 |
About This Site
Daily Musings
News
News Archive
Site Resources
FAQ
Screenshots
Concept Art
Halo 2 Updates
Interviews
Movies
Music
Miscellaneous
Mailbag
HBO PAL
Game Fun
The Halo Story
Tips and Tricks
Fan Creations
Wallpaper
Misc. Art
Fan Fiction
Comics
Logos
Banners
Press Coverage
Halo Reviews
Halo 2 Previews
Press Scans
Community
HBO Forum
Clan HBO Forum
HBO IRC Channel
Links
Admin
Submissions
FTP Uploads
HTTP Uploads
Contact
|
|
|
Genesis Reborn by Mainevent
|
The Eve of Genesis
Date: 6 December 2003, 5:26 AM
In the halls of the Forerunner complex, all was silent. The large metallic-stone compound was utterly abandoned. It was the beginning of the end for them, but in a way, the end of the beginning. They believed not only that they had done what needed to be, but prepared for it. It was prophecy; it was how it was meant to be.
"And'Je Kigotu", or The Genesis was the beginning of purity, of perfection. They would finally be whole. Their being finaled. Seven long decades worth of work was finally coming to fruition. Genetics had reached their penacle, and the Forerunner would live forever.
Angastal Kanas, the divine Flood, was their mechanism. Through munipulation of millions of gene codes, they had arranged the perfect combination. An organism that would not only manipulate and alter their form, but would allow them to be supreme. Never dying, never hurting, stronger than any before it. The creature they bred was impervious to disease, could feel no pain, and was genetically enhanced to be stronger than previously thought possible. There was a benefit as well. The genetic resequencing was exact enough to allow the host to retain full control over the new being, as well as retain all thought processes.
"...and we shall be made whole again." Anrik said enthusiastically. His enormous palm sweeping across the ringworld and into the heavens above. Only twenty four hours until Angastal was released. Everyone who was anyone had been given the rights to be "attained." They were all assembled at Eden, Installation 04. The head priest and leader of the ceremonies was The Monitor. An Artificial Intelligence of the former, and legendary, Angrel Amshew.
"We shall be no better than we were before, and I cannot possibly see how this could help us, but if only for your sake, I shall do it."
"You must brother. If you don't, you will die."
"I can handle death my friend, it is life I am unsure of."
"But why? Why would you give up this oppurtunity?"
"No more disease, no more pain, no more wanting. It sounds too good to be true, which usually means it is."
"Oh, but not this time. This time it's different. The Monitor says this is the time of the Angastal, and we should all be God's tools.
"But why would he need us? To build this structure. To be swallowed. To be dead."
"The Monitor says sacrifice is key. He says we shall all be reborn unto him."
Reborn, what is wrong with our natural form. Are we not perfect as God himself originally created us? Are we too good for that, that we should need all of this?"
"The Monitor says that our form was flawed, and that we have unlocked what God hath stored inside. The Monitor is right, and says he has found the key. Our salvation rests with him."
"The Monitor, the Monitor, the Monitor. Enough with the monitor-"
Do not speak so quickly, you should bite your tongue. We could both be killed should someone hear your foolishness. The Monitor is the second coming of Angrel himself, he is as good as the original."
"No one here believes that. It's only those puppets of his. The Sentinels permit no-dissent whatsoever. If he is so powerful and truthful, why does he need them? Why were we summoned here agaisnt our will?"
Anrik's face changed at the sound of his brother's words. He could not believe that his own brother was saying such blasphemy, much less implying that others were unhappy in their lives. After all, the Monitor had been gracious enough to hand-pick them, to assign them jobs, and make sure their families were fed. And they had the gall to turn on him. He would hear no more of it. Anrik turned from Elsrik, and left the room through the eight-foot ceiling before him. He cursed as he bumped his head on the frame, always mad at how low the ceilings were for him.
Why are these confounded ceilings so low? It's not as though anyone else will ever have to use them. Anrik thought to himself. It doesn't matter, in the morning, all shall be made clear, and Elsrik will not spew his fooleshness. My brother will not die, he will not be taken from me. Not now. Not ever. He is mine, and will always be mine.
The sunrise on the curved landscape was a miracle to behold, and Elsrik would not miss it for the world. The dull grays mixing with the oranges and blues mixed to form a palette that he would willingly make his last view. It was the day of truth, to see if the Monitor had lived up to what he promised all. The whail of communion sirens in the distance snapped his gaze off of the wonderous sight. He mumbled to himself as he turned to the large rolling plains before him. The scattered and obscure figures of buildings before him were all active, their large blue signals a beacon to all, that there was always a place for shelter.
It was part of his creed, that the Monitor would let none go hungry, cold, nor hopeless under his watch. Elsrik noticed his brother impatiently waiting for him in the doorway of Algrek Temple. Buried atop a small cliff, it's entrance was a massive opening leading to an elevator.
"So where are we to go?" Elsrik queried with the hint of frustration.
"To the temple altar, there our sins will be washed away by the flood, and our sanctity restored."
"I find that hard to believe, Elder Glesk was seen entering only moments ago, I doubt even the Monitor has a flood large enough to cleanse him." Elsrik laughed to himself, but the stern face of the man standing next to him was unflinching.
"Jokes will not save you, now come, or we shall miss it."
"Something I would not be too upset to do."
The two turned to the now empty foyer, and descended the ramp into the first level. The elevator had already descended into the facility, and the subtle reverbarating humm from below reminded them of it's ascention.
"We are too late, they have started without us. We HAVE missed it!" Ansrik shouted in dispair. The large maroon lift slowly fixed itself into place. The two stepped onto the platform as it jolted before lowering into the belly of the goliath facility. It was unusually quiet, however, for such a profound day of celebration.
As it came to rest below, the two exited towards the small hallway leading into one of the altar rooms. The fallen bodies were horrendous. Small raindrop shaped creatures were violently digging into their flesh, devouring it, absorbing it. Ansrik and Elsrik's eyes bulged as two of the bodies they recognized began moving again. Several of the raindrops noticed them as well, and quickly raced towards the new oppurtunity to feed.
They turned back into the hallway, and into the elevator shaft. It had ascended AGAIN. They weren't sure how long it would be before the creatures were on them, but it wouldn't be too long. The floating floor became steady with a heavy creaking sound, just as the two ex-acquaintances lunged into the room. Their face and body were being hideously mutated by the creatures, but their heavy faces moaned in agony.
Ansrik quickly pushed the activation on the large holographic controls, and it lurched upwards. Elsrik made a running leap, and his hand was caught as it began upwards. The two fleshen monstrosities were grasping feverishly on the device, clawing at it't occupants with fervor.
A leather-like whip shot across the darkness, and cut across Ansrik's chest heavily. Bright green blood splashed onto the metallic tiles below. Droplets of the thick coagulating substance tittered into their mouths, fueling their passion.
"I told you I was doing this to save you brother. I meant it." Ansrik said as he turned to face his opponents, his brother beginning to charge.
"Brother no!" Elsrik held out a sympathetic hand, but dared not to stop him. Ansrik would die eitherway, at least this one was honorable. He coupled his enormous fingers around the Flood's feet, and caught them off guard. Their grip loosened as they plummeted into the nothingness below.
As he reached the top, he rushed up the slick damp ramp, and into the suddenly soaked environment. The distant hum from somewhere above him was out of place, but he knew instantly who it was. The Monitor.
"You there, why are you not in the altar with the others?" His voice was artificial, and Elsrik's anger was blooming exponentially.
"You! You have betrayed us all, and are responsible for my brother's death!"
"I, betrayed you? Hoh hoh hoh, I would be most pleased to hear your reason for this."
"You said there would be no more pain, no more suffering. You lied to them all. You murdered them."
"I said there would be no more pain or suffering after the cleansing. I never told them it would be easy or painless. You delved far too into my words. Now if you would, I have business otherwise." His small circular body shimmered several times before disappearing in a quick flash of orange, and then was gone.
Elsrik was alone for perhaps the first time in his life. Alone, desperate, and outnumbered. He had only a matter of time before they were back, and he had to warn the others. Before the Monitor lured more into his horrid trap.
Afternoon's Twilight
Date: 12 December 2003, 11:03 PM
Elsrik was cold, and wet, and lonely. The beautiful day he had begun only minutes ago suddenly seemed like a hellish nightmare. His brother, friends, and members of his family dead. Betrayed by the insidious A.I. monstrosity known as The Monitor. He had to run. To tell someone, anyone who would believe him, about what happened. Then again, that was the problem. Who would believe him? A haggard figure shows up at someone's doorstep, claiming that the Forerunner's most holy figure was lying to them. Betraying them. Killing them. That the Angastal wasn't what they had been led to believe. It was hopeless, not a soul would believe him. Until seconds before his tragic death, not even his brother had believed him.
The low thrumming sound echoing from the canopy was eerily familiar. He couldn't place his finger on where he knew it from. A thick orange laser cut into the tree only centimeters before him, igniting the soaked embers in an instant. Splinters sprayed like shrapnel into the puddles of water at his feet, but bounced harmlessly off of his tough skin. Sentinels! The Monitor must have sent them to deal with stragglers, or possibly the creatures themselves. But why would The Monitor send Sentinels to attack what he believed was their diving resurrection. Elsrik wondered to himself as he lept over a fallen trree and rolled under it. UNLESS! He never thought they were the divine resurrection. That this whole thing was an extremely elaborate scam. But why? Why would he do that? Lasers once again cut through the fallen tree with no more resistance than butter. One of them once again missed him by a very slim margin. He tucked his feet and rolled between two thin saplings, and was on his way downwards. It would be a long roll, as he was on the downward slope of the ring's enormous landscape. The Sentinels hovered patiently at the edge of the trees, only two or three following behind him. Why are they sending such a precious few Sentinels to stop me? Then it struck him like a ton of bricks. He dug his gargantuan fingers into the soil, several nails ripping violently off, blood flowing from his ragged cuts. His body slammed against his shoulders, dislocating on of them.
But instead of the reassuring peace he had expected, he was instead flinching from the sharp pain coursing through his body. He was lucky, but still too late. The "small" cliff the temple facility was located on was actually three thousand feet high. He dared not to look down, at the specks of trees below. The ocean that branched endlessly before what seemed like finally falling off into space itself.
He strained to pull himself up, onto the solid earth below. His biceps, triceps, neck, shoulder, annd back muscles all flexed in unison, aching like pinpricks every second. Lactic acid was building up on them, and he could feel it, the burn. If only he could get onto his stomach, then he could push himself up with his feet. He felt a pop in his neck, and the sharp pain that accompanied the snap of muscle, but he was on his stomach. Legs frantically clawed at the dirt under him, pushing him easily onto the clifftop.
He rolled onto his back, heaving deeply. The three search-and-destroy Sentinels that were sent to follow him were unfortunately still waiting for him. Three particle beams split the air with a snap as Elsrik performed a quick sit-up and rolled onto his knees. He pushed into the ground with his legs, and began a dead sprint into the small gap leading between a thick patch of enormous boulders. It was a tight fit, with etches of dust and several loose pebbles coming aloose and falling to the sandy floor. The metallic menaces behind him were just barely too large to fit between the crags, and fluttered above the rock formation.
Elsrik's neck and arm were pulsing, their pain getting worse by the second. His legs were giving out as well, tired from the sudden strain. His mind was racing too fast, and he missed seeing the rock before he tripped on it. His body landed with a dull thud, a deep gash across his forehead swelling with blood. It had all happened so fast, however, that he never even saw himself fall.
It was night before he began regaining conciousness. The flood of memories and pain all storming his mind at once, a mental and physical barrage that nearly sent him into shock. His brother was dead, Sentinels were chasing him, he had dislocated his shoulder, snapped countless muscles in his neck area, and there was a thick dry puddle of blood from the gaping wound on his face. Worst of all, no one would believe anything he told them, after going over all of it again in his mind, he wasn't sure he did.
He listened carefully, for any sign of those damnable robotic beasts. Nothing. He rolled onto his left side, and propped himself against a boulder, while using his good arm to help pull his weight up. The crevice he was fallowing would lead him to a small village near the temple. If they wouldn't believe him, they could at least give him medical treatment.
An hour later, he was at the clearing. The boulders split to either side, and their was a small walkway. Downslope a little further was the village, the faint aura of their lights winked above the treetops. His feet were on fire, and his legs were constantly shaking. The rocky path was unsophisticated, but then again, nothing about the top-side of Eden was. The Monitor had specific instructions that it be preserved as well as possible, for the reclaimers. Elsrik had never heard in any of the Kahras (Divine Prophecies) of the Reclaimers. The Monitor, however, had on several occasions spoke of the mysterious figures. "They will be our salvation, they will be our purity. The one's to guide us forever into eternity." He said. Elsrik knew better though, he had seen the so called "Reclaimers". They had killed his brother, and slaughtered his friends.
The main street was silent, houses dark, and all was still. Fear raced down his spine like cold mercury. He drudged to a nearby shop, and peered inside. The lights were off, but he noticed movement inside. Is it one of the Angastal? Or a shopowner? Surely a shopowner will help me. He thought. He rapped the door with his knuckles. The metallic partition slid slowly into it's recess, and Elsrik rolled into the room with wreckless abandon.
An older man, who looked to be in his early hundreds from the small barely eight and a half foot stature, only stared at him with empty eyes. Wheeling out a long cart, he ushered Elsrik onto a nearby bench, and piled the cart with supplies.
"I need-," Elsrik began, but was cutoff midsentence.
"You need to let me do my job." The man interjected. "Dislocated right shoulder, snapped semi-cephalo muscles, mild concussion, and extreme lactic acid build-up." The man shook his head as he finished his prognosis. He had been, or was, a doctor from Elsrik's guess.
"Their coming, the Sentinels. You must warn the town. They will kill you all for what I've seen." Elsrik pleaded with the man, but he simply put a heavy hand on his shoulder, and motioned for quiet.
"My son, they've already been. They are quite persistant. Wouldn't stop asking about you, well, I'm guessing it was you. We told them we knew of no such person, but you can't get anything through their stubborn programming. They rounded the entire village, save myself who was hiding in the closet, downslope and..." His eyes disappeared again, regaining the cold look they originally had. Elsrik was in too much pain to let the man be, he needed help as soon as possible.
"I'll give you time to tell me, if you can help me." He told the man, who snapped back to reality with a thrust of energy.
He was groggy, heavy, and everything ached. It was a dull ache, but more than noticeable. His vision blurred, cleared, then blurred again several times before finally focusing. The short man was asleep in his chair next to the plasma conductors. His shoulder had been fixed, and his muscles repaired. The gash in his head was healed, and his weary muscles felt refreshed. Whoever he was, he was an excellent physician.
The sun was already up, and several farm animals roamed the street carelessly. Looking for food, or their owners, they were confused animals.
"How long have I been asleep?" He asked the shuffling figure behind him.
"Two weeks. It was pretty powerful medication."
"No kidding." Elsrik replied, they both laughed. A first in a long time, for both of them.
"We must leave today. I have gathered supplies and a Marcina from one of the resident's homes. They won't be needing it. It'll only be four hours until we're there. And then you can do what you need to do."
"And what is it that I need to do? What's four hours away?"
"Temotatalye is four hours away." The man subconciously checked both of his shoulders for any listeners, even though he knew there were none.
"Temotatalye is real? I thought it was only a story. They said that the settlers just disappeared, or had been killed. Rumors spread, but no one listened. Who would have believed that their were those who didn't believe The Monitor was just. Those who spoke out suddenly disappeared. I always thought they had been silenced by the Guardians."
"No, but they would have been had we not helped them."
"We?"
"The Forerunner. We are an ecclectic organization that supports our freedoms. Not having them handed over to that dim-whitted automaton and his cronies. We only want it as it was before. You too have been killed by the Guardians. Or at least that's how the Sentinel databank will show you once we're in Temotatalye. They can...arrange...stuff." He said with a chuckle.
"I never got your name," Elsrik said, "Mine's Elsrik Andagall."
"I am Monastor Goranth Melnoris."
The shock of his words was similar to that of a tidal wave concentrated on his face. A Monastor on Eden. It was unheard of. The Monitor was surely unaware. The Monastors were religious leaders whose influence rivaled even his. Their influence alone wouldn't have been tolerated by his artificial mind, all of his logic algorithms constantly warning of the possibility that someone could turn. That dissent could spread. That there was a certain percent chance that something would happen. It made him ruthless and effective at the same time. What he had learned today was nothing short of blaspheme, but he somehow believed all of it. It wouldn't be long before they, the dissidents, made their stand.
The Afahad, or Great War, had been prophecied before, but only now was the threat so real. It wouldn't be long before Eden was turned to hell, and he would be a part of it all.
A Path to Nowhere
Date: 15 December 2003, 10:51 PM
Elsrik and the Monastor glided gently across the terrain. The scenery whizzed by just fast enough to be beautiful, but not slow as slow to make it dull.
"Why are we driving to Thermotatalye? Wouldn't it be faster to simply use The Net." Elsrik asked without removing his gaze from his surroundings. He was actually glad that they hadn't, so he could enjoy the tranquility. From what he had gathered, it was the calm before the storm. He knew he probably wouldn't see anything as beautiful, and for that he was glad.
"For two reasons," Goranth replied, "I like the view along this route."
"And the second?" He asked after several seconds of silence.
"And because The Net doesn't go there." The older man said with a chuckle.
"How can that be?" Elsrik asked, more to himself than to the man beside him. "The Net runs all across this ring."
"Ah, but we're on a path to nowhere."
"But every path leads somewhere."
"For you, and for me, that is true. But for The Monitor and his sentinels, there or places that is not. He is restricted by his programming. He may be replicated from neural pathways of what many here consider the most divine leader, but he is still limited by what he is. He is a program in a shell. A program has bugs, and is succeptable to viruses."
"How is he succeptable to viruses? I thought there were no more viruses."
"There aren't any known viruses around. But this virus that we uploaded does nothing harmful. It merely changes a few numbers. He has trillions of digital paths, all leading to trillions of places. But where we're going, his paths lead nowhere. The numbers we gave him would lead him into space."
"Aren't you afraid he'll run a system check? His subroutines would surely discover that."
"Ahh, but he has. They can't find it unless they cross check those numbers with every other path to every other section of the ring. There are over four hundred sixty-five trillion paths in the databank. The likelyhood of him performing a system check is second to null, and even if he did, his chances of finding them are as good as someone destroying Eden. It'll never happen."
"Just say he did find Thermotatalye, then what? How could we defend ourselves. Then again, what good are we now. We'll still be slaughtered by his Sentinels. We'll be able to do nothing but wait."
"Oh ye of little faith. There are things you've never seen. Things that will blow your sheltered mind." The Monastor replied as he sped the vehicle up. The rest of the trip was silent.
The rolling plains and sprawling wilderness had finally subsided as they came to a halt at a mountain's base. Elsrik, who had been asleep, finally came to, and was surprised at what he was witnessing.
"Go! Go! Before they see us. It's too late for them, they can hold their own. You said so yourself." Elsrik bellowed as he panicked. Four Sentinels hovering near a thick shimmering door stopped their random patrol, turned to face the vehicle, and rushed over to it.
"I told you before, there are things that you've never seen. Have more faith in me than that. Surely I wouldn't have us both to our deaths on purpose."
The Sentinels halted at the Marcina, and one began a thorough scan. A thin red beam coursed across it's being, covering every square inch, before finally winking out of existence. The Sentinels, apparently satisfied by their results, simply turned away and returned to their work.
"How did y'all acquire Sentinels? The Monitor has to know you have them." The slowly calming passenger queried.
"Oh, he knows alright, and it bugs the hell out of him. There's even been rumors that he's created an entire subroutine dedicated to finding them. He won't though, and he knows it. The Sentinels run on a dumb program. Their Smart program counterparts can adapt, change, upgrage, to fit whatever environment it encounters. But the dumb programs, they are set in stone. They'll follow input orders, but they'll never question them. We simply changed their programmed input, and now they're as loyal as a pet."
The extremely large door before them opened lazily. It's heavy motors whining as they activated. It separated at a nearly invisible seam, revealing a second set of inner doors. Four gargantuan locks hisses and flushed spent plasma fumes as they huffed forward before sliding backwards into place. The quartered inner gateway bucked and jerked several times before finally moving out of the way. They were old, but very very sturdy. Elsrik doubted that even The Monitor would be able to get into the base that way. They may actually have an impenetrable fortress in their grasps, but as so many pitched battles before had proven, there are no impenetrable fortresses.
The car hovered from the dusty earth outside to the dull brown metal inside. It was dark, very dark. Elsrik didn't like it. The thin hallway was a hundred meters long, and ended at a second set of the mammoth doors. "Flood Gates" The Monastor called them. The Forerunner weren't prepairing to stave off a Sentinel attack, they were prepairing to hold off the Angastal.
Elsrik was lost in thought. Would The Monitor be as shallow as to kill all of those people to simply attack his enemies. The deadliest weapon perhaps, with their semi-controlled minds, extreme resistance to regular weapons, and above-par strength. He snapped back into reality as the second set of doors came to a screaching halt.
The main cavern that appeared before him was the largest room he'd ever seen. Eden itself had been carved into, an enormous excavation easily a half-kilometer deep. It rose another fifteen hundred meters into the air, honeycombed with pylons and support structures, as well as living facilities and cleaning plants. It was a self supporting miniature Eden. Several thousand people swarmed throughout the massive first level alone, criss-crossing paths on their way to wherever they were heading. Elsrik suddenly noticed something else, it was brighter.
He did indeed see things he'd never seen before. The Monastor's car floated across the room with ease, and he explained the in's-and-out's of The Garden of Eden, as Thermotatalye had been aptly nicknamed. An entire company of what Goranth called "Sidewinders" were stationed at the entrance.
The Sidewinders were animal-like, and stood on four jointed appendages. They had a thick body that housed the driver, and two other appendages with heavy weapons. Particle beams that could rip through four inches of Inatium metal in one blast.
Another group, called the Wardens, were lined precariously around the rim. The hovered several meters above the tiled flooring, and were perhaps the most heavily armed of the entire Forerunner arsenal. Six super-plasma particle cannons, four heavy particle beams, and five plasma lasers. Truely a weapon to fear.
A last group of vehicles, the smallest he had seen, yet also the most numerous, were called the Watchmen. They were what could be considered light weapons. Their design allowed for drastically different arrangements, some having one heavy particle beam, others have quad plasma lasers, and even several drone classes.
"There are more, but we dare not show them until they are used. All of these have been seen by The Monitor, he has no doubt devised ways of combatting them, but he is only a program. We've sent small platoons of them on surgical strikes from time to time, to remind him that we're still here, see how well he reacts to a new threat, but never attacking him with mixed units. He can only develop ways of defeating swarms of a single type."
"That's wise. What are the other ones like though?" Elsrik was very interested in all that he was being exposed too, and he wanted to know more.
"In time you will become a great leader, I can tell. But until then, I can show you no more. We are preparing our first attack in several units. We must hurry. I'd like you to be there."
"But why me?"
"As I said before, I see you becoming a great leader. You'll never be great if you do nothing."
In the Shadows of Darkness
Date: 19 December 2003, 3:54 AM
Elsrik and the Monastor were weaving silently through the crowds, bobbing between vehicles and bodies. Their miniscule voyage led them to a guarded door, three enormous Forerunner males and a Watchman. Rock solid muscle twitched as it tapped on the door three times. Several seconds passed before it jerked upwards slightly, and slide to into the wall. The pathway was well lit, and the floors emblazoned with precious metals. Pictures of Forerunner religious symbols, major cities, and random wilderness scenes.
Down the hall, three heavily dressed men skittered down the hall. They were whispering to themselves, apparently upset and confused at the appearance of Elsrik. He didn't want to be there, he just wanted to be back home, with his brother. Goranth held his wrinkled hand up to halt whatever comment they would have, and rotated his finger. They stopped dead, turned around, and headed back the way they came. Goranth must have a lot of influence around here. He thought to himself.
At the end of the hall the path began sloping slightly upwards, it was a very long hall indeed. The men he was following veered suddenly to the right, through a barely discernable doorway. Elsrik caught himself, and took several steps backward. The new room was larger, and at it's center was a large wooden table. Elsrik hadn't seen wooden furniture in so long, everything now was made of metal or synthetics, and was all so dull.
The Monitor had prohibited the cutting or destruction of any of Eden's precious landscape. It was to be a sort of estuary for the Reclaimers. That word again, what did it mean. Reclaimers. At first, Elsrik had thought he mean Forerunner, but then after the Angastal, he wasn't sure. However, the more he thought about it, it didn't really seem to fit them, but he was too busy to worry with such trivial stuff. At least for now.
"Is he safe?" One of the figures asked, casting a glance that could melt the three inches of metal surrounding them.
"He is perfectly fine. You know that. When would I bring someone who wasn't? Now all of you, sit down, and we can discuss what's at hand." Monastor Goranth returned the glare with an equally vicious stare.
The figure exhaled deeply and took a seat in one of the six chairs settled equidistantly around the table. Elsrik counted to himself again, there were only five. Was the sixth seat to remain empty, or was there someone else he would have to be judged by. He hoped it would remain empty, the overall reception so far was only that of hostility, but in such an illegal operation, he probably would be too.
"The attack is being prepared. We have four squadrons of Watchmen, an entire division of Wardens, and six platoons of Sidewinders. But The Monitor is on high alert. His beloved Angastal caused more trouble than he had thought, they aren't behaving mindlessly, they're attacking everything. His sentinels are disappearing from our monitors left and right. If we're going to attack, now would be the best time." Another of the three figures said. His older voice wasn't scratchy like the other's, and had a somewhat soothing tone to it.
"Helanth is right Monastor. My men are equipped and ready to fight. We will leave whenever you order." Came the heavy voice of a shadow in the doorway. Elsrik, as well as the entire assembly, turned to recognize the figure.
"General Ambrak, welcome! We are most happy to see you. This is truly our time. The time for us to bring The Monitor's reign to a violent end, and you, YOU, will be at the head of it all. You will go down in history for what you are to do today." Helanth replied as he shook Ambrak's hand.
"You flatter me Dakship. I do this not for prestige, but for our cause."
"Everyone does it for prestige, the cause is just the excuse." Elsrik muttered under his breath, but Helanth glared at him none-the-less.
"Enough. We have not the luxury of time. The Monitor will either crush the Angastal where they stand, or be overrun. Either way, our timetable is closing fast." Goranth interjected with the only helping hand he believed Elsrik would get in this room. Ambrak bowed in the Monastor's presence, and then turned to face a hologram that had appeared.
"This map is of The Library, the place where The Monitor believes he is safest. Our objective, is to fight our way through his security, bypass his locks, and make our way to the Index. His leverage against us will be gone, and then he will be useless." Ambrak finished to the approving murmur from two of the men in the room, Helanth and the other man.
"It's a very very good plan." Goranth said. He cast a sideways glance at Elsrik, gaging his response. He personally thought it was suicide, but it was a test. To see if this man was really what he thought he was.
"It's highly doubtful. From the estimates and figures I have here, your men COULD get to the Index, but the possibility of you escaping is slim to nill. Nowhere you could go would be out of his grasp. Every Sentinel on Eden would come down on you like a ton of bricks. He would still very much be a threat."
"And you are?" Ambrak suddenly noticed Elsrik with a vengeance. "How then would you handle it?" He asked without even getting a response to his first answer.'
"I would use The Net against him. He thinks it's his safety net, but we can trap him in it. We can't get directly to the Index through it, but we can get close enough to bypass most of the security. We'll be in the Index Chamber before they even realize we've accessed The Net."
"And then what, you've done the same thing we will have, only quicker. You can't come back to The Garden without him following you, and you can't go anywhere else. You've solved nothing."
"But your whole plan is directed at retrieving the index. Mine is directed at attracting the Monitor. We'll use what he wants most to snare him. He'll come to us, in the Index Chamber, where we'll be. And he won't fire."
"How can that be? You can't promise us that."
"I know I can't, but would he really risk destroying the index. His most precious relic."
"So then what? We bargain with him? Give him the Index and put him to his word." Ambrak snorted in contempt, but was as surprised as anyone at his answer.
"Yes. It'll be the only way to get him off of our backs permanently."
"That's suicide. He'll destroy us all."
"No, he won't. The virus will take care of that."
"What virus?"
"We make a duplicate of the Index, and upload a virus into it. We bargain with him for the Index. He lets us live, hopefully long enough to escape, and then we wait. We can fortify The Garden in case it fails, otherwise he will be worthless. The Virus will lodge itself in Amswhel's neural pathways, and let his own anti-virus software destroy him. He will then be no more than a dumb program, removed to nothing but his Sentinel counterparts. There may be unforseen sideffects though, we can't be sure how he'll react. But if all goes as planned, we will be safe forever."
None of the men in the room wanted to admit it, but it was the sanest plan they had heard yet. They lazily and very stubbornly agreed to it, much to Ambrak's dismay and displeasure. But their few moments of rejoice as they had a solid plan came to a screaching halt as the foundations rumbled. The three guards Elsrik had seen earlier came bounding into the room, and informed them that the Angastal were attacking en masse.
First things first, if they were going to save The Gardgen, they had to have a garden to save. Elsrik and the Monastor followed one of the guards, as the other four men split up and disappeared down several other corridors.
The shimmering hallway from minutes before was now covered with dust and debris, ceiling panels had shattered and their broken pieces reflecting Elsrik's distorted image as he passed. They finally entered the main cavern, which was now almost completely empty, save the massive armada of army personnel and vehicles arrayed in the courtyard.
"Take a Watchman, and follow whatever orders your given." Goranth ordered as he turned back towards the security of the hallway.
"But I've never driven one of these before." Elsrik protested.
"It's not hard. Left stick is movement, right stick is aiming. Triggers fire your weapons. Blue display turns it on, green display shows your power. Red display turns it off and is your weapons display. You'll get the hang of it, trust me." Goranth hurriedly turned and was ushered into the hallway, which was quickly secluded by a heavy door that was previously hidden from view.
Four particle beams etched thousand-degree trenches in the wall as Elsrik's Watchman opened fire. It hadn't taken him long to get used to it, the Monastor was right, it was actually very simple. The Sentinel was only slightly faster than his Watchman could turn, so he readjusted his aim. Another Sentinel wasn't as luck. It's shields flared, died, and then it followed suit, erupting in flames and skidding into the ground.
As if the Angastal weren't enough, the Sentinels had followed them. They knew where The Garden was, and they were fighting for every square inch of it.
Two of the monstrous fleshen creatures The Monitor had unleashed leapt high into the air and came crashing down on top of a monitor, their tendril like arms whipping at the occupant. Elsrik rotated ninety degrees, cut through them like a hot knife through butter, and then tore apart a small group of eight or nine. The Watchman he saved charged it's heavy particle cannon, and unleashed a lob of it's superheated plasmid material into the air. It arced quickly to the right, and homed on a cluster of three Sentinels. An envelope of bright red and green hell covered them. They disappeared inside of the fireball, only smoldering pieces escaping the weapon's wrath.
Two Wardens hovered by, unleashing their mammoth load on the intruders. Their particle beams cut through several Angastal straggling around the complex, while their heavy particle cannons took care of the Sentinels. Their super heavy particle cannons charged a glorious hue of purple before dislodging a massive blob of energy that struck violently at the waves of new warriors pouring into the courtyard.
Six Sentinels converged on one of the Wardens, their heavy lasers impacting the hull and sending massive sparks bouncing off of the floor. It took four of them down in it's secondary wave of fire, but was helpless as eight more Sentinels and a small contingent of Angastal converged on the wounded beast. Elsrik fired at the Sentinels, knocking two of them out of the air with a fury, and four more made lazy spirals as the second Warden put forth it's verbal interjection. The Warden would survive, but it was stranded.
The world spun as Elsrik's eyesight dissolved. He wasn't sure what was happening, but it was all going so fast. The pain in his scalp, the bone-rattling vibrations, the whail of sensors. He was being overloaded. It all went dark. He was once again cold, and lonely; only this time, he wasn't sure if he'd be able to survive the odds.
The smaller mechanical vehicle, designated XA-116 came to the defense of a damaged CB-174. The Sentinel, obviously comfortable with the vehicles inability to move, checked it as Battle Inoperable, and moved onto another target. It linked to the Battle Net and issued four hundred simultaneous commands. Six lasers bit into the air with a hiss, rupturing the "Watchman"'s small power supply. It shuddered violently before finally succumbing to gravity and skidding to a halt.
PROGRAM TERMINUS: Occupant survival rate-76%.
PROGRAM FUNCTION: Vehicle battle status-Operable
PROGRAM SOLUTION: Reply-Destroy vehicle and occupant
The Sentinel's programming was clear, it must destroy and kill the XA-116, and render it's operator battle inoperable. It rotated on an invisible axis, and began it's deadly dive toward it's prey.
Foregoing the Experience
Date: 21 December 2003, 11:40 PM
The Watchman sparked and flickered as it lay helplessly on the ground. Plasma fumed from the ruptured engine compartment on it's back, and hydraulic fluid slowly spurted from two ruptured hoses. Elsrik was semi-conscious, fiddling haphazardly with the control pannel in the cockpit, looking for a way out. He'd learned the driving and weapons mechanics easily enough, but didn't have a clue how to eject.
The Watchmen were the smallest vehicles in the Forerunner army. It was also the last remaining bipedal class vehicles as well, the others being slowly phased out for larger four-legged walkers or massive hovering tanks. Half of the original Watchmen had been refit to serve as loaders, mechanics, or of some use in many of The Gardens other plants and factories.
It's meter thick legs were surrounded by an additional six inches of liquid-Marconium, which absorbed any solid projectiles with ease, before ejecting them and retaking it's original shape. The chasis was also made from the same thick brown liquid armor, and was a mixture of spheres and cubes. There was no clear viewport, instead the pilot had to wear a helmet which provided a clear 360-degree view of the outside.
The Watchmen were very versatile as well, having many configurations that they could be arranged in. The bulk of them had four stubby arms, with a single particle-laser ball-turret at each of their ends. Other Watchmen had a large heavy particle-beam cannon, and were mainly used against heavy armor.
Elsrik quickly jabbed at every button before finally hitting the hatch release. The hull strained to open, and only parted halfway before stopping. It had lost too much hydraulic fluid to go any further, but Elsrik would manage. He hunched his legs up near his chest, found a foothold in on the door, and pushed as hard as he could. It squeeked and moaned as he pushed, his musles as hard as a rock as he gave it his all. They edged an inch before he had to quit, he wasn't getting any further either.
He unhooked himself from his protective harness, and conformed himself into a thick ball as he maneuvered inside of the cockpit. It was a minute before his head was facing the door so that he could crawl out. Their was another problem however. Four Sentinels had locked onto his felled fighter and begun their ferocious attack. Two of their particle lasers sliced through the liquid-Marconium armor, which was practically useless against anything but solid weapons, and into the legs itself. A fine hydraulic myst sprayed into the air from the thick gash the weapon had left. The other two beams concentrated on the cockpit, one ripping through the hatch and burning a four inch deep hole where Elsrik's head had been moments before. The other had luckily shorn through the small hydraulic lifts that opened and closed the compartment.
Elsrik rolled onto the legs of his Watchman, coming face to face with one of the Sentinels. He rolled his feet up to his chest once more, kicked the bastard in it's primary-sensor array, and landed on the floor. Three other Sentinels were already charging for their second volley, but fire from back-up Watchmen cut them down to nothing more than smoldering hunks of metal.
In all the excitement with the Sentinels Elsrik had forgotten about the Angastal. He collided head on with one of them, and went tumbling for several meters. His adrenalmorphenine kicked in, and he bounded onto his feet as part of the fall. Three more of the Divine Flood were on his heels though, and gaining quickly. His eyes darted around the periphery of the room, looking for anything that he could use for a weapon.
All of the vehicles were occupied or out of commission. He would have to find a hand-held weapon. A warm spray of mucus-green blood covered his back, two of the Flood behind him falling under fire. The small contingent of fighters responsible for the miracle waving to him from behind a overturned table. He made a quick change in direction, something the following beast couldn't. It went sliding into the wreckage of a downed Sidewinder.
Elsrik leapt over the small metal partition and knelt behind it. Six armored warriors fired mercilessly at anything that wasn't Forerunner, taking down hordes of Angastal and freeing up the larger vehicles to concentrate on the Sentinels.
"You know how to handle one of these?" A man who appeared to be the leader asked without removing his eyes from the battle.
"I'll learn." Elsrik replied, taking one of the small weapons. "No offense, but do you have anything else? I can't make toast with this."
"There's a Plasma Cannon, a Sharder, and several suits of armor in the armory behind us. If you can handle them, be my guest. We could use all of the help we can get." The sound of several more eratic bursts drowned out any comment Elsrik would have made in return, so he opted to make a dash for the armory.
He gathered his senses and made a headlong run for the single door roughly fifteen meters away. Two or three men were ducking in and out of it, firing at the intruders as they went. Elsrik yelled for them to cease-fire as he entered.
None of them so much as acknowledged him, and he really didn't care. The massive room had been virtually emptied, two racks of armor, a rack of light weapons, and the several heavy weapons the other man had mentioned were all that was left. He strapped on the dark black armor, a type he recognized as that of the Ceremonial Guards. They were the most elite units in the underground army, highly-trained and extremely deadly. The normal penalty for those caught wearing this rare armor was death, which was probably the reason they hadn't been touched, but Elsrik would take his chances. He strapped the Particle Cannon to his back, and hefted the Sharder as best he could.
He waddled back to the small group of men he left minutes before, their numbers wittled now down to four. He gladly dropped the cannon, and set up the Sharder for himself.
The Sharder fired a thick crystalline round, which exploded mid-air. The computer inside of the weapon fired a particle laser at the shards, which broke the beam into hundreds of smaller ones. It was extremely effective against large groups and clusters of enemies, but took a long time to recharge.
"Sorry for the disrespect sir. I had no idea you were a Ceremonial Guard." The leader yelled over the gunfire.
"I'm not. I stole it from the armory." Elsrik replied. The man laughed to himself.
"Well in that case, I'm still sorry. 'Cause either way you got a helluva lot of brass."
Elsrik fired his weapon into a swarm of Flood heading for a Sidewinder, and it tore them into several small hunks of meat. A large blue glob of death sizzled into the air and erupted on a Sentinel, enveloping it in a flash. Half of the Sentinel, glowing bright orange from the heat, fell from the air and landed on a small group of the infectious Angastal forms. Thousands of the tiny teardrop shaped organisms erupted into nothing in a chainreaction.
The small sidearm given to him minutes ago merrily fired into the large cavern. Green columns of gore splurted into the air from his victims. He managed to take six combat forms out of action before his heavy weapon recharged, and he sent another group to oblivion. A Warden floated by meters in front of them, it's greedy weapons etching out any sound other than their own. A combat form was climbing up it's dorsal side, but was quickly killed under Elsrik's fire.
"We need to move. The bastards are either too smart or too scared to come this way anymore. Lets go help some others out. Follow the Warden, it'll give us more cover than we deserve." Gelinoir, the senior officer of the group, yelled.
The three-man squad ran over to the heavy fighter, tossed their weapons onto it's flat horizontal side panels, and pulled themselves up. Gelinoir told the pilot their plan, and he readily agreed.
"He's calling for all of the ground troops to follow our lead. They'll hitch a ride on a Warden or whatever else they can, and we'll be responsible for all of the Angastal that are attacking. They say they can handle the Sentinels."
"Gotcha." Elsrik replied as he sent another salvo of death into the enemy formation. It wasn't so much of a formation as it was a wave, and a seemingly endless wave at that. His ears were going numb from all of the Warden's heavy weapons, but he was more than willing to make bare the inconvenience. The Warden was truely a fearsome sight on the battle field, it's six super-plasma particle cannons, four heavy particle beams, and five plasma lasers could dish out more death than was usually necessary.
Six hours of non-stop fighting passed before the invaders had been repelled. Of the four hundred Watchmen stationed in the base, only seventeen were left. The Sidewinders only lost six of their thirty, and only one of the Wardens was out of commission. The Garden's foot soldiers had suffered thunderous casualties though. The fifteen thousand men and women comprising the small militia had been cut down to only three hundred, including the quickly conscripted fighters like Elsrik.
Monastor Goranth entered the battle-ravaged main cavern through a thick door leading from the control center. Tremendous divots had been cut into the floor, some as deep as ten meters. Hardly a meter of unscathed tiling was left, all of it either gone or a charred black. Multitudes of pylons had been cut to ribbons or removed entirely by the fighting.
Goranth scanned the room, shaking his wearied head at the carnage and destruction before him. Wounded soldiers limped, hopped, or were dragged to the make-shift medical facilities. He passed one of them, his eyes weeping at the horrendous sounds of those moaning from their wounds or gargling from their own blood.
"Where is Elsrik Andagall?" The Monastor asked a rushing field-doctor as he passed. The man removed a small pad from his blood-soaked shirt, his drenched and shaking hands tapping the name in as quickly as possible.
"He hasn't been recorded, but neither have a lot of people. Too many wounded to keep track of right now." The doctor, who would have quickly shrugged off anyone other than the Monastor, turned from the man and returned to his duties.
Goranth strolled slowly around the room. Past the charred hulks of Watchmen and several Sidewinders. Past the multitudes of dead bodies that filled up an entire section of the cavern. Stacked neatly on top of each other, their stench was overpowering.
He meandered throughout the room somberly, reflecting on the day. All of the lives lost. There was an upside to the battle though. Seventeen hundred sentinels had been destroyed in the chaos, over three-fourths of the total recorded number that the Dark Cons scouts had reported. More dead bodies from the wave after wave of Flood had been hastily pushed to one side of the room.
Goranth wasn't sure if Elsrik was dead or alive. He hoped he was, but from what he saw he couldn't be sure. There was too much death, to many people who looked like Elsrik to know now. He would have to wait and see. Which was probably the worst part of it all for him.
Returning the Favor
Date: 29 December 2003, 5:00 AM
Elsrik's body was the worse for wear. Then again, so was everyone's. The six hours of non-stop fighting had whittled down the infantry to a mere three hundred, and the Watchmen were practically useless. The Sidewinders had fared better, but not that much better. Only one Warden had been pulled from the battle, and it had been undergoing repair as Elsrik slept. Gelinoir was snoring heavily beside him, his gun hanging limply from two fingers off of the vehicle's side.
Whatever vehicles could be salvaged were being torn to pieces for parts, or repaired to fight in the upcoming battle. Pieces of the destroyed Sentinels were also being salvaged, their shield generators could be equipped on a foot-soldier, and it's shell could be stripped to provide hull plating. Half of the massive underground facility's main floor was saturated with the dead or dying, a field hospital had been hastily erected in the hour following what was only technically a victory. No one who had been there considered it a victory, there was nothing victorious about it.
Eight Hours rmoved.
He was groggy, his muscles screamed at him not to move, and his bones felt brittle. The lights around him were blinding, it felt as though even his thick eyelids couldn't stave their advance.
"Get up kid. We've got orders." Gelinoir nudged the weary conscript, who moaned and rubbed his temples.
"What time is it?" Elsrik yawned in response.
"It's eight hours after you fell asleep."
"You said we had orders?"
"Yea, the counter-strike is about to happen. We've gotta' get to the meeting five minutes ago."
Elsrik rolled off of the goliath machine's dorsal structure, and was greeted with a ten foot fall. He hadn't remembered the platform being so high. Gelinoir jerked in response, and barely caught the falling body.
"Damnit kid, you hafta be more careful, follow me."
The two Forerunner fighters turned to the large conglomeration of men and lazily jogged to it, arriving during the middle of the speech.
"The right wing will circle around the index, and hold off the defenders as best they can. The left wing will guard the index itself, and will be responsible for the switching of the devices. General Ambrak's men will arrive when called, and land inside of the index chamber to provide support. We will then use the net to move to Calahos Grove, which as we speak is being equipped with heavy batteries and any surviving Partashins (The Forerunner species) we can find."
"The Flood, as we've nicknamed the Angastal, are expected to arrive sometime during the battle, so don't be surprised. We won't be caught off guard as we were here. Several unknown men or women bravely created a system that was more than efficient for our cause. The ground troops accompanying the attackers will ride on top of the vehicles, and are solely responsible for Flood control. The vehicles will handle the Sentinels." Ambrak finished the speech as he stepped up next to an older man, also a General. "You are dismissed. Form your ranks and get ready to engage. We're leaving in fifteen minutes."
"Fifteen minutes? Good night. I was all for catching the Monitor and his Sentinels off guard, but this is ludicrous."
Gelinoir nodded silently. The two men headed for Shashev's Shuro. The fifty man unit wouldn't be heading to the Library, but were instead responsible for reinforcing the heavy batteries and conscripting survivors.
Fifteen minutes removed.
Elsrik and the rest of Shashev's Shuro arrived at Calahos grove as expected, but the heavily fortified entrenchment they expected was no more than a burning hulk of two heavy cannons and sixty to seventy straggling survivors. The Flood had ambushed their position as they were setting up, catching the entire unit company off guard. They were from Ambrak's army, originally three hundred or so.
"My Humro.(A Forerunner god.)" Elsrik sighed as he took in the sight.
"How the hell are we supposed to support the retreating fighters? They are as dead here as they would be in the Library." A nearby infantry man complained.
"No, we should have at least two hours before they arrive." Elsrik replied. "There's plenty we can do in two hours."
"Your excellency is correct. I am sorry sir." The fighter apologized as he bowed to Elsrik, who was still wearing the Ceremonial Guard's uniform.
"MEN! We are going to save this battle yet. I want my men to dig a large circular trench around this point. We came with ten Watchmen equipped for the task, and that's all we're getting. But you, you'll dig too. Anyone who knows anything about particle-physics is ordered to to destroyed heavy batteries. The particle cannons that are still here, and the heavy weapons we brought with us are to be positioned in pairs equidistant from the four heavy batteries atop this hill. Those of you who were fortunate enough to survive this little attack, half of you will search this valley for anything we can use to fight, and the rest will help secure it. Now get moving." Shashev himself barked from the hilltop.
The original fifteen heavy batteries that had been dug in were now only three at the top of the hill. Forty particle cannons had been dug in the trenches as well; only sixteen remained. Luckily, the new arrivals had brought more weapons than logistics had ordered them to take. Ten fighting Watchmen were also present, and roaming the grove in search of survivors of either the Flood or the attack.
One hour fifty six minutes removed.
Shashev's Shuro had been fortunate. The almost two hours they received were very productive. Two more of the heavy batteries had been repaired, bringing the total to four. Three concentric rings had been dug, each inside of the other, and leading to the heavy batteries. The particle cannons and Sharders were entrenched as well, with all one hundred ten men scattered roughly throughout the rings.
The air sizzled as the fighters were warped between existences and into the new grove. Five hundred and seven light and heavy infantry men and women phased into being, and landed in the battle-torn grove. A slight rumble course through the earth as they landed at once. As practiced, they immediately began their sprint for the trenches. Several scattered and frightened soldiers panicked at the lack of reinforcements, and were sent into a state of psychological shock.
Sentinels and Guardians shifted space and entered the atmosphere only seconds later, many following the second wave of Forerunner fighters. The second wave was comprised of the Minutemen, Sidewinders, Wardens, Watchmen, and Sentries. The Guardians were basically Sentinels on a much larger scale. At nearly four times their size, and packing eight times the firepower, they were the most heavily armed of the Monitor's forces. The Minutemen were massive walkers, supported on six branching legs, and with two rotating central weapons platforms (CWP's), they were the second largest units on the field. The largest units on the field were the Sentries. Based off of recovered Sentinels and Guardians schematics, they were also completely autonomous. It's armaments consisted of sixteen independently operated heavy lasers, three cluster lasers, and two particle cannons. The only thing that was going to bring these behemoth's down had to be massive, as large as twenty Sentinels. Even if the Sentinels classified the Sentries a big enough threat to reconnoiter the needed troops, it's backup of Wardens or Minutemen would surely bring them down.
A heavy war cry was uttered from the bunker on the hill's crest, and the ground-shattering sound of heavy batteries muted all others. Quadruple spicules of electromagnetic death filled the air. They were a severe threat to any of the mechanized soldiers, but not to the pilots inside of them. Off to the left of the main battle, Elsrik could see an incoming assault of Angastal. Just what they needed. He dodged through the crowded people filling the trench and made his way to the sector of circle facing the incoming attack.
"I need you and your men to concentrate on the incoming assault force coming in from Estel (the Ring's location system, such as East or West on Earth)."
"But, but we have to help, help, the Sentinels are everywhere." Elsrik sighed impatiently at his misfortune.
"This was all planned, the vehicles will take care of them. But if you don't take care of the Angastal, the vehicles will have nobody to fall back to. Then we lose the battle, and everyone here dies. Then everyone at The Garden dies. Then everyone on Eden dies because of the Angastal. All because you wouldn't take a simple order."
The words must have hit home like a ton of bricks, because the man's facial expression turned solemn, yet understanding. He knew what he had to do. A nearby communications officer requested that the entire sixty degree section of all three circles direct their fire at the incoming Flood. Hopefully with all of the heavy weapons and with them still at such a long range, they could inflict some serious damage. Hundreds of blue and green flashes lit up the sky in a horizontal rain that casually arced before slamming into the ground. Their formation, which was only a massive wave, was decimated. Their compact nature was cut down from the Sharders and Particle Cannons splash effect. Scattering and chaos ensued, and they creatures actually turned on themselves. Elsrik wasn't sure if this was due because of their confusion, or if it was somehow due in part to their nature.
Could the Flood actually be so insidiously stupid that even though they recognize each other as Flood, that once they are fired upon they automatically attack anything that could possibly be the attacker. In this case, their spore captor's antennae wouldn't be able to sense the enemy from such a long distance, and would logically assume that one of the nearby Flood was itself attacking the group. It made perfect sense when he thought about it, but from what he was seeing, he didn't want to find out the hard way.
An overhead explosion caught Elsrik's attention, and shards of metal and debris rained down upon him. A large piece slammed into his forehead, and he crumpled into the blood-soaked dirt. Ground soaked in his blood. In the energy and excitement of battle, not a single soul noticed the action. The only person who knew him, who would have even asked about him, had already written him off for dead.
The Death of Eden
Date: 13 January 2004, 9:25 PM
Mixed Blessings
Genesis Reborn Finale
By Mainevent the Illustrious
The Death of Eden
Goranth stood rigidly before the monitor, taking in all of the data from the field. The battle was in no one's favor, it's tide as of yet undecided. His weary bones ached from exhaustion, but he dared not stray from the screen.
"Age was nothing." He had told himself many times before, but not this time. He was old, and there was no hiding it. He saw great potential in Elsrik, and wanted to expose it before parting.
General Ambrak paced across the room; making an irritating melody that accentuated the tension in the atmosphere. His presence in the room itself was more than an annoyance to the Monastor of several levels. He had never been particularly fond of the man; he was too arrogant, too self conceited. The fact that he promised to personally head the attack on the Index, but had not, was far greater reason.
"The way this is going, we'll never win. Their formations are weak here, and they haven't even encountered the Angastal yet." He roared with impatience.
"Well, if you had been a good leader you would have been with your troops, not hiding here like a coward."
"Excuse me Monastor? With all due respect, sir, I have far greater experience in handling warfare than a religious figure."
"You'd do well to watch your tongue, least it be removed." Goranth replied with a passion. This argument he wouldn't lose, he would make sure of it.
"Never sir."
"I knew you could never be as good as Elsrik. You were never as pure. He's not poisoined with a convoluted ego, unlike some." A passing glance at the highly tempermental General was more than coincidence, and everyone in the room knew it.
"Elsrik will never be as good as I am!" He shouted in defiance.
"But he already is. Unlike some, he's actually fighting. Actually giving a damn. Actually making a difference in this war. Unlike some..." His words lingered for effect. An effect which was far greater than anyone had expected.
A barely audible thump ran eerily through the room; a smoking hole passing through the elder's chest. General Ambrak, still grasping the weapon that killed him, made a frantic dash for the exit. His feet were swept from under him, putting him on his back. The glancing flash of the overhead lights on metal coursed through his view before the weapon cut through his skull and into the floor.
"Hang on Monastor! Hang on! Help's on its way. Don't you die on me." A young guard pleaded with his lifeless body as he rocked it. It was somehow his fault, even though all of the more experienced guards had failed to catch the act as well. It was his fault in his mind, no one would blame him. The slight hand movement was impossible to detect in the darkness, but he'd never come to grasp that fact. It would follow him forever, until he avenged it or died. But he knew all to well that he would never avenge it, that he was giving away the prized position so many wished for.
His death was the death of Eden, and the seed at the core of the fruit was black with death at his loss. Death for which all would pay. The death, of a hero.
Elsrik's Journey-An Ends to a Means
The warmth of the bristling golden star Eden orbited was a welcomed one at that. The grass was no longer stiff and prickly. Dew covered the moist ground, giving back the life juices the construct's life needed to survive.
Elsrik's eyes slowly parted. The pain and anguish he'd been expecting was surprisingly devoid. In fact, he felt better than he had ever felt before. The constant aching pain from his disease was gone, but he knew it would be back.
The battlefield was quiet too, and everyone was gone. The scars he expected to see on the raped landscape had been filled in and grown over with grass. A lot of time had passed since his last battle. It still didn't make sense. Why had they left him? Alone. Injured. Left for dead. Had no one cared enough to pick his corpse up, simply discarding it as thought it were trash.
There were no other bodies, only him. Something was different though. The grove, which had been riddled with plasma scoring and pock-marks was littered with newly-grown trees and shrubs. The dirt was soft and dark, rich with nutrients; not the heavy dry clay from before.
He slowly eased himself onto his shaky feet. His legs were strong, but he wasn't. Mind-numbing information seeped into his porous brain like water to a sponge. Majestic birds glided unchallenged above, precariously hanging on invisible strings from the heavens. Their formation swerved sharply in an instant. A single united mass acting as one.
On the horizon was the answer to his unasked question. They had been spooked by an incoming Praiser. He hadn't been left after all, someone was coming for him. Anyone was better than no one, or so he thought. It's pinprick profile expanded into a behemoth mechanical falcon, soaring on false wings that dared defy the gods.
It passed him once to circle around, ducking behind a nearby mountain before returning to land.
It's engines ruffled the greens and reds of earth itself, violently crushing them beneath it's power. Shielding his eyes with his large open palm, he watched with peaking interest as the rear ramp opened lackidasically. The rear hatch dug into the soil with fervor, pushing up inches of dirt under it's weight.
His eyes could barely discern the figure exiting the vehicle against the bright sun behind it. Magnificent draping robes fell to the ground and trailed him. An ornate headpiece ladened with precious stones and metals draped his weary-looking frame, but his movements were fluid and crisp.
"Monastor Goranth." Elsrik said with open arms.
"My dear Elsrik. It truly has been too long." The old man replied as they embraced. He was strong for his age, and his hug was bear-like. Father-like. It had been so long since Elsrik had a father; so long since he had anyone. In truth, it had only been several days, but when it's someone you care about, every minute seems like an eternity.
"Why am I here?" The younger of the two asked. Not with anger or dissention, but with a general curiosity.
"Why are any of us here? It's hard to say. Surely someone knows, but I've yet to meet him."
"Always with the riddles. I never liked your riddles."
"You never were good with riddles. Ever since a child you've had a morbid hatred for them."
"How did you?"
"It will all be very clear soon. You have many, many questions you want to ask. I know, so did I. You most likely don't even know where you truly are. But there is something I can show. Something that will clear the fog of your mind."
"And you'll show me this when?"
"I'll show you it now if you wish." Goranth replied with a creeping smile, and his outstretched arm pivoted to point at the ramp he had descended from.
A heavy clank coursed through the ship's metals, the heavy boots of a Ceremonial Guard. Their dark purple hue was easily mistakable for black, but the gold inlay of set diamonds, sapphires, and rubies highlighted it's eccentric color. Elsrik had seen and even worn the coveted suit of armor, but never seen an armor so splended. His eyes followed the boots up the greaves and cuirass to the exposed head.
Elsrik gasped in astonisment and realization. The person walking towards him had cleared it all up for him. It was all clear; strange, but clear. It knocked the wind from his very being, but didn't hurt. Gasping for air, he found his lungs were empty. Lips struggled to form sounds to no avail before finally managing a weak word.
"Brother..." He whispered silently.
"Brother." The figure whispered silently back.
Elsrik's journey was over, but his life was just beginning.
Justified Actions
Gelinoir manned the communications post with an effectiveness unrivaled by any. His orders were solid, and absolute. His head ached from the constant belittling from the heavy batteries and weapons fire. It was a mircale in itself that he could think in the chaos. A time when any lesser being would have been enveloped and lost in the fog of war.
"Requesting permission from Canol Shashev to relieve a sixty degree section of the hill. Angastal are approaching en masse." Sparked across the airwaves.
"Canol Shashev, there's a request to concentrate a portion of the circles' fire on the incoming Angastal."
"Denied, I need them to fight the Sentinels." Shashev's head stared undauntedly to the fight before him.
"With all due respect, I would strongly advise you accept their request." Gelinoir pleaded passionately, but his words fell on deaf ears.
"He's speaking to YOU sir." Helsith, the second in command interupted.
"I'm well aware of who he's speaking to. Now get back to your post before I demote you again. It's most unfortunate for both of us what happened to you last time, but I must enforce my authority. I won't have it challenged in practice, and I'll be damned if I'll have it challenged hear." He replied with a snarl. Helsith had been unfairly demoted from Vice Canol to Cammanda by Shashev, an experience for which he always harbored hidden hatred for.
"Requesting permission now! We need to know." Came through the lines once more.
"Tell them no, now! Get them off the line." Shashev barked.
"This is the bunker...your request has been," Gelinoir turned to Shashev, who had an icy stare in his eye, "approved. Fire at will!"
"What? What the hell are you doing?" Shashev made a motion towards the receivers, but they were riddled with weapons fire before he could get the order off. Rage burned in his eyes, and he leapt at Gelinoir. His shoulder caught the man's midrift and they were sent tumbling downthe back of the hill. An actionless region surrounded by thick trees.
Gelinoir landed on top, and brought his balled fist into Shashev's chin. He was uprooted and landed on his back. Pain split through his body as a knee impacted into his ribs, breaking several on contact. Blood bubbled on his lips as he coughed. A second blow connected with his chin, blurring his vision as his skull collided with the hardened clay.
Shashev struggled to his feet, and picked up the discarded pistol with shaky hands.
"No one disobeys an order. No one." He said as the sound of a weapon discharging echoed through the forest. Shashev's pistol rolled off of his finger and bounced off of the earth as it hit, a gaping hole in his stomach. Helsith was standing emotionlessly atop the hill; a cooling heavy rifle in his hands. He looked into Gelinoir's stunned eyes, and turned silently back to the battle at hand.
The wounded warrior rolled slowly onto his stomach, and finally back into the fray. Following the resulting victory at Calahos Grove, Hilseth and Gelinoir were both promoted. In an ironic twist, Gelinoir was given full command of Shashev's Shuro, which was quickly renamed after someone he strongly missed. Elsrik's Army was soon the most formidable group of fighters in the universe after the Ceremonial Guards, and would receive fame and reknowned for their achievements.
He dared to stare to the stars, and tell them no. That he made his own future, and they would not restrain him from what he must do. He would lead the galaxy, and answer to no one.
|
