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Through Your Devil's Eyes by Dari
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Through The Devil's Eyes
Date: 21 June 2004, 2:58 AM
1839 hours, September 24th, 2552 Military Calendar
Aboard Covenant Cruiser The Retribution /
Aradiuns Ocativius System, former UNSC held territory
The clacking heels of bounded steps resounded throughout the hallway of the Covenant cruiser, The Retribution . The Elite named Vora Vorakian was still passing through numerous corridors and passageways leading to the bridge of his transferred command as a Ship Master of The Retribution .
He was already a formidable Ship Master, however due to his actions against UNSC taskforce stationed near Terra La, a small human inhabited moon occupied by the vermin. Two of their frigates and one of the Covenant destroyers were outnumbered by eight of the vermin's frigates and assault-destroyers, they were however repelled by the one surviving destroyer, although with heavy casualties and damage in the end of the battle.
He was promptly promoted to one of the three flagships Ship Masters and secondary aide of the Fleet Master, Rorai 'Rolameeian. His command was transferred over to the Fleet Master's personal ship as its acting commander, after the death of Ship Master Zoak 'Zemmalee. It did not matter though to the Ship Master of the flagship, he was here to serve under the Fleet Master.
Straightening to his maximum height (though it was actually 7'8) he brushed past two marooned clad Elites. They stood rigid and solid as stone and the gravity of the ongoing situation was evident by the two's harden glares emitting from their faces.
Upon his entering the bridge, several Elites and Grunts were active at their stations but still had time to salute their commander. Nodding in approval at his command staff, he let them back to their duty. He turned to his second, Field Master Nakara Najlameeian and allowed the chrome clad armored Elite to speak.
"Ship Master, progress remains the same...somewhat," answered the younger Elite, one from the academy from the military home world of the Covenant. The Ship Master shifted slightly and cast a light clicking sound with his mandibles.
"And why is that, my friend?" the other responded quickly and smoothly, "We did detect a faint ghost echoes on the sensors about two hours ago". The Ship Master was intrigued heavily by this anomaly.
The Covenant knew that ghost echoes were residual patterns of ions left by slipstream jumps, wither it involved arriving or leaving a destination. They also were fairly compact in the UNSC sub-light engines, thus were marker for ships outside direct sensor detection. If there were ghost echoes, then humans could not be far off from the system.
The Ship Master stared hard at his subordinate and the younger Elite responded, " We dismissed them as emissions from the wreckage of our own ships at station" he stopped then continued but stopped from adding anything else of use.
The Ship Master pondered this before staring at the holographic displays on the tactical board. " Tactical, how many planets and moons are inhabitable for either Covenant or the vermin in this system?" added the Elite.
The Tactical Operator Master glanced for a few moments at his displays before activating a passive scan from the Retribution's axis of scanners. A few moments more and he had his results for his commander.
"Two moons orbiting a single uninhabitable planet that the infidels call Sephavi Sypire ", the Ship Master's mandibles clicked for a few moments, pondering this development. The Tactical Elite rotated around and added, " Master, several hundred thousand heat signatures are radiating off the secondary moon from Sephavi!"
Humans! "What are they doing down there?" the Elite engaged an orbital scan and probed the moon for a short moment. The results were immediately uploaded. "They're gathering troops sir, that's all that is clear at the moment" was the answer.
But there were none of the vermin's warships in the vicinity. The inferior human drive emissions gave off a positive charge. So these humans were not responsible of the destruction of the two cruisers, Ode of Lords and Charity of Spirit . Still they would be punished as the filth they were!
Vora glanced at the chronometer realizing that two units had fully passed. Most of the Covenant warships had already filed to the second rendezvous point for preparation of the invasion of Sol's Terra Firma. But there were still about three other cruisers and a small task force of two destroyers and three frigates.
Turning to his communications officer, he barked his order. The remaining ships that had not left for the rendezvous were to take polar and orbital positions over the second moon of Sephavi Sypire. Now it was time...
Field Master Dar Davaraleei glanced at the bustling docking bay in the frigate, The Fate's Sorrow Song. All around him Grunts and Engineers loaded weapons and ordnance into Phantom troop transports and other drop ships. Veteran and novice Elites clad in their maroon and cobalt armor (respectively) as well as red and orange Grunts and few Hunters, gather into waiting drop ships.
And each that was carrying full operation payload of troops took off toward the blue and green world of the moon. Finally, Field Master Dar gave the signal and the rest of his ebony armor-clad Elites mounted their own personal Phantom.
****
The drop down was uneventful, if one excluded the heavy anti-aircraft fire coming from all over the planet. Hundreds of firebases and regional command bases, opened up on the invaders. Several of the Covenant crafts were simply ripped apart and gutted, spewing their living occupants either into the upper atmosphere to fall to their deaths or also being ripped apart in mid-air by random rounds.
The golden armor of the Field Master Dar Davaraleei flashed once as plasma spewed from the underbelly guns of the drop ship, softening the landing zone. The Black Ops Elites rushed through and landed silently on the temperate soil. They were six hundred meters off the LZ!
"Damn it!" growled the Field Master as he fastened his plasma saber's hilt to his side and gripped his plasma rifle in his left hand. Once taking second look to make sure his shields were fully operational, he started sprinting with his men toward their real landing zone.
A few hundred meters ahead of the Elites at the clearing of the forests, a squad of ODST's was readying. As soon as the first two Black Ops brushed past the foliage and vegetation, they fired. Their AR's had little effect at about seventy meters and they bowled over the first line. More of the Elites began clearing the forest and started strafing the encamped humans. A man fell with a gaping; sizzling wound splattering blood from what was an armor plate protecting his stomach.
A howling whistling sound echoed the presence of a plasma grenade. It tottered and landed in the midst of the battle-hardened Helljumpers and ripped their ranks with practiced ease. Blood and limbs were sent failing into sky and sent mists of red and gore to the ground. The Elites had taken no casualties and only one wounded, who would stay in the back of the pack. Field Master Davaraleei smirked as his plasma saber severed the spine of the last human, who twitched once in his death spasm before subsuming to death. A few of the Black Ops who engaged in close-quarters combat had painted the blood of the humans on their armor, their sign of warrior spirit.
Davaraleei grinned wickedly as his golden armor was painted with crimson blood seeping off it. Today was a good day to die a great death! Growling, they continued toward their objective, to link up with Field Master Kauai Kronianalee's battalion and thrust toward the secondary defensive flank of the humans.
But for now, a war hymn played gently in the Field Master's mind. A soothing tale of what he expected of his men, and more importantly of himself.
Come, let the souls of your ancestors redeem you
And your clan by bathing in the blood of the heathens!
To honor and battle! Let us feast upon their marrow!
And destiny shall appoint ye, high guard of righteousness.
Reclaimer of the prophets, conveyer of light to the lords.
Ye are the chosen ones, the one-winged demons
Of thy merciful and great, lords of Gods!
Author's Comments - Reviews, comments are appreciated. What'd you think of it? Good? Bad? Need some area to be improved?
Through The Devil's Eyes Part II
Date: 29 June 2004, 3:44 PM
1935 hours, September 24th, 2552 Military Calendar
Aboard Covenant Cruiser The Retribution /
Aradiuns Ocativius System, former UNSC held territory
Still gazing at the holotank that showed the raging torrent of war below, the Ship Master Vora watched intently. So far things seem to be going smoothly and only light casualties had befallen the Special Ops and Black Ops infiltration teams. However the communications traffic over the battlenet indicated that the main assault teams were taking heavy losses. Perhaps now was the best time to send in the Hunters and perhaps even...no. The Brutes were too dangerous, to wily for their own good, if it got worse then he would consider sending in those animals.
"Send down the Hunters, I want that firebase gone!" pointed the Ship Master to one of the human bases that was holding back two assault groups. Looking at the Communications Master, he barked the orders. All Hunters but the Battle Guardians were to be sent down.
Returning to his seat, the Ship Master still wondered how much longer the battle on the planet would take. There were hundreds of thousands of battle hardened veteran soldiers ready to fight his men. And although they possessed the skies and out-numbered them, humans fought like Elites when cornered. What would be their price for negotiating such a costly sell for this world?
Whatever it would be it would most likely be too costly for his liking. But as a Fleet Master's aide and second in command, he had a duty to perform for the Covenant. But something felt in entirely wrong with this whole affair. Why had the Prophet of War not reported to the bridge? He was always there when Vora's ship was engaged in combat or a battle was raging.
Clicking his mandibles lightly and rapping his knuckle against the bulkhead, he disappeared from the bridge. His second look at him and he nodded, he would return soon but his presence was not needed at the moment. Nothing would change for now.
Hearing the orders over The Retribution's battlenet, the bond brothers Naru Oraaam Valgai and Kaaan Oraaam S'yaed lumbered toward their designated drop ship. Two other pairs of Hunters gathered into the cramped drop ship and it took off toward the fiery world below.
"Do you think we encounter any of the Sppparatans? " growled Naru huskily from the other side of the rapidly descending drop ship. The other Hunter shrugged lightly.
Kaaan paused before replying softly, "Perhaps or perhaps not. It does not matter, just be on your guard. We are meeting with a Black Ops team headed by one of the Field Masters ".
The other two pairs of Hunters remained silent and they prepared themselves for another glorious day of war. A hellish war that they never wanted to be a part of or cared for being in, but they could do nothing to change that fact.
****
The Field Master growled in frustration as more black armor clad humans held up in their bunker. These persistent vermin were delaying the Covenant's progress and he would tolerate it no longer. Snatching a Fuel Rod Cannon from one of Spec Ops Grunts, he targeted a fuel barrel and fired. The long arc of spiraling plasma impacted and for a moment, the outlines of the ODST's were visible before being incinerated by the tremendous heat of the explosions.
The remains of some of these less lucky humans were still visible, brunt tremendously, they moaned in pain. Muttering a quick funeral prayer (for in the Field Master's mind, a downed enemy should be dealt with respect and honor, even an infidel) for the dying human, he ended its misery with a quick slash to the neck. The man groaned before falling silent, his blood continually dying the ground a sick red.
"Come on. We still have two hundred more meters till we link up with Kronianalee's forces. The longer you take the less enemy to battle which means less honor! We must be the first at that firebase!" grunted Davaraleei.
His men clicked their mandibles in agreement and they continued their sprint across the plains, after breaking through the first two lines of ODST defenses. Their long legs and stamina carried them far ahead of the rest of the Covenant regulars. But that would also prove to be their greatest vice.
One of the Black Ops noticed a bright glint about several dozen meters ahead of them; he had no chance to report the anomaly. A sniper had found his target and opened his wraith upon the alien. A sizeable chunk of what would've been the upper quarter of the Elite's brain was simply rocketed out its skull.
Howling in agony of what felt like losing a son, the Field Master and his men charged the encamped Marines. Plasma strafed the ground, kicking up sprays of dirt and soot into the air. However the Marines held their own keenly, firing salvos of short bursts, which showered the Elites shields, flaring into the daylight like a miniature nova.
One of the Marines slung his Battle Rifle and with the help of his friend, hastened to aim the Jackhammer. The explosive round tore through one end of the battlefield to another, impacting squarely at the center of the Black Ops formation. The Field Master was smashed into the ground and sent reeling for several yards where he skidded and bounced across the dirt. Two other Elites were unconscious and banged up but still alive.
However the Field Master's aide was dead, his chest full of debris as the rocket had impacted squarely off his shield. It did hold but the detonation at such a proximity sent shrapnel at subsonic speeds through the lightly armored chest plate of the former soldier. Two others lay dead as well, coughing and drowning in pools of violet blood.
Roaring a loud battle cry of martyrdom and igniting his plasma saber once more, the Field Master bowled right into a fire-team's position with two of his men. Swiping one Marine across the fact, he dodged a burst of fire and leveled his plasma rifle to the infidel's temple. The next moment, his two Elites were covered in human blood.
By now though more drop ships had arrived, waves of Elites and Hunters were departed and their combined fire pushed the vermin back toward Costa Eestara. One of the local military strongholds on the planet, it was there that these Marines would fall back to.
A human yelled something obscene and chucked a grenade from his battlement. The fragmentation device exploded, killing another Elite and ripping another's arm off. Purple blood sprayed in all directions and the body became somewhat reminiscent of ashes.
Then, one of the Elites, known simply as Ionoa, retaliated with a heavy-handed retort of plasma from his rifle and pistol. Blue and green death shuddered against metal, sending molten sparks into the air. One human clutched his face as he was unluckily struck twice, burning skin and boiling blood. The man's gurgled death spasms served to remind his comrades what they were fighting for, and another soldier under the Field Master perished.
That's when heavy fallen footsteps could be heard resounding. The humans' faces were stricken with terror and panic. These men were veterans of the conflict of Reach and they knew what was coming. Hunters. Something must have overtaken the Marines as a hell storm of fire erupted from the bunkers and firebases.
More Elites fell as battle rifles sung their songs of death. Peppering fire ripped the front lines of the advancing invaders to shreds and their blood splattered the ground harmlessly. Still the Black Ops persisted with their inhuman strength and progress, taking more and more men down with blows and shots of death.
Red and purple mixed slowly, a melting pot of death and disaster. By now, inaudible shouts from friend and foe alike shattered the groundside battle. More troops reinforced the Field Master's thrust and the front line of the Marines faltered.
"Kill them! Kill them all; send them to the next life. So that they may greet us when we begin our own journey to hell!" pronounced the charismatic Elite. His words served to quicken the pace of the other soldiers. Hell was only a lifetime away from all true warriors.
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