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Halo - a parody: 2. I've lost my Keys
Posted By: LegendaryMark<mark_likes_cake@hotmail.com>
Date: 2 September 2005, 2:14 pm
Read/Post Comments
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Chapter 2: I've lost my Keys
The Chef opened his eyes. It was a terrible sight to behold. Crewmen lay dead or stoned around him. He wondered how he was alive, then realised that the one working airbag appeared to have cushioned him upon impact. He clambered out of the life pod.
"The others…… the impact……." said Cortonfire slowly, gradually piecing together what had happened.
"Warning! I'm detecting multiple Consonant dropships on approach. I recommend moving…"
The Chef was already running like the dickens, leaving the life pod to the aliens. He saw the single dropship come round the corner of the valley and land by the life pod. From his hiding spot up in the hills, he used his armour's 1x magnification system to see the hideous creatures emerge from the sides of the ship. A couple of elitists strolled sharply out, swinging their canes and doffing their top hats to the pilot. Then came a smaller species that the Chef would later come to know as "Gnomes".
The gnomes stood a little over 3 feet tall and, carrying their pickaxes and miner's lamps, they whistled a tune not unlike "Heigh-ho, heigh-ho, it's off to work we go" as they scurried off towards the crashed life pod under the disdainful gaze of the elitists. One clambered into the life pod to check for survivors, taking a caged canary in with him. The Chef, feeling he could watch no more, took flight.
"I could swear I detected multiple dropships" mused Cortonfire. "Wait, I detect two more coming in fast. They're almost right on top of us!!!"
John ignored the two sparrows that whizzed playfully over his head and continued onwards. He rounded the corner and stopped suddenly. Survivors! He ran over to the rag-tag band and was immediately greeted by their leader, a tall blonde man with a Swedish accent.
"Sergeant Johansson at your service Master Chef."
"What's the situation here Sergeant?" queried the Chef, attempting to sound commanding and failing miserably.
"Well sir, we've fought off a few of those damn Consonant guys, but we needed a place to stay, so we holed up in this structure. Looks alien to me" explained Johansson.
They both looked up at the towering structure which currently housed the marines and crewmen. There were many holes in the wall with strange slots and screens. The Chef noticed some small shiny coins strewn over the ground by one of the holes marked "change" and true to his nature, he grabbed as many as he could, wondering why the author took so much care to mention this in the story. The main walls were a sickly beige colour, and the word "Bank" was written in large bold letters near the top. Wondering what all this might mean, they hurried inside and started calling for help, ignoring the repetitive sounds like "Cashier number 3 please".
Suddenly, a voice crackled over the radio.
"Hey. I've got a delivery here for one Mr. J. Johansson? Anyone picking this up?"
"Hello? Is that a human ship?" enquired Cortonfire, much to everyone else's amusement.
"Erm, yeah, just set her down in the woods over there" replied Johansson to the incoming delivery ship, looking shifty. "Oh, and would you mind giving these folks a ride? I'll stay behind and, er, look for more survivors."
"Will do. Just hurry it up will you? I'm on a schedule, you know" garbled the irate pilot.
The ship came into view seconds later. The brown paint gleamed in the midday sun, and the motto of the company that owned the ship was clearly visible, "We deliver". Presently, the ship landed, and the pilot got out and jogged briskly over to Johansson.
"Sign here please"
"I thought you said "low key"" mumbled Johansson as he scrawled his signature on the tatty clipboard.
"Not my problem. Come on you layabouts" he said, turning to the Chef and the marines. "Do you want a ride out of here or not?"
While many of the crew saw the brown-clad delivery man as some variation of a pink elephant, most accepted his invitation. The Chef was already aboard.
"Next delivery, one case of finest malt whiskey to a 'Captain J. Biscuit'" said the delivery man.
The Chef felt quite satisfied, he'd got himself out of trouble and he was going to see the captain. Maybe he could persuade him to share a few drops of that whiskey.
"Chef?" said Cortonfire tentatively, "We may have a problem".
Thinking that nothing could possibly go wrong now, and that Cortonfire was simply malfunctioning for the twentieth time today, the Chef answered lazily.
"And what might that be?"
"I'm reading that the captain has been captured by the enemy. They're holding him aboard one of their ships, the 'Aloe and Audio'".
John had a sudden feeling of dread. He looked out of the back of the delivery ship, realised that they were already a good 200 feet up in the air, and decided against jumping. He curled up in a corner, hoping that this wasn't one of the rare occasions when Cortonfire was actually right about something. The ground raced beneath him, and they sped onwards towards the Consonant ship for what seemed like an hour.
An hour later, they reached the ship. The pilot manoeuvred skilfully in through the loading bay doors, and set the ship down. He hopped out, as did the Chef after seeing that no harm had come to the delivery man.
"We're in" said Cortonfire, stating the obvious. "No Consonant defences detected."
"I'll take that whiskey to Keys myself" said the Chef, feeling more confident and hoping that the captain wouldn't notice if a bottle or two were missing.
"Sure thing, just sign here"
He signed his name with a well placed 'x' and the delivery man left the precious cargo with the Chef, departing hurriedly.
"Oh wait; I detect the Consonant defences now. I forgot to scan upwards. Look up Chef."
The Chef did so with a heavy heart, and sure enough the higher level of the loading bay was manned* by dozens of cruel jackdaws. They were savage looking creatures, with sharp beaks and keen senses. And right now, those keen senses were trained on the Chef. With his usual sense of fear multiplied by some astronomical factor, the Chef turned and fled instantly, accidentally tripping over the collected works of J. K. Rowling which some elitist had previously discarded. The bounty of coins he had collected earlier went flying all over the floor. Suddenly the expressions on the faces of the jackdaws changed. They stared at the shiny coins, stock still as if in some sort of trance. One flew down to grab a coin. It was followed by another, and another, and soon the whole floor was a mess of squawking and feathers.
"Time to split" chipped in Cortonfire. Feeling that actions speak louder than words, the Chef agreed by running down the nearest corridor.
Keys looked up from his cell to see a well camouflaged Roman soldier creeping into the small prison compound. Or at least, he would have been well camouflaged had the walls been a mix of ridiculously lurid colours. Knowing that the captain would be his best chance out of this death trap, the Chef had asked Cortonfire to locate the captain and she had done so after 14 other unsuccessful attempts. The Chef had gone from compound to compound opening cell door after cell door. All manner of prisoners were now running loose throughout the alien ship, including several hopped-up crewmen, three outspoken novelists, two petty criminals and Elvis. After dispatching a sleeping gnome guard in a few short minutes, the Chef managed to release the captain from his cell.
"Coming here was reckless. I'd have expected you two to flee for your lives!" said Keys, obviously suffering from having too much blood in his alcohol stream.
The Chef merely shrugged.
"No matter" continued Keys, "I have heard the plans of the enemy". The guards were careless about their talk, and I learned much. Apparently, they believe that this ring is one of the sacred vowels scattered throughout the universe. They believe it is the 'O'".
"Wait a moment, accessing the Consonant archives…" said Cortonfire, hoping to win some respect for once. Unfortunately, being as badly programmed as she was, she could only access the most unrestricted material in the archives, the religious broadcasts. As she scanned through the first one, she saw hundreds of elitists staring up at a giant view screen which displayed a wide shot of the mighty ring. One elitist, obviously some sort of leader, stood at the front of the screen.
"With this weapon, we will create vowels in every corner of the universe and destroy the unbelievers! All hail the mighty 'O'!!" he intoned.
The rest of the elitists began chanting.
"Hail 'O'!".
"Hail 'O'!".
"Hail 'O'!".
Hearing the Chef and the captain tapping their feet in impatience, Cortonfire closed the connection and invented the first thing she could think of.
"According to the data in their networks, they think this ring is some sort of weapon. They call it… HailO" she said nervously, hoping the others would buy it.
"Halo…" repeated the captain thoughtfully.
"Erm, yes sir, Halo" said Cortonfire quickly.
"Whatever the hell it's called, let's take a trip off this ship!" said the Chef, moving towards the doorway.
"What about the others?" inquired Cortonfire.
The Chef looked around at the assorted crew members surrounding the captain and realised that they were taking a different sort of trip.
"Missing in action, I think" he said "their brains are missing and there's sure as hell no action from any of them!"
Keys, ignoring the Chef's witty remark, suggested that they could take one of the Consonant drop ships out of the loading bay. Running back the way they had come, they found such a ship perfectly parked on the second level. Hastily, they clambered aboard, changing the number plates as they went.
"Give me a minute to interface with the ship's controls" said Cortonfire.
"No need, I'll take this bird out myself" said Keys quickly, realising that death was certain if Cortonfire started driving.
The Chef once again found himself curled up in the corner of a strange ship flying away from danger. Looking down towards the bottom of the chapter and sighing as he failed to see the words "The End", he wondered what new danger he was heading into.
* Well, it wasn't manned strictly speaking, it was alienned. There were aliens up there, not men. But I'm not about to invent a new word. I have an authorial reputation to live up to, you know.
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