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Halo Clone Wars: Chapter 9
Posted By: Enthrone Darkness Triumphant<admiralprestoncole@yahoo.com>
Date: 2 April 2009, 11:57 pm
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The Heroes Code
Moscow
Amero Soviet Union
October 22, 2552
The banners flutter in the cold wind, whipping their colours for all the citizens and legions to see. The gold hammer and sickle superimposed on the red crimson banner brings memories of the blood that had been and yet to be spilled. The soldiers stand rigid; only the hems of their heavy coats fluttering in the icy breeze, their forearms perfectly parallel to the hard concrete, their rifles angled at forty-five degrees, resting on their shoulders.
Two soldiers appear down the concrete path, carrying a wreath. They march slowly, their jackboots digging into the surface, the sound emanating from them echoing into the distance. The Marshall follows the soldiers as a flame grows in the distance, the marble and stone surrounding it reflecting the light to glorify its radiance, to pronounce its beauty and to reflect its purpose.
The Marshall lays the wreath and snaps a powerful salute, honouring the recipients of the wreath, the bearers of the flame, and the protectors of the glorious red banner.
The trumpets blare, and the band plays the hymn, as the crowd and soldiers bellow the anthem of the union. The Marshall, still saluting, gazes down at the bronze inscription being illuminated by the flame. It reads "Имя твоё неизвестно, подвиг твой бессмертен," or roughly translated "Your Name is Unknown, Your Deed is Immortal."
He swallows the lump that has formed in his throat, and his eyelids franticly try to brush away the moisture forming around his eyes. He readies himself for what is about to come; he readies himself to face his people, possibly for the last time.
The last boom from the howitzer echoes away as the band finishes its last note, and the crowd now eyes the Marshall. They stare at him, man to man, general to his soldiers, an inspirational leader to his followers.
He inhales a deep breath and his voice blares over the cold damp air.
"We have been outgunned, out flanked and outnumbered since the war began at Harvest. The ONI has told you that there is nothing to worry about; they have told you the war is far away on some desolate world light years away. But now, I tell you citizens of Earth, citizens of humanity and CITIZENS OF THE SOVIET REPUBLICS! THE COVENANT ARE AT OUR DOORSTEPS." He sees fear grow within the eyes of the citizens.
"They bring a fleet larger than their armada that burned Reach; they bring their capital city to our birthplace so they can watch first hand the destruction of Mankind. They will reap the flavours of victory while we get casted into the shadows of the universe, into the abyss of their mockery and their history.
If our time in this universe has come to an end, then it has, but we cannot be certain. Destiny is forged by our deeds, smelted by our sweat, brought to bear by our strengths and I say that it is time that we show our destiny to our foes. If, and I say if, we find ourselves with our backs against the walls, the odds truly against us, we must still fight on. We will fight until the sea gleams crimson with our blood, until the gore of aliens fill our streets, until our shields splinter and our swords shatter. We will fight so hard that victory to the Covenant will be as bitter as defeat.
Moscow now stands at the forefront of another assault. Like Napoleon who trekked the winter to find an empty city, or Hitler who found a resilient, impregnable fortress to the imperialists who underestimated the heart of the Soviet land, Moscow never fell. IT WILL NOT FALL, WE WILL GLEAM TO THE REST OF HUMANITY THAT AGAINST ALL ODDS, WE SURVIVED. URRAH!"
He walked off the memorial to a thunder of roars emanating form the masses. He had done his job, the truth had been delivered and the spirits of the people had been lifted. He paused before he entered his vehicle, the sound of the people roaring the cry of the Cossacks lifted his heart, and the moisture was now returning to his eyes; he had to bring them victory.
--
Ahsoka cuddled up inside one of the field tents that were deployed by the clones. She could hear the rain slam against the weatherproof fabric but the cold still cut right through. The moisture of her breath rose to the ceiling where it condensed; the atmosphere was dismal.
She felt uneasy about the upcoming battle; the images from the battle to capture the prophet were still fresh in her mind. She barely survived the encounter, the four jawed aliens popping out of nowhere, the massive armoured beasts that shot beams of energy so strong that the overpressure even knocked her master out. Droids were one thing but fighting intelligent creatures was another.
She was well versed in the art of warfare, leading her forces into the thick of battle to emerge victorious. She turned minor defeats into major victories; this was a new chapter for the orange skinned Togrutan warrior.
She needed to talk to someone. Her masters were at the front lines, reviewing the defensive positions, but the Marshall was still here. She heard that he was heading out in the morning. She decided to talk to him.
The rain hammered the ground, causing depressions to be flooded and the drainage systems to be overloaded. Even in the dark, stormy night, the red bricks of the Kremlin stood out as a beacon to all souls.
She flung a thick, wool coat on and headed out, trying to find the old man. The sentries, initially shocked to be talking to an alien as opposed to shooting at her, pointed in the direction they last saw the Marshall heading towards. He wasn't answering any hails on the comm. networks.
She headed towards a step pyramid; the red marble glittered in the rain as the flood lights illuminated the structure. It was shorter than the fortress walls, but it was still a breathtaking mausoleum.
She slithered into the building, not making a sound in the damp, dark corridor. She saw a light at the end and peered through into the room.
The Marshall was kneeling on one knee with his forehead resting on his knuckle; his tear soaked faced was hard to miss. He gazed at the glass casket in front of him; the embalmed body within it was sleeping peacefully.
"They fought so hard, they didn't provoke this hell onto themselves, yet our children die for what?" the old man sobbed gazing towards the ceiling.
"You destined me to protect what you failed to do so yourself, yet you couldn't even forge peace between races; they corrupted our forefathers' teachings, their technology. The parasite is still at large, the containment will not last forever, yet I am powerless to do anything when our children are at the brink of extinction,"
Do not deny them a victory they desperately need, and in midst of all this you send a child, who hasn't even seen the wonders of life. What if I hadn't been there to save her from those freaks? It would have been like holding Raj's child; too young to die, too young to see the horrors I have seen, TOO GODDAMN YOUNG!
I will not run away if this city burns. I will die with humanity, and you can deal with your parasite yourself."
Suddenly he turns and catches Ahsoka standing at the doorway, her face frozen in surprise and bewilderment.
"Child, how long have you been here?"
"Long enough, Marshall," her cold gaze meeting his tear strewn eyes. "What is this parasite?"
"Nothing for you to worry about yet young one. You will find out soon enough, if we survive this battle first."
He grabbed her shoulder and led her out of the mausoleum The rain had let down to a drizzle.
"Let's go review the positions. I believe Windu wants you to command a squad of your republic commandos to aid the Sikh lines, but I want you to help Sodhi instead."
"Why?"
"He has to settle some personal matters when the battle arrives; I need you to make sure he gets the chance without being interrupted."
--
The Magnificent
Earth
October 23, 2552
Wulff Yularen gazed out of the massive viewport in his star destroyer, watching his armada form up for the jump. The tall, yet trim admiral stood at ease as officers and clones alike scrambled orders for the fleet movements.
"Admiral, the fleet is standing by for your orders," the artificial construct spoke as her image flickered on the holoprojector.
"Thank you, Cortana. Have the countdown issued to all ships," he spun around to face her image, his sharp, black moustache quivering as he started again in his midland drawl. "How do you find our systems? Any trouble linking with the mainframes?"
They are quite…..different, I suppose, but nothing I can't link with." Suddenly lines of code rapidly shoot across her body and the colour of her skin starts to turn into a deep purple. "The Venators are reporting in, FTL jump in 3…2…1, engage."
They enter the realm of hyperspace; the majestic curbing lights with black space create an odd sense of solace. As fast as it was initiated, the ships exit hyperspace deep within the
Oort cloud outside of Sol, where the ships would lie dormant until the time for their return called.
--
Outskirts of Moscow Metropolitan Area
Earth
October 23, 2552
The Warthogs drifted to a halt, flinging mud into the air. Surprisingly, the mood was light as the heavy sounds of bass emanated through the cold wet air. Soldiers and clones danced together to the thumping beats of the bass and drums, a classic that the Marshall knew well. He and Ahsoka watched as the soldiers enjoyed themselves, even as it rained, flinging their glow sticks and light emitting batons to the surprisingly moving song that even the Marshall felt like joining the rave.
"Good old Drums of New York," Zhukov thought as his memories went back to when he was young, living life, having fun, wondering if his destiny was truly defined for him.
As he was contemplating the thought, Sodhi showed up, passing a bottle of beer into his and Ahsoka's hand as the brigadier whisked his own down in a gulp.
"Their enjoying themselves I see," Zhukov muttered as he took a quick swipe from the bottle. "It's good to see them unwind, I was going to issue some leave but I don't know when the battle will arrive. Did you start this?"
"Bill over there," Sodhi pointed to a sergeant in the middle of makeshift dance floor. "He is going to have his first born."
The brigadier suddenly flung his arms around the Togruta and the Marshall, "Lets join the fun, and we can discuss the matters you came over with after all this dies down. I gave orders to all the other posts to do the same, let us party today because tomorrow might be our last day."
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