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Halo 2: Uprising - Prologue
Date: 20 December 2007, 8:28 pm

Author's Note: This is a novelization of Halo 2. I haven't written stories in a long time, and it was something I used to do. What I've attempted to do is re-create Halo 2 in novel form, with the exact dialogue and most situations found within the game. At the same time, I hope to elaborate on certain events in the game that are talked about, but never shown in cutscenes. Without further ado, I present my story.

Prologue

September 23, 2552
Shortly after the destruction of Alpha Halo
      Space stretched across the length of the system, while stars glittered against the horizontal galatic abyss. Where only a few minutes ago a tremendous shockwave reverberated throughout the system; there was now an eerie silence. The system contained an installation, shrouded in secrecy for milinea, until just recently. Now the once-great ring is nothing more than shattered remnants of its former self.
      Installation 04 had detonated via the destabilization of the Pillar of Autumn's engine core. This explosion had sent large chunks of the ring into space, with bits of molten metal, water, and granite burning up in the atmosphere of the ring's moon, Basis. Some of these chunks had penetrated nearby Covenant vessels, destroying two frigates and mortally wounding a destroyer and one of the two flagships hovering in-system.
      All but one of the remaining undamaged ships had entered Slipspace to transition to their homeworld. The undamaged flagship, Ascendant Justice, stayed behind for further assessment of the Halo's aftermath.
      A distinct, rhythmic humming is lost in the vastness of space. However, upon closer examination, a blue star moved through the expanse, chittering to itself and exclaiming how much of a genius it is.
      343 Guilty Spark had sensed that the construct was about to expire, and had subsequently extracted from what the Reclaimer had called the Pillar of Autumn. Now in space, Guilty Spark tapped into the aliens' COM networks and soaked up the information. It floated past the debris field of one of the Covenant frigates, now drifting lazily and forever dead in space. The Monitor paused to look at a dead Elite with a long piece of metal punched through its abdomen, twisting around upside down.
      "Oh, hello," it chirped, and started drifting away from the debris field.
      It continued on for another fifteen minutes toward the gas giant Threshold. Guilty Spark, being the Monitor of the Installation and its surrounding facilities, needed to check up on the gas mine suspended within the atmosphere of Threshold, as it had been doing for the last 100,000 years.
      As it neared the structure, a sonic boom was heard off in the distance behind it. Spark swiveled about, and increased the magnification on its sensors to the max. It watched intently as a Pelican dropship rocketed off the dark side of Basis, and sped towards the Ascendant Justice. At the same time, the ships that had fled from the system suddenly reappeared, dropping out of Slipspace to come to the flagship's side. Then the thrusters on another, slightly larger dropship burned in the darkness and slowly accelerated towards the Covenant vessel.
      The Reclaimer perhaps? The Monitor bobbed upward once, the equivalent of a shrug, and sputtered back toward the hovering gas mine.
      It neared one of the massive structures and entered a door. Spark flew through the halls and massive rooms, before finally reaching the mine's control center.
      The control center was huge, with a ramp on the left and right sides. The floor sloped down a few inches around the center, with the two "mouths" of each ramp flanking the sides of the slopped section of floor, which was shaped like a square. At the far side of the room was another door that led to an elevator which then led to an emergency escape route. The route had never been used, because the Forerunners died off thousands of years before. But Spark felt as though that, for some unknown reason, this long silence would soon be broken. There were two upper levels, and the third was where Spark needed to go.
      The Monitor hummed with harmony to the faint sounds of machinery as it fluttered up through the center of the room to the top floor.
      As it neared the panels at the back of the room, it absorbed the latest updates on the status of the gasmine. It paused when it got to one of the panels, its eye pulsing as it tried to comprehend the latest report:

      Warning! Anomalous intruders encountered at 0500 hours, on the nineteeth day of the nineth month in the two-thousand-five hundred-fifty-second year. Best advise to start immediate containment protocol one hundred eleven. Thermal signatures are--

      The report cut off mysteriously. Guilty Spark was not used to such anomalies. Then again, nothing had gone right in the past few days it seemed. Its Sentinels were just doing their jobs, when human interlopers and an xenophobic race of aliens had come tampering with his Installation. Pretty soon, the Flood had been let lose, and everything went to hell after that.
      As it contemplated the report, the Monitor didn't hear the sound of footfalls from behind. It felt a loud crack as the butt of a metallic object crashed down on top of its head. The Monitor let out a surprised yelp, and fell to the floor.
      "Stop! By the gods, Orslo, what are you doing?!" barked an authoritative voice.
      From the Monitor's perspective, all it saw were a couple of hooves, then it saw one of the Covenant aliens approach from behind the set of hooves.
      "Sesa, I apologize. I thought--" The one named Orslo was backhanded across its helmet.
      "You fool!" the one named Sesa said. "Don't you realize that this is the Oracle?! The mouthpiece of the Forerunners!"
      "What on earth is going on here!" the Monitor exclaimed, as it recovered its senses and floated back into the air. "Who might you be?"
      The two Elites, as well as the gaggle of Grunts that suddenly appeared, dropped to one knee. "Oh great Oracle, I am Sesa 'Refumee of the Covenant, and this is my second-in-command Orslo 'Baumee." He raised his right hand in the direction of Orslo. "We have come to seek the secrets of the Ancient Ones. We have finally found you!"
      343 Guilty Spark nodded. Its biometric scan of this Elite seemed to match what he claimed. "I see." It fluttered back and forth, what some call pacing, to think of what to say. "How did you get past my Sentinel defenses?"
      Sesa looked up at the Oracle. "Why, we shot them of course." He held up his Plasma Rifle to show it.
      "So it would seem. Why have you and your race come to this Installation?" This was a question that 343 Guilty Spark wanted an answer to, and it was very excited to hear it.
      "Holy Oracle," Sesa replied, "my brothers and I, as well as these filthy lesser kinds, have come seeking the power of the Ancient Ones. We are on the Great Journey, and you are one of the things that we seek. We are an artifcat retrieval team attached to the Fleet of Particular Justice, in search of Forerunner technology. We landed here four days ago, and have been here ever since.
      "During that time, we were attacked by your Sentinel guards. Might I ask, why were they impeding our progress?"
      A question answered with a question. Was this Elite playing games or being geniune? "These Sentinels are guarding this facility, as they do on the Installation until just recently..." Its voice trailed off, then picked back up. "The Reclaimer that was supposed to activate the Installation purposefully failed and as a result, he blew it up!"
      Orslo didn't like what the Oracle had just said. "Hold on," he said. "Activating the Sacred Ring? Why would it need to be activated?"
      Sesa pointed his Plasma Rifle at the Oracle. "What are you saying?"
      "What I'm saying," 343 Guilty Spark replied, slightly annoyed, "is that Installation 04 was built by the Forerunners to effectively purge any Flood infestation that may occur. All sentient life in the galaxy died as a result of the activation of the installation."
      The words hit home to Orslo, Sesa, and the squadron of Grunts. Rage bubbled inside of Sesa's gut. Everything the Prophets told his brothers were lies? Was the Great Journey false? It seemed to be so, because what the Oracle just told them didn't parallel with what the Prophets had said, and what the Oracle says is holy writ.
      Sesa activated his COM: "Solso, retrieve as many Banshees and secure as many Plasma cannons as possible and deploy them around the structures. I have found the Oracle, and appearently the Prophets have lied to us, blinded us, and deceived us."
      Solso replied: "As you command, Sesa. I'll get on it as soon as possible. Those Prophets will pay with their blood. Solso out."
      The line went dead. Sesa knew there would be no turning back, but if there was one thing he couldn't stand, it was betrayal. And he was going to take the fight to the Prophets.

Halo 2: Uprising - Chapter 1
Date: 22 December 2007, 1:47 am

Chapter 1

Covenant Holy City, High Charity
Ninth Age of Reclamation
Weeks after the destruction of Alpha Halo
      After the destruction of Installation 04, the system became a flurry of activity. Covenant ships swarm around High Charity, ready to pounce on anything that would so much dare as to attack the holiest city in Covenant history.
      High Charity is a mobile planetoid station and known as the Holy City of the Covenant, and specifically the Prophets. It is a large mushroom-shaped structure estimated to be 348 kilometers in diameter. At the apex of this "mushroom" is an artificial star that simulates night and day within the city, and it doubles as an opening for the launch of the Forerunner Dreadnought. The stalk peters out to a point, with various branches leading off from it.
      The interior of High Charity is effectively a massive city. At its center sits the Forerunner Dreadnought, entombed within the city after the formation of the Covenant as a symbol of peace between Sangheili and San 'Shyuum. The Dreadnoughts engines are the primary power source for much of city. The city itself contains many sacred locations to the Covenant, such as the Council Chamber, the Sanctum of the Hierarchs, and the Mausoleum of the Arbiter. As a construct, High Charity is very similar to the Unyielding Hierophant, the Repair & Refit station, containing many courtyards and other spaces throughout which attempt to seem natural. The interior is also, of course, laced with the Covenant's unique architecture, of a lighter tone than their naval vessels. All of the structures within the city float above a methane rich field in which the grunts dwell. The towers at the center are large volcanic spires and are used by the San 'Shyuum as offices and private residences.
      High Charity is important enough to the Covenant to wield its own personal fleets, consisting of dozens of battleships, carriers, and cruisers, making up some of the largest fleets in the entire Covenant, such as the Second Fleet of Homogeneous Clarity, and the Fleet of Particular Justice.
      Upon the discovery of Installation 04 by the Covenant, High Charity was supposed to perform a Slipspace jump to the Halo along with its fleet, where the High Prophets would activate the ring. They sent the Fleet of Particular Justice to secure the ring in preparation for the planetoid's arrival, but they did not know about the Flood, and did not expect interference from the humans. When High Charity and its fleet arrived at Threshold, they found that both the Halo and the Fleet of Particular Justice had been utterly destroyed.
      Now, Vala 'Yosumee stood within the Council Chamber on a raised platform at the center. As Supreme Commander of the Fleet of Particular Justice, he knew he would be held accountable for his actions.
      To his left, minor Prophet Councilors were seated in bleachers. To his right sat contingents of Elite Honor Guards who's sole purpose is to guard the High Prophets. Slightly off to the right, at the front, stood the Brute Chieftain Tartarus.
      Vala had a passionate dislike for the Brute race as a whole. They were unintelligent, unapologetically brutal, and lacked finesse in the Supreme Commander's eyes. Tartarus, though, had this arrogant air about himself that Vala couldn't stand. The Chieftain glared menacingly at the Supreme Commander, and 'Yosumee casted his own sidelong glance at the arrogant beast.
      At the front of the Council Chamber were two of the three High Prophets: the Prophet of Mercy and the Prophet of Regret. These two, along with the Prophet of Truth, were the religious leaders of the Covenant and the glue that held all the races together. With the recent addition of the Brute race however, there were rumors circulating that the Jiralhanaes would replace his kind for the Honor Guard positions. Vala dismissed such petty gossip, as it did not directly apply to him. But if his failure to safeguard the Sacred Ring was any indication, a shift could soon occur.
      But for the moment, Vala was only concerned about his future, and answering the Prophets' questions.
      "There was only one ship," Vala said.
      "One? Are you sure?" the Prophet of Regret asked, squinting his eyes, his voice laced with disbelief.
      "Yes," Vala replied. "They called it...the Pillar of Autumn."
      The Councilors and seated Honor Guards quietly spoke amongst themselves.
      The Prophet of Mercy took this opportunity to speak: "Why was it not destroyed with the rest of their fleet?"
      Supreme Commander 'Yosumee shifted uneasily and lowered his gaze slightly. "They fled, as we set fire to their planet."
      He thought back in time to that day, remembering clearly how he had broken off from the main battle group, and how he and his Fleet had given chase to the human vessel.
      "But I followed with all the ships in my command," Vala finally said. The image of Halo snapped into his head.
      "When you first saw Halo," Regret said, "were you blinded by its majesty?"
      "Blinded?" Vala was taken aback slightly by Regret's choice of words.
      "Paralyzed? Dumbstruck?"
      "No." The Elite's attention came back to the present. Maybe he had been blinded, seeing as though while thinking of the Sacred Ring, he got distracted. The imperceptible shrug that followed this thought was mainly to himself.
      Somehow, the fact that Regret was only at this trail in holographic form, and that Vala hadn't noticed this before, spoke volumes about his distraction. He cursed himself for this failure to notice.
      "Yet the humans were able to evade your ships, land on the Sacred Ring-" Regret raised his voice in anger. "-and desecrate it with their filthy footsteps!"
      "Noble Hierarchs," Vala quickly said. "Surely you understand that once the parasite attacked--"
      The Council members erupteed in angry mutters, and Vala 'Yosumee looked around at them.
      The Prophet of Mercy inched forward, and bellowed in a shaky hoarse voice, "There will be order in this Council!"
      The Prophet of Truth took this moment to let his prescense be known. He levitated from the shadows to where Mercy and the hologram of Regret hovered. He raised his hands, and the chamber fell into complete silence. Truth then directed his gaze to the Supreme Commander.
      "You were right to focus your attention on the Flood," Truth asserted, his tone calm unlike his counterparts. "But this Demon, this 'Master Chief'..."
      The Sacred Ring's destruction flashed into 'Yosumee's mind and he said, "By the time I learned the Demon's intent, there was nothing I could do."
      The Prophet Councilers started yelling angrily at the Elite, as the Honor Guard Councilors spoke amongst each other. Tartarus chuckled, which caused Vala to shoot the Chieftain a piercing glare.
      The hologram of Regret leaned in toward Truth and whispered, "Noble Prophet of Truth, this has gone on long enough. Make an example of this bungler, the Council demands it."
      Truth held up his right hand, silencing Regret. He cleared his throat before speaking to Vala again. "You are one of our most treasured instruments. Long have you led your fleet with honor and distinction. But your inability to safeguard Halo...was a colossal failure."
      "Nay!" a voice cried out from the bleachers. It was the Prophet of Objection. "It was heresy!"
      The Councilors all howled for Vala's blood at once. He cursed all of these political-minded fools. None of them, except for the Honor Guards, had any idea what combat was like. Anything can change the outcome of a conflict. This was no exception, but everything was political to them. His anger was slowly increasing, and then he couldn't take it anymore.
      "I will continue my campaign against the humans," he bellowed against the screams of the Councilors.
      "No! You will not," Truth countered, casting his gaze to Tartarus, who barked a command. Two Brutes appraoched Vala and tried to grab his broad shoulders, but he immediately recoiled and shook the vile pair's hands off of his shoulders. They began to escort the commander out of the Council Chamber.
      "Soon the Great Journey shall begin," Truth said to Vala as he was leaving. He paused. "But when it does, the weight of your heresy will stay your feet, and you shall be left behind."

Earth Defense Platform Cairo
October 20, 2552 (Military Calendar)
      For the past thirty years, the Covenant had slowly destroyed human colonies, starting with the Outer Colonies, followed by the Inner Colonies, and culminating with the destruction of Reach, the United Nations Space Command's only planetary retreat. Of all the measures taken, the Cole Protocol was the only line of defense to prevent the discovery of one planet: Earth.
      But for what it's worth, even with this measure, the Covenant still managed to locate the birthplace of humanity.
      Morale was waning within the UNSC, and the Covenant's discovery of Earth only worsened the fear of total annilhilation. However, the UNSC had gotten the warning it needed, and the remaining ships in the battered fleet assembled in space, along with several orbital Magnetic Acceleration Cannon stations. Three stations (the Malta, Athens, and Cairo) were covering Earth's most vulnerable sector; each station also had three vessels at its command.
      Fleet Admiral Lord Hood was in command of the orbital station Cairo and he had taken in the warrior responsible for Earth's warning. An attack on Earth was imminent, and his visitor had to have his upgrades integrated, so he had ordered the warrior to the station's armory.
      Master Gunnery Sergeant James Livingston had two pieces of equipment laid out on a table as he ticked off the problems to the warrior. Sergeant Livingston was unphased by the warrior's prescense, because he had dealt with his kind before. The man's new helmet sined bright as it rested on the table.
      "Your plating was about to fail, there's viscosity through the gel layer..." The sergeant's voice trailed off as he picked up a burnt, blackened piece of hardware and held it up. "Optics, totally fried..." He pointed to a small device next to the previous piece. "And let's not even talk about the power supply."
      One of the last of his kind picked up his new helmet to examine it.
      "Do you know how expensive this gear is, son?" Sergeant Livingston quipped.
      "Tell that to the Covenant," Master Chief Petty Officer Spartan-117 replied as he secured his new helmet

Halo 2: Uprising - Chapter 2
Date: 22 December 2007, 1:51 am

Chapter 2

Armory, Earth Defense Platform Cairo
October 20, 2552 (Military Calendar)
      Sergeant Livingston sized up the Master Chief in his new armor. "Well, I guess it was obsolete anyways," he commented. "Your new suit's a Mark VI, just came up from Songnam this morning. Try and take it easy until you get used to the upgrades."
      The Master Chief could feel a noticeable difference in his reflex time. He made a few slashing motions, and jumped in place once. Oh yes, there was definantely more speed, and more fluidity to his motions. He also noticed that the HUD was more stream-lined, with the shield gauge placed just above the motion tracker. A miniature blue crosshair shaped like an X was suspended in the very center of his view. He looked at the Gunnery Sergeant and nodded his approval. Next to the Sergeant was a circle with four dull red bulbs around the perimeter, all currently off.
      "Okay, let's test your targeting, first thing. Please look at the top light." The top light came on, a bright red washing over the Chief's armor. He craned his head upward, and the light turned green. "Good. Now look at the bottom light." The Chief looked down and the light flashed green. "Alright. Look at the top light again...now the bottom one...okay, good!
      "Stand by. I'm going to off line the inhibitors." A series of clicks were heard as the Master Chief walked around half the length of the armory.
      "When you're ready, come and meet me by the zapper," Gunnery Sergeant Livingston said.
      "Let's go," the Master Chief replied, and followed the Sergeant to the tuning-fork shaped shield charger. He cringed as the memory brought back de'ja'vu as he remembered his rude awakening on the Pillar of Autumn two months ago. He banished the memory, and focus on the Sergeant.
      "Pay attention, 'cause I'm only going over this once," Livingston stated. "This station'll test your recharging energy shields. Step on in, I'll show ya." He pointed.
      The Chief nodded. He stepped in between the shield generator, and noticed a sign with a handprint on it. Livingston continued speaking: "Your new armor's shields are extremely efficient, very resilient. Much better than the Covenant tech we used for the Mark V." The Master Chief pressed his palm down on the pad and the shield charger whired to life as sickly yellow lights pulsed around him. His shield gave an audible alarm a few seconds later, and started to charge up. Hmm, he thought. They charge up alot faster. This will be invaluable in the future.
      "Bingo!" the sergeant exclaimed. "As you can see, they recharge a lot faster!"
      John saw the elevator doors part, and Sergeant Avery Johnson stepped out, wearing a crisp white dress uniform filled with various medals and ribbons, along with the standard Marine hat with the black brim. The Gunnery Sergeant seemed unaware of Sergeant Johnson's appearence.
      "If your shields go down," Livingston continued, "find some cover, wait for the meter to read fully charged."
      "That," Sergeant Johnson interjected, "or he can hide behind me. You done with my boy here, Master Gunns? I don't see any training wheels."
      Sergeant Livingston turned to face the new arrival. "His armor's working fine, Johnson, so shut your chili-hole." He glanced back at the Chief. "You're free to go, son, just remember, take things slow."
      The Master Chief nodded. A friendly reminder from a fellow soldier was always a good thing, but he had far more combat experience then Sergeant Livingston, but he seemed to know his stuff, so he wouldn't argue with the man, even if his words had slightly annoyed the Chief.
      "Don't worry, I'll hold his hand," Johnson said over his shoulder as he turned back to the lift. The Master Chief followed behind and entered with him.
      "So, Johnson," Livingston said, walking toward the elevator, "when you gonna tell me how you made it back home in one piece?"
      The sergeant looked at the Chief, who shook his head slightly. He turned back to Livingston and said, "Sorry Guns! That's classified."
      "Huh! My ass!" Livingston replied. The elevator doors started to shut, and then it started to descend as the armory sergeant shouted to Johnson about not getting adjustments to his A2 scope.
      "Well, he's in a particularly fine mood," Sergeant Johnson commented. "Maybe Lord Hood didn't give him an invitation."
      The elevator stopped its ascent, and the Master Chief and Johnson departed the lift and boarded a small tram a few feet away. The double doors close, and the tram starts its move toward the bridge of the Cairo. The crew of the Cairo was busy unlocking boxes of guns and ammunition, as well as frag grenades. Many windows with views of the star-filled space dotted the view in front of the Chief before finally showing the view of Earth. He involuntarily stood straighter and his fists tightened up. He had worked so hard to keep Earth's location a secret, but now with the Covenant recently discovering it, he would now have to fight tooth-and-nail to ensure that Earth didn't fall.
      "Earth. Haven't seen it in years." Sergeant Johnson shook his head, and looked back at the Chief. "When I shipped out for Basic, the orbital defense grid was all theory and politics." He pointed to the Athens and Malta in the distance. "Now look! The Cairo is just one of three hundred geosync platforms. That MAC gun can put a round clean through a Covenant capital ship. With coordinated fire from the Athens and the Malta, nothing's getting past this battle cluster in one piece. Ships have been arriving all morning. Nobody's saying much, but I think something big's about to happen."
      The tram started to slow as it neared the bridge. The Master Chief turned and saw a group of Marines cheering the two soldiers. He didn't like the attention. He didn't consider himself a hero. He just wanted to fight, to win the war, and let the rest of humanity live in peace. He noticed a small news channel camera hover above the two as they stepped off the tram, flashing pictures and recording video of the event.
      Inside his helmet, John frowned. "You told me there wouldn't be any cameras," he said quietly, so much so that it couldn't be heard over the roar of the Marines.
      Sergeant Johnson heard him, however. The pair walked towards the bridge slowly, while Johnson replied: "And you told me you were gonna wear something nice! Folks need heroes, Chief. To give 'em hope! So, smile, would ya? While we still got something to smile about."
      The blast doors open as two naval officers saluted the two soldiers.

The two Brutes led Vala 'Yosumee out onto a ledge outside of High Charity. Grunts, Jackals, and Hunters were gathered on the walkway.
      "Her-e-tic! Her-e-tic!" a few of the Grunts screamed as Vala was forcefully moved forward by the Brutes.
      When they got to the edge, the Brutes fixed floating cuffs around Vala's wrists.
      Vala tugged at his restraints slightly, just to test their strength. He knew deep down that he wasn't a heretic and had never spread heresy in his life. But such as it was, the Prophets needed their scapegoat, and the Supreme Commander just happened to fit the bill, as he was the only officer to survive the Halo's destruction.
      Despite the injustice he felt, Vala still had his pride. Not to mention his honor, something that Tartarus was severely lacking.
      "You've drawn quite a crowd," the Brute said, gesturing to the tiers of Covenant below and behind him.
      "If they've come to hear me beg," Vala 'Yosumee replied bitterly, "they will be disappointed."
      Tartarus grunted, amused with the Elite's talk. "Are you sure?" he asked.
      Orange beams shot from the wrist cuffs, searing into Vala's flesh. He shook as pain coursed through out his body. The cheering of the crowds escalated.

The bridge doors parted as the Master Chief and Sergeant Johnson marched toward Fleet Admiral Hood, who was standing at the far end by a large screen. Behind that was an enormous viewport. Naval officers cheered as they approached.
      The pair stood straight, snapping crisp salutes which Lord Hood returned. "Gentlemen, we're lucky to have you back," he said.
      An officer approached the Admiral and whispered in his ear. The admiral then turned to the holotank next to the screen and said, "Go ahead, Cortana."
      The "smart" AI known as Cortana materialized out of the holotank, pulsing purple as calculations scrolled across her body.
      "Another whisper, sir," she said, "near lo. We have probes en route."
      "I apologize, but we're going to have to make this quick," Admiral Hood said, then turned back toward the screen.
      Cortana looked toward the Chief and Johnson, smiling. "You look nice."
      "Thanks," the Master Chief and Johnson replied simultaneously. They looked at each other briefly, then back toward Lord Hood.
      "Sergeant Major," Hood said as Johnson promptly stood straighter. "The Colonial Cross is awarded for acts of singular daring and devotion, for a soldier of the United Earth Space Corps..." The admiral pinned the medal on Johnson's uniform.

"...There could be no greater heresy!" Tartarus bellowed to the gathered crowds. He pointed to Vala. "Let him be an example for all who would break out Covenant!"
      The crowds of Covenant races roared with approval as Tartarus barked an order. Two Brutes grabbed on to Vala's charred armor and pulled. The Elite didn't bother to resist; his strength had been zapped.

A young woman had joined Master Chief and Sergeant Johnson at their side. She was shorter then both, and her hair was jet black, following down to her neck. She looked like someone the Chief knew. The connection clicked when Admiral Hood called out her name.
      "Commander Miranda Keyes." Lord paused after saying his fallen friend's last name, his booming voice slightly toned down a notch. "Your father's actions were in keeping with the highest traditions of military service. His bravery in the face of impossible odds reflects great credit, upon himself, and the UNSC." He stepped toward the commander, a semi-pained look on his face. "The Navy has lost one of its best." Admiral Hood placed the other Colonial Cross he had into her hand.
      The Master Chief couldn't help but see Captain Keyes in his daughter's place. The moment was powerful, and spoke volumes to him. Jacob Keyes had ultimately aided in the destruction of Halo, even if it meant he had to be killed in the process. It was the best thing a soldier could do, and that's to die knowing that he saved lives. John had a feeling that Miranda Keyes would be everything her father had been.

Vala's combat helmet clattered to the floor as he hung limply from his restraints. He had never felt such pain in his life, and it was coming to an end. The Brutes had savagely beaten and clawed at his charred flesh like the vile animals they were, but he did not scream or groan.
      His sentence from the Council was to be executed, hung by his entrails, and his corpse paraded throughout High Charity. But the Brutes were taking their time mercilessly beating him until he felt so weak that he couldn't stand anymore. He was currently on his knees.
      Vala felt movement behind him. He glanced over his shoulder and saw a glowing branding device rise from the floor. Tartarus walked around Vala, quietly snarled, and grabbed the large brand in his hands.
      The Mark of Shame. From what 'Yosumee had heard, the branding was only reserved for the most traitorous--and also burned as hot as a sun.
      Just get it over with, the Supreme Commander thought. Stop playing around already and KILL ME, YOU MONGRELS!
      The Chieftain strode around Vala and stood before him. Utter hatred burned within both sets of eyes. The Brute pressed the brand to the Elite's chest, right in the center.
      Vala 'Yosumee felt his skin crackle and blister worse then it already was. He tried to fight back the enormous amount of pain he felt, but he gave in and screamed, his four mandibles blossoming like a flower.
      He started to see blackness creep into his vision until he passed out.

Throughout the Cairo, klaxons blared shrilly. Cortana appeared in the holotank and said, "Slipspace ruptures directly off our battle cluster."
      "Show me," Lord Hood replied, turning toward the large glass screen.
      A map of the immediate space snapped into view, with Earth taking up a large portion of the screen. In the lower left were the positions of the UNSC ships, the Malta, Athens, and Cairo, and the new signatures of the Covenant battle group which faced the human fleet.
      "Fifteen Covenant capital ships holding position just outside the kill zone," Cortana reported. She noticed a spike in the Chief's biosigns as he stared at the screen.
      The screen showed a part of Hood's fleet move toward the Covenant, and a voice crackled to life over FLEETCOM.
      "This is Fleet Admiral Harper," the voice announced. "We are engaging the enemy."
      Admiral Hood's arm shot out for a button on the panel beneath the screen. He didn't want to preemptively strike until he gave the order, and mistakes at this point would not be tolerated.
      "Negative, Admiral!" Hood exclaimed. "Form a defense perimeter around the cluster." He released his finger from the FLEETCOM button, and turned to Miranda Keyes. "Commander, get to your ship, link up with the fleet."
      The commander gave a quick salute. "Yes, sir," she replied. She did an about-face, and jogged to the bridge doors that had begun to open.
      The fleet admiral turned to Cortana's hologram. "You have the MAC gun, Cortana. As soon as they come in range, open up."
      "Gladly." Cortana's image flickered, flashed brightly, then her avatar disappeared.
      Admiral Hood stared at the glass screen's projection of the map, stroking his chin. His face screwed into a puzzled frown. "Something's not right..." he muttered. "The fleet that destroyed Reach was fifty times this size."
      "Sir!" one of the bridge officers shouted to Hood. "Additional contacts. Boarding craft and lots of 'em!" The view on the screen split into four different frames, showing a panoramic view of the Cairo platform via video cameras. Small dots slowly started to grow in size. John's stomach contracted into a ball of ice at the sight of the enemy.
      Lord Hood scowled. "They're going to try to take our MAC guns offline...give their capital ships a straight shot at Earth." He craned his neck at the Spartan. "Master Chief, defend this station."
      Spartan-117 straightened his posture and nodded. "Yes, sir." Turning to Johnson he said, "I need a weapon."
      "Right this way," Sergeant Johnson replied, grinning. The pair walked back toward where the tram had let them off earlier.
      Outside the bridge windows, the MAC gun was beginning to charge while the rest of the fleet turned to engage the Covenant attackers. Longsword fighters hurtled by the viewport followed by a pair of UNSC crusiers.
      Earth was all that remained of the human colonies. Every man and woman in the UNSC knew what was at stake; all they had were themselves, their duty, and Earth. But when an enemy is backed into a corner, they tend to fight back more aggressively. And with humanity on the brink of extinction, there would be renewed cries for victory. And with the last remaining Spartans at Earth to lead the charge, morale was slowly starting to skyrocket.
      And John would be ready. He had one objective in mind as he left the Cairo's bridge: he would kill every Covenant bastard he came across.

"All hands, report to battle stations!" the Cairo Defense Coordinator announced over the loudspeaker. "This is not a drill! I repeat, this is not a drill!"
      Outside on the walkway that led back to the bridge, the Master Chief quickly bounded down the stairs to his left in front of him. A pair of weapon holders on the wall to his left unlocked as he blurred by, but the noise the holders emitted caused him to pause. He reached for one of the BR55's, a fully automatic rifle with a 36 round clip and a bullpup design where the magazine was placed behind the trigger guard so as to make the rifle compact. He stripped ammo from the rest of the rifles, and clipped the BR55 to his back. He continued down another flight of stairs, where Marines and Naval personnel were preparing for combat.
      On a box to the Chief's right were a couple of M7 submachine guns, capable of fully automatic fire from a 60 round clip. He stocked up on as much ammo as he could carry, and grabbed two of the SMGs. The Marines referred to this gun as the "bullet hose" because of its ability to spray a ton of lead at a target.
      John rounded the corner up ahead. He saw Sergeant Johnson hefting a machine gun over his shoulder. He and the small squad of Marines passed through a door, and he followed.
      "How's it going, Malta?" Sergeant Johnson asked the Malta Defense Coordinator over the COM.
      "Stand-by..." the voice said, and a resonating clang rocked the Cairo. "They're latched! Check your targets and watch your crossfire."
      The voice of the Athens Defense Coordinator crackled next. "They're in standard formation, little bastards in front, big ones in back...good luck, Cairo."
      The Chief emerged through the door into a large room, with stairs in front of him that led to a small platform, where the Marines and Johnson were gathered, and there were various terminals to his right. He leaped down into this area, and then leaped through the glass section that led to the floor directly below him, which was similar to the top level. He noticed a bulkhead door overflowing with sparks and heat being burned through. The Master Chief took up a position directly to the right of the door.
      "Field of fire on that bulkhead!" Sergeant Johnson called out to the Marines. They promptly raised their weapons to their shoulders. Johnson got the stationary turrent into position and aimed at the bulkhead door. "As soon as that door opens, let'em have it!"
      John held both M7s in front of him, ready for the doors to crash open. It only took a few more seconds before fragments of the door exploded. Fire immediately poured in, blue plasma bolts striking at the incoming fire. But the aliens didn't anticipate the Master Chief.
      He dived sideways towards the bulkhead from his position, his fingers wildly mashing the trigger. He was rewarded with the deaths of three Grunts and one Elite, who collapsed into puddles of blue and purple blood.
      The Chief landed on the other side of the bulkhead, twisting onto his back, M7's at the ready. Another Elite came in and slipped behind one of the various, glass-screened panels. One of the Marines fired at the Elite behind the panel, but the bullets harmlessly splintered and spider-webbed on the glass.
      "Concentrate on that door!" Sergeant Johnson ordered, furiously squeezing the turrent's trigger. "The Chief can handle himself!"
John fired at the incoming Elite, but his luck didn't hold; one M7 jammed and the other ran out of ammo. He swore to himself for the careless mistake and made sure it wouldn't happen again. The Elite's shield was weakened, however, so maybe he had an advantage. The Covenant warrior brought its Plasma Rifle over its head, ready to assault the Master Chief.
      The Spartan raised up on his hands, extending his foot for a front kick. The boot connected with the Elite's forearm and while it didn't damage its shield, it did stun the beat momentarily and knocked the plasma rifle out of its grasp.
      That was all John needed for him to roll away onto his side, unsling his Battle Rifle, and fire two three-round bursts at the target's chest and helmet. The Elite exhaled explosively, blood squirting from its chest wound, as it crumbled to the deck.
      "Hell yeah, Chief!" a Marine shouted.
      "Advantage? Us!" another remarked.
      The Master Chief gracefully kip-upped onto his feet and reloaded his Battle Rifle. It was an impressive feat of human engineering, and had worked extremely well for him. He also noticed the scope mounted on top for the first time, so he decided to test the sighting. The scope automatically integrated into his targeting optics and established a link with his helmet's HUD.
      Perfect for medium-range headshots, he thought.
      Sergeant Johnson was now wielding a M6C Magnum as he assembled the squad of Marines. There were only a few minor wounds but no casualties. Good. Maybe with the Chief around, the Marines would be inspired to fight harder.
      "Form up, Marines!" Johnson yelled. "The Covenant have thrown a party and us hardcore, badass Marines are going to crash it!"
      "Hoo-rah!" the squad replied simultaneously.
      "Hell yeah." The sergeant racked the slide on the pistol. "The Chief will lead the way. Let's move out!"
      The Chief went through the bulkhead's frame as Johnson and the Marines tagged along, proceeding deeper into Cairo.

Halo 2: Uprising - Chapter 3
Date: 31 December 2007, 12:33 am

Chapter 3

Covenant Boarding Craft #11045-68
En route to Human Defense Platform "Cairo"
      Commander Zavi 'Peutomee was on guard. With a plasma rifle in his right, a Needler on his hip, and four grenades attached to his belt, and iron-glad determination; he was feared by the lower races and respected by his superiors. Plus, on occasion, he had performed some zany feats during combat, such as charge at a Human fortification with two grenades lit and took out seventy-five of the vermin at once, and then sprinted back uninjured under heavy fire. He had a wild look in his eyes that gave the other races pause.
      Some thought he was crazy. Others admired his bravery and loyalty. Alot more were indifferent.
      But on this day, the Prophet of Regret had tasked him with a special mission. He was currently en route to what the Humans called "Cairo", one of their many orbital defense systems.
      He smiled slightly, then suddenly grunted. Stupid filthy animals, Zavi thought, with their primitive technology and projectile weapons. Their goofy expressions and ridiculous names.
      The pilot, a young Elite named Torlo, shook him from his thoughts: "All troops! ETA in sixty seconds! Prepare to deploy quickly, as is, we have a special device aboard."
      'Peutomee manuvered toward the front of the craft. The dull glow from the dimmed cabin lights washed his maroon armor in a ghostly hue as he addressed his battle group.
      "Noble Warriors of the Covenant," he began. "You have all been hand-picked by the Prophets for a special mission. The blessings of the Prophet of Regret have been bestowed upon you all!" He paused for Torlo.
      "ETA in thirty seconds!" the pilot exclaimed over the COM.
      "Today will be a glorious day for the Covenant!" Zavi continued. "For we have found the vermin's most sacred homeworld. Warriors, prepare for combat! The blood of our fallen brothers shall be avenged!" His plasma rifle hummed to life as the Elites and Grunts let out growls of fury.
      The boarding craft was almost to the station. The clamps on the sides of the vessel came to life and quickly snapped into position. 'Peutomee checked an overlay of the Cairo's schematics on his HUD. Their destination, according to the blueprints and radio reports, was what the Humans called a "Fire Control Center." Where the ship would attach would be as close as possible to this location, as well as to ensure a uncontested path with little or no resistance.
      Through the cramped viewport, Commander 'Peutomee gazed into space, seraching for the Cairo's sister platform Malta. His mandibles curled in slightly, the equivalent to a small smirk.
      Any moment now, Zavi thought as the open port of the craft smashed through a small window, the three clamps burrowing into the perimeter of the window to hold the craft in place.
      "Torlo, Usa, grab the package and bring it outside," he ordered to the pilot and his second-in-command. "The rest of you scoundrels stay close and provide covering fire if attacked."
      The plasma field covering the front end deactivated. No sign of the enemy...yet. "File out so Torlo and Usa can move the bomb. Take up defensive positions around the hole."
      The Grunts and the other two Elites filed out the front and took cover behind various boxes, facing away from the craft. Plasma pistols, rifles, and needlers were raised and ready as a few Grunts sniffed for Human scents. None in the immediate area, a Grunt Major named Turap reported.
      It took a few minutes for the pilot and Zavi's second-in-command to drag the bomb out of the craft, sparks flying as the spikes grated on the floor. Everytime the device screeched, the commander tensed. Each noise made could alert nearby enemies. But his motion detector was clean except for the occasional signature of one of the the Human's bombers flying by the window.
      Usa had spotted a large push-cart a few meters from the craft, and he and Torlo dragged the bomb towards it. Zavi grinned at his underling's creative thinking. "Great idea, Usa. That will put us ahead of schedule, and that means we can leave sooner."
      As the bomb was loaded onto the cart, the bad news came.
      "Commander 'Peutomee, this is Field Master Yiris 'Lupomee." The calm voice crackled over his COM.
      "Sir? What do you require?" Zavi replied, puzzled.
      "The Demon is aboard this station. Tell your team to be extra vigilant," Field Master 'Lupomee explained. "Once the other bombs go off, he'll know what's going on."
      The commander silently cursed the Prophet for selecting him for this mission. He clicked the COM and asked, "Any change in orders?"
      "Yes," Yiris answered. "You have to stay with the bomb once it's in position, and guard it from the Demon. Once he is killed, activate it and try to escape."
      Zavi's fist clenched tight. He was mad at the Demon for wrecking his mission, but he was even more upset with the Prophet of Regret.
      That ugly bastard will live up to his name and regret his decision, the Elite thought angrily.
      "Thank you, Field Master. I will not fail," he finally said.
      "I have faith in you," the Field Master replied. "You're a fine soldier, Zavi. Good luck." The COM light on his HUD dimmed, then winked from existence. He turned to his troops. They were all facing him, including Torlo and Usa.
      "New orders from the Field Master." The mention of the rank caused the Grunts to straighten up more, and he began to relay the change in orders to his battle group.

Earlier on, Sergeant Johnson and the squad of Marines had been ordered to find Commander Keyes and escort her to her vessel, In Amber Clad. The sergeant had said that he and the Chief would meet up later, and the two warriors parted ways. Now the Master Chief was just leaving Security A-01 through a small pressurized door, and was now entering what was designated as Hanger Bar A-01. He stepped in to the cavernous hanger bay and surveyed his surroundings, Battle Rifle at the ready.
      Down on the main floor were big service crates spaced randomly throughout this section of the bay. A collection of Grunts and Elites were exchanging shots with an unseen soldier. Next to him on his right was a catwalk that led to the other side of the bay. The catwalk forked out towards a massive glass window that covered the entire wall that was directly in front of him. Down where the Covenant were, a boarding craft had cleanly punctured its way through the glass window and its troop deployment hole currently had a plasma-field over it On the other side of the bay was a Pelican dropship, currently not in use. On the first fork closest to him was a Navy officer trading shots with the Covenant using a M6C Magnum. Next to the Chief, on the floor, were a bunch of fragmentation grenades.
      He bent over to pick up four grenades, slinging the battle rifle onto his back in the process, and attached them around his waist-line. He picked up a spare one, pressed the "pin", and tossed it into the middle of the Covenant soldiers. There was a clink as the grenade bounced off the floor, followed by a loud whump as it exploded. All the Grunts sailed through the air in various directions, some with limbs missing, others screaming as they crashed into bulkheads and containers, skulls crushed.
      The blast only managed to damage one of the Elite's shields. The other one, a red-armored major, was hiding behind one of the service crates. The Elite with damaged shields spotted the Chief on the upper walkway, growled a loud cry for vengeance and proceeded towards him. Before it could manage to leap up to the second level, the reports of the M6C were head and the bullets impacted the alien in the neck, left arm, and on the left side of its ribs. It cried in pain as it continued running, before falling forward on its face.
      "How's that feel, you ugly-ass freak!" the Navy officer screamed as he slammed a fresh magazine into the grip of the pistol and continued exchanging shots.
      "Nice shot, sir!" an unseen Marine exclaimed, somewhere below. The sounds of a M7 burped from underneath the catwalk.
      The officer turned toward the Spartan. "Wow, a Spartan!" he exclaimed as the last Elite fell from the M7.
      "Good to see you sir," the unnamed Marine replied from below.
      "Keep your eyes open!" the Chief yelled, watching the plasma field drop on the boarding craft. "Incoming targets from the dropship! Open fire!"
      The Chief brought up his BR55 and fired. Grunts that had been levitating out of the craft were put down with streams of hot lead. The Elites that came with each wave were a bit tougher, but easily put down under the combined fire of the Master Chief, the Navy officer, and the Marine.
      Then the waves of Covenant stopped floating from the dropship entirely. John searched the other side of Hanger Bay A-01 before jumping down to the first floor over the railing. He walked over toward the large glass window.
      "Hey, check it out!" the Marine exclaimed, pointing to the outside. "The Malta's already driven off its borders!"
      The Spartan's eyes darted about the vacuum of space, looking for the Malta amongst the many other Super MAC platforms before realizing it was almost in front of him. A small fire dotted one part of its hull, and the small Covenant boarding craft seemed to be leaving the station. This puzzled John, as he knew that the Covenant were inclined to fight to the last soldier. But then again, as he had learned over the course of two months, everything about the aliens' tactics had changed completey. The one example that stuck out in his mind was when he, Sergeant Johnson, and a few others had travelled back to Reach and discovered a Forerunner artifact that could bend space and time. It was also where he had found some of the last remaining Spartans, still alive and fighting.
      "Malta, what's your status, over?" Cortana asked over the FLEETCOM channel, pulling the Master Chief from his thoughts.
      "I don't believe it!" the Malta Defense Coordinator replied excitedly. "They're retreating, we won!"
      As soon as the defense coordinator's sentence was finished, the Malta detonated in a plume of fire, the barrel of the MAC gun breaking loose and lazily tumbling upward into space. The remaining chunks of the Super MAC platform rocketed away from the center of the explosion, and went flying through space. There was no sound, but the rumble was felt throughout Cairo.
      A horror-stricken look was on the Marine's face. "Ths is bad! Real bad!"
      The Master Chief agreed. The Malta had just randomly exploded, and all the Covenant boarding craft had evacuated...which was too much of a coincidence. A Covenant bomb perhaps? Catastrophic mechanical failure? Whatever it was, the Chief felt a sense of dread in the bottom of his stomach.
      Behind the Pelican, a smaller explosion sounded. He craned his neck and saw more Covenant enter the bay, partially obscured by a large metal crate. Unclipping his BR55, the Chief spun behind the cover of another metal crate nearby. He quickly peeked his head out to survey his foes: three Grunts and two Elites, one of them a major.
      John primed a frag grenade and hurled it around the corner of the crate. A second later there was a flash as bits of shrapnel killed two of the three Grunts, tossing their corpses back through the twisted frame of the blastdoor. He heard one of the Elites growl, and he peaked out and saw it charging him. He quickly fired three bursts of battle rifle rounds into the creature's head, lowering its shield. A final burst to the head and a spray of purple blood signaled the kill. The Chief was grateful when the naval officer and Marine joined in with combined firepower, and took down the last remaining Grunt and Elite.
      The Spartan stopped walking toward the bulkhead. Three Elites had nearly killed him already. Was he slipping up? Then again, he had been on the go almost constantly from Halo. The battles at Reach and on the Unyielding Hierophant had nearly cost him his life, and he was feeling drained. Sensing this, he walked to the Marine and asked for a wake-up stim pill. The Marine thankfully had one. John lowered his visor, revealing only a handful of freckles on his somewhat youthful face and popped the pill in his mouth. The effects started to take hold immediately as he reloaded his BR55, bid the Marine and officer fairwell, and collected a few plasma grenades off the dead Grunts' bodies. He proceeded into the next launch bay, which was only a short walk through the blastdoor around the corner.
      There was a machine gun turrent set up between two metal "shields", with a dead Marine laying behind one of them. An M6C lay on the ground next to the body. The Master Chief leaned over and picked it up, checking to see if it was loaded and it was. Racking the slide back, a fresh round popped into the chamber and he grabbed extra ammo lying nearby and clipped the magazines to his waistline. He proceeded through a blastdoor to his right into the next hanger bay. A Marine was waiting behind a metal crate, two plasma turrents firing in his direction.
      "Glad you could make it, sir!" the Marine said with a thick Australian accent. "Could use a little help!"
      With that, the Chief began to clear the room of Covenant forces.

Commander Zavi 'Peutomee and his squad had just disengaged from a firefight with the Humans when he felt the deck tremble heavily. He curled his mouth parts inward, smiling. The first of many to come, he thought as the platform the Humans called Malta detonated.
      "Rally up!" Commander 'Peutomee called to the troops. "There's a service elevator that leads to the interloper's Fire Control Center, as they call it. Torlo, Usa, get beside the elevator with the bomb. Me and a couple of my troops will go down first to see if it's clear. Stay here and guard it with your lives in the meantime."
      "Yes, Commander," the two Elites replied simultaneously. They manuvered the cart with the bomb to the side of the elevator, and stood in front of it. They withdrew their plasma rifles and aimed down the corridor.
      Zavi and the rest of his troops crowded into the elevator, which was really small for his tastes. The odor of the Grunts permeated through the small space, which irritated him greatly, but knew there was nothing he could do. The door closed, a hiss of air was heard, and the elevator descended.
      Torlo nudged Usa with his elbow. "Way to get stuck with this detail, huh?" he said quietly.
      "What detail specifically?" Usa replied, never taking his gaze off the corridor ahead. "Guarding the bomb or having to stay behind while we get obliterated?"
The dropship pilot grunted. "Well, when you put it like that, neither is ideal."
Usa was slightly annoyed that Torlo had spoken at all. They had a job to do and idle chatter could give away their position to anybody listening in nearby. "Let's stop with the chit-chat and wait for the commander to report, okay?"
      Nothing more was said after that.

What a hell of a way to get stuck, Private First Class Daniel Munez thought as he stood behind a metal pillar, his M7 gripped tightly in his hands. He had been in the process of changing shifts when the Covenant attacked. The rumble from the boarding craft hitting the sides of Cairo had done a number on the service elevator, disabling one of the gear shafts, and had effectively trapped him down here by himself.
      He had slaved at it for a good half hour getting the gears to realign and work properly when, conveniently, the power to the elevator had shut off. PFC Munez had worked at that, but to no avail. So once again, he was still trapped.
      At least, he thought so until he heard the elevator chime. Daniel perked up at the sound of the chime, and prayed that it was reinforcements. He peeked around the corner slightly to the other side of the cavernous room, and his heart sank to the bottom of his gut when he saw what stepped through: a Covenant search party. Two Elites and a gaggle of Grunts came through the parted doors.
      "Oh fuckin A," he whispered furiously. Of all the things that could go wrong, why this?
      PFC Munez took a look around him. To his left was a set of stairs that led down onto the floor, and the far left wall was a massive bullet-proof window showing a view of Earth, other orbital platforms, and UNSC ships exchanging fire with Covenant warships. Directly in front of him was part of the Super MAC gun's structure, and it fed through the ceiling to the vacuum of space. It had a metal contraption that moved back into a room on his right on two rails, where the charge was built up for the cannon. When the charge was built, the contraption shot back to the center of the room where part of the MAC was and it streamed up through the center and into space. Below where the two rails that held the contraption were was a small covered space that would hide him well.
      His only problem? The Covenant were rapidly moving out to cover the length of the room.
      Without any second thought, he darted off the elevated part of the room and onto the floor and made a run to his right. He almost tripped out of fear because he saw one of the Elites, the senior of the group, tilt its head ever so slightly in his direction. He made it into the room just in time.

Out of the corner of his eye, Commander 'Peutomee swore he had seen movement. He wasn't alone, as the Grunt closest to where the movement had been started sniffing rapidly.
      "Human..." the Grunt muttered in its squeaky, almost comical voice.
      "Muraw," Zavi said to the sniffing Grunt. "Go check it out!"
      "Yes, Commander!" The Grunt started to scamper over to the spot on all fours.

PFC Munez hid behind one of the pillars in the room and waited with baited breath. He heard the sniffing of a Grunt, heard it say "human," then the Elite barked an order in a language that Daniel couldn't understand. He heard the Grunt say "Yes Commander!" and the footfalls of the Grunt clattered close to his position.
      He quickly climbed up the ceiling of the small area he was hiding under and worked his way up some pipes suspended off the floor. The pipes were only a little bit wider then his body, so he laid prone with his M7 aimed at the frame where the Grunt would come through.

Muraw sniffed rapidly as he circled about the room, looking for the enemy. He held his plasma pistol lazily between his stubby purple-black fingers, pointed halfway between the ground and the wall in front of him. He saw nothing.
      Elite must be jumping at shadows, he thought as he exited the room from the other door.

Daniel silently exhaled as the Grunt waddled from the room and when he felt it was safe to do so, he quietly climbed down from his perch and back to his previous hiding spot on the floor. He didn't dare activate his COM for fear that the enemy might be tapped in to the network. Munez decided he would keep quiet and pray to God that somebody would find him.
      Damn it, the private thought, it always has to be me who gets stuck in the shitty situation.

Muraw scurried back to Zavi and reported: "No humans detected, Commander!"
      'Peutomee nodded. "Good. Then let's proceed with the plan." He keyed his COM device to speak with Torlo and Usa. "It's safe to come down. Load the bomb up and come on down."
      It only took a minute before the elevator chimed and the two Elites emerged, pushing the cart to the far end of the room nearest to the large window.
      "Form a perimeter around the package!" Commander 'Peutomee barked. "Make sure you have overlapping fields of fire!" The Grunts and the other Elites snapped to and formed a rough outward cone shape around the bomb, weapons at the ready. Zavi had one more task to complete.
      "Field Master, this is Commander Zavi 'Peutomee," he said over the COM. "My team is in the Fire Control Center, guarding the bomb as ordered."
      "Good," the Field Master replied. "Hold position unless instructed otherwise. Be on guard for the Demon, and act swift in the slaying of our enemy!"
      "As you request. Zavi out." He killed the connection and settled in. He had a feeling he would be here for awhile.

The Master Chief had just put down the last Grunt from the dropship with his M6C and was in the process of reloading it when the Marine broadcasted a warning and motioned for the Chief to come to his side at the window. In the center of his view, the Athens' boarders were departing.
      "Uh oh, I think they're leaving the Athens!"
      Just like the Malta, the Athens exploded in a massive fireball as pieces of the orbital station broke apart and shattered into tiny fragments. Another rumble moved throughout the station as the vibrations of the detonation carried through space. The Chief zoomed in his magnification to the max and could vaguely pick out small dots floating free from the explosion: bodies. Human and Covenant. Behind his visor, John's features contorted into a scowl. How many more were going to die? And then it hit him when Admiral Hood broadcasted over the station-wide COM channel.
      "Cortana, assessment!" Lord Hood growled.
      "That explosion came from inside the Athens," Cortana replied on the channel. "Same as the Malta. The Covenant must have brought something with them." She paused for a split-second. "A bomb."
      "Then they sure as hell brought one here!" Lord replied with anger. "Chief, find it!"
      "Yes, sir," the Spartan replied. He turned to the Marine. "Get to the nearest escape pod, Marine. Failing that, link up with more men and fight your way off. Understood?"
      The Marine nodded. "Aye aye sir!"

'Peutomee felt the second rumble through the floor as the Athens went up, and heard the glass creek behind him. For a second he thought it would give way, but it held. Zavi hadn't realized that he was holding his breath. He slowly exhaled as the COM crackled to life.
      "Zavi, come in." It was the Field Master.
      "Yes, Field Master?" Zavi asked.
      "I have intercepted reports that the Demon is on his way to Fire Control. Be advised, he is coming to disarm the bomb."
      Zavi didn't reply for a few seconds. "Then let him try. He will be stopped, and he will die!"
      "Indeed. When you kill him, if you still have time left, get to the nearest escape craft."
      "Will do." Zavi cut the line, and turned to his troops. "Be on guard! The Field Master tells me that the Demon is headed our way. And we all want a crack at him, don't we?!" The Covenant warriors bellowed in response. "That's right. Now be prepared!"
      Zavi had a feeling he was in for a long wait. No matter. The Demon would be disposed of and he would get off this station alive.

Halo 2: Uprising - Chapter 4
Date: 3 January 2008, 1:48 am

Chapter 4

En route to Fire Control Center
October 20, 2552 (Military Calendar)
      "All non-combat personnel return to pressure zones!" the Cairo Defense Coordinator announced over the loudspeaker. It had no meaning to John though, for he had a new objective. There were two staircases on each side of the bay and each led down one level through a door. He heard one of them open, and his motion detector flashed red. The enemy.
      He grabbed for his holstered BR55 with his right hand and with his left he tossed a plasma grenade down the stairs. There was small clicking emitted as it connected to flesh and molded to it, then a loud bang as it exploded. The Spartan looked down the stairs in such a way so that he wouldn't be exposed to enemy fire. The body of a Grunt was torn completely in half, bright blue blood streaming across the floor. There was the gutteral cry of an Elite below however, so the Master Chief unslung his battle rifle and proceeded down the stairs.
       As he neared the bottom, he pushed off the bottom step with his feet and tucked himself into a ball, propelling him through the open doorway. In the middle of his sommersault, he twisted around onto his back, landing hard on the floor and fired wildly at the Elite hiding next to the doorway. He wasn't going to let another Covenant bastard nearly kill him, oh no. He had been ready and had left the monster nothing more then a mass of dead flesh and purple blood next to the dead Grunt.
       The floor sloped down in the middle and it had its own cover ceiling with the use of black support pillars. He frowned. The perfect place for an ambush would be here. Cramped quarters with plenty of hiding places. He didn't like the odds. Cautiously and slowly, he covered every inch of the room before he was satisfied that it was safe.

Master Gunnery Sergeant James Livingston was still inside of the armory when the Covenant had attacked. The Cairo had gone on full alert and had locked down the massive blastdoors before him. The power to the elevator had also been cut. So being unnable to leave, all he could do was load up his M90 shotgun with 8 gauge shells, crouch behind one of the tables that still held the Spartan's old busted up hardware, and wait. He would be ready.
       The blast doors in front of him suddenly exploded inward without warning, and Sergeant Livingston was almost knocked off of his feet. He raised his shotgun, ready to blast any Covenant son of a bitch that walked through but the strange thing was that nothing came. This gave the sergeant pause, and almost caused him to lower his shotgun, but he knew better. He thought he heard two pairs of footstep clatter in to the armory, but couldn't be sure due to his ears still ringing from the explosion. That's when he saw a pair of Elites, one in blue armor and the other in red, round the corner outside the blast doors. They growled and opened fire on the sergeant, who replied in kind. The aliens took cover behind the edges of the blast door frame as James fired at their positions.
       "You motherfuckers want a piece of me?!" he screamed, reloading his shotgun. "Haha, then come get some you bastards!"
       The Elites knew that the Human was reloading its weapon. They glanced at each other, nodded, and they rushed into the armory.

Before the Master Chief proceeded onward through a small door he had noticed earlier, he had stopped to collect ammo for his BR55 from a weapon rack in the center of the room. He heard one of the doors open behind him, and he immediately darted for cover behind one of the pillars.
       He peered out ever so slightly, and saw the shimmering outline of camoflagued Elite heading his way.
       John quietly tip-toed sideways to the front of the room nearest to the doors, battle rifle pointed in the direction of the Elite. When the alien was behind his position but still relatively close, he leapt from his hiding spot and bashed the Elite's back with the butt of his rifle. The Elite crumpled silently to the floor, skidding forward a little bit due to the force of the blow. The Spartan heard the door on the other side open, and another camoflagued Elite stepped through. He repeated the process to this creature like he did to its comrade, and he knew it was safe to proceed forward.
       He hopped back up to the floor and continued his journey through the door the Elites had come through.
       The sounds of a shotgun firing were heard above him. A set of stairs were directly in front of him that led to the upper level.
       He heard the voice of a man throwing taunts at his attackers. It was the Gunnery Sergeant from earlier.
       "Get the hell out of my armory, you fucking split-lipped bastards!" John heard Sergeant Livingston scream. A blast from a plasma rifle fired in response and the grunts and groans of the sergeant followed. John heard the man's body collapse to the deck, his M90 clanging in response. John tightened his grip on his battle rifle in response to the mercilessness of the Covenant, growling briefly; it wasn't the first time and it surely wouldn't be the last.
       With renewed vigor the Spartan charged up the stairs into the armor, priming a captured plasma grenade as the Elites noticed him and fired. He tossed the grenade at one of the Elites, hoping that due to the fact that the pair was close to each other, the grenade would stick one and catch the other in the blast.
       The grenade whined as it connected to the blue-armored Elite's foot. It growled in anger, shaking its fists and head back and forth like a child throwing a temper tantrum, and the grenade exploded. It sheared the Elite at the torso, and blew off the right arm of the Elite Major. It howled in pain as it writhed on the floor, trying to reach its weapon. John walked over to it, put his battle rifle to its head, and fired once. The alien stopped moving.
       He circled around to where Sergeant Livingston's body was located. There were places on the dead soldier's chest armor and a place on his face that appeared to be first-degree burns on the verge of second-degree. John gave a small shake of his head. He leaned over to pick up the sergeant's fallen M90 Mk II shotgun. He grabbed a box of shells from the table that had all of his old gear. Checking the weapon, the Master Chief discovered it was empty and loaded up twelve shells into the chamber. He pumped the slide once and put extra shells onto his person, dropping the M6C pistol and clipping the BR55 to his back.
       Rest in peace, he thought, taking a last look at the dead body. I'll make good use of your shotgun.
       The Chief, with new weapon in hand, left the armory through the blastdoor frame and entered Commons B-01, according to the blueprints in the lower right corner of his HUD.
       There were two raised platforms in the room, one on the left wall in front of the Chief and another against the right wall immediately to his right. He saw a Grunt manning a plasma turrent on the platform in front of him. Not having the time to quickly switch weapons, he sprinted to the other side of the room to a small alcove. The Grunt saw him, but a bit too late, and so didn't fire the turrent.
       John looked to his right up a small flight of stairs and there stood a Grunt and Elite. He didn't think; he mashed the trigger of the M90 and knocked the Grunt off its feet, sending it backwards down the reverse set of stairs. He took aim at the Elite, firing once as its shield failed and blood splattered, then he ran up to the creature and crashed the butt of the shotgun into its chest. It felt backwards head over heels.
       "Hang on everyone!" the loudspeaker annoucned. A few seconds later, there was a clang throughout the station as another Covenant boarding craft attached itself.
       The Spartan clipped the shotgun to his back, unslung the battle rifle, and peered out through the frame of the wall and fired at the Grunt manning the turrent. He hit the Grunt's methane tank, causing it to pop off and vent oxygen. The Grunt ran around in circles as it slowly asphyxiated and then collapsed to the floor.
       He primed a plasma grenade, tossed it at the next platform where another plasma turrent was afixed, and it stuck. Three seconds later, the ghastly blue glow of the grenade was seen and the Grunt had been propelled toward the wall behind it so hard that its methane tank put a small hole in the wall.
       "Fireteams to Habitat Delta," the Cairo Defense Coordinator squawked.
       The Master Chief leapt onto the floor, up onto the platform, and charged through the adjacent frame. His shotgun was now in his hands and his battle rifle on his back. He came in low, sweeping left and right. He aimed at a hiding Grunt, but his aim was slightly off and ended up severing one of the Grunt's legs. It rolled on the floor, clutching the stump as it squirted blood until it died. A red armored Elite took two blasts from the M90 before falling. The Chief exited to his left and down a set of stairs.
       He was now standing directly underneath a high wall where yet another Grunt had set up a plasma turrent. He spied a plant tub directly underneath where the turrent was and he hopped up ontop of it, his armor's boots crushing the plants. He crouched low, then jump high and blindly reached out with the shotgun. He felt the swipe connect as the Grunt's breath masked cracked. The blunt force trauma to its face was enough to kill it.
       Gravity returned and brought the Spartan back down into the plant tub. He heard crashing sounds to his left and saw what must've been at least six Grunts on the other side of a blastdoor frame. He didnt really want to face them all because he had to get to Fire Control. So he tossed his shotgun up to where the dead Grunt was, crouched low again, and leaped up. The pack of Grunts saw him and opened fire. Green bolts of plasma fire streaked across his shields, draining them to half. His fingers brushed the edge of the wall, and he pulled himself up and rolled on to his side. He grabbed the shotgun, got up, and waited for his shields to recharge before he continued further.
       Inside this room were computer panels and to his right was a small set of three steps and a door. Three Grunts and an Elite stepped forth through the door. John hid behind one of the computer panels as his motion tracker showed the four contacts move past him. When he was sure they were gone, he proceeded through the door he had seen in a crouch. After exiting the door, there was another one in front of him and a set of stairs next to him. He went straight.
       The Spartan emerged in a room with a glass window in front of him and a large crate to his left. The sounds of battle were just around the corner. He rounded the box and saw none other then Sergeant Johnson, Commander Keyes, and a small squad of Marines engaging the Covenant further down the hall. He noticed that he was outside the gangway that led to In Amber Clad. Some Marines hid under a staircase while others were crouched behind metal placements and boxes.
       "Frag out!" one yelled, and hurled a frag grenade down the hall. Two Grunts died as a result of the explosion.
       "Come on, Chief, this way!" Sergeant Johnson exclaimed, pointing down the corridor. John switched to his BR55 and began taking potshots.
       "I was almost on board when they showed up," Miranda Keyes said, popping out from behind cover to fire with her M7 SMG.
       "Don't worry, ma'am! We're on it!" Johnson fired a burst from his BR55 at an Elite.
       It took less then five minutes under the combined fire of the Marines, the Chief, Johnson and Keyes to put the enemies down.
       "Thanks, Chief," Commander Keyes said. "I owe you one."
       Sergeant Johnson stopped before the Master Chief. "Get going. I'll cover the commander."
       The Master Chief nodded as Keyes, Johnson, and the Marines proceeded through the umbilical adjoining In Amber Clad. He took this time to reload both his weapons, then he sprinted down to the end of the hallway to the last umbilical and stepped in. It pressurized and vented the atmosphere, then the door at the other end split open. Something wasn't right, so John immediately took cover behind a large crate that nearly touched the low ceiling and peeked out around.
       Two Elites flew through the open door on what looked to be small jetpacks.
       John rolled to his left from behind the crate, and fired his battle rifle. The pair returned fire, blue bolts of plasma cutting the Chief's shield down to a quarter. He rolled back to his right, tossing a frag grenade at the pair's feet. He didn't see the resulting carnage, but two muffled cries and a splash of purple blood flying past him were good indicators of the aliens' deaths.
       With the pair dead, he walked out from behind the crate and stepped off the airlock onto a platform. To his right, space dropped endlessly. The black void was all around him, and everything was eerily silent.
       Until he heard the distinct whir that he only heard a moment ago. There was a red blip on his motion tracker, a few meters behind him. He swiveled around and crouched to see underneath the airlock. Another jetpack Elite was hovering far off. The Master Chief unleashed a rapid barrage of fire, catching the Elite completely offguard. Its shield died, and then it finally crumpled to the station, bounced off, and free-fell into space. Then the COM crackled to life.
       "Sir, boarders have breached the Fire Control Center. They have a bomb." It was Cortana's smooth voice.
       "Can you defuse it?" Lord Hood asked, his tone grim but slightly hopeful.
       "Yes, but I'll need the Chief's help to make contact with the detonator," the AI replied.
       "Chief, get to the bomb, double time!"
       "Yes, sir," the Master Chief replied. "According to my tactical overlay, I'm getting close to fire control. I'll be there in the next few minutes."
       "Excellent. Good luck, Spartan. Cortana, prioritize targets and fire at will." The COM line went dead.
       John proceeded toward a door that was on the far side of the platform, so said the map overlay. This door would take him to Portside Shipping, followed by a jog across part of the MAC gun, and then fire control was after that. Somehow he had a feeling that there would be stiff resistance, but he stuffed the thought to the back of his head. He didn't ignore it however. He had learned over his years fighting the Covenant that if something didn't feel right, it probably wasn't. Chief Mendez had always told him and his fellow Spartans to always trust their instincts.
       The Chief made it to the door and entered the airlock that connected to Portside Shipping. The air pressurized, then the opposite door opened. He reloaded his battle rifle, checked his shotgun, and walked through.

Private First Class Daniel Munez was on edge. He had a suspicion that the Covenant on the other side of the room might come to his position, just to double check. He feared they might send more then one Grunt, or worse, one of the more alert Elites.
       He knew that Grunts were lazy bastards and didn't really have a good sense of discipline, but the Elites were something else.
       Daniel had been on the Cairo for the past two months dreading the day the Covenant would find Earth. He had an older brother named Will who had gone into the Marine Corps in 2548, four years before he enlisted. Will had gotten shipped out to Reach during the height of the war.
       August thirtieth came, however, and it changed him. He had gotten a live video transmission from Will, on the ground at Reach. He was panicking, with a gash extending from his forehead down to his left eye, yelling, his eyes glazed.
       "They're all dead! Or they're going to die!" he had exclaimed hysterically. "The Covenant--they've, they've found us! If anybody gets this, be warned that Earth is not safe--"
       The transmission had cut out after that because an explosion rolled from behind his brother and blew him apart before his eyes. Daniel had cried his eyes out upon receiving the transmission, but after two hours of tears and emotional pain, he came to accept the lost of his brother. He immediately enlisted in the Marine Corps and had been shipped up to the Cairo Orbital Defense Platform.
       He was only two months out of boot, and had only heard of the viciousness of the Covenant races. He had only seen pictures of them, but upon actually seeing them in the flesh, he had nearly shit himself. Thinking about these things had made him retreat up to the pipes he had been laying on when he first entered the room.
       But upon hearing the latest transmission between Lord Hood and Cortana, a deep calm voice entered the conversation. I'll be there in the next few minutes, it had said. Lord Hood had also referred to him as the Chief and Spartan. And the Chief could only mean one thing: Spartan-117 was on his way.
       He had heard about the Spartan-II program while living on Earth, in the United Republic of North America in what had formerly been the state of Maryland. Munez had great respect for the soldiers and according to the rumors, the one known as Master Chief Spartan-117 was the last of his kind. If he was coming down, Munez decided he was going to show the utmost respect.
       With renewed confidence, he had crawled down from his hiding place amongst the pipes, checked his weapon, and stood ready. It wouldn't do good to scare the crap out of the Spartan and end up being accidentally shot. PFC Munez silently waited.

Zavi was starting to lose his focus as he and his team stood around guarding a bomb. He knew this wasn't good, as he was the ranking officer and supposed to be an example.
       He found himself nodding off while everyone else was constantly alert. There had been no contact at all with any of the Humans or other Covenant. He had a bad feeling in the back of his mind that what Muraw had said early was wrong, and he cursed the Grunt's incompetence. Or at least, he thought he was incompetent. 'Peutomee didn't really know. He constantly had contradicting thoughts, and it drove him insane. He didn't understand some of the the things--
       "Commander," Field Master Yiris 'Lupomee chimed in. "I have just intercepted a message over the Human's battlenet. It seems the Demon isn't far away from your position. He's currently in Portside Shipping."
       Suddenly, Zavi no longer felt bored. Portside Shipping was indeed not far from Fire Control. "Affirmative. I will let my squad know of the threat."
       "Excellent. And good luck, Commander. From what I hear, the Demon is not one to be trifled with." The line went dead.
       "Everybody, form up and stay alert. The Demon will be here soon, probably within the next few units," Commander Zavi 'Peutomee barked. "So wake up and get ready you vermin!"
       He walked over to Usa, taking his needler and giving him his plasma rifle. Zavi grabbed his own needler from off his hip and checked to see if the extra needles on his belt were still attached. He checked both needlers and aimed them halfway between the elevator and the ground.
       "Prepare for combat!"

Halo 2: Uprising - Chapter 5
Date: 17 January 2008, 2:17 am

Chapter 5

Portside Shipping, en route to Fire Control Center
Cairo Orbital Defense Platform
October 20, 2552 (Military Calendar)
      Portside Shipping was one of the larger sections of the Cairo. To the Chief's right was a large window that displayed a view of Earth and the Cairo's MAC gun. If one looked, one might've thought that the floor dropped off, but in reality a massive lift used for the loading and unloading of ordinance sat at the very bottom. According to the Chief's tactical map overlay, a control panel was at the front of the lift that almost covered then entire front end, but stopped just short. This control panel helped to gauge the weight of each item to ensure that the lift's maximum weight capacity of five tons was kept within the limit. It also scanned each item for possible traces of biological and chemical-grade material.
      As the Chief skimmed the readout on his HUD, he frowned. The report indicated that the lift rose up on slanted walls, which to him meant that if he wanted to get down, he'd have to slide down and if he overshot his jump onto the lift, he could possibly fly over and bounce off a wall.
      It's a risk, John thought. But since when do Spartans not take risks?
      His ultimate goal was another airlock at the bottom that would lead to a portion of the MAC gun, then Fire Control.
      There were two Marines before him. His HUD displayed their names: PVT. WHEELER and CPL. COOK.
      When the pair sensed the Chief's prescense, they both took an involuntary step back. Like many within the rank-and-file, they had only heard rumors of the Spartans' existence and had never seen one in the flesh. The Chief was used to such reactions, however, and it didn't bother him in the least.
      "Corporal Cook," the Spartan said, "what is your status?"
      "Sir!" The corporal snapped straight. "My squad and I were engaged in a firefight on the other side of this door." The young man crooked his thumb over his shoulder to the bulkhead behind him. "We were heavily outnumbered and our only option was to retreat."
      "We didn't know where we were going," Private Wheeler added. "Our guys were falling quick and when the corporal and I got through the door, we were the only ones left." His voice became quiet and his gaze lowered to the floor.
      "The only choice I had was to close the blastdoor and seal it, sir," Corporal Cook finished. "I did what I had to do."
      The Master Chief nodded. "Aren't we all..." he mused, more to himself then to the Marines.
      A voice entered his speakers. "First echelon, you're with me, blanket those cruisers, take 'em out one by one." A trio of Longsword Interceptors flew past the massive viewport. "Second echelon, keep those carriers busy!"
      No doubt the voice had belonged to a Longsword commander, as another trio of the large bombers blazed past the window in the opposite direction of the first trio.
      "Registering all hostile vessels inside the killzone," Cortana interjected. "Thirteen cruisers, two assault carriers. I'm going loud!"
      John, Wheeler, and Cook turned to look out into space. The huge MAC gun visible through the bay window came to life, the massive rail flaring and lifting to the cannon's peak. It slammed back down as a shell burst from the tip, accelerating towards one of the Covenant warships. In the background, the Chief saw the other orbital platforms and some UNSC ships fire at the fleet. The Covenant ships he could see were charging their weapons, preparing to fire as they advanced.
      The Spartan watched the chaos unfold behind the Cairo's MAC gun. He longed to be on the ground fighting the aliens face-to-face. It was where Spartans operated the best. The Master Chief could basically fight in any type of environment and survive in it: the zero-gravity atmosphere of the loading dock on Reach, the snowy valleys and grimey swamps of Halo, the arid plains of Jericho VII, the forests and urban areas of Sigma Octanus IV--he could go on and on, but the one thing he hated above all was being on a ship or a defense platform above a planet. The possibility of death in the form of superheated plasma, without any control of the outcome, wasn't appealing and even greatly disturbing at times. The Spartan knew he wasn't the only one who shared his concerns.
      "Corporal," he finally said, his gaze still locked on the space battle. "You and Wheeler stay here and provide covering fire if need be. I'm going to take a peek down the lift."
      "Aye, sir," Cook replied. Wheeler didn't say a word; he ackeknowledged the Chief with a nod, but his BR55 had never trailed away from the lift's position.
      The Chief was in the middle of the room, creeping toward the lip of the floor when Private Wheeler called out to him.
      "Sir!" he exclaimed. "I think Cook here forgot to mention something, no offense, sir." The corporal shrugged, indicating that he didn't mind that the private had remembered what he had forgotten, but now knew exactly what Wheeler was referring to.
      "Anyways," Wheeler continued. "A few minutes after we shut ourselves in here, we heard this...droning noise."
      "Droning, you say?" the Chief asked, turning all the way around to face the Marine.
      Private Wheeler nodded. "Yes, sir. We barely heard it at first, but we noticed that it faded in and out. Like it would come for a few minutes and then stop."
      "What kind of droning?" John's gut was telling him that an ambush was right around the corner. Instinctively, he check his battle rifle to make sure it was loaded and then felt his back for the shotgun.
      "It sounded like a--"
      A faint murmur of sound started drifting up from the lift. The noise started to grow in volume; it almost sounded like a swarm of bees.
      "Like, like that sir!" Wheeler stuttered, his eyes snapped wide open. His grasp on the battle riflr tightened, so tight that his knuckles turned ivory.

"Are they ready, Major?" Zavi asked.
      "Yes, Commander," the Elite Major replied. "My team is in position and ready to attack. Our friends have been in position for quite some time actually. If my translation software is correct, they're eager for his blood."
      "Indeed, Major, but aren't we all?" He paused. "Anyways, good work. Report back when your objective is complete. Don't disappoint the Prophet."
      "I will not fail the Great Journey," the other Elite snarled as the line snapped off.
      He seems unusually edgy, Zavi thought. Then again, he reasoned that if he were going up against his enemy's most prized soldier out of the blue, he wouldn't be in the best mood either.
      The Field Master's plan had been sound. Due to being tapped into the interloper's communication grid, he was constantly being kept up-to-date on every Human on the station if need be. While this was great, the Field Master had tasked his personal subordinates with monitoring any traffic regarding the Demon.
      Zavi had learned from Yiris that he had managed to triangulate the Demon's signal via an infiltration probe that Yiris' personal technician had installed within the Humans' electrical wiring. The technician had sweated over his portable palm-sized computer tablet, tracing and retracing the signal until he was fully locked-in and a unbreakable connection was established.
      The Field Master then tracked where the Demon would be going next, and had ordered Zavi to link up with the closet team relative to the Demon's position; miraculously enough, the team was right where Yiris needed them. And according to combat reports, the Demon had yet to face the Covenant's newest addition.
      Maybe that will throw him off-guard, Commander 'Peutomee thought with a smile.

The buzzing was now at its loudest, and the next thing Chief knew, he thought some kind of insect flew up, followed by another, and then dozens of them swarmed around the room.
      The insect-like creatures had sets of insectoid legs and long slender arms covered in spikes, as well as a near-translucent set of wings. Their skin was a combination of sickly blues, green, and purples. The creatures' heads were triangular, with a snout protruding out. The green eyes were unwavering as they took aim at the human trio from the air; the antennae just above their eyes stood ramrod straight.
      "Holy shit!" Private Wheeler screamed. "What the fuck are those things?!"
      "Open fire, Wheeler!" Corporal Cook ordered, firing his own BR55. He was finding it incredibly hard to hit the flying bugs, and the plasma and needler fire raining at him didn't help much either.
      "Damn it! I'm out!" Cook cried. "Wheeler, cover the Chief!" Cook ducked behind his barricade, reaching for a fresh magazine for his battle rifle.
      The Master Chief was taken aback by the briefly overwhelming force of the enemy, and worse, he was in the open and exposed. He immediately began back-pedaling towards the Marines, firing his battle rifle non-stop. He only managed to kill two of the insects, who were roughly the size of Grunts, but the majority were extremely agile. He noticed them sticking to walls on the sides of the room and even the ceiling. He ran out of bullets just as he got to cover.
      Wheeler shot one clinging to the ceiling, and it started to free-fall, flailing its spiney arms on the descent to the floor. Mustard-colored blood spattered down a second later.
      Clever little bastards, the Chief thought. No shields either. But they have agility and numbers on their side.
      He knew that the flying insects had the advantage due to their ability to fly around. It was a classic yet simple tactic that had tipped the tides in wars and battles of centuries past: seek the higher ground whenever possible, as it makes ofr a great defense position. Currently, the bugs had the higher ground, and they had clear shots at the Marines and the Spartan.
      Cook's and Wheeler's shots were panicked jerks of the trigger rather than patient, precise squeezes. If the pair didn't straighten their shots up, they'd soon be dead.
      "Marines! Tighten those shots up!" John popped out from cover, tracked one of the bugs, fired, then returned to the safety of the barricade as the bug crashed, dead. "Do not panic. If you anticipate their flight path, shoot where they will land!"
      After that, the weapons fire from the pair increased in accuracy and more of the Covenant bugs fell. He had started thinking of them as Drones because of their insectoid, monotone hums.
      As the last one fell, John proceeded forward towards one of the bodies and stopped to look it over. He crouched on one knee and tentatively reached out to touch one of its arms. The body was starting to lose some of its color, and the Drone's limb felt brittle. Strange considering that during combat, he thought they looked very durable.
      Maybe the bones get brittle when they die, the Master Chief wondered. He wouldn't know for sure, but he checked to make sure his helmet's mission camera was recording.
      "What the hell are they, sir?" Corporal Cook asked, standing a few feet behind the Spartan. Private Wheeler walked up and joined Cook at his side.
      John let go of the arm. "They're new to me," he replied as he stood. He turned to face the Marine pair. "I've never encountered them before."
      He looked in the direction of Fire Control on the other side of the Cairo. The Covenant vessels were now much closer to Earth, and the UNSC was still engaged.
      Turning back to Cook and Wheeler, he said, "Whenever you two are debriefed, make sure to mention your contact with this new species of Covenant. But for now, I need to get to Fire Control, so hunker down and wait."
      "Yes, sir," the pair replied.
      The Master Chief turned back toward the window, gave it one final glance, and trodded toward the edge. He looked down at the bottom and saw a mass gathering of Grunts and Elites down at the airlock.
      Without a second thought, he holstered his battle rifle with his right hand, unslung the shotgun with his left hand in one smooth motion, and jumped.
      Two seconds later, his boots hit the sloped surface. He crouched to decrease his speed, but he wasn't adjusting quick enough for the rapidly-advancing platform. A few sparks started flying and the screech generated by John's contact with the metal slope attracted the attention of the Covenant below.
      A volley of green and cyan plasma slashed toward the Chief, battering his shield. With his left hand, he snatched a frag grenade from his waist and held it until he was about to reach the lift. John strong-armed the explosive device over the lift's control panel. Using the muscles in his lower legs, he tensed then pushed off the slope, tucking his knees toward his chest.
      He felt his boots hit the lift, but the extra momentum swiftly pulled him off his feet again. The Master Chief scrunched in and rolled to avoid a head-first collision with the control panel. He turned his back toward the panel and collided a second later.
      The grenade's detonation followed soon after.
      The cries of Grunts pierced his suit's speakers as they sailed through the air on random vectors.
      The Spartan checked his armor for any malfunctions and breaches and other than some minor damage to his boots from sliding, he was fine. Slowly, he looked around his immediate area. His motion sensor displayed angry red blobs that moved and ceased every few seconds; the enemy was directly behind and below his position. The Chief crawled onto his hands, took up a low crouch and used the wide panel for cover. He pumped the M90, exhaled deeply, and stood.
      John sighted on the closet alien, a wounded Grunt sloppily firing its plasma pistol at him, missing every time. One shell to the chest plate put the little runt out of comission. John sweeped to his right, aimed at an Elite, and blasted through its shields, then took off its head.
      In his peripheral vision, he saw a bright blue sphere light up.
      "Holy light!" an Elite announced through his translation software.
      It was all the warning he had before the unmistakable plasma grenade was flying in his direction. He whipped his head to the right as the deadly device sailed by his head, missing by a few inches. He could feel the heat generated by the grenade for only a moment, then it faded away as it stuck to the lift's floor behind him.
      The Chief leaped over the control panel in the direction of where the grenade had originated. The enemy grenade exploded behind him, but he was safe from the blast. He thought he saw a hint of maroon armor sticking out from behind a metal box. John lunged toward the other side of the crate, shoving the butt of his shotgun to his right.
      The Elite Major howled as its shield flared, but held. John pumped the close-quarters weapon, and blew a foot-sized hole in the alien's gut, causing purple blood to leak out and a three-inch strand of greyish-yellow intestine to poke out.
      The creature dropped to its knees. Its four mouth parts were starting to open in shock as it struggled to keep its entrails within itself. Purple blood started to pool at its legs. It looked up at the Chief with a look he had never seen on the face of any Covenant soldier in his entire campaign.
      The Elite displayed pure fear. Almost as though it was begging him not to kill him.
      "Demon...please...don't..." The near-inaudible groan that his suit's COM translated startled him. The Chief took a step forward and the kneeling Elite scooted back in response, emitting a pained grunt.
      The Master Chief thought of the billions of innocent civilians that had once lived throughout the Inner and Outer Colonies; the genocide of a colony's entire people. He thought of all the Marines and naval personnel who had given their lives to beat back a seemingly invulernable opponent and protect humanity's most guarded secret.
      But what made his stomach boil with rage were the deaths of his fellow Spartans. They were his brothers and sisters; they were his family, the only family he had. Even with the many physical augmentations and Dr. Halsey's MJOLNIR armor, it still hadn't saved the majority of them from uncontrollable deaths; James in particular came to mind. He had bounced off one of Reach's docking stations in zero gravity, and the force of his impact had blasted him into space, leaving him to die a slow painful death while his suit's ability to function in space ceased.
      And here was an Elite, one of the Covenant's mightest warriors, asking him not to kill him. Did this alien expect to be spared?
      You've murdered countless scores of my people, the Chief thought. Your kind have shown no mercy, no remorse, no regrets. I won't be any different.
      John shook his head at the Elite, raised his shotgun, pumped the slide, and fired.
      The buckshot hit with such force that it blew the Elite off its knees and pinned it against the crate. The shot had been intended for the creature's head but had instead hit the alien's chest plate and neck; the neck was shredded up so bad that it was almost fully decapitated. The head was connected by a small band of tissue, muscle, and skin.
      The room was silent except for the occassional hollow sounds of the Cairo's MAC gun loading and firing. Somehow John felt empty as he loaded three shells into the top of the M90. He cursed himself for letting his temper get the better of him. Yet he couldn't help but feel guilty for being so brutal with the Elite. He had shown genuine fear, the Chief could tell he hadn't been faking, and he could've left him to die of his wounds.
      But then he thought about what it must've been like for a civilian or the last surviving Marine in his unit confronted by a Covenant alien. Had they begged just like the Elite had? Pleaded for their survival? Most likely, but had they been spared? The Chief didn't think so because that wasn't how the Covenant operated. But admittingly the Covenant were doing many unusual things as of late that didn't make sense to him.
      The Chief stuffed his conflicting thoughts to the back-burner as the familiar moan of his COM hummed to life.
      "The carriers are breaking through, sir!" Fleet Admiral Harper cried. "They're heading straight for the Cairo!"
      "Cortana!" Admiral Lord Hood said. "Concentrate your fire on the first carrier! Admiral, do what you can against the second."
      After a five second pause, Fleet Admiral Harper came back on the COM: "Everyone, form up, follow my lead!"
      John watched through the window overhead as one of the Covenant carriers accelerated right past the Cairo towards Earth. He furrowed his brow in confusion, shrugged, then stepped into the airlock before him.
      "The first carrier completely ignored us, sir!" Cortana informed urgently on the COM. "Blew through the Malta's debris field and headed straight for Earth!"
      The Chief noticed a dead Marine laying on the deck in a pool of thick crimson. A battle rifle lay next to the body and John took the time to strip it of ammunition.
      The airlock hissed and the doors parted. As soon as he stepped through on the MAC's recoil arm, he came under fire. His shield started to emit its shrill alarm as he ducked for cover behind a metal pillar jutting out and down from the hull above him.
      John snaked a fiber-optic probe from a little compartment on the upper-right of his helmet. He bent it slightly and feld it around the corner.
      At the far end of the recoil arm on a raised platform was an Elite manning a fixed plasma turrent, firing back and forth across the length of the Chief's side. Two Elites with jetpacks hovered close to the turrent's position. Upon zooming in with the probe, he discovered the alien behind the turrent had a jetpack as well.
      Unslinging his BR55 and putting the M90 into the clip on his back, he retracted the probe back into his helmet. The Master Chief's options were limited: stay here and risk getting flanked or charge the Elites' position and surprise them.
      Sighing and taking a deep breath, John raised the rifle to his shoulder and charged around the pillar.

Zavi 'Peutomee couldn't believe the cowardice that the Elite Major had displayed.
      The radio transmission from the Major Domo kept replaying in his head, followed by the gunshot that undoubtably had been the Demon. He was utterly disgusted by the major's lack of will to fight to the death.
      "Commander," Field Master 'Lupomee said through the Elite's speaker. "The Demon is currently on the recoil arm of their orbital cannon. After that, if our Rangers can't take them down..."
      "Then we will kill him and mount his head!" Zavi snarled. The enemy was near, and his thirst for blood was in need of quenching.
      "Good. If I don't hear back from you, I'll assume your dead. Otherwise, when he's dead, escape to the nearest boarding craft. Yiris out." The COM snapped off.
      The only thing Commander 'Peutomee was thinking about was the Major Domo's cowardly last words and Zavi's own lack of fear.

Halo 2: Uprising - Chapter 6
Date: 17 January 2008, 8:12 pm

Chapter 6

Elevator descending to Fire Control Center
Cairo Orbital Defense Platform
October 20, 2552 (Military Calendar)
      The Master Chief stepped into the elevator, reloading his BR55 as the doors shut and locked behind him. The airlock hissed air and the elevator started to descend. As it did so, he swapped the battle rifle for the shotgun.
      "Just so you know," Cortana chimed in on the Chief's private COM line, "thermal scans indicate that there are quite a few Elites guarding the bomb. You may need to get creative."
      "It wouldn't be the first time," the Chief muttered but Cortana didn't reply.
      He wondered what kind of trap had been set for him, as well as the opposition he would face. He checked the M90, which was fully loaded, and racked the pump, deciding that however many rounds he fired would tell the tale.

Private First Class Daniel Munez had been sitting cross-legged under the compartment of the charging capacitor on the side closet to the elevator. The semi-muted sound of the elevator's descent was enough to perk him up, even bringing a smile to his face.
      The cavalry has arrived!
      Daniel thumbed the magazine release on his M7 to check the rounds, more from habit than ingrained training. Satisfied, he inserted it on the left side of the submachine gun and flipped the safety to the 'off' position.
      He stood and scanned what little he could see. He saw what was unmistakably the Covenant bomb that Lord Hood and Cortana had referred to on the COM. It was strange looking, but then again, all Covenant technology was strange. The few aliens he could see quickly scattered out of his sight.
      An ambush, he thought. Maybe the Chief could use some help, too.
      The distant rumble through the wall to his right stopped and the elevator chimed.

"Shh! Be quiet and get in position!" Commander Zavi 'Peutomee whispered harshly. He had made sure the preplanned positions for the ambush were completely hidden from the elevator's sight.
      The lift chimed and Zavi heard the doors part.
      "He's here!" Zavi whispered so quietly that his voice was barely audible. "Attack on my signal!"

The elevator parted and John snapped the shotgun to his shoulder. He cautiously stepped in, his head whipping back and forth as well as up to the ceiling for Drones, of which there were none.
      A covered compartment to his left was clear, but he saw no sight of the bomb until he peered around a crate placed up against the right side of the wall.
      It was an oval cylinder of sorts, with various spikes protruding from its surface, and roughly as long as the Chief was if he laid on his back. One part stuck out in a rough circle, and it was pulsing red at a steady rate. That wasn't good.
      The Master Chief heard a throat mic click over his COM. It was the universal gesture used by UNSC personnel to signal nearby friendlies of hostile forces in the vicinity, and it was virtually untraceable. The click had originated from the back of the room, according to the schematic overlay of the room on his HUD. He turned left toward the covered compartment, and then made another left into the room. At the back, he saw a shadowy figure underneath the MAC's charging capacitor; the FOF tag read PFC. Daniel Munez.
      "Sir!" Daniel whispered. "Thank God you're here! I've been listening in on the chatter between you and Hood, so I'm glad you're here."
      "How long have you been here?" the Master Chief asked.
      "Ever since the Covenant attacked, sir. I was in the middle of a shift change, and then the power to the elevator shut off--" He gestured to the Spartan with his left hand. "--but I guess it's working again."
      "Listen, Private. I need to clear this room and defuse the bomb; how many did you see?"
      The private first class thought for a moment, one hand on his chin as looked at the ceiling and licked his lips. "A whole shitload of Grunts and...three Elites--no, no wait...four Elites, my bad, sir!" Munez looked slightly embarrassed.
      "Not a problem." The Chief craned his head to glance back out at Earth. The Cairo shook as the second Covenant carrier from the radio report bypassed the Cairo, roughly following the first carrier's course toward the surface.
      John looked back at the Marine. "I need you to create a distraction," he said, and began outlining his plan to the private first class.

Zavi started to feel his unease grow more and more as nothing happened.
      The hen thought he heard the sound of not one, but two sets of footsteps creeping on the deck. Then he heard one pair break into a run, and that's when the shooting began.
      "Fire! Suppressing fire!" Commander 'Peutomee barked. He quickly checked to see if his twin Needlers were loaded and he pointed them in the direction of the enemy.
      But which one is it? he wondered. Zavi hadn't seen the target so he couldn't be sure.

Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit! Daniel Munez cursed as plasma fire flew past him into the wall. He was back at his previous hiding spot, from before the Covenant had entered the room.
      He popped out and fired at a few Grunts with his M7, then took cover as lances of plasma slashed at the air where he had just vacated. He reloaded the SMG, crouching low.
      C'mon Chief! I could use some help here!
      And then the signal came.

The Master Chief ran up the right side of Fire Control to the far end of the room, knocking two Grunts off their hooves with blasts from his shotgun. He neared the bomb and hopped over it, placing himself between the bomb and the massive window.
      The Spartan was surprised to be facing an Elite Major armed with two Needlers. It growled and unleashed a flurry of pink shards.

Zavi mashed the firing mechanism on the Needlers but the Demon rolled out of the way behind a crate.
      He heard a grenade clink on the floor behind him. He glanced over his shoulder and was horrified to see it land in the middle of his squad. None of them seemed to have noticed through the wave of plasma they were creating.
      'Peutomee did, however, and he dived over the bomb right as the grenade exploded. He rolled and then slammed into the opposite wall. Not suffering a single injury, the commander slowly rose and saw that the remainder of his squad had indeed been annihilated.
      The rage rose inside of Zavi to where he couldnt contain it; he snapped. Tossing the Needlers to the floor, he saw a flash of green and with a furious battle cry, he threw himself at the Demon without a second thought.

John clamped his gloved armored hands around the Elite's wrists as he struggled to gain the upperhand. The alien had took him by surprise and he swore at himself for not being more alert.
      The Master Chief cocked his head back and crashed the crude, impromptu weapon into the Elite's breast plate. Its shield flared, but the Covenant warrior briefly slackened its grip, allowing John to jab it in the face.
      The Elite's head whipped back, its arms flailing back in the proces, and John used his other hand to deliver an open-palmed strike to its helmet. The Covenant warrior flew backwards into a crate, bouncing off and landing on its side. The Chief kip-upped and charged with his arm cocked back.

The commander felt a lance of pain shoot through his back mixed with a dull pulsing throb in his head. The Demon charged at him, but due to his animalistic desire to kill this scoundrel, he came up into a half-crouch with surprising speed, grabbed the Demon's incoming fist, and threw him to his right.
      Zavi pounced and the two started rolling on the ground, exchanging blows, while both of their shields began to steadily drop.

The Chief wasn't sure how much more punishment he could take; his shield was about to fail, and he kept moving his head to avoid the alien's fists but some still connected. He and the Elite were rolling back and forth on the ground, fighting for control. He could see PFC Munez with his M7 raised, attempting to get a good shot, but due to the constant movement, it looked nearly impossible for him.
      Then, once again, the Elite was on top and John was wrestling for control. He held the Elite's wrists tight and in response, the alien tried to headbutt the Chief; all the creature succeeded in doing was bashing its own cranium into the desk. A trickle of deep purple blood splashed onto his visor, and slowly slid down the sides.

Commander 'Peutomee was aware of his own blood dripping into his eyes as he furiously attempted to kill the Demon. He didn't feel any pain: his anger coupled with the adrenaline rush negated any feelings of hurt.
      The Demon barked a command in a language he couldn't understand, but he still heard the words: "Private, kill this bastard!"
      Zavi felt multiple stabs into his back, followed by intense pressure as blood exited his body. He cursed himself for being in a blind rage and forgetting about the other mongrel behind him. He felt his strength start to diminish and his vision narrowed.
      Damn Muraw's incompetence! his mind screamed.
      The only thing left to do was set the bomb's timer to ten seconds. He activated a button his wrist and closed his eyes as he entered the Divine Beyond.

The Master Chief felt the Elite's dead weight drop onto him and he shoved the corpse off. He stood and gave Daniel a thumbs up, who smiled and nodded. The celebration soon ended as the Chief heard the bomb start to squak loudly. He cocked his head toward the bomb and sprinted.
      The red light on top started to blink with increasing rapidness. Cortana appeared in a holotank next to the bomb, something he hadn't noticed before.
      "Me. Inside your head. Now!"
      The Chief put his palm on the pedestal, causing the AI's image to disappear and a cold chill, followed by a spike of brief pain, entered his head. The bomb's squak also began increasing in pitch and without further thought, John put his palm on top of the blinking red area. The bomb chirped twice, and the red turned a cyan blue.
      He hadn't realized he had been holding his breath. He exhaled and asked, "How much time was left?"
      "You don't want to know," Cortana replied.
      The COM activated. "Cairo, this is In Amber Clad." The smooth voice of Commander Miranda Keyes rippled over the channel. "The carrier's shield is down. I'm in position and ready for immediate assault."
      "Negative, Commander," Lord Hood countermanded. "Not against a ship that size. Not on your own."
      "Sir...permission to leave the station," the Master Chief asked, an idea swiftly forming in his head.
      "For what purpose, Master Chief?" Fleet Admiral Hood sounded confused.
      "To give the Covenant back their bomb."
      Admiral Hood must've been thinking about the idea because there was a brief silence before his reply: "Permission granted." The COM channel snapped off.
      John nodded to PFC Munez, who had been watching the Chief the whole time. Munez stood at attention and saluted crisply, which the Chief returned. Then he grabbed two of the spikes on the deactivated bomb and began dragging it across the floor to the elevator. Once inside, the doors shut amd Cortana made the lift ascend.
      "I know what you're thinking," the AI said, her voice laced with doubt, "and it's crazy."
      The Chief shrugged, then realized she couldn't see him. "So? Stay here."
      "Unfortunately for us both..." Cortana replied with a hint of a playful tone. "I like crazy."
      The elevator stopped at the top and the doors opened into a Longsword launch bay; he stepped through, dragging the bomb behind him. The entire fleet was falling back toward Earth, chasing the Covenant vessels. Exchanges of plasma and MAC gun fire flickered against the backdrop of space.
      A single pillar stood in the center of the bay, stretching from floor to ceiling. The Master Chief strode to the column, slamming his fist into a square button. The door's release handle dropped down above him.
      "Just one question...what if you miss?"
      John tightened his grip on the handle. "I won't."
      He pulled on the handle and the blastdoors began to cycle open. The bay rapidly decompressed, and small pieces of debris levitated and flew off into space. The Covenant bomb slowly began to slide toward the doors, the spikes creating sparks as it dragged across the floor. it started to speed up and as it drew even with John's position, he reached his hand out and grabbed onto one of the spikes.
      Here goes nothing, he thought as the bomb banked up out of the doors then dove downward like a fish.

Now free-falling, the Master Chief guided his trajectory in the general direction of northern Africa. He looked around, scanning for the two Covenant carriers. He looked down, and spied the first carrier miles away.
      Too far to reach, the Spartan thought.
      Suddenly, seemingly out of nowhere, the second carrier filled his entire view, almost right beneath him. He saw one of its pulse lasers begin to charge, and he shut his eyes, thinking it was the end. He heard it fire, and the heat washed over his armor and his skin felt sunburned.
      John opened his eyes to find that he hadn't been vaporized; however, the laser had been awfully close. Then he saw a human cruiser pass by below him, taking the plasma straight through the spine, then exploding. The Chief accelerated past it, watching as the cruiser's engines failed trying to relight themselves.
      A trio of Longsword Interceptors dove past him and made a strafing run along the alien vessel. A staccato beat of fire resounded along the back of the carrier, nearly silent in the vacuum of space. As the fire and smoke cleared, the Chief slipped in through a small hole created by the Longswords.
      The carrier's center was a huge, open chamber containing a massive fusion core, casting harsh white light across its innards. John's visor automatically polarized and darkened to compensate for the brightness. From the Chief's view, the vessel had sustained alot of punishment: the other side of the chamber was ripped wide open, exposing a view of Earth.

Commander Keyes noticed a vaguely forest-green object floating amongst the blackness of space, and pulled it up on the viewscreen.
      "Increase magnification times ten," she said to her weapons officer, Lieutenant Peters. "I want a visual on that object."
      "Yes, ma'am," Lieutenant Peters replied, tapping away on the weapons panel. "Visual on screen in three."
      Three seconds passed and the view zoomed in. Miranda watched as the Master Chief glided through a hole in one of the Covenant carriers. He was holding onto a large oval filled with spikes.
      Must be the bomb, she surmised as a plan formed in her head.
      "Lieutenant Dilenger." Keyes turned in her seat toward her navigation officer. "The Chief's going to need a place to go when he's done. Plot a course that puts next to the carrier and slightly above it. I want engines to one-hundred percent; we'll have to be fast if we want to escape the blast radius when that bomb goes off. On the double!"
      "Aye, ma'am," she replied, tweaking a knob and typing in the coordinates.
      "Engines at ninety-five, ma'am, will be at full power in sixty seconds," another of the officers called out.
      In Amber Clad slowly started to gain speed. Miranda prayed to God she got there in time.
      Sergeant Johnson entered the bridge and approached Keyes, standing at her side. He took a long drag from his cigar, which was against every UNSC regulation, but he didn't give a damn. He used it to point at the screen.
      "We pickin' up our boy, Commander?" the sergeant inquired.
      "That we are, Johnson," Keyes replied, as the In Amber Clad drew closer to the carrier.

John crawled up the length of the bomb toward its activation panel. He glanced up to align himself with the hole.
      This better work, he thought.
      He pressed his palm to the panel and it started blinking red. He spun around, flexed his legs, and pushed off the bomb. He made minor course corrections as the Master Chief cleared the split in the carrier.
      Behind him, minor blue explosions appeared up and down the length of the Covenant warship. They stopped briefly, and the entire ship detonated in a giant fireball. John felt his teeth rattle in his skull, and it felt as though his stomach was in his throat.
      He started to free-fall towards Earth until a UNSC frigate miracuously broke his fall.

The thud was felt and heard throughout the ship, but more so on the bridge than anywhere else.
      Sergeant Johnson couldn't help but grin. "For a brick...he flew pretty damn good!"
      Commander Keyes flashed a small smile of her own, and activated the COM line. "Chief, get inside and gear up. We're taking this fight to the surface."
      The Spartan's gravelly voice replied, "Yes, ma'am. I'll be inside in a few."

The Chief about-faced and searched the top of In Amber Clad for a maintenance hatch and spotted one fifty meters away.
      Using handles and parts of the hull as hand-holds, he crawled along the frigate's spine until he reached the latch. He took a final glance at the carrier, now twisting lazily in the vacuum.
      He twisted the handle, pulled the cover open, and glided inward. He grabbed the underside of the cover, pulled it shut, and locked the handle back in place. The atmosphere hissed loudly and a door directly behind him opened. Now back on his feet, the Master Chief marched to the bridge.

Halo 2: Uprising - Chapter 7
Date: 1 February 2008, 3:04 am

Chapter 7

UNSC Frigate In Amber Clad, in orbit above Earth
October 20, 2552 (Military Calendar)
*FLASHBACK*
       The images kept rushing back to him in waves, each different from the last, but all interlinked. Somehow, some way, these disturbing sequences he saw were all connected. Yet at the same time, he felt like he was having an out-of-body experience, watching his body go through the motion while his eyes hovered above all the action.
       One moment the images of his fallen brothers and sisters he had considered family came to him. Next followed his shock at seeing his commanding officer for the last time, the inevitable death of his superior playing like a broken record. Slamming his fist into the captain's brain, feeling the gore and decayed brain tissue on his hand...it made him feel like an animal. Strange as that felt to him, he loved the primal feel it brought to him.
       He found himself walking through a mental hospital, with two male patients wearing red and black facepaint waving their arms back and forth, the thumb and index fingers on their hands forming a pistol. He was behind a pane of glass, and they were in a room on the other side. They turned at him and grinned with evil toothy smiles.
       Then without warning, the two men leaped through the glass and on top of him. Suddenly, the red and black facepaint disappeared and was replaced with horrible skin mutations growing out of the side of their faces. He tried to fight back, but was armorless. They wailed at him with fists which gradually, he realized, turned into tentacles with three whips. They looked almost like the Flood. He felt the tentacles cut into his flesh as light began to fill his vision.

John-117 shot awake from the bed, grabbed the M6C he had on the table next to the bed, and aimed it straight ahead. He was drenched in a cold sweat, panting erractically. His eyes were still trying to get rid of the bluriness, but the immediate exposure to the overhead light fixtures made it difficult. A tall figure with a cap stood before his bed, a small circle flaring then fading near the mouth.
       His grip on the trigger loosened as the figure sharpened and his eyes became normal; it was Sergeant Johnson, smoking one of his cigars.
       "Christ, Chief, watch where you point that thing!" he exclaimed. "Damn near scared the shit out of me."
       "Sorry," the Spartan replied, lowering the weapon and throwing it against the wall, cursing himself for looking like an idiot. Unusual even for him, he realized. "Had a nightmare, that's all. I'm good now, though."
       The Master Chief swung his legs to the side of the bed and stood, wearing only a pair of underwear. He stretched his arms all around to get rid of the kinks. Johnson just stood there motionless until the Chief met his gaze. Interestingly enough, he didn't appear concerned about the Chief taking his anger out on him.
       "What's up?" John asked.
       "The commander told me to come wake you up. We're about to go to ground and fight the bastards head-on." Johnson removed the cigar, exhaled a cloud of smoke, then put the cigar back between his teeth. "ETA til go-time is thirty minutes. Commander says to meet me in Pelican Bay 03."
       The Chief nodded. Five minutes to shower, fifteen minutes to suit up, ten minutes to get down there, he thought.
       Sergeant Johnson also nodded and march out of the room, the sounds of him yelling at some unseen Marine fading as he proceeded further down the corridor.
       The Master Chief glanced at his MJOLNIR Mark VI armor hanging on a rack directly in front of him, then he walked to the adjoining head. Commander Keyes had given John her private quarters for the time being until it was time to go to ground. He was thankful for this, because not only could he get some sleep, but also take the time to shower.
       He paused in front of a mirror suspended above the sink to look at his face, which to him, felt like ages since he'd last seen it. His hair had started to creep towards his ears, but lacking a means of cutting it, John left it alone. His skin was unnaturally pale, but he couldn't do anything about that either.
       The Master Chief removed his underwar and stepped into the shower. He turned on the cold water, thus shocking the rest of his body into a rude awakening. He let the cool stream wash over him and for the first time in months, he felt a sense of serenity.
       Until Major Antonio Silva came into his head, calling him and his fallen comrades "freaks." John once again felt a surge of anger, his features tightening into a scowl. He looked down, then up at the ceiling, then directly in front of him.
       Freaks. The word kept repeating in his head, and then John punched the linoleum tiles on the wall, causing them to fragment and shatter as the force of his augmented fist crashed into the wall. At least that fucker got what he deserved...even though he was only doing his job, he thought.
       The Chief shut the shower off, and grabbed a towel from the rack by the sink. He dried himself off thoroughly and tossed the towel onto the floor.
       John began to assemble the MJOLNIR armor, starting with the legs, then gradually working upward until everything but his helmet was on. He had self-trained himself to remove and put on the armor by himself in case an emergency arose. The Chief thought back to his second visit to the Pillar of Autumn, when a Flood Infection form had managed to penetrate the seal on the back of his neck, and how he had almost succumbed to the virulent species. Cortana had saved his life by drawing power from the electrical systems in his suit to shock the Infection form, thereby killing it. He had done temporary repairs to the seal before continuing on.
      The helmet was the final piece to the warrior's puzzle and he slid it into place over his head. The HUD slowly flickered to life, and everything checked out as normal.
      "Finally," Cortana said with a hint of impatience. "I was wondering when you would come around."
      Her voice served to soothe him and he replied, "Well, I'm here now."
      "Good. Now, while you were out, I managed to find out some details about where we're headed."
      "Let's hear it." The Chief started walking out of the room to the nearest elevator, M6C in hand.
      "The Covenant have landed in east Africa, in what used to be the country of Kenya. They've taken hold of New Mombasa, which seems to have been the center of their attention. A large taskforce of Marines have been ordered to retake the city, and capture the Prophet of Regret."
      John stepped into a large elevator and the doors closed. "Sounds like a plan. Let's hope the Covenant cooperate with us."
      The elevator started to descend.
      *END FLASHBACK*

The Master Chief stood at the lip of the Pelican dropship's landing ramp, staring out at the dirty ocean and sky that trailed behind him. In Amber Clad hung somewhere above the Pelicans, keeping an eye on the other Covenant assault carrier that hovered above New Mombasa. John had seen the carrier's gravity lift activate as he had boarded the dropship; no doubt it was deploying troops.
      "The message just repeats," Cortana said to Commander Keyes on the COM. "'Regret, Regret, Regret.'"
      "Catchy.Any idea what it means?" the commander asked.
      As the dropships approached the outskirts of the African city, passing over a fleet of Warthogs, Sergeant Johnson spoke: "Dear Humanity...we regret being alien bastards. We regret coming to Earth.
      "And we most definitely regret that the Corps just blew up our raggedy-ass fleet!"
      From somewhere within the cockpit, as well as through his speakers, the Chief heard the pilots yell "Hoo-rah!" John shook his head, and couldn't help but crack a rare smile at Johnson's smart-ass sense of humor. It helped pep him up, putting his mind into a state of alertness.
      "Regret is a name, Sergeant," Cortana corrected. "The name of one of the Covenant's religious leaders: a Prophet. He's on that carrier and calling for help."
      The Pelican trio began to sweep into the more industrialized parts of the city. Apartments, hotels, houses, and restaraunts began to appear. The road stretched beneath as various UNSC vehicles moved into predesignated positions.

Corporal Marcus Dominic and Private Shelby Martinez chatted back and forth until the sounds of three Pelian dropships started roaring to their southwest.
      Corporal Dominic was a sniper and Private Martinez was his spotter. The pair had fought and survived many ground engagements since the early days of the Human-Covenant War and had even avoided capture and death on four occasions.
      They laid prone on top of a four-story apartment building, with Dominic's SRS99C-S2 sniper rifle propped up on the lowest part of the building's perimeter. Martinez's binoculars were set on a tiny tripod, adjusted to his eye level. The pair had been talking to pass time, but their eyes never left their sector. Supposedly, there had been reports of a new Covenant weapons platform in the area, but no such weapon had been seen by them. A few of the privates in his platoon had mentioned encounters with this new platform, but its name was unknown. If those Marines were to be believed, though, the weapon was capable of massive destruction.
      On occasion, there were large tremors that shook the building, and it wasn't mortar fire. That much the sniper pair knew.
      For this reason, with caution and paranoia as the main motivators, Corporal Dominic tracked the COM signal of the lead Pelican and reported in: "Charlie-143, Grid Kilo Two-Three is possibly hot and dangerous, but no telling for sure. Recommend mission abort regardless."

The pilot, Lieutenant (J.G.) Matthew Peters, picked up the signal of the nearby sniper team and hit the call button: "Roger, recon." He released his thumb and craned his head to Sergeant Johnson. "It's your call, Sergeant."
      Johnson took a puff of his cigar, and pointed to the dropship's windshield. "We're going in." The African-American sergeant looked over his shoulder through the open frame that led into the troop bay. "Get tactical Marines!"
      Charlie-143 was now about 150 feet above the highway, cruising at normal speed but ready to bank off in case of attack. Behind the Master Chief, the seated Marines were thumbing the safeties to the 'off' position on their battle rifles and submachine guns; the sniper in the squad loaded a fresh magazine into the chamber of the S2 sniper rifle. The other two Pelicans, Echo-669 and Delta-232, trailed slightly behind Charlie-143, Echo a little to the Chief's left and Delta to the Chief's right. They were cruising neck and neck, almost as though the pilots of each dropship were racing. Delta-232 pulled ahead of Echo-669 and got behind Charlie-143. Echo was now behind Delta, forming a straight line.
      Fleet Admiral Lord Hood broke in just then: "Master Chief, get aboard that carrier, and secure the Prophet of Regret. This is the only place on Earth the Covenant decided to land." He paused. "That Prophet is going to tell us why."
      Lieutenant Peters crooked his head over his right shoulder back toward the troop compartment. The whine of the engines made it difficult to speak, so he had to yell. "Thirty seconds out! Stand by to..."
      He heard a mechanical sound originate from in front of him, and he turned back. "Woah..."
      Before him was a massive walking tank of sorts emerging around the corner of a tall building. It looked like a large gigantic spider missing four of its legs. It was purple, just like all the other Covenant vehicles in their arsenal. Despite being mechanical, the two front legs looked like they had actual joints; a cyan circle glowed brightly at the bottom of the leg. It had two arches on its "back", resembling the top of a ladder's handles.
      John turned around, having found the lieutenant's sudden drop off in mid-sentence worrying. His hand instinctively touched the butt of the M6C, currently residing in his thigh holster until he drew it. He gripped it tightly in his hands. He felt a chill run down his spine as he looked through the frame into the cockpit, through the window.
      Whatever that is, he thought, it's about to make things alot more complicated.
      The walking Covenant tank crushed a truck beneath its left front leg, causing an explosion that was lost in the roar of the Pelican engines. A cyan-green eye on the front of the tank came to life, and a bright blue stream of plasma surged out in a continuous stream.
      The cockpit was hit, shattering the windshield and the side windows instantly. Lieutenant Peters never felt a thing, and neither did his co-pilot; they vanished and melted instantly from the heat. Because of this, the Pelican was no longer in control and it veered off to the left before it reached the Covenant tank.
      A plasma turrent on the back of the walking tank started to fire at Echo-668 and Delta-232, but they narrowly dodged the streams of plasma as they disappeared behind buildings on their respective side.
      In the troop compartment, the Chief had latched his fingers into one of the seats, gripping as hard as he could as the Pelican spun end over end He saw two Marines get sucked out of the back and disappear below him. When the Pelican was upside down, he lost his grip on the seat and flew towards the cockpit, hitting to the left of the frame. He looked out the back, noticing the Pelican rapidly descending toward what looked like a low building. He couldn't get a good view out the front due to the laws of physics pinning him against the interior of the troop compartment.
      The remaining Marines hung on for dear life as the Pelican touched down harshly onto the building. The Master Chief heard a loud crack, and saw a couple of bricks fly past him into the troop compartment. One hit a Marine with such force that it decapitated him and threw him from the opening.
      The dropship started to rotate and was slowly losing speed, but still had enough to throw the Chief and the rest of the Marines out the back and over a ledge. The Chief blacked out.

"Holy fucking shit!" Private Martinez exclaimed, raising his head above his binoculars. "Is that what I think it is, sir?"
      "You thought right, Shelby," Corporal Dominic replied. He stood fast, grabbing his sniper rifle. "That is, in fact, a Scarab." He started running for the maintence door that led down to the stairway.
      "C'mon, Marine!" Marcus yelled. Private Martinez was now standing, staring at the Scarab as it turned toward their position. The eye began to pulse and Shelby turned and started sprinting after Dominic, who was now standing beyond the door.
      The Scarab's "eye" let out a blast of plasma at the building.

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