beneath the crate.
Brutus watched with admiration at the Elite. It was in terrible agony, and losing blood so fast it would be dead within a minute, yet it was still reaching with a weakly extended arm for it's plasma rifle that had landed just out of it's reached.
Brutus cast a shadow upon the defeated beast, and the Elite, realising it could not reach the rifle, turned feebly to look up at Brutus.
It gave a despairing gargle, and the Elite-equivalent of an expression of disbelief.
Silver and his team crowded closer to the monitoring screen, this was the climax. Would Brutus finish off his fellow specie or not?
Brutus looked down on the pitiful being, silent for a moment.
Then he gave the creature's head a swift, resonating kick with his hoof. The brutal blow was so powerful that the force of it's impact upon the head snapped the Elite's neck.
And so it lay, dead. It's neck at a sickening angle.
Chief Silver and his team were now convinced of Brutus' loyalties.
Brutus, The Spartans, Two AIs and the Pirate Fleet (Part 5)
Date: 22 November 2003, 7:09 PM
Brutus wanted to jerk the controls, and vent some of his frustration into them, but the design of the Seraphs controls did not make that applicable. He had to sit, with his claws rested upon the arms of his pilot seat, as the Seraphs controls were simply a set of buttons and switches at the end of each chair arm. The manner with which he had to control the fighter therefore looked like he was reclining on a sofa seat. The buttons and switches were responsive and accurate once one learnt to use them, but they also felt static to the actions they controlled.
He pulled the Seraph into an ever tighter loop, trying to evade the Longsword he was training with.
The Longsword Pilot was cruelly adept at piloting his craft, and Brutus had heard the enraging 'ping' that served in this training exercise to symbolise a fatal hit to his craft. Three times already in this training exercise he had heard that sound.
He was determined that he would not hear it again.
His opponent's Longsword was, in theory, not as manoeuvrable as his Seraph, but the Pilot in the Longsword did not seem to have any qualms with pushing the craft far beyond its specs limits, even though this was only a training exercise. So Brutus found the craft still on his tail as he urged his craft into a tighter yet loop.
He growled in exasperation, and in a spontaneous decision typical of that that comes naturally to a veteran of the battlefield (though Brutus was yet to see combat outside of his training) he crashed the sublight engines down to 20% and ripped the Seraph out of the loop-the-loop. The Longsword tried to tail him, but there wasn't the time, and in an instant the Longsword Pilot had flashed from having the Seraph fighter in his sights to being nowhere to be seen. Such was the problem of dogfights in vacuum with sublight craft, one didn't appreciate the speeds one was going at. One second you could be about to hit your opponent, the next your target had vanished.
Brutus knew he had moments before the Longsword would have tracked him, he pulled the Seraph into a tight turn. He didn't intend to tail the craft, the Longsword had already pulled an evasion manoeuvre that would make it very difficult to follow after, and was now beginning an arc towards him. Instead Brutus contrived to pull a trick that was virtually impossible in a space fighter dogfight, due to the speeds. He brought the holographic target of the Seraph upon an apparently empty bit of vaccum. He waited perhaps a few fractions of a second, timing with supercomputer-accuracy. Then he pressed the fire button. Instead of issuing searing blasts of pulse laser, which would have been most satisfying, the Seraph gave a 'beep' to signify he had fired his 'virtual shot.' All he actually did fire was a long distance infra-red beam, designed to be picked up by a sensor on the Longsword, to let the Longsword Pilot know if he'd been 'hit.' And as the Longsword pilot brought his craft in a tight arc towards Brutus, he flew right in to the infra-red shot. The Pilot heard a 'ping' sound to tell him that he had been 'killed.'
Brutus switched on a general frequency comm and gave a resonating victory roar. He had switched on the comm so the Pilot would hear his triumphant cry.
The Pilot replied with a laugh,
"Don't sound so pleased with yourself Brutus, I'm still winning three to one here!"
Brutus responded to this by resettling himself in his pilot seat, determined to turn this training exercise the other way.
He began waiting the obliged five seconds with his engines at 50%. The rule was that if you scored a hit, you had to give your opponent time to get a safe distance away before the fight could restart.
However Brutus never got the chance to resume combat, as suddenly his comm crackled,
"Brutus! Dalberge!" It was Captain Gustav of the Carrier 'Firestorm.' "Drop what you're doing and get back to the Firestorm now! Reach is under attack!!"
Without a word to one another Brutus and the Longsword Pilot Dalberge were rocketing back towards the hangars of the 'Firestorm.'
An escort of Marines were having difficulty keeping up with Brutus as he loped his way towards the Bridge. Brutus had had to suffer the annoying presence of an escort of Marines nearly everywhere he went. Maybe it was because he was so precious to humanity, maybe it was because no one could bring themselves to fully trust a being whose species was of the Covenant, perhaps it was a bit of both. Brutus gave it no more thought as he clomped his presence into the bridge. The bridge personnel normally stopped and stared for a few moments when he came to the bridge, yet now they were too busy at their stations, Brutus realised the situation must be quite important.
Captain Gustav was a relatively young man considering his rank, clean-shaven, and devote to his cause, and in a way unremarkable- the ideal UNSC servicemen.
Gustav swung around to see Brutus and he frowned.
"All of us knew that inserting you into the Covenant military was going to be hard Brutus. This might be the opportunity we've been waiting for. We could not have had a more ideal bit of chaos than a clash at Reach for you to slip into the fray unnoticed. I suggest you get back into your Seraph and into space now. That Seraph has infinitely more accurate Slipspace navigation than this Cruiser," Gustav gestured at the bridge of the Firestorm, "You'll be able to enter normal space right outside Reach. Hopefully you'll arrive while the battle is still raging." He paused, considering something, then proceeded, looking very grim,
"I don't think we need to fool ourselves, a huge Covenant armada has arrived outside Reach. I think there is a strong chance that Reach is going to come off worse, despite it's defenses. Once the Covenant ships recall all their fighters, with a hell of a lot of luck, you'll just be able to park yourself in one of them and slip in unnoticed."
Gustav paused again, then gave a slow salute. His heart must have been very heavy.
Brutus returned the salute, and seeing no time for sentiment, raced back to the launch bays and his Seraph, followed by the tag-along Marines.
A voice addressed Brutus over the comm of his Seraph.
"Brutus, I'm going to send you the coordinates for the Slipspace jump. Note that once you're out that launch bay door we're going to be altering course, and coming from another direction. It'll look suspicious having a Covenant fighter and a Huma-"
Brutus cut him off by giving an irritated, guttural bark to let the anonymous voice know that he was not stupid, but was eager to get under way.
The response was an obediently quick opening of the launch bay doors, for a few seconds the air inside the hangar rushed out, then silence. Brutus' Seraph looked so peculiar within the human hangar and among the Longsword fighters. Brutus paused for a moment, staring at the vivid stars through the yawning hangar door, they were beginning to drift as the Carrier was already preparing to change course. Brutus activated the Seraph's engines, and the Seraph shot noiselessly out of the hangar.
Turning about to get Reach in his sights, Brutus saw the planet on his view screen. It was a distant, unremarkable speck of light, and Brutus would have dismissed it as a star were it not surrounded by holographic runes and markers from his view screen.
And yet, this was too close for the Slipspace generators created by humans to make a jump practical. Because in truth, humans had a semi-chaotic means to navigate Slipspace, and could not understand the physics of that universe. Meanwhile, although humans could not work out how from stolen examples of their technology, the Covenant had mastered Slipspace, and could jump with perfect accuracy.
Sending the coordinates through, he engaged the Slipspace generators, and watched the view of the stars melt, warp and tear as he entered Slipspace.
Brutus was delighted with his luck, he could not have come out of Slipspace in a more ideal position. Nearly directly in front of his Seraph was a human destroyer, looking very battle-damaged, fleeing from the pursuit of a pair of Covenant Frigates. All the while the human ship was being harassed by a swarm of Seraph fighters. Longsword Fighters stalwartly trying to keep them at bay in the face of greater numbers. It seemed that the peak of the conflict was over, and the remaining human ships were breaking formation and scattering.
Brutus sent his own Seraph shooting into the fray, the more time he spent with his Seraph drifting alone the more suspicious it would look. Luckily, nothing seemed to be paying attention to him so far.
It was only once he was amongst the other Seraph fighters that he truly contemplated the significance of what he was going to have to do to remain inconspicuous. He tried to think of it merely as another training exercise as he sent his first blasts of pulse lasers exploding through the first Longsword, blowing and scattering it's hulk into molten-hot chunks. However there was no way he could pretend those pulse lasers were the harmless infra-red 'laser-tag' beams he had used in his training.
And so he was forced to continue; strafing the destroyer and opening fire on the Longswords while trying to outmanoeuvre them when they tailed him.
Several minutes into the pursuit of the dying Human warship a small klaxon sounded inside Brutus' cockpit, sounding more like a melody on a celestial organ, it still oddly conveyed a compelling sense of warning. Suddenly Brutus became aware that the other Seraphs were breaking away from their pursuit and beginning to take a course back to the main Covenant fleet. Brutus hurried to keep up as he watched the two Covenant Frigates move in to finish off the crippled Human Destroyer.
The swarm of seraphs drifted towards the Covenant carrier, entering it through many large yawning hangar bay doors along it's sides. Brutus piloted his own Seraph into one of these, desperately observing how the other Seraph pilots were docking so he could do the same without looking too unpractised and conspicuous. Now in the hangar, he found himself fitting into a hovering, single-file queue of fighters. The line steadily decreased as the fighters manoeuvred themselves systematically, one by one, into cells in the hangar wall, like some giant iridescent, curved honeycomb. When it was Brutus' turn, he awkwardly reversed his craft into one of the cells, his ship clipped and then grinded slightly on the edge of its entrance. Brutus hoped he had not blown his cover with this blunder.
He opened the hatch to find a short, slightly curved ramp aligned with his hatch on the top of his Seraph, the ramp came down from the ceiling of his ship's docking cell, and led up through a sort of curved trap door.
Brutus climbed through, went along a passageway, and came out into a wide walkway, with a stream of Elite Pilots walking across it. Brutus slipped inconspicuously into the flow of Covenant Pilots.
Brutus flexed his jaws happily. It looked like he was in.
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