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Fate, Chapter Eight
Thirty-four days later.
Earth Campaign Front, Feather River, Almanor
506th Airborne,
Fire-team Zulu of Fourth Platoon
Private First Class Samuel Ramirez waded through the thigh deep icy clear water of the Feather River on the North American continent. From the soldier's view the river went on forever, while the thick pine and spruce forest enclosed the squad. It might have been considered beautiful if the banks of the river were not littered with corpses. More than once, Sam waded past a Marine's body floating against a rock, staring into the grey sky with clouded eyes. Corporal Hawkins, a survivor of a doomed mission above the Ring world of Halo only a month ago, strode next to him, frost edging at the man's reflective visor. The rest of the squad was spread along the next dozen meters, all wading through the cold water, finding more cover among the rocks and stumps in the river bed rather than on the exposed pathway that skirted the stream above. The squad had been forced down a rocky precipice a few kilometers back by a duo of harassing Ghosts, which opened up into the Feather River. For miles the river continued to flow steadily, and it seemed to never end. First Squad was to meet with them a dozen miles north from their position, but the banks of the river were not a safe passage to the RV point. Sergeant Jones held up a fist and knelt behind a large rock. Icy water lapped against Ramirez's legs and engulfed him up to his chest when he knelt beside Hawkins. Dominic and Mackenzie edged out towards the banks, while Hackett took point in front of Jones. A troop of Jackals sloshed sloppily into the creek bed, waving their plasma rifles above their heads and squawking amongst themselves. Sam took his aim, as did Hawkins beside him. The Jackals ceased their careless strut and activated their energy shields. The bird-like aliens sniffed the crisp air and shook their heads, eyes darting from rock to rock. Adrian Jones fired as did Hackett. The high velocity rounds tore through the aliens' light armor and pierced the scaled skin. The lead Jackal staggered backward, two fist-sized holes residing in its chest. The second squawked angrily and fired its rifle. Plasma whined past Sam's ear and Hackett and Jones dove behind a boulder nearby. Plasma etched away the rock with superheated bolts. Hawkins fired next to him and one of the aliens was riddled a barrage of automatic weapon's fire. The alien emitted the equivalent to a scream and keeled over with a splash. Hackett was firing blindly from his position to pin the Jackals down while Jones hurled a grenade into their midst. The cloud of shrapnel blanketed only two of the remaining seven Jackals, five left. Ramirez swore loudly and another bolt of plasma sizzled the stone he hid behind. Sam took a deep breath and turned firing from his shoulder. The rear Jackal squawked and turned to face him, shield propped at its knee. Sam swore again as the rounds projected off the alien's shield. The ammunition counter was rapidly dropping, only thirteen rounds left. Another Jackal had climbed atop the rock behind Sam's chosen target. A pistol's report erupted from behind him. The Jackal on the boulder's head jerked back and purple blood spurted from the creature's neck. Hawkins stood behind him, pistol drawn. Sam did not double take but continued to fire at the nook of the Jackal's shield. Finally a trio of bullets penetrated the nook and removed the Jackal's wrist from its arm. It screamed with fury until Hawkins put a bullet through its forehead. Two more gone, nearly there. The last three aliens were bunched closely together, firing on Jones and Hackett. Sam took aim at the nearest alien's exposed flank and pulled the trigger. A sickening click filled his ears; he had forgotten to reload after his recent kill. "You've got to be kidding me!" Sam cried as he ejected the clip and nervously jammed the next into the receiver. A green blur caught his vision and splashed across Hackett's chest. Hackett stumbled backward fumbling with his melting chest plate.
"Get it off! Get it off!" Hackett cried as Dominic dived into the water towards him. Dominic yanked off the chest plate and dunked Hackett under water several times to extinguish his melting jacket. Jones cast a nervous glance towards the Private and continued firing. When the last Jackal fell, as did an eerie silence, disturbed only by the cooing of an unseen bird. Their rifles shot hither and fro, searching for fresh targets. Finally Jones spoke in a quiet but steady voice, "Let's move out boys, we're not far now from the RV, Lieutenant Tucker will be waiting for us." A series of nods filled the squad, as Hackett reluctantly salvaged an undamaged chest plate off a corpse of a marine lying on the banks. "C'mon, only one more mile until we're okay to use the bank paths, by then we'll only be an hour to the RV." Jones stated and began to wade down the shallow river.
Jones had finished his 'words of encouragement' when the sky began pelting the men with ice cold rain, accompanied by the occasional hail down pour. Ramirez's legs were numb and every step through the water became harder. To make things worse, night had fallen, since most of the Marines had lost their helmets in the drop from the Pelican, their night vision was also shot. Sam's eyes darted from each shadow to the next and thunder rumbled overhead. Sam could have sworn that he saw the outlines of Covenant troops in the tree line above the banks. Jones continued to caution them to move from rock to rock. The team's movements seemed sluggish and the short mile walk seemed like hours. Dominic and Mackenzie emerged from the water and were now walking above the other four members on the bank's paths. Sam continued to resist the urge to scream and warn Mackenzie each time the lightning revealed the silhouette of a Covenant troop, for when he double took the outline was gone. Twice the roar of a Phantom erupted over their heads, where they dove under water and swam to cover, watching the more and more Covenant troops emerge only meters in front of them abandoning their patrol to board the dropship. There had been one lone Elite, wading in the same direction as themselves, in which he was promptly torn apart by a flurry of highly explosive shredder rounds. That was an hour ago; the mile had been accomplished; now it was into the forest, but first up the banks of the river. It seemed darker here and anywhere he'd ever been before, there wasn't a city for miles, accept a small town called 'Chester' which had been ransacked by Covenant troops and its occupants massacred, so there was no streetlights, no streets for that matter, and no one else beside Forth Platoon and a Covenant Expeditionary Unit, if there was a Fourth Platoon anyway.
Two miles North of Zulu Squad
506th Airborne,
Fire Team Bravo of Fourth Platoon
Master Sergeant Jeremy Ryan had seen most of the Human-Covenant war first hand, from Reach to Delta Halo, Ryan peered over the moss cover log into the black forest beyond. Corporal Pitch crawled up beside him and muttered something Jeremy did not hear, but nodded anyway. PFC. Shaw jogged to him and landed by him in a crouch.
"Alright mates, we got trouble up ahead, I can see the base from here but as for Tucker or anyone from the base…I got nothing." Shaw reported, fingers twitching along the handle of his BR-55. Strewcker stood and looked around the mossy terrain. Half of the base was overgrown, if they had not been looking for it, they probably would have looked it over. Ryan cautiously approached the complex, nervously eyeing a fallen Marine just outside the main gates. The forest had claimed most of the installation, while there was no sign of the Covenant. The RV point was not in the base, but on the opposite side of it, where the river flowed through. They had lost contact with Zulu after the squad had disappeared down a gorge pursued by two Ghosts. The five-man fire team continued to edge along the overgrown path to the base. The structure seemed to rise higher as they approached it, being roughly three stories high, where each balcony sported gun emplacements. Many of the base's vehicles were scattered about the grounds in ruin along with their various pilots. "Clear!" Caser yelled as he entered the complex. "Clear!" Pitch repeated. Jeremy reluctantly entered the base, rifle leveled. Glistening crimson blood smeared the corridors, much like the streaks that he had seen in the—he quickly rid the thought from his mind. The Flood can't be on Earth, its just my imagination. The lights that hung above their head flickered in and out of existence, most of the time leaving the team in utter darkness. Static charges and sparks splintered through the walls, and occasionally Ryan's men found themselves stumbling over the bodies of their fallen comrades. With it being only 2100 hours, the darkness outside the base was still as black as anything before it. The corridor ended with a blown out doorway, surrounded by six or seven fallen marines.
"Base is dead sir, there's no one left." Caser said as he stepped out into the rain.
"He's right Sir, but RV isn't far from here, if we move now, we can make it within a few more minutes…" Shaw voice trailed off as a flicker of orange glinted after a lightning strike. The five assault rifles sprang up. Ryan made a fist and pulled it down and pointed towards the position. Shaw and Caser nodded and approached the position. The two Marines disappeared into the darkness. The rumble of thunder swallowed the chatter of the men's rifles. Someone screamed. Ryan's rifle was up, searching for the target, Pitch and Strewcker were just inches behind him, his own breathing filled his ears. A marine lay face down in the mud just in front of Jeremy's feet, the unmistakable screaming eagle emblem occupying the man's left shoulder. Shaw was dead, and Caser was lying propped against a tree with blood pouring down his front like rain. Ryan hands shook; he could hear the other's breathing now, but where was the Elite? He had to be near. A shimmer caught his vision accompanied by a flash of ice blue. Pitch splashed to the ground beside him. Strewcker was firing, and without realizing it, so was he. He heard Strewcker fall beside him, almost sure the Elite had killed him as well. The clip fell from the rifle and Ryan stumbled backward, splashing into the puddles beneath him. The shimmer came closer and closer until it turned to a solid shape. The figure was hooded and cloaked in black robes; a glint of silver armor beneath the cloak caught his vision. Razor sharp teeth emerged from just below the center of where the creature's face should have been. A sword was drawn from the creature's waist, immersed in a pale blue glow. The sword passed across his chest and Ryan felt the warm blood against his cold body. A clawed hand rose and came across his face. He tasted blood, and everything turned to match the dead of night.
One mile from Fire Team Zulu
Just outside Theta Complex
The Sangheili Shaman looked down at the staggering human and raised his boot. The blow hit the human just below the throat and sent him down into the mud. Whether the human would survive or not was his decision now. He looked down at the human without emotion and raised his boot for the second time. He readied to crush the human's skull when something struck him from behind. The warrior turned snarling, the impacts splashed across his back again. The Elite raised his palm and uttered, " Anosskui Ontiona!" The incantation that he had spoken was inherited from the Prophet of Truth, who he had killed himself. A beam of fiery red laced through the night and clashed with a tree. The tree was vaporized instantly, along with everything else within a twenty yard radius. The Shaman, the newly appointed leader of the Covenant Juggernaut, sighted several of the humans fly in separate directions. The Sangheili took pride at his sorcery and muttered another incantation, "Aksio, altionus! " A loud crack resonated above the rain and the Elite was gone, his hidden companions were killed instantly, while in seconds later he appeared on a Covenant Cruiser that hovered several hundred kilometers away. With these new powers once possessed by the insolent Prophets, 'Ultazee was the Chosen Leader of the new Covenant, and nothing would impede their progress to destroy the human's existence.
Aboard the Shaman's Curse
Seven seconds ago
With another loud crack, the Shaman appeared on the Bridge of the newly christened flagship, the Shaman's Curse. Four bronze-clad Elites stood at his welcome. All of them bowed elegantly and kneeled onto the ground. The four Field Commanders or 'Generals' as the human scum identified them, were the Shaman's most important weapons. The lead General stood.
"Greetings in the highest respect, Excellency." He stated and bowed a second time.
The Shaman Leader snapped his mandibles several times and threw back his hood, as the hood fell to his shoulder it revealed a tall elegant helmet of a counselor, taken from the body of one of the Arbiter's rebellious Elites. Even when the Prophets had been defeated, and the Elites restored to power, this foolhardy Sangheili had refused to fight against the humans. So, the Elite who was once called 'Ultazee killed the Prophet of Truth and the last of his disciples and severed his ties with the Arbiter and his forces. The helmet had been remade and formed with the richest platinum and gold that the Covenant had to offer. The rest of his Forerunner armor matched his helmet, and sported a sacred artifact that he treasured beyond all else: The Lekgolo steeled sword, whose heritage tracked to the First Age of Reclamation. The black robe shrouded most of his elegant armor. But the Shaman of the Covenant's appearance was not what earned him his reverence. When he struck down the final and most powerful Prophet of Truth he inherited strange powers rumored to be possessed by the Forerunner themselves.
"As to you, Orntrasee, I trust your legion caused the humans some difficulty?"
"Yes, Excellency, a legion of Kig-Yar was most successful in slowing them down…but I am sorry to say that the legion did not survive."
"As I expected, Orntrasee, I had advised you sent one of your officers with them nonetheless."
"My sincere apologies, Highness."
"No matter, the legion of humans that were nearly at the artifact was dealt with, but the humans are relentless, another legion appeared on my flank, my field staff was killed when I…'departed.'" A smirk passed across his mandibles.
"Of course, Excellency, I would be glad to deploy more Elites to your field staff." Orntrasee stressed the word, as it seemed whenever the Shaman 'departed' his Elites ended up dead.
"I would not expect anything short of that, Orntrasee," replied the Shaman grimly and lifted his hood and strode to the ship's temple. Orntrasee scowled deeply and placed his helmet over his skull. He watched in disgust as the robes billowed behind the Shaman. His hand had been resting on his plasma pistol the entire time without noticing, he could kill the arrogant warrior here and claim the powers for himself. The holster unlocked, the pistol's familiar grip filled his hand. Orntrasee raised the weapon and fired. The bolt seared the air towards the Shaman. Just and the taste of victory and dominance filled his mouth, the Shaman turned. The Sangheili raised his palm and said something. The answer was that the bolt disappeared. The second word Orntrasee could here; " Expellii! " The pistol flew from his iron hard grip and spun to the ground.
"Foolish, Surda…I had thought that after years of our childhood and fighting back to back, that you would have trusted my judgment and had faith in my Covenant." The Shaman challenged.
"I have committed the highest heresy, Excellency, be swift with my death, but at the least give me the honor of death by the sword." Though his words were pleading, his voice was steady and sure, in other meaning he had not a pinch of sincerity in his statement.
"You do not die for lust of power, Surda. For that is cold ambition, in which if I had not possessed this trait, my melting body would be lying feet from where I stand, though you also have acquired this trait, so it shall save your life as well. But I warn you Surda, challenge my strengths again and I will kill myself…regardless of our past friendship…"
Surda Orntrasee snarled as the Shaman lifted his hood and strode further down the corridor. If he held conference with the other Field Commanders, they could plot to overthrow the Shaman and restore the power to the council. If only the Arbiter was willing to fight the humans, then with the help of his Elites, order could be restored to the Covenant. But either way, the Shaman had to be killed. The other Commanders were all too loyal to the Shaman, so they could not be relied upon; the Arbiter was his only choice, the only way to repair the Covenant, was to plunge it into civil war.
* * * * *
"Solahee, come with me please."
"Yes Excellency, right away."
Solahee approached, clad in cobalt Forerunner armor. "I need my Phantom readied in a half cycle."
"Yes, Excellency, I shall gather a flight crew at once."
"No, Solahee, you are the only one accompanying me, but several things need to be made clear to you before we depart, I would hate to have to kill you."
"Of course, Excellency, what are the conditions?"
"Never mind that at the moment, all you need to accomplish as of now is to prepare your combat armor and try to get your hands on a rifle from the armory if you can manage it." Surda said. The Elite eyed him wearily and nodded.
"Yes, Excellency, your ship is due at…bay four on this sector of the ship." He replied, "I shall rendezvous with you there."
"Very well." Answered Surda.
* * * * *
Orntrasee held the captured carbine close to his chest as he past a troop of diminutive Grunts, who eyed him fearfully. The door to the bay was not far ahead but the plaza prior to the door was heavily guarded. Four Grunts mustered in the corner while two Elites stood by the door. His grip on the carbine tightened, especially when the Elites wore black robes, which indicated the honor guard of the Shaman. A Jackal stepped forward and blocked his path.
"Identification." The Kig-Yar barked as he looked over the boarding schedules.
"Out of the way, Bok, my business is my own."
Bok looked him over quietly and his hand shot to his slung rifle. The Jackal's reflexes were nothing to his own, before the alien could react, his neck was broken, his body was carelessly flung into an engineer's nook. Luckily, the honor guard had not witnessed the murder, and continued to stand at rigid attention. His grip tightened again, his fingers twitching, a shot to the head on each of them would kill them instantly, and their shields would be off. The first honor guard caught sight of him and raised his spear and swung it in his direction. The spear jabbed about his head while his grip on the trigger tightened and released a bolt of plasma. The bolt splashed across the Elite's face and blew a section of it off, while the section spattered across the wall behind it. Its comrade roared with fury and raised the spear above its head and sprang forward to meet the Field Commander. The spear point plunged into his left shoulder and threw him back onto the metal floor. The Grunts that huddled in the corner sat petrified while the honor guard raised the spear for the killing blow. Surda had to act quickly. He swung his legs into a kick and brought out the Elite's legs from under him. The honor guard crashed to the ground, but was up at a crouch in seconds. Surda's rifle was out of reach, so he drew his knife and sank the blade into the honor guard's chest. Blood spurted into Surda's face and over his hands. The other Elite swung quickly and the blow hit Surda squarely in the face. But Orntrasee's final reverse crescent kick threw the Elite off balance enough for him to kill the honor guard without further conflict. His personal Phantom lay just outside the bay. Blood poured from the wound in his shoulder, while when Solahee came into view, and he was unscathed. The Elite had donned his black special operations armor and strode into the Phantom. The Field Commander followed and collapsed on the 'couch' inside and began cleaning the wound. Solahee, being the expert pilot that he was, sailed out of the bay and slipped into a slip space portal just before it slid shut. Solahee vigorously typed in a flurry of commands to the slip space portal and seconds later they accessed the web of the alternate dimension's many pathways. They would meet with the Arbiter only hours from now.
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